Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

AN: Don't even ask my why I'm writing this. I know, my track record at updating is terrible at best, but I started writing, and this is where it took me. I can't promise updates, but it's summer time and I've got freetime up the ass, so tell me if you like it and I'll do my best.

I used to always watch his lips as he spoke. They were probably the most sexual thing about him. Forget abs, forget butts—his lips were what most drew me to him. The way he licked his lips before that slow, creeping smile spread across his face. The way he drew his lip in then, biting it almost coyly.

I was mesmerized. Was it possible to be that attractive? His hair fell in his eyes. He had one dimple on the right side of his mouth. He would rub the back of his neck and look at you through his long lashes.

He was perfect all for one tiny detail.

He was my best friend's boyfriend.

So maybe that's not such a tiny detail. Maybe that's a huge detail. But what was I to do? I couldn't tell her—she loved him. So I did the only thing I could. I kept my mouth shut. I watched as he loved her, and she him, as he kissed her, as she returned to the dorms, hours after curfew, flushed and grinning. I watched and I envied her more than I ever had.

Stella had always been perfect. All our friends, though they were titled 'our friends,' liked her more. She was smarter than me. She was prettier than me. She had her own broom, while I had to borrow one from the school because I couldn't afford my own. And she had Amos Diggory, the one thing I desired the most.

So I let her have him. I let her have it all. And I guess that's how it started. Where everything started to go down the tube. While she was blissful and glowing, I was green with envy and greedy for something of my own.

And so I went, and I found something of my own.

"Brookie, have you seen my lipgloss?" Stella asked me. She was digging through her trunk, her scarf hanging in her face. It was the only thing she was wearing that even vaguely could protect her from the frigid cold outside. Her top—low-cut, a "sweater" in name, but really, barely a piece of cloth—didn't even meet where her low-rise jeans hung on her hips. She'd be freezing, but I'm sure Amos would give up his jacket willingly.

"Nope," I answered, rolling onto my back on my bed. Although it was a Hogsmeade weekend, I didn't have any intention of going. Stella was going with Amos, and there was no one else I'd really go out of my way to spend time with, so I was stuck in the dorms, wearing the same pajamas I'd been wearing for the past 24 hours.

"Are you sure?" she grunted, still bent over her trunk, pulling large items out of it. "Didn't I let you borrow it a couple weeks ago?"

"Nope," I repeated. It was actually a distinct possibility that she did, but I couldn't remember having anyone I wanted to impress, except Amos, but...well. You know how that goes.

"Then why's it sitting here on your dresser?" she asked, slightly annoyed. I glanced over, seeing her holding the vanilla flavored lipgloss, and grinned sheepishly.

"Oops?" I said.

Stella, who couldn't stay angry for more than three seconds, shrugged and smiled at me. "Oh well," she said, practically running to the door. "I'm going now—don't wait up!" And with a giggle, she was gone.

The second the door slammed behind her, I heaved a huge sigh of relief. Nothing against Stella—after all, she was really the only person I could stand at Hogwarts—but knowing that within minutes, she was going to be with Amos, his hands all over her, her giggle filling the air, her blonde curls bouncing, her hands drawing him into her...well, it was kind of a buzzkill.

I contemplated my options of what to do with the day as I surveyed the fraying canopy over my bed. Since I was probably the only Gryffindor that had opted out of Hogsmeade, despite the cold, I could go down to the Common Room without anyone seeing my disgusting pajamas. It was either that, or looking at that horrible red color some more.

I lifted myself off my four-poster, missing its warmth already, and rushed my way down the stairs towards the fire. The castle was always freezing during the winter, and today was no exception. It wasn't until I was halfway to the couch by the fire when a scene outside caught my eye.

There was Amos, Stella just feet from him. Her smile was bright even from the height I was watching them, and she mashed a snowball between her hands before launching it at Amos. It hit his thigh—she always did have horrible aim—but he flew backwards anyway. It was obviously on purpose, but Stella rushed towards him, still giggling, and I could practically hear her voice, Are you okay? Are you alright?

He played dead for a moment before flipping her over and landing on top of her, and they kissed right there in the falling snow.

To say it hurt would be an understatement. Sure, I wanted Stella to be happy, but didn't I deserve to be happy too? Couldn't I just this once get what I wanted?

"He's never going to love you, you know," a voice said from behind me. I turned and saw Sirius Black, in all his glory, standing across the room. I turned back to the window, watching as Amos and Stella kissed, angry for the intrusion, angry at myself.

I shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about, Black," I told him coolly.

He snorted, walking towards me, and he watched them through the window, too. "I've watched you mooning over Diggory for a year now. I saw you in Potions last year. I've seen you this year while you play third wheel to the Kissing Brigade over there. I know what love looks like when I see it," he said.

He drove the knife in a moment later. "And he's never going to love you back."

I glared at him, crossing my arms over my chest and ignoring the goose bumps that had formed all over my body. "Thanks for the insight, Black," I snapped. "I'll make sure to owl you next time my therapist isn't doing his job."

I walked away, intending on returning to my room for a nice cry and maybe throwing a few books around, but his next words stopped me. "If it makes you feel any better, he doesn't love her, either. He never will."

I halted. As much as I hate myself for it, it did make me feel better. Finally, something that was unreachable to me, but also unreachable to Stella. Finally, she could be mortal, too. "And how do you know that?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

He looked amused. "I know guys like Diggory," he answered. "I am guys like Diggory. Trust me, the only thing that guy loves is his reflection."

I surveyed him. He was wearing a black t-shirt and dark jeans, and he looked good. He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. But that was all I'd ever pegged him for. But apparently I needed to add observative to that list, too. "So you know about guys like Amos," I said, "and you know about love. What are you, the relationship guru?"

He smiled. It wasn't slow like Amos's—it just popped up on his face while you blinked. One second it wasn't there, but then it was, and it was so blinding you felt foolish for missing it at all.

He walked towards me again. This time he didn't stop, he came right up to me and placed his hands on my hips, pushing himself against me even though my pajama shorts ended awkwardly right before my knees, and my tanktop had a spill of pumpkin juice right on the boob. "Not at all," he replied, leaning down and kissing me straight on the mouth. Insane? Yes. But in that moment, he was all I had. And that's how I found myself sleeping with Sirius Black.