Loving Him

by RubyE.A.Gem

I remember everything. The beginning and I remember the end. I remember his eyes, the way they danced like flames, and how the gold flakes would catch the light. I could lose myself in those hazel orbs. I remember his laugh how it was contagious, and how he understood me better than I did. I remember how we went to the end of the world for each other, and we would do it all again.

21. Till Death do us Apart

Chapter 21: Till death do us apart

~JAMES POV~

The test paper is white, the writing black. I wish it had grey; I hate perfection, perfection that isn't my doing. I am perfect, in every aspect of the public eye, and yes, there are slip ups, like Thomas, who is still in the hospital bed, weeks later. Refusing to work, like a child. But generally, overall, I am perfect. The dictionary says perfection is something unflawed. But I disagree, perfection is an image. And those who are truly perfect are able to keep that image in place.

Divination. A wash up subject, but the girl beside me is not washed up, she pays attention to each detail, writing and scribbling answer after answer onto sheets of thin paper, pen squeaking, quill shaking, the ink puddling in pools on the table as she dashes towards the finish line. The perfection. That 100.

I look back down at the question.

Number 54) Define Beauty and how it affects our readings and assumptions.

I let out a breath, and run a hand through my hair. It is soft, I have always loved my hair, I pride myself in the way it falls onto my skin, stark against, a contrast from whites to blacks. For like that page my hair and skin are perfect. I am perfect. I like being perfect, it leaves no room for improvement, and therefore no stress to improve. It is a ceiling, perfection.

Again, my golden eyes find the girl beside me, her elbow brushes against my arm, the contact brief, but I am lost, in it, the soft touch, and bite my cheek, making my eyes dark and brooding, waiting as if desperate for attention, for a glance up. For sea to meet gold. But she is focused, she will break through the ceiling of perfection, in every aspect, for her perfection has no roof.

And so I write. Cursive letters looping, ink flowing like blood, dark, sickening. An answer, wrong. But I don't give a damn. Let her win this one James, let her get her perfect score, let her look at you with that triumph, let her win, for victory is all she wants. Give her what she wants. Become humbled by your fake mistakes.

The writing is a work of art, I almost feel like I should get extra credit for my cursive, but I cannot, because then she wouldn't win.

And so I murmur my writing to myself, words like fire, kindling the future, the blood. All of it.

"The definition of beauty is Rose BlackThorne. And she, this young girl, no lady, is affecting everything, she makes my heart thud, she makes my pulse skip, she makes my lips part. She is the only thing I have ever seen that is beautiful. She makes me biased, ignorant, wrong. And maybe she makes me better…"

I rest the quill down, boom. And I stand, leaving the stuffy room, and I stop at the door, and I look back. Everyone is asking everyone about the words, the questions, the stars, what was what. Fools. And my eyes find them. Rose is spinning round and round with Dom in her arms, white and golden hair mixing to create, again that word, beauty.

V is holding onto Roxy's hand and dragging her towards a chair, to fake interrogate her, and find out if she is okay, since she has been getting stressed, and Roxy is laughing, eyes wide, windblown, teeth shining, and Lucy is there, arms locked around them, and they all hug. It is the first midterm of the new year, and we have all been worried, well exempting me, all of them have been stressed, hair between knotted fingers, lips bitten till cut, fingernail marks on clear skin. Stress can drive you to madness. No one gets it, what it is like watching the people you care about go mad. But what can I do? If I admit to myself that I cannot help them, then I am no longer perfect. And if I am not perfect than what am I?

Dom smiles, I haven't seen her smile in weeks, I haven't seen her smile in so long that it hurts, physically, and Rose watches that smile too, and I see her let out a breathe she has been holding, let out a worry she has been plaguing, and her eyes find mine. And we watch. Each other. And she gives me a nod, soft, small, an acknowledgment, and I duck my head, leaving the scene behind.

Nothing is perfect. It was this day that I saw perfection. And it was Valentine's Day that I found out that nothing lasts forever. That perfect, and beauty, are just words stupid humans created to feel better about themselves, when in fact, nothing can and ever will be perfect again.

Hogwarts is not my home, the walls are comforting only because of the friends behind them, and even then, they are not worth saving, not worth risking. Weeks have passed since the train ride home and a month about since New Year's. It's February, and the signs of spring are on their way, but I have never cared for spring, or what it could bring.

