Author's note: Just a short little drabble. The paragraphs alternate point of views.
Disclaimer: I own Harry Potter! Not really. Okay. I don't.
Emerald Brown
It was her eyes that had him captivated. Everyone always seemed to make a big deal about his, but they were nothing compared to hers. Chocolate brown. They were warm, even when her skin was ice cold. It was the only explanation, of course, on why she could get him to do anything. Just one look, and he could feel his heart melt. He'd never tell that to her, of course. He'd let her think that he was following her advice for his own good. Because he actually wanted to better his life. Not at all because she seemed to have this control over him. This power that he just couldn't seem to shake. Somehow, facing death seemed to be so much easier than actually telling her the truth about matters such as this these days.
It had to be his hands. The way they always seemed to find hers in the dark of the night when they were sneaking around the castle. She could feel his pulse jumping in his palm. The warmth that seemed to radiate from him. Those hands, she'd tell herself, could shelter her from any storm. She wished she could hold them more. But would that mean? No. It couldn't. She was much smarter than that. To fall for someone who has been by her side since the beginning. She wasn't the smartest witch in their year for nothing. She knew what to say, how to act. She knew the answers. And, his hands, no matter how strong and full of life they were, did not have any part in her life, other than being attached to him. Yeah. That was it. Love? Pft. You must be delusional.
Her smile could keep him awake for hours. Just flashing through his mind. Any fears that seemed to creep in his mind, her dazzling smile seemed to banish it. It wasn't something he was used to. Relying on her image to conjure happy feelings. Again, it was something he could never tell her. What would she say? That she couldn't be with him because they were only friends? Ouch. Not even her beautiful smile could comfort that blow. Besides. It wasn't like he was in love with her. Much. Oh Merlin. Dragons seemed easier to conquer than expressing feelings. Why did it have to be so complicated? Why wasn't there a book to explain it all for him? Not that he'd read it. Though, if there was, he could be sure that she'd have read it. Not that she'd need it. He was babbling. In his thoughts, of course. If only girls thought like guys. Then maybe it'd be easier for her to figure out what he was thinking every time he saw her. Doubtful.
It was his dedication. He was the only person to get a better score than her in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He would keep at it until he got it right. Stubborn, some people called it. She preferred to call it determination. With that, of course, came a price. The blindness to how she felt. Not that she would tell him. It was a silly crush, right? Right. She was the smartest witch in their year. This wasn't love. It was something she told herself everyday. Not that lying to herself got any easier, of course. Every time she was with him, it got harder. Being instructed how to cast spells in the secrecy of their illegal cause? Exhilarating. She never felt more alive than when she was with him. When he praised her spell work. When he helped her with her struggles. Yes. Even she struggled sometimes. Not for long, of course. And, it wasn't like she put on a show of pretending to struggle, like that hussy he eyed when he thought no one was looking. Having a dead boyfriend did not mean that tramp could steal her best friend! Not that she was getting all worked up about it, or anything.
Alone in their beds, waiting for sleep to overtake them, two fifteen year olds lay, hopelessly drowning in thoughts of each other.