My jaded eyes skimmed across the yellowing, aged page of the book. Normally this wouldn't have been so bad, but the print was impeccably small. If I read it under a dim light, I'd develop myopia the next day for sure…just like Potter.
When I was younger I had the impression that all those who wore spectacles were certain to look ugly, which was one of the reasons why I took great care of my eyes. But he, James, was different. With spectacles, he actually looked…handsome.
But of course, under the façade of good looks, he was still the arrogant idiot from fourth year.
"Evans? Are you there? Time for patrol; it's seven-twenty five."
I jumped from my position on the couch. James had done a rather good job of startling me. To think that he would actually be the one reminding me, when I had set the time! Embarrassment burnished my cheeks.
"Sorry," I apologized hastily.
He gave a wry smile, shrugging as though that one shrug would clear my mistake. "Let's go." He responded.
Adelaide felt ghostly tears prick her eyes again. That image of a tall, dark haired boy burned deep in her mind.
She thought he truly loved her. She thought that, he, a Slytherin, would fall in love with her, a Gryffindor. She thought that what they had was real. She thought.
She'd always enjoyed their kisses. They were deep, passionate, and the way his tongue roamed her mouth; the way his lips touched hers, were enough to send shivers of delight running up and down her spine.
But that final kiss had ended it all.
She remembered his cold eyes, so devoid of emotion that it was hard to believe that they had been burning with passion just moments ago, and she remembered the steely glint of that dagger as he plunged it into her.
She hadn't even screamed.
She had just stared at him with helpless, pleading eyes. "Why?" she had asked him, numb to everything but her emotional turmoil…
He was frightened too, and she knew it. She knew that deep inside, beneath all the knowledge of dark arts and Slytherin blood, was a vulnerable, insecure orphan.
"It's wrong…for us to be together, I mean. The rest of them keep tormenting me, saying that of Slytherin blood I shouldn't love a Gryffindor…" he choked. Tears stung his eyes now.
"Oh god, what have I done?" he moaned.
"And you listened to them…you let them… she trailed off, letting her words linger and stab his heart like he had stabbed her.
She couldn't forget how his eyes had been so cold, so unlike him…She had always thought that for all his sweetness, he should have been a Gryffindor. But at that moment, when he had stabbed her, she had seen the snake in him, his true Slytherin self.
She collapsed to the floor, wheezing heavily. He knelt down hastily and bent to kiss her, but before he could do so, her last breath shuddered in her chest, and she died.
Her life had been so short.
He let out a cry; his voice cracked with anguished.
"There is absolutely no reason why everyone else should survive when you have died," he said, clenching his fists agitatedly. His throat was thick with suppressed longing, his eyes vacant.
His wide eyes strayed to the bloodied dagger on the floor. For a moment he did nothing, and then in the exact next moment he screamed. He screamed long and harsh, the sound penetrating the silence of night within Hogwarts.
His eyes gleamed with…all kinds of expressions describable. Then, tucking the knife into his robe pocket with a liquid fluidity, Tom Riddle swept out of the room without even a back glance.
To all fans of the Marauders, especially the numerous Sirius Black fans, I apologize for not having any Marauder activity so far. I promise that there will be; somewhere in future chapters (I'm writing way ahead of this story.).
I don't plan on writing until Lily and James' deaths, because this is mainly about how they got together and most of their romance. I'll continue this story a little after they graduate, and then I'll stop. Yep, that's the plan.
If you'd like to read my version of how Lily and James died, you can read my one-shot, "Triumph and Defeat". It's horribly written because I wrote it on the spur of the moment (It really depends what your definition of horrible is, but anyway.) so perhaps you shouldn't read it after all…
P.S. I'm not exactly fond of writing author's notes, so don't expect another one soon – sorry!