Encomium

I used to think about it ceaselessly.

Could I have changed your fate if I had done something differently? Was it my fault you had clung so desperately to the Dark Arts? Could I have done anything to keep you from aligning yourself with the Death Eaters? I recall incessantly speculating as to whether your arm bore that infamous mark, and the thought sickened me. I would play the scene out in my head in every way imaginable, and force myself to paint an image of you kneeling in front of Lord Voldemort. I would torture myself, repeating in my head that your wholehearted loyalty was just an inevitability. I could change nothing.

People scorned me for being friendly to you, you know. They tried to tell me things I didn't want to know: that you were a bad influence on me and that you would insult people like me behind my back. I didn't believe it for years, because I knew more than anyone else that you weren't like those fiends who wanted to kill Muggleborns. I saw a person beneath the hard exterior who was cunning and bright and kind, and I knew that no matter how others perceived you, you still had a heart. It wasn't until that day on the Grounds when things changed. Mudblood. Hearing the word come out of your mouth stopped me dead. It reverberated through my mind for days. And all too suddenly, my blindness was lifted and my eyes were opened.

They say, afterall, that people never see that they are not ready to see.

In spite of the fact that I rejected your friendship when you came to me later, I still thought about you daily. I worried for you, and I wanted to use all of my power to keep you away from the path I knew you were following. But it was useless, and I think deep down, I knew it all along. My only contact with you came from other people, and I was forced to rely on gossip to learn about your life. People would tell me outrageous stories, but the mind has this extraordinary ability to block out what it does not want to hear.

Selfishly, what saddened me the most was that we never spoke again after that. The conversations we once had were always mind-altering in some way. Your ideas on life and the world and social justice and everything else you believed in were fascinating; I'm not sure if I've ever met someone more intelligent than you, and I could have easily listened to you for hours. Furthermore, I know of no other person in my life who has affected me so completely. Even James hasn't sculpted my life like you have. Perhaps you would be pleased to know that. Or perhaps you don't care anymore.

But those days when you were my rock and when you showed me how to overcome even the most debilitating obstacles seem like a distant memory now. After being inculcated with people's mantra—Severus Snape is a heartless degenerate—I have begun to believe that my friendship to you may not have existed. Perhaps it was a figment of my idealized imagination.

Years later, the war still rages on. It feels like an eternity since I last spoke to you, yet I can still imagine your voice so acutely in my mind. I go out on missions and envision you behind every Death Eater mask. A flood of relief comes every time I take off those masks and find other criminals behind them. But I know you're out there somewhere, and that kills me.

Despite my apparent fixation, there are days when I forget to think about you. When the realization hits me, I am often moved to a state of panicked hysteria. James has found me crouched in the washroom on more than one occasion, fighting back the sobs that wrack my body. Excuses always come to me just in time in order to explain this. I know he doesn't believe me, but he is smart enough not to press things further. He would be even more upset if he knew where these bouts of emotion come from.

I don't what to be tormented, though, and I hate myself for thinking about you so much. Worse, I know that you probably don't even remember my name anymore. This stasis cannot continue on for one more day, though. The end is slowly approaching—I can sense it—and I refuse to finish my days in a state of constant affliction. You've been an immense burden on my being since you said that word, and it's about time that I make you disappear from my mind once and for all.

Today, things will change. Today, I will not think of you ever again. Today, I learned that I was pregnant, and I always promised myself that my child would come before anyone else in the world. And that includes you. Today will be the last day that I will mourn because we are fighting on opposing sides. Today will be the last day that I shed a tear, wishing things could be different. Today, I will stop second guessing myself, wondering if I should have forgiven you so many years ago. Today, I will stop contemplating our ostensible relationship and questioning whether my mind is crafting an image of you that never truly existed. Today, my mind will shift its focus to my family and what I know is good in the world, which has nothing to do with you. And whether or not that is a lie I am telling myself, I will nevertheless believe it unreservedly.

Consider this my final goodbye. It is far overdue.

This was in response to fridaystar's The One Sentence Challenge. The sentence that inspired me was, "You told me so many nice things but did so many bad things." This is probably the most scatter-brained thing I've ever written. I'm not even sure what it is, but I hope it was still okay. Let me know what you think!

Best,

Christine