It had all started in May of her fifth year.
She had never thought of Sirius Black, and she had never wanted to. But in May, he kept coming into her thoughts. His smile, his laugh, and the way he knew whatever she was thinking.
When she left school, she figured she would forget it, forget his smile, and forget him.
But she didn't.
On the train, his eyes followed her. He talked to her like she was a person, not just a woman he wanted to shag. By November, she loved him.
There was no proof that he loved her. Only the darkening of his eyes, the special smile he gave her. The way his body moved when she was around.
When James' head deflated a little, she said yes to him, if only to Sirius Black out of her head. It didn't work. She could always feel his silver eyes on her back, could feel the hurt that radiated of him in waves. When James' proposed, she said yes, because he hadn't told her, and she hadn't told him.
When the wedding came, she wondered why she was doing this. She should have been marrying the boy with the silver eyes, and she would have been, given the choice.
When Harry was born, she pretended it was his, because it felt wrong to hold him and call James the father.
It was only on the night Voldemort came that she was angry at herself, because if only she had told him, maybe things would have been different. Maybe it would've been him that told her he loved her. Maybe they could have ran away together.
But they weren't, so her last thoughts were not of James, but of Harry.
Harry and the boy with silver eyes.