This is a short one-shot I came up with. It's a different style than what I usually write, so let me know what you think
-AsItThunders
You knew you were in over your head very easily. It might have taken you a long time to realize what the signs meant, but at least you figured it out in the end. The only thing that was really a problem was what you were going to do about them.
You first figured something was wrong when your face fell when he wasn't at breakfast one day. You searched and searched up and down the Gryffindor table and even at the Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw tables where he had been known to sit at occasionally if he was dating someone. But he's not there, and the smile that had been on your face slipped off. Someone sitting next to you asked what was wrong, but you had no answer. It was just like the warmth had left the sun. At least, that's what you thought.
You then knew something was different when, as soon as you stepped into a classroom, your eyes sought out his tall, Quiddtich toned physique, looked for the tell-tale mop of messy black hair, or the infectious laugh that he was never far from. And this time, a smile little smirk lit your face. It was strange, but you assured yourself for a long time, you were just happy to see that people were still able to laugh in these difficult times. At least, that's what you thought.
You got something had changed when you acted so strangely when he didn't spar per usual with you. There had been something like a routine to it. You would bait him, he would take, and the fiery dance would begin—sometimes out on the grounds by the lake, in common room in front of the fire, or in your own Head Dorms. So, you laid the bait out one night while he was leaning up against the fire, staring down at it, but he just glances up at you and continues his contemplations of the dancing flames. And it unnerves you. It's not supposed to go like this. He's supposed to jump back at you, say something clever that makes your stomach clench and your face flush. Your blood is supposed to be pumping and you're supposed to be glaring at him furiously, but all he does is stare into the blaze. For some reason, this makes you jumpy, nervous, on edge. You tell yourself it's just because things are out of routine, and that takes some getting used to. At least, that's what you thought.
You knew something had snapped when you saw him chatting up raven-haired Hufflepuff and something exploded inside of you. You got this insane urge to jinx the girl into a jelly so that she could do nothing more than slink away down the corridor. It was such a strange feeling, and it only flared up when you saw another girl talking to him. Sometimes you would think he would see you, and the infamous smirk would get a little bit more pronounced. But then he'd excuse himself saying that he had patrol duties, and he would spend the rest of the night with you, wandering through the halls and making idle conversation. So slowly, the strange feeling in your stomach would release its hold on your muscles, and it would be like it was never there in the first place. You told yourself for a long time it was just that you didn't think those girls were right for him, that the rest of the Marauders wouldn't approve. At least, that's what you thought.
But you really knew something had changed when you walked in the portrait hole to the Heads Dorm and saw him, really saw him, like it was the first time. He was just standing there behind the couch, the flickering fire casting an orange aura around him. His hands dug into his pockets, jeans now that classes were over for the holidays. His dark red shirt clung to his chest in all the right places. The tousled, unruly hair so much like its owner, and those hazel eyes—so many different colors at once it seemed impossible to believe they didn't move. There were was something about the set of his expression: grim by the slight pull of his mouth, anxious by the way he gnawed a little on his bottom lip, worried by the furrow of his eyebrows, scared even from the way he shifted his feet, but there was still hope shining in his eyes, determination blazing from his confident stance, and content from the lazy way he stared down at the fire. At least, that's what you thought.
There were so many different things you hadn't noticed about him. So many little hints and clues that you should have picked up over the years, caught onto, and realized. There was something about this boy that made you feel like you knew nothing and yet meant everything at the same time. It seemed dangerous.
At least, that's what you thought.
Review and let me know your thoughts on this little piece. Thank so much for reading.
Summer Days,
-AsItThunders