He hadn't forgotten during valentines' day.

She'd looked particularly chirpy, that young first year, their gazes occasionally meeting in the halls and he swore - his heart fluttered- even for just a short moment, that she gave him a smile. It wasn't until he gazed behind him and noticed that the softness he'd seen before wasn't truly meant for him. They aren't meant for him and they never will be, yet there's this stubborn sting that begs to differ.

But he spun around to see what she feasted her sights on, hoping, hoping that it was truly him that she landed those hazel eyes upon.

Instead, they were on a boy walking behind him.

"Eyes as green as a fresh-pickled toad."

"Hair as dark as a blackboard."

And then he bit down on his bottom lip enough to snap the skin in two – felt raw blood across his tongue. And then he straightened his back, swept his robes and moved forward without a mere second glance.