So here I am, thinking of you again. Sitting alone under the tree that used to be ours. But that was, of course, the way I used to see it – not the way it was. Maybe I've always been kind of a dreamer, pretending things were the comfortable ways and not the true ones. Setting for safety rather than reality. Unfortunately, you took that away from me, just the same way you stole everything else I ever had. But I don't blame you. It was never your intention to do such a thing. You just happened to change everything, turn my whole reality upside down as if with a flick of your wand. Not that this was something you ever asked for or wanted to happen. It just did.

Best friends stick until the very end, always there for each other and supporting the other in any situation. As people come and go, friends and lovers alike, in the end only true friendship lasts. Nothing or nobody is allowed to come in the way. Ever. Everybody knows it – your parents knew it, our teachers know it, our classmates know it. You know it. I should. But falling in love with your best mate? That is definitely something coming in the way.

Every time I see you, it feels like someone is tearing my insides apart, brutally murdering every nerve slowly one by one. And I feel so ashamed. You only give me the nonchalant smile of yours, pretending everything is fine, just like I used to. You act and talk and laugh as you always have, like nothing ever happened. I wish I was just one hundredth as good as you are. Maybe that would make everything as great as you pretend it to be.

I don't even know when it all began. It could have been the very first time I saw you, teasing your younger brother at Platform 9 ¾ when I was attending my first year at Hogwarts. You were, of course, too busy to notice me then, darting around the platform as if it was a place you owned. I remember that the first thought that hit me when I saw you was 'He looks like someone I would like to be friends with'. Little did I know that you only an hour later would enter my compartment, striding towards me with infinite self-confidence. The mischievous grin that was etched on your face was one I would never forget.

"You're Scorpius Malfoy, right? We're supposed to deeply and completely detest each other, so I figured we could be great friends", was the first thing you said, that smile growing wider for every word. Then you extended a hand and laughed at my confused face. "I'm James Potter, by the way."

I took your hand there, feverishly excited to accept the friendship you were offering, though I knew it never should have worked. There were so many facts that should have made the whole situation impossible – like your father being the hero of our time, our saviour. And while you were famous for your family's sake, I was infamous for mine. Our parents hated each other when they were our age, and my father would never accept me befriending someone like you. But oh, I did, I so willingly did. The fact that you were a year older and belonged to Gryffindor didn't stop you from talking to me, sitting opposite me the entire train ride as if I were an old friend already.

With you by my side, no one ever said anything mean – they never wanted to. I gained some self-confidence on the way as we became best friends. No one had ever expected it, just as you had said. The very brave and loveable Gryffindor and the not so brave and still somewhat shy Slytherin (I was kind of a misfit) being best friends. But seriously? We never cared about that.

It was in my fifth year things started to change – you were, while seated by my side in the Great Hall, pointing at a cute Hufflepuff girl, asking me what I thought about her. For the first time in my life, a very dark and nasty little monster growled inside me, screaming I hated her and wished she would die. I was shocked myself, wondering why I would ever react like that. I couldn't be jealous, could I? So I only said she was pretty and then refused to say anything further on the topic. You were too busy to notice my mood swing, though, staring at the girl on the other side of the room.

From that moment nothing was ever really the same again. The jealousy, or whatever it was, only grew worse, turning a bit blacker every time you laid your eyes on someone else but me, boys and girls alike. My mind craved your attention, needed you to see me. And it scared me. Hell, it scared me more than anything had ever scared me before. Because I knew that the tickling in my stomach, the heat on my cheeks and the blur my thoughts got transformed into as you turned your brown eyes towards me was not the way you should react when your best friend looked at you. Sometimes I caught myself shaking – of nervousness or horror, I never knew. You asked me what was wrong, and I always answered "Nothing". By that, you gave me a long glance and then forgot about it until the next time you asked me and the procedure repeated itself as if in eternity.

It took me a few months to realise what was going on. And the truth scared me, reminded me why I always tried to hide from it. But what was the point in hiding from it, when all I had to do was hiding it from everybody else? If anyone ever found out that I had fallen in love with James Potter, my life really would turn out to the hell I'd feared as an eleven year old boy. That's why I couldn't tell you. I could not tell you, your brother, my friends, my mother, not anyone.

You never suspected anything. For you, life went on as usual. You made up mischief after mischief with me in your heels like another lapdog. Sometimes we got caught, and all you did was laugh, laugh as if you had never had so fun before. I loved that smile, the one you gave me every time they gave us detention, every time a new plan began to grow inside your head, every time you were happy. I loved it, and I still do. No, scratch that. I love you.

The very secret of my life, the secret about you, I managed to keep away from you in almost one and a half year. In this same place as I am sitting right now, you suddenly once again asked me what was wrong. Unprepared as I was, I forgot what I was supposed to say. Instead of saying that it was nothing, I said "It's complicated".

