It happened in the corridor outside Potions, just after the bell rang. Lily’s fingers were clenched around the strap of her bag like she wanted to strangle it. Like it had done something unforgivable. Like you had.

“You know this isn’t going to work,” she said suddenly, eyes flicking past you to make sure no one was close. Her voice was clipped, fast. “Us. It’s not—normal.”

You blinked. “What?”

Lily pressed her lips into a pale line. “It’s wrong, alright? I can’t keep sneaking around with you. I—I don’t want to be seen like this.”

You stared at her like she'd sprouted gills. “Like this?” you repeated, voice catching on the edge of disbelief. “You mean with me.”

She flinched like you'd cursed her. “Don’t make this harder than it is. Merlin, please.”

The corridor was emptying. Your chest wasn't.

“You said you loved me,” you whispered, too stunned to be angry yet.

She didn't answer that. Her green eyes, so bloody famous and once so gentle, went sharp like shattered glass. “I don’t want to be a fag, alright?” she snapped, voice brittle and trembling. “I don’t want to end up like—like you. Whispered about. Looked at like a freak. It's not—it's not what I want. I never really wanted it. You—you made me think I did.”

The punch didn’t land on your body, but it did somewhere worse. Somewhere soft and sacred.

You stood there, still as marble. Words tried to rise and died in your throat.

“I’m with James now,” she added. That part she said more calmly. Like it was a balm. Like it explained everything. “It’s easier. It’s normal. People won’t talk.”

You nodded. Just once. Like you’d been struck in the face and didn’t want anyone to see the tears that came after.

“Good for you,” you said. And it tasted like poison in your mouth.

She walked away without looking back. Her red hair caught the light like fire.

You stood there in the corridor, alone, listening to the echo of footsteps and the sudden roaring silence of someone choosing safety over you.