He was helpless when it came to her and he knew it from the start.

He knew that she would be the downfall of him some day. Her smile, her kindness, her eyes.

Oh, her eyes.

They were the first the first thing he noticed when he saw her.

How green. How bright. How lovely.

They became best friends. He taught her about magic and she treated him as if he weren't the son of the town drunk that lived on the wrong side of the tracks, as if he were as normal as anyone else.

At the tender age of ten, he knew he was in love. That he would die for her. He wanted to keep her safe, to shield her from harm. He wouldn't let Petunia insult her. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her. So he gave her a gift for her birthday. A beautiful calla lily (she told him he was dreadfully unoriginal but she was smiling nonetheless). He blushed and couldn't bring himself to look in her the eyes.

He told her to keep it forever, to remind her of their friendship (even though he didn't think she'd ever be away from him long enough to forget what they shared). When she was home during the summer, she would keep it in her room on her windowsill. She couldn't help but smile whenever she saw it, watching as the sunlight trickled onto the petals and made the pink flower somehow seem ethereal.

As they got older, they grew farther apart. She couldn't understand why he was hanging out with the bad crowd and he couldn't see why she started paying attention to Potter and his lackeys. As a last effort to save their friendship, which seemed to be breaking at the seams, he met with her and enchanted the flower into a Portkey.

He wanted to go back to the playground where they met. Back to where everything was simple and they were friends-best friends.

Where he didn't have to pretend his blood was pure and where he could spend all day talking to her about Hogwarts and all the wonders in the magical world.

Where she would still listen to him earnestly and look at him as if he were as fascinating as Potter himself.

Oh, how he wished.

But she smiled weakly and, using a handkerchief so as not to touch it, put it back in it's vase and told him another time maybe. So he went to Avery and she to Potter.

When she saw the flower was dying, she cried. She didn't know why. It was a stupid flower after all. And it had lasted an unnaturally long time even for magical flowers (over several years).

Two days later, he called her a Mudblood.

She's whispering to him.

Whispering and telling him it will all be okay.

She's clutching him to her chest, crying softly as he looks up at her and tugs at her long red hair. She whispers, "I love you" as many times as she can. She kisses him on the cheek so many times they start to get red.

More thumps, crashes, yelling outside. She murmurs a spell and lets out a sob as she continues to clutch him to her chest. She's on the floor, trying desperately to Accio James's Invisibility Cloak. But she knows it's useless.

She's helpless.

A goddamn member of the Order and she can't do a single thing. Right now, she can't think of what's happening outside. She has to think of a way out of this. She has to think of a way to get him out of there. She knows that when she hears the Avada Kedavra James will be dead.

That she'll have only seconds to do something, anything.

She curses the fact that she doesn't have her wand with her. That she left it in the living room, never thinking that he would come here.

She wants to Apparate. She wants to with all her heart. But, there's nothing that she can do that would get him out of there. That would save her son.

She's looking around the room desperately, trying to find something-anything that would get them out of there. And she puts Harry back in his crib, attempting as many silent protective enchantments as she can think of. And she can hear the blood rushing through her veins. And she bends down to him and tells him she loves him.

With all her heart.

And she hears the door blast open from behind her and she prepares to die.

She prepares even though she knows she's too young, even though she wants to see her boy grow up. She needs her son to be okay. And she's surprised when he gives her a choice. A choice to step aside. Because if anything, Voldemort is merciless. But she holds her ground. She stands in front of her son, the only thing she has left. The only thing she cares about anymore. She knows it's coming before he even points his wand towards her.

And she watches the green spell hurtle towards her. She watches with such ferocity that time seems to still.

And she remembers the flower.

The flower in between two pieces of wax paper and pressed into Harry's baby book.

The flower that Sev gave her. That she kept after all those years, hoping that maybe he'd come back to his senses.

The flower that would have taken her to the park. To simpler times. That would have kept them safe.

And she lets a tear run down her face. Because she had forgotten her childhood friend. Because she could have done something.

Because she wasn't so helpless after all.

Author's Note: Right, so my first story about Severus and Lily. And it had to be completely depressing. I actually love these two together (something having to do with how much he completely loved her no matter what) even though this might not show it. Comments are definitely appreciated, mainly to see how well I'm doing with these two...and maybe to make me smile :) Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!