She sat alone, crying to herself. She had long ago given up trying to sleep and she looked like she could be a ghost. No one noticed and if they did they pretended not to, the way she no longer talked, smiled, laughed. The way she skipped classes, the way the seemed to drift away when she did attend class, the bags under her eyes and her ever shrinking figure. Her once vibrant hair was dulled and her pallor could not be paler and no one noticed. She was alone.

The tears streamed down her cheeks rapidly at first, and slowed eventually when she felt she could no longer cry. At least not tonight. It was the same every night, every day, her thoughts fixed on the fact he had left her. She hugged herself for comfort, not feeling the cold draughts that fingered their way through the castle. She hadn't slept in her dorm for days, her clothes dirty from being worn for four days and her hair greasing up. But she didn't care. Later she would shower and change, the clean feeling after made her feel better. Not good, but better. For now she would remain curled up in a corridor, tear stained, cold and alone because it's all she felt like doing.

She saw him daily. He avoided her as much as possible but she saw him. She saw how he looked as bad as she felt and it broke her heart, that he had done this and achieved nothing but heartbreak for the two of them. Nothing mattered, just how she felt about him, and the split had torn her apart. Especially since he gave no reason. His tears as he did it said everything but it did not help the hole in her heart nor the constant ache. And her head, her mind just would not, or could not, divert the thoughts of him. The way he smiled, the way he dressed, the way he smelt. Everything she loved about him. She loved him.

This realisation brought forth another burst of pain, but she did not cry. She felt sorrow and her heart lurched but no tears came. Not this time, and she was glad for that. She was sick of the tears. She didn't want him to see her like this. So weak and pathetic. Boys liked confidence, and she reeked of the absolute opposite. She made a pact with herself to sort herself out, in the hope that one day they'd be back together. She wouldn't live for anything else.

Oh, she'd never commit suicide. She could do it, but she wouldn't. It was too selfish and messy and expensive. And in all honesty she wanted to see if she'd get her own fairy tale ending.

She woke up in a bed. Shocked she had fallen asleep she gazed around at a room she did not recognise. She wondered who had found her, for she could not think of any other reason why she would be here otherwise. There were other beds in the room, and it was messy, so was obviously a boy's dorm room. Before she could think any further the object of her affection appeared. Eyes are the window of the soul, and looking at him she could see everything she felt, everything she feared reflected in his eyes. He looked at her, and she blanched realising there was pity in his eyes.

"Don't," she told him hoarsely.

His eyes snapped from her thin body, her limp hair, back to her eyes. He knew what she meant.

"This is just my grieving process," she said, never once taking her eyes off him. It was make or break time, and she was determined to make him understand.

He still didn't answer but his eyes once again roamed her body, taking in everything she had self inflicted upon herself since they had broken up. He may not have acted like he cared sometimes, but inside he couldn't help but love her. You just had to look in the right place to find this. Love was, is a weakness.

"Let me shower," she asked and he nodded. She moved to the bathroom, clearly lit in the morning light. She showered slowly and thoroughly to find he had not moved from his spot the entire time. He was lost in thought but was still aware of everything around him, proved by how when she reached to touch his shoulder from behind his hand reached round and grabbed her wrist none too gently. She didn't let him see it hurt, both physically and emotionally, for she knew that pain was her weakness where love was his.

Even still wet from her shower she looked a hell of a lot better than she had done the past few days. She felt better too. She, however, didn't know if that would change because she was in his company now and half of her didn't want to know. The half that knew he was just as likely to hate her as to love her. She pulled herself away and rummaged through a nearby trunk for something clean to slip into. She knew the entire occupants of the dorm and knew they wouldn't mind this slight violation of their privacy, albeit some more than others. Finding something she deemed adequate she changed in front of him slowly. She had changed her demeanour after he had rejected her touch and now gave off an air of confidence, of knowing she was sexy and turning him on but not giving one damn. It was also of air of ignorance, and he knew few people who could do both at the same time. She finished, turning to give him some of her attention. To be fair, there wasn't much else she could do, save try to leave the room. Curiosity killed the cat, but indeed the cat had nine lives.

She was curious. He had brought this entire thing upon himself. He needn't have acted the way he had, though she did realise he and his pride needed time to process. But what did he want with her now? 'I guess that's what I'm here to find out.'

He looked at her, giving little emotion away. He was so much better at that now than he had been in his younger years, for now they were almost adults. Almost ready to go out and face the world. When he had been ignorant about her he had thought she was still some silly little girl, albeit intelligent, but now he wondered if she was the strong one, ready to battle it out in the real world, and he the weak one who needed time. What they both failed to acknowledge was that together they had balance. They had to let each other into their lives, which was hard, but feeling that you belong together should make that easier. She had already divulged one of her most closely guarded secrets, a start, but his reaction had not been positive. Indeed they had broken up not long after.

Words did not come easily. In their heads there was plenty to say, but there was a big difference when faced with having to say them aloud and being honest without sounding . . . Pathetic. Finally:

"I'm sorry,"

Her wandering eyes immediately found his. Of all the things she had expected, this was not one of them. And she knew how hard it had been for him to say it. With him she didn't even have to ask what she was sorry for because she knew he knew what he was apologising for. It made a world of difference.

"I love you," she told him. She garnered it probably wasn't the ideal first time to have told him this, but he didn't seem to agree as his smiled, gathered her in his arms and whispered "I love you, too" against her lips before kissing her softly. It wasn't a passionate kiss, unlike many of their others, it was a soft, caring one. A promise.

She hadn't forgotten how she'd been feeling for days, and she hadn't forgiven him for it. But the past was the past and she wholly believed that was a reason for it. And she felt stronger now, she appreciated him more . . . Now she could live without him, but she didn't want to. He felt this, just as she felt he'd given in to his feelings, and his fears.

This time when they came together it wasn't lust, it wasn't sex. It was different, making love. A new stage in their relationship. A stage they both welcomed because they had learned to love each other, to care for one another and above all, to trust each other. The future didn't scare them any more, they had each other and if one of them lost their life, well, the others life would go on. Because they were living in the now. Let Voldemort think he would win this war, they knew that he wouldn't. They would save each other when the time came, like they had done already. And that knowledge, that renowned hope spurred them on.

They were no longer boys and girls, they were men and women. And they were ready to fight.