Maybe it had been your plan to trick me, fool me to tell you what was really on my mind. But still, when you hadn't got your usual denial, you'd paled and raised your eyebrows in a half ironic, half worried expression. "It's not about a girl, now, is it?"

I must've had imagined the reluctant flash in your eyes, and still I was sure that for a moment there had been something in them, something that triggered my insides. Before I could stop myself, I had blurted out; "It's never been about girls, James."

Way to go, Scorpius, I had thought, cursing myself for letting my tongue slip. My cheeks turned redder as you got paler.

"What do you mean?"

Anger had flared up on my inside then, anger and a sudden will to prove to you who I was. Show what I meant. And for the second time within ten second, I did something I never should have done, something I had never intended to do. I grabbed the neck of your pale blue shirt and pulled you closer until our lips met.

I could have sworn your lips had responded to mine, moved as if to explore. They were the only thing I could think of, except your body that was so close to mine. Nothing else had room in my head. Until I realised what I was doing, and oh, what the hell was I thinking! Only a few seconds after I had pulled you closer, I pulled you away again, a hand to my mouth. And I remember how the different expressions passed over your face; astonishment when I pulled you away; confusion as your eyes flickered between my eyes; horror as you realised what had happened; apologetic as you talked. "Scorpius -"

"I'm so sorry", I whispered through my slightly parted fingers, staring pleadingly into your chocolate brown eyes. I don't really know what it had been that I wanted you to understand as I looked at you, what it was that I actually meant with my begging expression – that I meant the excuse, or the kiss. "I really am sorry..."

When you spoke, you looked somewhat distant, as if you were about to turn and run away if the chance was given. "It's just a phase", you whispered. "You're only imagining it. You'll get over it."

But I won't get over it. It is not just a phase. If it had been, I wouldn't sit here today, thinking about what I was thinking about now. I would have got over it a year ago. But I hadn't. Maybe I never would.

I stare out over the lake, feeling empty inside. The Incident, as I like to call it, had happened almost a month ago. 29 days ago, to be exact. I had counted the days. If it hadn't been for school, I had probably counted the hours, too. But to be honest, I was grateful for school. Since that day I had, for the first time since I arrived for my first year, been grateful that I was a year younger that you and belonged to Slytherin. I wouldn't have had to see you again, if it hadn't been for the meals. I must confess, I was rather surprised when you'd waited for me in the Entrance Hall the morning after the Incident, smiling and pretending that nothing had ever happened. That, of course, must've been because you didn't want anyone else to suspect anything, I figured later. But I'd been somewhat glad that you still talked to me, so I hadn't really cared.

Still, I can't pretend nothing has happened. I feel wrong, like a criminal no one ever caught. This is not what I want – I don't want you to pretend everything is fine. I don't want you to be mad either. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to not talk about it either.

I am a mess.

My thoughts got interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the lawn; boots making weird, sucking noises as the wet mud embraced them and let go, embraced them and let go. I looked up, surprised. I hadn't expected anyone to come here. Everyone was supposed to be in the Great Hall at this time, eating. When I saw who it was, I quickly got to my feet.

"Scorp", James said as he came closer. "We need to talk."

I felt my heartbeat increase. "You really think that, don't you?"

James stiffened as he heard the stern tone in my voice. The brown eyes widened, staring at me incredulously. "What's wrong?"

My hands were shaking again, and I couldn't stop them, not any more than I could stop the words that were now running out of my mouth. All the despair, angst and sorrow mixed into a strange form of anger – an anger turned directly at him.

"What's wrong?" I nearly shouted. "You're seriously wondering what's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong. It is wrong, what I have been feeling lately. It's wrong, the way you have acted the last month. The pretending, the ignorance of reality. Don't you think I know you're only doing it to avoid the questions from everybody else, just because you don't know what to say? Well, I don't know what to say, either! But I want you to know, that this pretending hurts me. And you've hurt me enough, James Potter. I can't take this anymore. I. Don't. Want. To. Pretend. Anymore. Because it is wrong, and you know it!" I breathed rapidly and felt tears stinging in my eyes, threatening to fall any second. My hands were knitted into tight fists, nails digging deep into my palms.

James looked as if every word had been a slap in the face. The smooth lips were slightly parted, eyes staring wide and the cheeks had turned into a faint shade of pink that, to my chagrin, went delicately with his messy dark hair. He didn't say a word, couldn't respond.

Before the tears started to run down my face, I darted past him towards the castle. I actually ran, and I could hear him shout after me. Begging me to stop, to wait so that he could explain. But I didn't want an explanation. I didn't want to pretend anymore. For once, I wanted to live in the reality, and I was not going to let him convince me otherwise.

