BURN
---
She's not quite sure if it's happening or not.
The walls are crumbling and in tatters and all broken into little pieces like the Styrofoam bubbles that everyone likes to pop.
And she's on fire and she's crying and it's too hot oh no oh no
---
But maybe it's just a dream. It couldn't possibly be happening.
It IS a dream because reality is too blurred.
Sometimes walking around through the streets feels like she's in a delusion but a trance that's sharper than reality, because reality is just a piece of rat's ass right now.
---
But maybe it's not one.
Because he's tracing constellations on her skin without really touching her and singeing her soul and she just wants him to put his lips to her soft skin please
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so why not?
Because he's a tantalizing boy even more so than the ones in books. Because it's real and there's nothing they can do about it.
And then she looks over and sees the moon behind his eyes and forgets about the struggle because it all was worth it.
Just for that one glance that one look that one dream so that she can have the millions of butterflies and the near-fainting and the drugged smile
And her lids flutter with an ecstacy-like balance but her lips refuse to smile refuse to even acknowledge him because she's scared of him.
Plain out.
---
But it must be a dream.
Because it's not possible for hands to turn into tingles and for light to turn into heavy darkness, black depths that only lucky ones get to go explore.
Because goddamnit she doesn't even know what she's doing anymore why she still looks why she still glances because he's a stupid boy who doesn't know shit about anything.
But he's hers despite any claim and she firmly believes it.
Because during the taptaptap of the teacher's chalk in class, she thinks of his lips on her neck and dreams of hidden shadows and broom closets.
(Not that there's anything to build on except two hands)
---
So in the end it didn't even matter if it was a dream or not
Because frankly she just doesn't care because he's still there.
And she's worried because their world is collapsing from the-fucktard-known-as-voldemort and death eaters and crucios and in a couple of years nothing will ever be the same like this one darkened moment where their eyes meet and their worlds collapse.
Even the stars won't be in the same position, even the moon won't shine as bright.
All that matters is this moment whether it's right or wrong
(Because the world probably thinks it's wrong but does she give a shit?)
And she's WORRIED goddamit because she's going to miss him and maybe she loves him (but how can she because she doesn't know him) but most importantly how can she watch him and protect him if he's not around anymore?
She'd like to be protected a bit too but he gives her that with his eyes bursting into flames on contact with hers, when his gaze cuts her open and bares her to him in a way that makes her defiant when in that moment all he has is her.
But what if she's gone? The world wouldn't care twice as much.
That's why she has to protect him and finally stop making this a dream and actually feel his fingers his lips moving against hers the darkened shadows stop being a blurry fuzz his hands moving against her soft skin
Because wouldn't that be lovely to actually see the stars with him and even if she'll never own his mind she'll always own his soul.
And she hopes and prays that this wasn't a dream.
Because it can't be.
---
It's not as if she couldn't have other boys, either.
But they came and went with the seasons like floating dead leaves, each of them a different shade of orange or red or yellow or brown.
But he seemed to be the only one that stayed with her WHY WHY WHY (?)
And she would do
anything
to give it up and stop feeling so helpless hapless remorseful
Because really look at all those beautiful boys out there all she needed to do was reach out and SNAG one but she was already snagged by one and couldn't seem to do anything about it.
---
She didn't even find him attractive, really.
His hair was too messy
He wore glasses (so he must be ugly when he takes them off)
He had a funny too-masculine way of walking, a sort of glide or take-off
He was too good at everything and had a massive hero-complex that everyone would like to make fun of (but can't because that hero-complex really saved their lives, in the end of it)
But she does like his eyes.
Up close his lashes are dusted with flecks of gold and the universe isn't as mysterious as his big forest-y orbs
His nose is spattered with tiny freckles and his hands are gorgeous boy-vein types nice large yummy
And she is absolutely infatuated with him.
---
Which is why this absolutely COMPLETELY chaos and it must. be. a. dream.
Because there's no way that his fingers are curling around her creamy waist
and it's absolutely IMPOSSIBLE to imagine his lips breathing on her neck
and it's SCANDALOUS for her SANITY to even consider the fresh dewy smell of his hair, manly and masculine and perfect
so it can't be real.
---
Yes, she knows she's a selfish whore to even want him.
Nobody will EVER be perfect enough for the Golden boy, the boy who single-handedly (if you exclude the other two) "thwarted Voldemort"
She gets that.
She hates herself, sometimes, for even getting to be around him.
(Because she could never be as perfect as him.)
When books will be written about him, she'll only have a small piece in them, as the girl who he rescued once and, thus, the one she never managed to get over.
Maybe she'll seem weak and immature and completely STUPID and SELFLESS sometimes but SHE NEVER CLAIMED TO BE PERFECT, DID SHE?
The books wouldn't ever mention the way that he picked her up and carried her back to the tower, they wouldn't mention the way that throughout the ages he never stopped checking that she was around.
They wouldn't mention his smell, his grinning smile with the one canine that stuck out too far, the one dimple that all narrative books managed to forget.
She, unlike Voldemort, would never be linked to him by the unforgiving ties of history; all that she could hope for was to be linked to him through his memory.
Because maybe (just MAYBE?) he wanted her too.
---
But OH his eyes are burning hers with a dark fire and her hands are everywhere eating everything up.
And if this is hell it must be the good type because it's too hot and she can't breathe and maybe she's shaking a little but so is he.
And his hair is rough and not at all what you would think the Boy-Who-Lived's hair ought to be (no conditioning, just pure hair) but his skin is smooth and burning burning burning hot
And then his lips are on hers and she finally manages to get her hand down his shirt and feels his back muscles dance in tune to her lips
and oh JUST SHUT UP ALREADY she KNOWS she shouldn't be corrupting him (although to all appearances it is vice versa) and she KNOWS she shouldn't be thinking such dirty things about him
but maybe she is a common whore but you know what (?) she doesn't give a shit
because sometimes when fire meets fire wrong isn't wrong anymore
wrong + wrong doesn't equal wrong
like your teachers would say
oh no
no
sometimes when wrong meets wrong they make a right
which is why she closes her eyes and lets him kiss down her neck and lean her against the maple tree at the Burrow and lets him trace Orion's Belt on her back and lets him moan into her hair as the world is black and dark around them
A world dotted with stars that might go out at any point.
so she lets him kiss her and she breathes in his dew and his oxygen and for a second there all he needs to survive is her so she lets him forget and forgives him if he decides to not stay with her afterwards
(but surprise surprise he lies in the darkened field with her and never lets go and teaches her how to hum like a cicada and grins as she giggles, still tight in his arms)
but she did it because she could have been the only thing he had left.
and if he lost her, well, he could have lost the world.