Daffodils, and the snow caps, beginning to melt, our breath doesn't form clouds of steam anymore, and the sun shines for longer times, rising before I wake, and going down before I sleep. Each day has a new rhythm. I wake up, and I go downstairs, and then it gets exciting, cause she's there. It's never been exciting before.

It's been different since we got back, Rose; she's been different since we got back. Her eyes no longer follow the blonde, blue eyed, Slytherin demon, but follow me, my every movement, and now, more than ever, I feel a pressure to not let her down as she goes forward with bravery, forward to me.

No, we have not sat down and talked about it all, our relationship, I think at the moment, it is open, and she fears being responsible, and maybe, as she reads the diary I wrote when I was so young, she will learn to fear me.

I am in the heavens. Well, not literary. The broom is hard beneath me, the wood is warmed by body heat, and I practice tricks, that when the time comes, will look effortless, like I was born to flip off the broom and catch it with one hand. But it isn't as easy as it looks.

I like the sky. There is a freedom, and no bloody idiot can come and take you down, I like that freedom, I want to own it, I want to keep it and let it be mine forever. When I was younger, I remember learning how to fly; no one ever stood up and taught me, they didn't need to, because I could. And I did.

I got up, off of my knees, and onto my feet, and I kicked the disgusting rock beneath us, this earth we cannot live without, and I shot up, and I screamed the whole way, but once I was up there, I would not come down, it was like I had sprouted wings, I had sprouted dreams, and endless possibility of it, and I hate chance, I hate liars, and I hate those who try to bring me down from this sky, my sky.

The stars have an empty look tonight, it is as if they are mourning us, us humans trapped in our own beautiful grave yard, far beneath, captured and chained to the oxygen this planet gives. One day, I promise, I will find a way to create oxygen out of a wand, out of a breath, to create water out of dust, and fire out of rain, one day I will do it all. I often wonder if that day has come, and passed, and have I done it all?

The wind is soft in my hair, and I let go of the broom, hands scraping my heavens, and I gaze at the stars, and I shout, loud, yelling at them,

"Cheer the bloody up!"

And let out a sigh, lips pushed together, and I let my eyes drowsily close, I am tired. Not tired because life exists, just tired because the stars are not mine tonight, I cannot understand them tonight, tonight they are warning me. But I am blind.

My feet hit the ground, the mud splatters, I watch the tiny drops fall towards my clothing, I watch each particle slip through the air, and I wish I could stop them, I wish I was able to stop whatever I wanted to stop, just by looking, so maybe I will find a way to do that, too.

I see her shadow first. Long, almost worn out, I then see her hair, blonde, like liquid silver, shined by the moonlight of the crescent, slim in the darkness. Dominique Weasley. She has not been okay. I am not a fool, I am observant, and she is on the list of the people I observe. Because I care about her. She is my cousin after all.

She is off, something about her is off, she does not smile when she laughs, her eyes do not glow when she eats, she stares, and she whispers, her voice always so very quiet. We are worried. But this has happened before, when she was very young, she came to me, asking for a promise, for me to always be there, but to live for her, if she is not there. That was when she got her heart broken by Andrew Mason. I hate Andrew Mason.

Her voice is soft, her voice is never soft, but tonight, with the stars that shine dull, and the world cold from the bitter winds, and endless hail, she is soft, timid, and her eyes glow in the darkness, and I do not fear it, for I have seen monsters far worse.

Dom. She looks like an angel, hair stark against the inky black, blue eyes light like ice, and her breath makes no mark in the cold air, her skin is not rosy red, but a pale, sickening yellow and I wonder, for a moment, if she is okay, better than okay. If any of us are, when it has not even begun, chaos, the war, the forgotten.

Her voice, it is an angels but yet as well it is tired, so very exhausted, it is as if it lacks the will to live, choked on a happiness her words do not admit,

"Is that you? Frank?"

I shake my head, eyes wary, she is not herself, and with the sudden wrong identification I look closer, at her worn hands, her nails are often perfect, but I can see small scratch marks on the soft opaque nail polish, her hair never has a knot, but now, tossed in the wind it looks like white hot flames, tangled, but her skin, her skin is what causes a chill of the reckoning to settle on me, in my bones, it is worn down, almost see through, almost like glass.

