We called it the Jameson effect
The greasy hair dragging down into vines of despair as they hung dead towards the floor, a sharp slice across the cheek of what once was a spirited curl, spiralling freely and unconstrained, a cruel metaphor slapping you in the face, mocking you with your own change. The upside down tilt of what was once a smile, now a constant reminder of the loss of innocence, like a younger carefree sibling that had now passed and left a family in a dark hole they could never escape, that broke marriage and life and smelled like stale potatoes sticking to a tongue. The blackness of what once was a bright dress dipped in a vat of boiling tar, to never feel or express again. And the charcoal dullness of eyes that once sparkled, before they were shot out of the sky like eagles that once soared.
He walked with an easy grace, almost as if he had been born floating above the rest of us, simply gracing us with his presence as he chose to walk rather than soar. He was trouble, his eyes sparkled maniacally as if he lived and adventure, one you couldn't help but want to go on, even just to carry his things. But you would never admit that, because it was too pathetic and too demeaning and goddamnit the Suffragettes didn't fight for nothing. But would it be worth it? No of course not, you'd berate yourself, but the idea of losing yourself to him made it almost worth it, but you knew it was stupid and hated and loved yourself for it.
His eyes, Merlin his eyes, would find you in a room and you'd scowl at his perfection because you knew you could never be so perfect and how could this beautiful horrible fantastic wrong boy even try, even dare, to shatter you with his perfection like a mirror that couldn't take it, couldn't handle it. Because deep down you know you can't, but fuck, do you want to.
There were other boys, of course there were other boys, but none radiated the inner light, the spark you wanted, needed, craved more than anything in this dark world where lights kept going out, faster and faster until your head spun and you found yourself curled in a ball, terrified because how could you protect yourself when all you'd done wrong was exist, when nothing you did short of selling your soul to the devil could guarantee your safety, when the person you could see the light in was him and he could never belong to you.
He was like a spark, a firework, spreading his light and creating joy and smiles when he chose to share it, doing stupid daring childish things with his friends like pranking McGonagall and painting the Great Hall with vulgar imagery. You'd feel it then, the bubble in your chest expanding expanding until the fear is crushed against the walls and it bursts out of you but then the fear closes back in and the laughter is just a memory.
His friends were like him too, gods among humans, angels among men, too good and kind and brave, but hard headed and impulsive like all men were. He was worse, but you looked past it because his stubbornness and fire and temper only made you soar because it made him flawed and human and then maybe he was real. But he was also cruel and chewed up other girls like chocolate then spit them out and the loss of him, of his fire, of his everything made them shrivelled and empty and the pathetic pitiful mess that kept you strong and smart and you stayed away but then sometimes being chewed and spit out by him was all you wanted.
You considered one of his friends, just for a small piece of the light, perhaps forced yourself into feelings for the sandy haired kind eyed creature who patrolled alongside you at night, whose scarred face shone with gentleness despite the jarring appearance. The perfect prince who you'd wagered had fought a powerful beast and lived to tell the tale, who actually embodied some of the darkness that gave you nightmares, that perhaps marrying the darkness would keep it at bay, but he wasn't dark he was light and he was too much and too confusing and too worthy that you couldn't destroy this boy who was your friend and who was already broken.
You were broken too, repeatedly so, so that all you saw when you looked was a porcelain doll covered with tape so it was no longer beautiful but read garbage and worthless and pain. You'd been broken by another boy, one who used to shine with the light but now glowed with ominous darkness, like a shadow falling upon the hallways wherever he would go, like an icy dagger piercing your skull layer by layer when his eyes, dark as coal, met yours.
He could see you were broken, you knew, you could see it when his eyes of summer and life and growth would meet yours as you scowled at him. His flawless face would crinkle in concern and you would slap him with it as you screamed and screamed because goddamnit if you couldn't have the light you would make sure you got the fire, and he would scream back and his fists would clench as his glasses fell askew and your pulse would race as you breathed in lungful's of smoke from his fire, your fire, because you didn't know why it was you could only breathe when he was around.
There was another effect, a Jameson the second if you will, that was rarer in its longevity than a day without death, that had only been seen once many years ago when you were 13 and Helena Knotgrass decided to take him as her own because she was bold and daring but you weren't and he was young and awkward but still somehow embodied the grace of his future. Her smile shone brighter than the castle when he held her hand and his light became her light and even when he decided to spit her out you never saw her sad again because his light was now also her light and her light would never go out, and you wondered if that's what it looked like when two people fell in love, and wonder if you would ever look so perfect standing next to a boy.
You were thrown together at last, as equals, as partners, a badge you had yearned for but never expected and a badge he'd never expected that everyone saw coming, because he was the light and he was needed. And his light became your light as you spent hours attempting to bring order to a school shrouded in darkness and spread his light for those who needed it but you didn't want to share it but knew that other people whose families were crumbling needed his light. You had survived so far and you could make that sacrifice, because you knew how to get his fire when you were cold because you'd spent years fighting your desire because of the madness you knew could unfold. But your fears were real and he no longer let you look past them and through his fire and his rage you found his light as he threw your darkness at you and you shielded it with your fire and he smiled and announced he had found you again.
Months with him had pieced you back together, because his light and his joy and the twinkle in his smile and the adventure in his eyes could heal your cracks and soon you no longer saw the tape when you looked but just yourself as you once were, with scars trailing your body as reminders of what being broken could do. And you cherished his light as it became yours, but feared your scars, and when he offered you his hand in the middle of the night in the cold library as your teeth chattered, you pushed yourself away because how could you let yourself be broken again, and how could you let him destroy himself in a war against your darkness because your blood was dirty and his was pure and he didn't see the danger in staying with you.
But one day his light when out and your world fell into darkness and you found him a crumpled heap of tears and pain as you followed a trail of his brilliance on the map in your hands that his friend thrust at you to his hiding place and looked into his red eyes at the darkness hidden inside of him. You'd heard he'd lost his parents in a battle of the darkness, a darkness as simple as illness in a world with so many real dangers this one crept up on him, as the Slytherins gloated and laughed in the corridors and he passed by with his head ducked low as he stared at the ground an blinked too fast and his friends hexed the Slytherins and took detentions so that he could get away before they saw the rivers of pain from a dam that was no longer secure. Because he was the figure of goodness and he needed to be kept safe from the boys who wanted so bad to see him crumble and you watched him pass by before punching the one who tried to trip him as he escaped because he was the darkness attacking your light.
And you sank to the ground beside him and looked at his face as his eyes held yours steady, and you took his hand in yours before looking away, giving him his light back because without his light your world would never be bright again. But his grief was real and he pushed you away and he screamed and he cursed and you set your own fire because you needed to breathe and the smoke smelled the same and you looked past the fire into his watery eyes and you took his face in your hands and stroked down the sides and slowly he crumbled and succumbed to you. And you saw his perfection was a shield to the turmoil inside, an illusion, hiding a boy with the same fears and running from darkness trying to protect his light. You told him he was your light and he smiled through the pain and you smiled because he was your light and you'd found him again.
Hey hey! It's been ages, I know, but I am still writing TMATHH and will update that soon!
This was just me trying out a different style of writing, and also happened to finally clear some writers block, so let me know what you think!