DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor the poetry of ee cummings.
since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;
wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world
my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all the flowers. Don't cry
- the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says
we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph
and death i think is no parenthesis
-since feeling is first, ee cummings
Like Stars
He's one of the beautiful boys, and she hates him.
Maybe that is the reason, actually.
It's irrational, and unfounded, and unfair, she knows-because as much of a prick and an asshole and a jerk he may be he is still good-and he cares. He cares about the world, and about eradicating evil, and about saving people; and he's going to be a goddamn Auror, the stupid boy. And these days the only thing that matters is whether you're good...or bad.
But:
She still hates him with every fibre of her body and she grits her teeth and tosses her hair and throws sarcastic remarks like bullets at him, because SHE STILL HATES HIM, SHE STILL HATES HIM.
She hates him because it's not fair that he's so beautiful-
And it's not fair that he took away everything that mattered, just because he was selfish.
He's one of the beautiful boys, and he hates himself.
It's funny, because he has everything in the world-doting parents, a loyal pack of friends, good looks, smarts, and endless girlfriends-
Ah, but there's the catch.
Because why is he such a serial dater if he's actually a nice guy like everyone says?
(It's because of the hole inside his heart that he desperately needs to fill, or he might die; because he has the world, but he doesn't have flaming hair to run his hands though, emerald green eyes gazing at him, persimmon lips to crush against his own, and creamy skin to tenderly caress.)
It's because he doesn't have her.
And he hates himself for making her hate him.
It's kind of hard to hate someone when you can't take your eyes off them;
because you're forever wondering –
what would it be like to trail my hand along his cheek?
and
would his hair really be as silky as it looks?
and
what about his li-
(and she has to stop right there, because if she goes any farther, she wouldn't hate him anymore, and what would be left of her then?)
But her eyes are always drawn back to him like sticky, sticky glue and it scares her because she's always dreamed of Prince Charming and well, here he is-a little imperfect admittedly, but still frighteningly magnetic. And it wasn't supposed to happen this way-when did he change from another dimwit boy to this compelling stranger who looks at her as though she's the stars?
He tries so desperately; just so, so hard.
He always has-she just hasn't ever seen it.
In first and second year, he tried the age-old methods of pulling on her hair and snatching out her chair from beneath her.
He stopped when she cried, and never tried it again.
In third year, he tried simply asking her to Hogsmeade.
He got a face full of pumpkin juice for all his efforts.
In fourth year, he told Sirius who told Marlene who told Dorcas who told Alice who told Lily that he liked her.
She never even said anything back.
In fifth year, he tried opening doors and flowers.
She just thought he was being a prick.
In sixth year, he read that author she was crazy about-Jane Austen, and got the bright idea to send her a long letter (Merlin, he must have been crazy).
He got a Howler back;
And after all these years of trial-and-error he felt his heart was well and truly broken, and so, in seventh year, he decided to bury his pain deep where it could not surface and not try again.
So why, why, why did she still glare at him and hate him and make him bleedbleedbleed with her knife-sharp tongue?
(What, he wasn't even allowed to look now?)
She needed to get a grip now, because she was falling apart:
and now it wasn't just lack of concentration in class and staring at him when no one was looking –
She was getting tangled in visions and fantasies of him, and he'd invaded her dreams and her thoughts, leaving her flushed and sexy, and he refused to make an exit; she was not in control anymore, he was -
And it disturbed her because DAMMIT, she LIKED to be in control.
She didn't like that falling feeling he gave her whenever he was around.
Merlin, she just wanted to:
Grab him and kiss him and make him hers.
(She wanted him to read poetry to her under moonlit nights and look at her like the stars always).
And oh crap, she was in lo-
No, no, no.
(Oh yes, she was).
And it terrified her:
Because she could nevereverever tell anyone.
It wasn't supposed to be easy, but it wasn't supposed to be this hard either.
To keep away.
Sometimes the words were practically bursting out of his mouth, but he bit his cheeks until he tasted blood and stared at the walls until he was in control again –
Because he had no right to ruin her life.
And anyway he didn't want to because he loved her, he'd kill himself before he harmed a hair on her head.
And-he couldn't date anyone else, because he saw her face when he closed his eyes, and when he opened them his gaze always searched for her. Because he needed to see her face like vampires needed blood; it was an insatiable thirst.
So it wouldn't be fair –
To him, or to her, or to anyone.
So he might as well take a vow of celibacy, because he didn't think he could love anyone else after this. This was it:
This was the love that was in songs and poetry and books, and he wouldn't settle for anything less but he couldn't have this either.
He didn't know how he would survive when he couldn't see her face everyday any longer.
She doesn't know how much longer she can hold it in-
It's getting too much for her, and Alice's just got engaged, and she's busy; and she can't talk to Severus anymore, he talks to the scary boys who disappear for days on end and say Mudblood to her; and Mum and Dad-(they're gone) and she's sinking into an abyss of terror because the whole world's going ugly shades of brown and grey and black and the only way you can survive is by holding someone close, and she doesn't have ANYONE.
