A/N:
A short little drabble-ie thing I wrote for 'Pair Roulette' on the Fairest of the Rare FB group - basically, two HP characters are picked for you at random for you to do what you will with them. Needless to say, I got Justin and Katie.
Pride
He should have been with her.
They had planned to go to Madam Pudifoot's, then he'd thought he might have suggested a walk - maybe up to the Shrieking Shack, and back to the castle via one of the more secluded paths. He'd fantasised about wrapping his arm around her, under the guise of protecting her from the cold, and wiping the snowflakes from her cheeks as a pretext to leaning in to kiss her...
But instead, his privileged-Eton-listed-wanker self - the part of him he'd tried to squash away and discard since starting at Hogwarts - had crawled out the woodwork of his personality, his insecurity had manifested in jealousy and arrogance and they'd gotten into a horrible, sullied argument.
He'd never thought he'd been good enough for her, you see. Her being a year older, a respected Chaser, popular, pretty, brave and gregarious, epitomising all that was admired and envied about Gryffindor House. And yes, her being a pureblood to his Muggle-born status. And although he knew she abhorred pureblood-elitism, he couldn't help but be aware of that difference too, especially after Harry Potter had brought Cedric Diggory's bruised and broken body back from that graveyard, shouting about You-Know-Who's return, and all that had happened since.
Being one of the elite in the Muggle world, it had been hard to be one of the subjugated in the magical one.
But, despite all that, she had seemed to want him. They had danced around each other during their evenings play-fighting in the Room of Requirement during the days of Dumbledore's Army. He had openly cheered her on at Quidditch matches and she had come to him for help with her Muggle Studies essay. And things had grown - awkward kisses turned to passionate and prolonged ones, and then they'd finally lain together in that disused broom shed, as she had touched and kissed and explored his body, and she had let him do the same to her.
But occasionally, his insecurity had reared its ugly head, and that morning before their outing to Hogsmeade in his sixth year, he'd accused her of flirting with Oliver Wood.
"Bet you love to accidentally-on-purpose collide your body into his at Quiddtich practice...do you even have separate changing rooms?" His words had been like acid - bitter and corrosive.
"Don't be fucking ridiculous Justin! Are we really doing this?!" she'd exclaimed, incredulous, before turning her back and storming away from him across the snow.
He hadn't gone after her - he'd let her go in to Hogsmeade without him, with Leanne, to end up imperiused in the Three Broomsticks and not long after, unconscious, her soul torn and tainted by the dark curse of a necklace.
But not dead. Thank God not dead.
He'd hated himself. For the whole six months she was under the darkness of that curse, the guilt and self loathing had eaten away at him. And he vowed to never again let his pride blind him to the goodness of her.
He was there when she'd woken up of course. He'd demanded that Dumbledore let him know immediately, and that he be able to apparate down to St Mungo's as soon as possible. He'd hurried to her bedside, noting how pale her cheeks were, how weak her body looked. He'd clasped her hand in both of his and she'd blinked at him as if seeing him for the first time.
"I dreamt of you," she'd said. Her voice was thick and hoarse. "You were in my dreams."
"I'm here now. In our reality," he'd replied, leaning down and kissing her tenderly on the forehead. "And I'll stay with you this time."
A/N:
Your thoughts are cherished and treasured.