Porcelain

A/N: Well, here it is! My first real fanfic. I really would love some feedback, if it's at all possible. Thank you! :D

I finally found him, just sitting there in the bathtub with a cigarette in hand, a smirk on his face and desolation in his eyes. He absentmindedly tapped his pinky against the cigarette, charcoal ashes scattering across the porcelain. I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, it was two o' clock in the morning for God's sake!

"Thinking," he replied coolly, because what else could he possibly be doing in a bathtub at such an ungodly hour? I scowled and he rested his head on the side of the tub, his dark hair contrasting beautifully with the bone-white ceramic, his glasses askew. He asked me why on Earth was I in the boy's washroom so early in the morning? I held up a bottle of champagne in response.

"I figured you might need this," I told him.

"Yeah, you thought right, I suppose,"he said, and motioned for me to sit on the edge of the bath. I took a swig from the bottle and did as he asked. "So what the fuck are you doing here?"I was started by this sudden harshness.

"Well, I figured you might need some consolation…?" My voice went up in the end, making it sound like a question.

"Sure, but not from you," he spat.

"Look, I'm really sorry, alright? I really didn't mean for that to happen. It was just a joke!"

"Just a joke? Just a god-dammed joke? Wow, great sense of humor you have, eh? That was a real riot, that was! A knee-slapper if I ever heard one!"

"James, calm down! Please!"

"No, Lily, I will not calm down!"

"I really didn't mean it this time-"

"I don't care if you didn't mean it! It still happened, didn't it?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"BUT WHAT?"

"James, please!"

I honestly didn't mean for it to happen. It was just… Well, I wasn't really sure what it was. I just kept seeing them together, not just holding hands in the corridors or snuggled up together at breakfast. I saw them whenever I closed my eyes and I just couldn't stand it anymore, I really couldn't because that should be mememe and it would have been if I wasn't such a bloody dimwit and I had just seen who he was, who he really was before she came along. He was just so… so imperfectly perfect, if that makes any sense whatsoever. His hair was always messy and his glasses always crooked, just like his smile, but he was beautiful because of it! And he loved me, me, me, of all of the girls at Hogwarts he loved me. And I loved him too, I was just waiting, stupidly waiting for the moment when we would stop arguing for two seconds and just look at each other, just really really look. And we would see how much we belonged together, and we would love each other, and everything would be perfect. But I was to idiotically caught up in my girlish fantasy that I didn't look sooner, didn't see him before it was too late. And then he was dating her, with her red hair and green eyes and thin frame just like mine, only it wasn't me! She was a weak substitute that was meant to make me jealous, and then he went and actually fell for her. He stopped loving me. And I just couldn't take it. Couldn't take the pain he endured for too many years. And then I stupidly started talking to her, and I stupidly and cruelly revealed all of his flaws, his arrogance and his vanity, his tendency to lie and all of those figurative notches on his bedpost. And it was my fault, I knew it and so did he. It was my fault that the girl he loved broke his heart. An that was the most unforgivable thing one could ever do.

"Just STOP! Just stop saying my name like that, all pathetic and whiny! I just can't take it anymore!"

"I'm sor-"

"And stop fucking apologizing! Saying you're sorry won't make her love me again! You were that one that said it. You said it to my face! And then, what, you changed your mind when I moved on? You were the one that told me you didn't want me! So just… stop! Please. I've had enough of this sick game you're playing."

"JAMES, GODDAMIT, I LOVE YOU!"

And then something broke. Something in in his deep, dark, hazel eyes broke, shattered like porcelain, and he stopped looking at me.

"That's not enough, Lily. Not anymore."

"It should be! It's everything I have left!"

And he leaned up and kissed me. It wasn't right, it wasn't right, it was wrong, so deeply wrong, because I was crying and he couldn't cry, not anymore, and my tears were leaking into our open mouths and turned the kiss bitter and dark and just so heart-wrenchingly sad but I couldn't stop, and neither could he. And there we were, sitting in a bathtub too early in the morning, kissing as I cried, pressed against the porcelain and trying to forget. And I loved him and he loved me, in a twisted way that we just couldn't escape, and it wasn't enough but it would have to do.