11 days, 4 hours, 7 minutes.

That's how long it's been since my life was supposed to end. Since his did.

That's how long it's been since I realized all of my mistakes, starting with my inability to trust him and ending with his death. There is so much I would change now if I could, but the world doesn't work that way. Life doesn't allow second chances. There are so many ifs and buts and maybes and what-might-have-beens, but in the end there is only one present, and it's all about the decision you made, not the one you wish you had. If only… They maybe he'd still be alive. Then maybe I could try to make up for the error of my ways.

11 days, 4 hours, 9 minutes.

That's how long it's been since I killed him.

I didn't kill him the way you're thinking. I didn't hold him at wandpoint and cast an Avada Kedavra in his face. There were no threats, no last minute bullying, no revenge lectures. It wasn't like that at all.

It was the same it always was, a surprise attack on innocent students. And just like always, I rushed in to save the day without thinking twice. He'd told me on several occasions how foolish and childish those kinds of stunts were, but I always saw his talks as another chance to berate me, put me down, keep me from my destiny. I never saw that he was worried. Severus Snape was worried about me, and terrified for my safety. Of course he didn't want the Savior of the Wizarding World to be captured by the Dark Lord, but there was more to it than that, and I absolutely refused to see it. He cared for me. He spent years and years watching over me, protecting me, and he came to genuinely care about me, not just as the Savior, but as Harry Potter.

I was captured. Now that I think back, I'm utterly shocked that it took them that many attempts to get to me. But, again, that's was all Snape's doing. He was always there, whether I knew it or not. And he was there that time, too. He was in his mask and robes, looking every inch the Death Eater that I'd always believed he was. No matter how much good he did, I always jumped at the chance to believe he was a traitor. I was an ignorant fool.

Facing Lord Voldemort, eye to eye with the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time, I heard him. I couldn't move, bound in so many layers of charms and spells, but I heard Snape cursing one after another of his fellow Death Eaters behind me. The Dark Lord lost his focus for the slightest moment, but it was enough to free me from the enchantments. Battle raged. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him backing closer and closer to me, firing off spell after heated spell. He threw his arm around me, and we were gone.

We fell onto the lawn that I'm sprawled on this very moment. This exact spot. We arrived, and he collapsed to his knees, eyes squeezed shut in pain. I fell next to him, shaking his shoulders, asking too many questions and receiving no answers. He opened his eyes suddenly, and hitched a pain-filled breath in, and then he fell. He stopped breathing, stopped seeing, stopped being. He died so quickly I had no chance to even call for help.

It was so sudden. So unimaginable. I still have a hard time believing that he's gone, that he's not coming back. But I feel it. I feel his absence everywhere I go. I had never realized how much of a fixture he was in my life, and how much I would miss him when he wasn't there. I do now.

I think back about all of the things he'd done for me, all of the times I'd doubted him, and I realize that it is my fault. His misery, his desire to atone that never seemed to be fulfilled, his anger, his death. I should have believed him, I should have believed in him. What I wouldn't do to have him back, the man I hated like no other. The only one that I could ever really count on. Without him, there is no chance of survival. I'm living on borrowed time. And I'm not sure that I really care all that much.

It's been 11 days, 5 hours since my life ended.