The way to the castle wasn't that far, but combined with my already racing heart, my upset thoughts and irregular breathing it nearly killed me. I only had one destination in my mind – the Great Hall. As soon as I had entered there, he couldn't possibly force me to talk to him – there were far too many bystanders for him to make up a scene. And I promise, I wouldn't leave before he had been long gone.

I jerked the great oak doors open and slipped inside the building. Cool air hit me, made a shiver go down my spine. Now I could hear the many sounds from the Great Hall, laughter and cutlery scraping against porcelain. In my ears it sounded like music, like the sound of freedom. My rescue. If I only could reach the Slytherin table...

I had taken three steps inside the dining room as a rough hand gripped my wrist and spun me around.

James looked rather uneven, his teeth burying themselves in his lower lip, brown eyes flickering. With his free hand, he drew his fingers through his dark brown hair – a gesture he had inherited from his grandfather. Apparently he wasn't too satisfied with the surroundings. "Scorpius", he whispered. His voice was raspy. "I need to talk to you."

"Let go of me!" I nearly shrieked and jerked my hand away from him, backing away from him, further into the room. I could feel my blonde hair falling into my eyes, worsen my sight even more. Tears were still welling up, making everything a colourful blur. My entire body was tense, the way the prey often was before it fled from the predator.

This was, of course, the way I usually imagined us to look like. James, all tall and confident and good-looking, bearing the most famous name of our time and actually deserve it. And me, small, scared and in no way self-propelled. He was the one everyone wanted or wanted to be – I was the shadow, nothing without him.

My cry had caught the attention of a few students – soon heads turned in our direction and murmurs replaced the usual laughter in the room. Usually, I would have found it either entertaining or unpleasant, but now I couldn't care less. Irritably, I wiped away the tears that stung my eyes with the back of my hand and noticed that James looked like he disagreed the attention. Actually, he seemed a little pale.

"Scorp", he said with a low voice, apparently not wanting anyone else to hear.

"No", I said, not caring who heard and who didn't. "I don't want to do this anymore, James. I can't. Just leave me alone, alright? Forget all about it and don't bother me, and I promise the same in return. No, do not interrupt me!" I hissed as he opened his mouth. "I don't care anymore, James. I'm so goddamn tired of this! Why won't you ever listen?"

And indeed, James didn't listen. I saw something flicker in his eyes, something decisively. For the first time since I had met him, he looked genuinely vulnerable. Fragile, even, as if a touch would turn him to glass shards. He took a step closer, not answering the question but said with a shaky voice; "I was wrong."

I was so shocked that I stopped right on the spot. I hadn't realised, but my hands had turned into two limp pieces falling on either of my side. My lips trembled, but no sound left my mouth.

James shook his head and took another step forward and – to my surprise – grabbed my shirt and pulled me closer to him, never breaking our eye contact. There was nothing I could do, so I just stood there and stared up at him. My heart was racing, and I bet my cheeks were burning.

"It's not just a phase", he said, repeating my earlier thoughts. But why would he say such a thing? "I thought it was, and I believed that if I just ignored it, I would get over it. I had almost convinced myself it was true, and then you..." He quieted, not saying the words, but I knew exactly what he meant. "I thought you were just messing around with me, that it was a bet or something." He shook his head and looked distant for a few moments. Then he turned his gaze down towards me again. "I'm sorry. I was wrong."

Before I could take it all in, really understand what he had said – and what had he said? – James bent down and kissed me.

I was so shocked I could barely move, still I feverishly answered his smooth lips. James didn't seem to be aware of the surroundings anymore. Or maybe he just didn't care. But I did. A few second later I pulled away weakly and stared, just stared, at him. My ears were exploding with a strange, howling sound. It took me a few moments to realise that it was the sound of someone whistling. To my astonishment, the Hall had broken out in applauses. Not believing my ears, I gazed around the Hall. Hundreds of faces, beaming or whistling, were turned towards me and James. Some girls looked heartbroken, but still no one seemed that surprised, just ... amused.

I blushed and turned towards James again. His face was pale, slightly horrified – but not because of the spectators, I realised, but because I hadn't said or done anything but pull him away. I knew my voice would betray me, so I just smiled. And so he beamed back.

The awkward feeling between us was subdued as he my grabbed hand (this made a few boys whistle again) and dragged me after him to the Gryffindor table. On our way, I caught Rose Weasley's gaze by the Ravenclaw table. Her blue eyes gave me a meaningful look, and I couldn't help but smile when I figured what she was thinking. My dad is going to convince his dad that this is a very bad idea. But you already know that, don't you?

I did. And seriously? I couldn't care less.

Hello everybody! If you read this far, I would like to thank you about a thousand times for taking time to read my little fanfiction. It's the first one I publish here, so I am rather scared but excited. It would mean the world to me if you reviewed and/or said hello.
So yeah. I hope you enjoyed!