Some say love, it is a river, that drowns the tender reed.
"Evans! Hey, Evans!"
I put my head down and walked faster, ignoring the shout that was echoing down the annoyingly deserted corridor in the hope that he would go away. This tactic had never worked before so I can't say I was particularly surprised to hear the footsteps quicken and feel him grasp my arm.
"You do know it's rude to walk away from someone when they're trying to talk to you, don't you?"
I felt the familiar impatience and irritation stealing over me.
"And do you know it's rude to bellow at someone from the other end of a corridor, and when that subtle attempt to get their attention hadn't worked to then assault them?"
"I didn't assault you, I just touched your arm"
"Grabbed my arm."
"Oh why do you always do this, Evans?" He said, sounding frustrated, a slight frown on his face.
I glared at him, why does he think knows me?
"Are you calling me melodramatic?!"
"No, I just…" He seemed to realise he'd annoyed me, at last, and tried to change tack. "Look never mind that. I wanted to talk to you about something."
Oh God, not again I thought. Better try to head him off early.
"Yes I'd gathered that," I said dryly "but it's pointless continuing; I already know what you wanted to say, and what my answer will be." I said, in the futile hope he'd finally get the message.
"How can you, you don't do divination!" He said with his trademark Potter grin. I rolled my eyes and started to walk away. "I, however, do study the mystical art of fore-telling the future." He continued, catching up to me. "Do you want to know what I saw in my future Evans?"
"Not particularly" I replied in my best-uninterested tones.
"I saw us, Evans, in a little cottage, with a little black-haired baby boy."
Trying not to contemplate this revolting idea I took a sudden turn up a long, narrow flight of steps.
"So you see Lily, we're meant to be together!" He called, following me up the steps.
I halted in surprise. "Hang on, did you just call me Lily?" I asked, turning round.
"Yes." He said, almost defiantly. "As we're going to be married someday it doesn't seem too much of a presumption!"
"Urgh, Potter, the idea of marring you is so repulsive I think I may have to take a dreamless sleep potion tonight so I don't get nightmares." I said.
He flinched. Not, I think, because of my words, but more due to the undisguised venom in my voice.
"Oh come on Lily, why can't you just consider the possibility of going out with me?" His voice was almost pleading, his hazel eyes, level with mine due to his being on the step below me, were imploring; the soulful puppy look.
I didn't even need to think about the answer to that one.
"Because you're a foul, rude, arrogant, lazy, egotistical, ignorant prat, and I hate you. That's why." I spat at him. "So give up this pathetic, irritating little game, and leave me alone. Is that clear enough?"
The hurt in his eyes was obvious, the torment palpable, radiating from him.
"Why do you hate me so much Lily?" He asked, in a very small voice.
We stared at each other for a few seconds before I burst out.
"I lost my best friend because of you, Potter, you drove him away with your stupid, immature little ego trips. It was your merciless torments that put a wedge between us, and then you try and tell me I'm better off without him, that you did it for my own good!? He was the first wizard I met, the first person who really understood me, he was there for me when my sister stopped talking to me, we were everything to each other, and you ruined that Potter, since the first day on the Hogwarts Express you have been pushing us further apart."
I paused, my voice breaking. "And now he's going over to the Death Eaters. You did that, Potter."
I stopped for a moment, wiping away the tears that had started to fall without my consent.
"So you really need to ask why I hate you?" I finished, almost whispering.
"Lily…" He started, distress evident in his voice.
"And stop calling me Lily!" I shouted turning away and running up the steps. "You're not my friend!"
As I stumbled up the steps, blinded by the tears that just wouldn't stop, I heard him say:
"I love you, Lily."
My breath caught in my throat. I really didn't want to hear this. I wanted not to believe him, to think that his words were shallow and empty, as I have done since the beginning. But for a while now the truth has been too plain for me deny. Where did it come from, this unquestioning devotion? I never asked for it, or wanted it, what have I done to deserve it?
Nearly every girl in this school envies me, having that boy love me so deeply and so truly, but it is something I would gladly give away. I don't want the responsibility of holding his heart in my hands, I don't want to be the one to break him of his teenage idealism, but I will be. Because there is no way I could love him the way he loves me, no way I could love him at all. And one day he will realize this and it will break his heart.
But until then he showers me with attention, with his passion and his dedication. He deluges me with adoration and swamps me with reverence. His feelings are like a river, swollen with meltwater, a torrent, rushing towards me, unstoppable, unendurable. And as happens so often these days, I feel like I am drowning in his love.