Theirs is a snide and scornful love, he is a beautiful and an arrogant boy, and she is such a flashy-eyed little girl.
It was all his fault. His hands and his hair and the hips that are narrower than hers, and the lips that are indecently, garishly (luridly) red.
It was all her fault, and her eyes' fault. It was her fault for being such a flashy sort of girl- black hair and it was dyed, pale skin that flushed pink across her high cheekbones and her father's fucking flashy eyes. It was her fault that the smirk twisting her mouth was predatory and raw and it was her fault that her eyes were bottomless against her green and silver scarf (because she wanted to be different from her (precious, perfect) brothers, who shone too brightly crimson and gold and burned her flashy eyes. "I want to be special," Lily said. I want to stand out. Hmmmm. And it was such a beautiful, hideous old hat.)
Theirs is a jealous and spiteful love.
When he flirts with pureblood Lucinda Parkinson they have sex in the prefect's bath (perfect prefect Albus always was such a sucker for little Lily's doe eyes) and she bites his lip until he bleeds. He can feel her smirk against his wounded mouth.
When he loses control and lets go she glows with satisfaction- they do not come together.
They do not listen to romantic music and when he tells her I want to rip you apart, I want to break you, it is the most beautiful thing she has ever heard.
She drinks her coffee black as her (fake) hair. (She would never tell you it is naturally scarlet- that is James' color.)
And it is all his fault for his silver eyes and silvery hair and the way he is repulsive and beautiful in one smile (and it is cruel). It is his fault for the spidery white fingers- thinner than hers- make her shiver when they play in the hollows of her hipbones.
It is all her fault because the nails on his dick are painted poison red from a bottle called Firecracker and the cinnamon mints on her breath and her tongue burn his pale and innocent skin.
And it is all her fault because the freckle above her collarbone screams for him to tear it from her flesh with his teeth (but he won't. give. in.)
It is all his fault for letting her slide into his compartment on the train, for being a light and ethereal being so elusive to little girl lost. She would have followed him anywhere and she did- she followed him to his table and to his dorm room two years later (she was only thirteen) and she followed him onto the Quidditch team and it was said that Slytherin had never seen such a pair of beaters. When James looked at her with shocked eyes over his broken and bleeding nose she only clutched her bat tighter and she was fucking luminous. (Scorpius found her in the showers after the match and punished her for being such a naughty girl to poor little Jamie.)
And some would say they were heartless, but theirs is only a dark and a mysterious love. He is the blood she cannot wash from her hands, and Mr. Potter wonders when his beautiful daughter's open smile became such a ruthless being.
They have sex against the refrigerator of their first flat.
& theirs is a beautiful love.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
A bit darker this time, I suppose, but I'm quite fond of these two.