AS LOVERS GO
Disclaimer: Nope, this is not mine. Well, the story is, the characters, sadly, aren't.
(A/N: Written as a little Valentine's Day treat to you guys and for the 131 titles to choose from challenge on HPFC. Also, for certain people out there, any resemblances to real life are purely coincidental so refrain from teasing, pointing out or having "doubts". Thanks… And, I've realized I've taken quite a like to writing in 2nd person… what do you think? Should I keep it up or revert to using 1st and 3rd?)
Love, what could be love, was completely alien to you. Of course you'd read a lot of books about love: books on couples getting together, books on couples breaking apart, books on unrequited love that was never quite as unrequited in the end… And you were in love with a number of things: you loved ice cream and cats and strawberries and you lovedlovedloved the idea of love.
But you'd never been in love with a someone.
And then, you'd met him.
He was everything you'd never wanted in a guy. Egoist and sarcastic and stuck-up. And when you met him, you couldn't bring yourself to trust him for about a month. But something about his whole attitude made him just too damn interesting and, suddenly, you couldn't get him out of your mind. Later you found out that, apparently, he couldn't get you out of his either.
Still, it was so wrong.
He was a Malfoy. A Malfoy. And you were a Potter. It was clearly not meant to be. Even if he did have incredible blue eyes and an amazing smile and you got butterflies just from the way he looked at you with that small twinkle in his eye you'd come to love.
But no one had said you couldn't be friends, right?
So you talked. There were no rules against talking either.
Even if your brother did look at him a little funny when you two were together and your friends did like to tease you about it every chance they got – hell, even your parents pitched in every once in a while.
But you were just friends.
Friends.
Just friends.
You had to keep repeating that phrase to yourself because you were afraid you might slip up and forget if you didn't. Because if you didn't forget, it was all perfectly all right.
But then you realized you were becoming a cliché. And becoming a cliché was dangerous because clichés always had happily-ever-after's and you were certainly not a princess and he was clearly not a prince. At least, not your prince.
So you pulled away, because it was better that way – it was easier. Because he was a Malfoy and you were a Potter. And it was just to wrong. You couldn't become a cliché and you couldn't fall in love because you just weren't meant to.
But then, you decided as your eyes meet across the room one day, being a cliché couldn't be that bad. And if your parents were okay with Albus and Scorpius being friends, why would they mind if you liked a Malfoy?
Of course, now you would have to swallow your damn pride and deal with all that teasing and taunting and pointing you were sure to get.