She sighs, and abruptly sits down, on the wet, muddy ground, robes getting soaked in an instant, but I don't stop her, I observe, and her voice is lost as she speaks,

"I have never told you how much I like you Frank…."

I don't say a word. Frank? Does she mean Frank Longbottom, the chaser on my team? My friend, he is older than her, only by a year, in fifth, but she can't like Frank, because she's Dom, she doesn't like anyone… But that thought stops me, who are you to talk James, you never liked anybody either, and now, here you are, daydreaming, constantly about those stunning eyes, the soft curve, the rosy cheeks.

I swallow and crouch next to her, softly placing a hand on her brow, she is not hot, no, she has no fever, but her skin is like ice, like that of one without life, and she goes on, voice lacking, lacking so much,

"I am scared Frank, I cannot see, not clearly, it is like my mind does not want me to see, but I want to see, I long to see so much, there is so much I have not seen…."

I cannot move, the darkness feels very vast, and my pulse is too slow, my mind too slow, I can only hear her words, not process, not do anything, but I want to, you have to James, before it is too late, you know you have to, god damn it James, move, but I cannot.

Her voice is small, her breath hard,

"I have a dream Frank, its brilliant,"

And I want to speak, I want to say something, anything, maybe that I have a dream too, that our dreams will only ever be that, just that. To not lose hope, but I feel as if I am a hypocrite, a liar, a bastard,

I find my voice, not through myself, but someone else, it is as if she appears, and her hands are warm, Rose. And she whispers, her voice like a lullaby,

"Nothing is the end of the world. It is just the beginning of a new one,"

She is right. Let us dream. Let Dom dream. We can create a beginning, this is not the end, and we are stronger than that. Than then end. And so I speak,

"What do you dream of?"

I wait for her to smile and call my name, realizing I am not Frank, but James, her James, who has teased her for years, ever since we were little, but she does not, she does not call my name, she does not acknowledge me, instead her eyes stay forward, and when she speaks, it is broken,

"I dream that one day we will all grow old, and meet up every year for summer at a beach house, all of us, and we will have children, and we will tell them of the beautiful lives we lived, of how we saved the world, how we saved them…."

She turns to me, tears in her eyes, and sobs, though it makes no noise. And her eyes look out, past me, at the stars that do not shine, and it is as if she does not see me, as if she cannot see me. Her voice sounds so devastated, and the tears shine in the moonlight,

"We must live beautiful lives, mustn't we? We must make them memorable, so no one can ever say we didn't do our part…"

I blink slow. Her cold skin. Her lack of eyesight, I know it, there is a warning in my blood. When Mundungus died, the whole party before, the whole day before he couldn't hear, and he was cold too. And he died. I swallow. Hands whirling, and I grab onto her pulling her up, and pulling her to face me,

"Dom, it's me, James, listen how do you feel, can you remember me, huh Dom?"

She stares past me, at the stars and smiles,

"You're my cousin. You're James. You're Roses' James."

I stare at her, heart pounding, my voice shaking,

"Whose?"

She smiles, but her eyes hold tears, and one single one traces her cheek, broken. Why does this feel like goodbye?

"Rose loves you; she is just too scared to tell you James. I wish Frank loved me. I wish you would let him love me… He's a good guy James, good enough for me,"

She turns to leave, but I grab onto her arm. And I pull her closer, my arms wrapping around her petite form, my voice thick,

"Oh Dom, love whoever the hell you want, for me, please,"

And then she looks at me. Actually at me. Not the stars, not her hands, me. And I see it, a street, there is blood, I am murmuring something. There is a corpse. Her hands are limp. My wand is in my hand. Rose is there. We are all there. And then I blink and the image is gone. But not the thought.

I fear death. I cannot stop it from happening. I cannot.

I take her hands in mine, and I lead her up to the castle, my steps fast, and I burst into the infirmary, Madame Pomphrey glancing up.

"Madame, she isn't doing well, I think she is cursed, or ill, I, she never gets like this, never,"

She steps forward, taking Dom from me, eyes concerned,

"What Mr. Potter?"

