Disclaimer: not at all mine.
Some Like It Hot
Honestly, I have no words for our relationship. Simply no words.
I mean, there was always that fine line between us, keeping us on our separate sides of the universe. He had his side, and I had mine and all was well. For two years I watched his sickening behavior, for ½ I tolerated it. Then somewhere around third year I exploded and shattered the barrier between our worlds. For two years after that our relationship was nothing but aggressive hate, shouts and curses, jinxes and spells. Half of my day was spent telling him off, and the other half was thinking of more ways to tell him off. Gradually my friends became his friends and our shouts were muffled to barely a whisper. Our loathing was subtle yet strong, quick but cutting. We'd abandoned our reckless guerrilla warfare tactics for intelligent weapons, sharp and to the point.
Yet there was something about him that drew me in, he fascinated me beyond end. Most people would have given up by now, but not him; he stares my fiery red-head temper in the face and refuses to back down. And the more time I spend with him the more I begin to realize that we aren't so much opposites as we are similar.
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My eyes scanned the masses of witches and wizards alike that crowded the craftily hidden platform 9 3/4. There were all too many people and I couldn't seem to identify any of them!
I gently pushed on the shoulder of the stranger standing in front of me. I was being squished and jostled and not moving any where. Not to mention my claustrophobia is kicking in. I pushed my trolley through rows of people no longer caring that I was splitting up parting families. I wanted on this train and I wanted on now.
"Evans my mann."
Damn. I know that voice all too well, I'd been lucky enough to go the entirety of my summer without so much as a glimpse of Black, or Potter for that matter. I immediately spun around to locate the greasy mob of dark hair I'd managed to escape. There he was looming in front of me, tall as I remember. His hair was shorter than the year before, yet it suited him. His piercing blue eyes could knock you out if you didn't see them coming. Yes, he maintained a very pleasing appearance. It really is too bad he's the dumbest prick in our year.
"Black, how many times do I have to tell you, I am not your man."
His smile widened and he chuckled slightly to himself.
"Then you'll have no problem being my woman right?" He cheekily teased draping an arm across my shoulder. I immediately shoved it off because one, it was heavy, and two, there was some sort of grease all over his hands and I'm not sure I'm quite ready to find out what it was.
"What girl in their right mind would agree to that?" I replied beginning to move towards the entrance to the train hoping to lose the black fungus that was attaching itself to my arm.
"Ah Evans, I'm so glad to see you've lost none of your sarcasm over the summer. None throws a good cutting remark like you!"
He easily kept up with my rapidly increasing pace, his long legs took two steps to cover what would take my legs four. I stopped suddenly and turned to him giving him the sweetest smile I could muster.
"Black, I've missed you so much over the summer." There was a sarcastic bite to the false sweetness and an icy glare followed.
"Glad to see someone's missed him."
And there he was, Potter in all his blazing glory, standing right in front of me, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I have no witty reply, no 'cutting remark' as Sirius would have it. I am completely and utterly speechless.
