Broken

James

She rushed passed him in a flurry of robes and parchment. She had a way of walking. He thought. She had a way of putting one foot in front of the other—like she was off to somewhere important, to do something productive. Even with her back to him, quickly retreating, he knew the expression on her face. Focused. Convinced. Determined. Her eyes, the color of emeralds, would be looking straight ahead. Her lips, the shade of cherries on the brink of ripeness, would be drawn in a line.

He was sure that she was simply heading for the library, as she usually did before dinner. But he wondered constantly, why she looked more like she was heading for war.

Lily

He was walking just inches beside her and so she had no choice but to brush passed him on her way. What else could she have done? When there was obviously no sense of urgency with the way he strutted carelessly down the corridor. Even as she strode several steps ahead, she could imagine him parading behind her, surrounded by his loyal posse, laughing at a joke or charming the daylights out of some innocent female. His messy, jet black hair would be tousled by the wind. His hazel brown eyes would be twinkling—with mischief or charm, or both. Any of which would have been impossible to ignore.

She was certain that he would end up in a broom closet tonight and he wasn't going to be alone. But she wondered briefly, why he looked all the more appealing because of it.

James

He watched her until she disappeared behind the library doors. Had he abandoned dignity a long time ago, he would have remained to watch her come out. With a heavy heart and a frustrated head, he headed for the Quidditch field. If only for a few minutes to escape from the image of her that haunted him, he mounted his broom and challenged the wind.

He cursed her silently but in vain. He longed for the feelings to disappear so he wouldn't have to care. After all, she had no difficulty showing him just how unimportant he was to her. If she could feel nothing, why in hell was he plagued to feel everything? If only he could tell his heart to stop. If only he could get a hold of how pathetic he was getting. Yet, he loved her. And despised himself for it.

Lily

She saw him leave for the Quidditch field as she stared through the glass. Had she succumbed to her heart a long time ago, she would have watched him a bit longer. Struggling not to break, she sought the most secluded table and hid behind the towering bookshelves. If only to ignore the taunting feelings inside her heart, she buried herself in her textbooks and forgot the world.

She screamed at him mentally then gave up. She wished desperately to stop herself from falling. If it even mattered, at least she could still hide beneath her anger and watch him shatter every time. Yet the more he broke, the weaker she got. It couldn't happen, she told herself. She'd rather deny herself the happiness than experience the pain. Yet she wanted him even more.

James

Was he a coward? Was he to blame if he resorted to others just to ease the pain? Was he a weakling for choosing to wallow in empty pleasure just to forget the heartbreak that filled his very soul? He knew what she thought of him. He knew why she refused to let him in. He knew that just like him, she was afraid. She was afraid that she was giving up her heart to some careless, womanizing jerk who would throw it away when the next green-eyed redhead came around.

She didn't realize that he liked her hair not because it was red but because it shone like fire under the sun. She couldn't know that he loved her eyes not because they were green but because they revealed her deepest secrets when she thought no one was watching.

Maybe she wasn't what he'd wanted all along, but what he'd needed.

She couldn't know that if she'd just chosen to look back and given him her heart, he would have changed. Completely. For her.

Lily

Was she a coward? Was she unreasonable to have ignored and rejected him all this time? Was she at fault for choosing to keep her heart whole rather than hand it like a trophy to that arrogant, self-conceited ass? She could see the whole picture even now. She knew exactly what would happen if she let him in. The moment another green-eyed redhead came along, she'd be just like the rest of them. Forgotten, and wishing pathetically that he'd come back.

He didn't understand that she rejected him not because she hated him but because she was afraid that once she surrendered, nothing would be left for herself. He didn't understand that she eyed him each day with such contempt because deep inside, a pitiful yearning for that hair, that smile, those eyes…threatened to explode.

Maybe he wasn't just a craving, but a need.

He couldn't possibly know that if he'd pushed just a little bit more, she would have given him her heart and soul. Completely. With no regrets.