What this is right now is just a one shot dedicated to my favorite unconventional pairing. I purposely didn't give any names, although I suspect you'd be able to figure one of them out just through context. I'm considering expanding this to a full fic and using this as a prologue, let me know if I should. I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter, I'm just an avid fan finding a way to cope with the "death" of one of her favorite things.
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When he sees her now he is even more stunned by her beauty than he used to be. Her hair has grown long over the years, falling well to the middle of her back in smooth waves of silvery gold. Her face, features that once seemed almost too large, awkward in their frame, now fit perfectly. Almost too perfectly. For a long while his eyes linger on hers, waiting for her to notice him, waiting for that one flicker of recognition. That was the most he could ever expect from her, a flicker. Their moments were fleeting, their days together were numbered from the very beginning. Now as her cold blue gaze shifts sideways to find his, the look of stone melts. He watches the careful twitch of her lips, the way her teeth almost instantly scrape out to capture her bottom lip. Then just as quickly, it's gone. Whatever temporary warmth she'd found for him in her heart, it was replaced by a disapproving glare. This is her silent way of telling him that his thoughts are inappropriate, that she is no longer his. Really, she never was.
Still, he can't help but remember the days when he felt like she was. The rare moments when they would find themselves alone together. He remembers her fingers sliding between his and how it always felt alarmingly natural when their grasps locked together. He remembers their first kiss, trading glares and then lips meeting in dark corridors. He remembers talking through the cracks in the bookcases, pretending to read while she whispered tidbits between the novels on magic and romance. He recalls buying her chocolates from Hogsmeade and slipping them into her cauldron. Remembers how when she found them and read the secret message they spelled out, she was sitting in the Great Hall cushioned between two of her friends. It was the same then too, that measured twitch of her lips, the scraping of teeth, an earnest attempt to keep herself from smiling. Later though, once the other girls had stopped paying attention, she looked to his table and mouthed the words back to him. I love you.
Looking at them now, you'd never guess it. Not if you were looking at her at least, she was always so much better at pretending not to care. So much so that half the time he wondered himself if she really did. But if you looked at him, if you found him in a crowd and followed his focus, you'd know it right away. You could read it all through the longing in his eyes, the extended breath from his lips that seemed almost to paint those same words in the air. I love you.