I swallow; there is something about tomorrow, Dom needs to last past tomorrow, past the day after. There is something about those two days, the two days coming that is ominous. Bad.

"You need to keep her here until tomorrow, and the day after, is done, please,"

She nods, and then shakes her head, letting out a soft laugh,

"I can't, James the day after tomorrow is Valentine's Day, I can't keep her in captivity on Valentine's Day,"

I shake my head, eyes warry,

"You have to. For me… And not captivity, just to make her better, you have to make her better,"

Madame Pomphrey gives me a long look. And her voice shakes slightly,

"You're really worried, James, should I contact Fleur and Bill?"

I swallow, and glance at my hands,

"I... No, not until you know what's wrong with her, you have to…"

She goes to speak but Dom grabs onto my hand, and she laughs, high pitched, hysterics,

"Don't leave me here James, you are better than this, don't do it, it can't change it,"

I stare at her, and laugh, a hand running through my hair, eyes wild, breath short,

"Stop talking in metaphors, for god sake, change what? Huh?"

She smiles, wide, and suddenly her hand is in mine. And it is warm. It is very warm. She is alive. Stop freaking out James. And she gives me a long look,

"Fine, if me being here keeps you from pulling your gorgeous hair out of your scalp, I will, but calm down James, where do you think I'm gonna go? I don't plan to go anywhere,"

I bite my tongue and nod. Out the door. Up the stairs. And I burst in. Loud. I hear soft breathing and give the Professor a tap on the shoulder. A squawk and a fluent string of insults, a wand clutched in old hands, skin like parchment paper. Professor McGonagall lets out a very pissed off sigh, and tilts her head, eyes narrowed.

"Mr. Potter, I believe its past your bed time, and that you have been illegally on the Quidditch field after hours,"

I nod, hands formed in tight fists,

"Yes I do believe I have been, but I need to talk."

She lets out a sigh and peers at me, looking closer, at the bags, the shake of my hands, the trembling fear batting like flames in my eyes. She swallows, and gestures for me to enter her study, voice haughty,

"Well you better come in James…"

I can't take a seat, and pace, back and forth, and so on, walking the length of the room… She watches me go back and forth, and then back and then forth, steps long, hands lost in my hair, brow furrowed. Eventually, as her patience expires she slams her hand down, hitting the mahogany table with a loud crack. And I stop walking. Turning to face her.

She gives me a long, searching look, and gestures for me to sit. And I do. Reluctantly, I might add. We watch each other. Neither person going to speak. And, after a time, the words start coming, and matching the trembling of my hands, matching the quickened heart beat I speak, voice shaking,

"I remember when I first killed someone. I remember after, how I went to the funeral, in disguise, and I watched his family, they weren't good people, but they cried for him. I remember how I cried for him too…."

She rests her hands on her lap, folded. And says nothing, waiting for me to go on. And I do, as time passes,

"I've never prayed for anything, but I prayed that day, that I could not have this life. This brain. I prayed that I wouldn't be this incredible. As self-centred as that sounds…"

I let out a breath, and lean back, hair tangled. My voice is monotone, no emotion,

"I didn't mean to kill him, I was just so bloody angry, how dare he, I always wondered if I saw him, now, like I saw him that day, if I would have done the same. I can't decide. He killed my friends Parents, John Prewetts parents, so he deserves to die, Antonin Dolohov. He deserves to die. So he did."

She swallows, and lets out a breath of her own, and watches me carefully, her gaze sharp, even after all of these aging years. And all of these battles. And my voice shakes with rage as I go on,

"And I hate it; they are still cleaning up my mess. My mess. The newspapers still printing nonsense that he went on trial, that he escaped Azkaban, when I killed him. It's funny, my friends, they think he is alive, they believe that crap my dad puts in the news…."

I slam my fist into the table, and stand, turning away, letting out a breath, cheeks puffed out. And my voice is ragged when I speak,

"I fear death… I wish I could be unafraid, and not a coward. Look at me, my hands are shaking Minerva…"

I let out a laugh, it is choked, it is broken. And slowly the old woman stands, as nobly as she can in her dressing gown. And walks to me, and takes my hands in hers, the wrinkled flesh is old, she will not last too much longer, and I regret waking her, I regret yelling, I regret coming. She whispers, voice tired, so very exhausted.