She wants to bury herself in his arms to give herself an illusion of safety, because to hell with it, that's just what everyone else is doing, and pride doesn't matter anymore.
(But she's too scared now).
Their world is drowning, it's sinking, and he knows he's going to be one of its protectors. He's not stupid; he knows the risks, whatever anyone may think. He knows that he might get killed any day.
He doesn't care.
Because when he knows he can fight for his friends and his family, he will:
And there won't be any stopping him.
That doesn't mean he's not scared though.
He's terrified.
He's terrified mostly for her; even though he has no right to be. He's terrified of how they call her Mudblood and how her eyes seem so wide and so hurt and so scared each day, and how she doesn't walk with a spring in her step anymore-it's almost like she's afraid to move, and she sticks close to the walls. Where has the Lily Evans he loved (still loves) gone? He wants to bring her back-he wants to marry her and protect her and die for her and it hurts in his throat and his stomach to know that he never can.
(But then who'll take care of her?)
Because she doesn't have anyone to hold onto anymore and he hates himself because he was partly the reason for that.
She can't stand it anymore now, this beautiful magic world marred by evil and she's crying in an empty classroom where nobody will notice strong Lily Evans breaking down, breaking into glass fragments as hot tears run down her face and drip off her nose and she's sniffling madly and she just needs someone to sit down next to her and comfort her and hand her a fucking tissue –
When suddenly someone does, and she looks up, and it's him.
"I'm so sorry", he says, like it's his fault like the whole world is CRASHING DOWN and she can't believe it; it's so unreal and so comically tragic that she laughs, because he's the hero who's saving the world, and yet he's the one who's looking guilty.
But it comes out as a hiccup, and suddenly she's clutching onto him and crying like a child.
She's not beautiful when she cries:
Her nose swells up and becomes red, and there's snot involved.
No-she's still beautiful, actually.
(To him at least).
He offers her another tissue and tries not to notice the fact that she's clinging to him like a limpet (not that it works).
When she finally quietens, she pulls straight and refuses to look at him except to mutter a thank you, and then she's walking away as fast as her feet can carry her.
And he doesn't know what it is that suddenly makes him call, "Lily!".
He realizes that it's the first time he's ever called her by her name.
He calls, and she turns, even though she doesn't mean to.
She can't help it.
And he's getting up, walking towards her and he's all of a sudden close, too close.
And she cannot escape:
Because his eyes are holding her in place and they both stay in that position for eternity and a second, it seems.
And she suddenly realizes that he's looking at her like stars.
(It feels like life flaring back up in her again.)
She's staring up at him, and all of a sudden she's the old Lily again behind the frailty of the new one-fearsome and fierce and crazy beautiful.
So, calling himself a fool in his mind he leans in to kiss her-
He's sure he'll get slapped or kicked or physically harmed in some other way, he's been through this before and just like before, he can't help it-
His hands snake around her neck-
And the other one wraps around her waist-
Her lashes aren't dry yet and they stick out, spiky, clumped with mascara above her emerald green eyes-
And he kisses them softly and her eyes flutter shut.
He lowers his lips to her soft ones, hardly daring to believe he got so far and he lets his eyes close preparing himself for the assault as his lips touch hers:
It never comes.
He's kissing her, she dreamed about this and it surprises her (but that's too small a word, this is electrifying) because it's even better than she imagined.
He's tentative, hesitant, like an explorer on a new planet-he plants gentle feather-light kisses on her lips as if not daring to go any further.
But she doesn't want it soft:
She wants it hard and she wants pent-up passion and longing (hidden for YEARS) and she wants it now.
So she pulls him to herself-
And his grip suddenly crushes her; she's lifted off her feet and placed on the desk they were leaning against and she's breathless.
And there is no time to regain oxygen as his lips cover hers and kiss her like she's his and only his; he's leaving his mark on her and he doesn't seem to want to let go. He doesn't seem to have any control over himself as he kisses her collarbone, her jawline-and she doesn't mind because she's most certainly in his control even if he isn't; and her body is limp and his kisses are lighting up supernovas.
It wasn't supposed to be like this in an empty classroom as a means of comfort but she's kissing him back and that's enough for now. They all need someone in these trying times and it's always been him for her:
So what does wrong or right have to do with it?
They might die tomorrow; so it's just as well that it happened like this, even though he has hurt her and she has hurt him in the past. Explanations take too much time and some things are understood even when left unsaid.
And he thinks it's going to be enough:
That he loves her like all the stars in the wide open sky.
A/N: Wa-hooo! My first JPLE! Read and Review, guys- and even if you don't, thanks for reading.:)
This story is dedicated to Queen Nightingale, who is like, immensely cool, and writes THE BEST JPLEs EVA! You rock!
I feel so happy. I have been toiling at this thing for THREE DAYS.