"Oh James, no one deserves to die… No matter what they have done… Not even Tom deserved death, and yet, Harry killed him. You are not the only one and you have done no wrong James."

I go to walk away, my face contorted, teeth grazing flesh, but she takes my other hand, and stops me,

"It is not your fault you are like this, you cannot control it, you were born like this, special. You are special James."

I rip my hands out of her grip, and shake my head, my voice broken, angered, mad, I am madness, as well as perfection.

"NO, no don't do that, stop trying to make it sound okay, it is not okay, god damn it, I AM NOT OKAY."

She goes to reach for me again, eyes trying hard to understand, and I am trembling, my whole body. I am exhausted of it. I want to be me. Why is it so hard to be yourself? How can Albus and Rose be themselves so easily? I want to be free. Why am I not free?

Her voice is broken when she speaks, so very sad,

"You remind me of him James, so very much,"

I stare at her, eyes harsh,

"Who? Huh?"

She smiles softly, and murmurs,

"Two people, no, maybe three, three people…."

I step closer, my eyes bloodshot, the world is too heavy on my shoulders, and I cannot withstand the pressure,

"Who?"

She goes slowly and sits, eyes startlingly green,

"You remind me of Harry Potter, a great man, Tom Riddle, a horrible man, and Albus Dumbeldore, a complicated man…"

I feel my fingernails inch into my skin, breaking it, and the blood is warm, and it sickens me. And my voice is shaking, and I can feel it, everything, I hate feelings.

"My father is a ruined man; he is so very good of a man, that he tries so hard, I cannot try that hard, I will not let it ruin me. And Tom? Voldemort?"

I let out an insane laugh; it fills the room, dark, like crimson,

"He is a monster. What are you implying Professor?"

She ignores both of my statements and goes on, voice even,

"Albus Dumbeldore, when he was young he could do things, things that defy reality, but he hated it, so that magic, that brilliance, he ignored it, and with time, it died, or perhaps it never existed…. He was incredible… Albus…"

I look down at the tremble of my fingers, red with my blood. I hate the sight of blood. It reminds me of a past I pretend doesn't exist. Because I am perfect. And the blood pisses me off.

She continues, soft,

"He could not control his temper, so he learned ways, ways to calm down, to breathe, he was not like you, he did not live for the adrenaline rush, and he hated it, so often he would grow close to death, for he lacked the want for life, if life involved magic. But he realised, very quickly that life is a gift, James, you have already realised this, already know this…"

I collapse against the wall, my back hitting the stone, and my head lolls back, lips red, everything is so red. She looks distant, it all does, and she smiles so very sadly, she looks a hundred years older, a million years aged,

"He became someone everyone loved, a good, good man James… But that doesn't mean he was always a good man. That doesn't mean he didn't make mistakes. He made big ones. He found Tom, he didn't monitor him, ignoring signs, he dragged Harry into hell, he ruined Severus' life, mine, too…"

She gives me a long, searching look, walking over to me, her hand resting on the top of my head, like a mother, like a friend. I have known this incredible woman my entire life. And her eyes are kind,

"You are just a child James, let go for a while, take a breath, fall in love, learn to depend on people, not yourself. You are stronger than anyone thinks you are. You just have to show them. Huh? Show them you are the strongest of them all, and that you will be okay, that you can make everything okay, right?"

I feel my head hit the cold brick wall, and let out a deep sadness. My voice breaking,

"I think Dom is going to die on Valentine's Day… I think she is going to die the day after tomorrow… She is acting weird, like Mundungus, and I can't lose her, but I can't prevent death, I can't… I need you to help me, I can't live without her, without any of them, they are my family, they are untouchable..."

She lets out a sigh, and makes me stand from my sulking, broken position, and gives me a stern look,

"No one is going to die James, listen to me, its Valentine's day soon, find a nice, honest girl and take her on a date, and blow her mind away, and smile a little, okay?"

I shake my head, grabbing onto her arms, my breath raged, my voice angered,

"No, you listen to me, Dom never acts weird, unless she is broken hearted, or angry, and she is not, she isn't, she is cursed, the forgotten have a way of warning us that death is coming, I cannot prevent it, fate, so I am begging you, do you hear me? Begging you to help her, to help me, please?"

She shakes her head, eyes kind and I fall to my knees, hands buried in her dressing gown, eyes wide, and I let out a sob, or a scream, I can't tell, and she takes my hands in hers, and gives me a long soft look,

"Don't beg James. It is not like you, to beg… It is not like you…"

I burry my face in my hands, teeth grinding,

"I am asking for your help, and you refuse? I thought, I thought you, of all people, would believe me, would know I am never wrong, I am never wrong!"

She gives me a stern look, as if I am a child. But I am no child.

"James, it makes no sense, Dom has been in Hogwarts, safe, and before that, with your family safe, when would they have had the opportunity to curse, to possess, do whatever ritual they do? The answer is they wouldn't. You need sleep, rest, a couple deep breaths, friends, James, listen, for me?"

I sit down at the desk, in her chair, and close my eyes, no tears falling, for I never cry. And eventually, after quite a long time I stand and go to her. She watches me, eyes reassuring, and my voice is not my own, it is softer, afraid, I am never afraid,

"Promise me she will be okay? Please? Promise me that Dom is just depressed, just going through heart ache, please? Because, I am scared, I think, I think this feeling, is being scared…."

She takes my face in her hands; her skin is wrinkled and soft. And my heart thuds. I hate fear. It climbs at you. James is strong, James is perfect. James is Gryffindors hero, so he has no fear. He is not human. He is better.

And her eyes tell me she is honest. That Dom will be okay, and her voice calms the thudding of my heart, and the disgusting fear that entwines around my heart strings. Her voice is magic, it is all I need, reassurance. And that is what she gives me,

"Dom will be fine James, I promise, Dom will always be fine…"

The promise is made. And somewhere fate laughs, head thrown back, finding our human acts amusing as we are blind from the road and the destination chaos will bring us to.

The morning, the sun is darkened by huge grey clouds. Ominous. It is the day before Valentine's Day, February 13th. One more day before the end.

The breakfast table is quiet, Dom is absent, still in the infirmary, and last night seems far away. Everything does. And then she sits down next to me. Her eyes are redder than mine. She is shaking slightly. And I can see bags under her eyes, and I take out my wand and murmur a spell in my mind, and I watch the skin become clear, and her eyes normal. She watches me from beneath long lashes.

And then the golden haired beauty speaks,

"James, I am scared that Dom isn't okay… She isn't herself, she doesn't."

She lowers her eyes and laughs, her voice choked, and murmurs,

"Never mind, I sound crazy…"

I place a long finger beneath her chin and make her look at me, and I shake my head, my voice a whisper of air,

"Dom is safe, she promised that she would stay in the infirmary for a little while, and see what's wrong, she'll be okay there…"

She doesn't look so sure. And I waver for a second. But the promise of last night rings in my ears, Minerva is no fool, she is smart, she would know if something was wrong…

And instead of going on I take Rose into my arms, I start with her hands, her fingers, I glide mine over hers, over the knuckles, over her wrist, curving around each arch, up her arm, over delicate warm skin, and she watches me, with a slight smile, and slowly the crease in her brow leaves, with the red eyes, and the bags. And eventually, my fingertips, warmed by her flesh, curve around her neck, and into her luscious hair, and she full on grins, white teeth flashing like a dream, and I watch her smile and I feel my lips tip upwards.

She pulls away from the soft caressing and gets a glass of orange juice, and gives me a long look. And slowly that smile slips. And her sadness comes back like a disease,

"James, I've been having nightmares,"

I glance up from my plate and return her long look, my voice even,

"About what?"

She swallows, lips taught,

"Choices, and death, and how they are all so related…"

She places down the orange juice. Hand trembling. And tilts her head back, looking at the clouded sky reflected in the ceiling by enchantment. And she lets out a smile. Priceless, but I can see tears, swimming in those green eyes.

"James, I think I chose wrong, I think I shouldn't have chosen anything; I don't think it's fair that we have to choose in life, between death or life, you know?"

She turns and faces me, her smile is sad, it makes me sad. My emotions seem to follow hers, Rose's. And her voice is choked,

"I have always cared about the wrong things... About grades rather than health, books rather than friends, success rather than achievement…"

I shake my head and take her hand. It is so small in mine, and she watches the movement. Eyes shining. And my voice is real; it is my turn to reassure. And I can. I can do anything for her.

"No, you are wrong, you do care about friends, you always have, you care so much, about everything, you are good like that, hear me?"

She lets out a soft laugh, and bumps her shoulder into mine, eyes glowing,

"Yes James, I'm listening to your rubbish pep talk,"

I bump her shoulder back and she falls onto the bench with a shriek and a breathy laugh. And I lean down, over her, my hand propping myself up by her head, fingers splayed, the other grasping the table, and I tilt my head, and grin, arching a brow,

"You have no filter Rose BlackThorne,"

She laughs and rolls her eyes, eyebrows raised,

"And what are you going to do about it Potter?"

I lean down, closer, and closer, till space is something we have never heard of. And my voice is soft, tender, luring her in. But she does not need luring, because she sees right through it, all of it. And gives me a stern look, and then I whisper,

"Be my Valentine…"

She blushes crimson and pushes me off of her, sitting up and staring at me, hand covering her mouth. And then she clears her throat. And giggles, hands covering her face, peaking at me from between long fingers, eyes alive with flames, her words hushed,

"Are you serious?"

I give her a stern expression,

"What kind of question is that?"

She takes both of my hands in hers, and leans forward, giving me a soft kiss on my cheek. Her lips are warm, soft, I can feel her pulse through them .Skin on skin, desire is fuelled through veins like a wildfire, and I lean into it, watching her eyes flutter close. And when they open, they are only looking at me. And she whispers, like the wind, the rustle of grass,

"Yes, James Sirius Potter, yes."

I laugh, and give her a soft shove, and she raises her fist, arching her brow, while laughing, and I put my hands up in defence, reaching for the potatoes. And softly, she asks, her voice soft, a little sceptical,

"Does that mean that you asked me on a date?"

I nod, giving her a heavy gaze, and she swallows, and glances down at her hands, voice innocent,

"I've never been on one of those before…"

I lean closer, and give her a long, searching gaze,

"Then let me volunteer to be your first love,"

I hear someone clear their throat and I pull away from Rose, and back to my food. Listening to the annoying person who interrupted the moment speak,

"Hi, I'm Lola,"

I glance up from Rose, and there she is. She looks normal, another girl in the crowd, she is pretty, but not outstanding, she is a good height, but I prefer shorter, she is smiling, not just in her lips, but also her blue eyes. Her hand is extended, requiring me to shake it, so I do.

Her skin is warm, her fingers long, and her wrist slender, her nails are painted a deep crimson, it reminds me of blood, and I am slightly repulsed. Her fingers slip over mine, the touch is soft, but it is meant to make me want her, unfortunately I have never felt more empty.

She licks her lips, silent for a moment, and then she turns to Rose, eyes alive, grinning,

"I take it that you forgot to mention little old me?"

My eyes follow hers to Rose. Rose, she is stunning, the sunlight from the grand windows makes her skin rosy, her hair gleam, her teeth sparkle. And her eyes, they hold every emotion, like a book only I can read, only mine.

She smiles, guilty, and her eyes, oh those eyes, meet mine, and she nudges me with her hand on my knee, touch soft, dangerous, eyes blinking, and eyelashes scraping delicate skin. I am lost in her touch; I am lost in just the simple brush of fingers on skin, the simple smile. I am infatuated.

And then she opens her mouth, and she is brave,

"This is Lola, James"

I blink. And give Rose a long pissed off look, but her eyes hold still that deep sadness, that fear. And I wonder what nightmares those, were, what nightmares could possibly be coming at us.

I blink, again, I am not speechless, just lost, I have never felt this in love, this lost, this totally and completely lost. I swallow, down whatever emotions are rising that I don't understand or want to understand. And I turn to her, to this new, unimportant girl, and smile,

"Nice to meet you, Lola,"

I can see Rose lower her eyes, her gaze, I can see her hand form a fist, but her smile does not waver, it simply leaves her eyes, her eyes are empty. And she is not afraid of being left behind, she is used to it. I want to yell, to tell her I will never leave her behind, but I am tough, I am strong, I am James bloody Potter.

Lola is blind to it all. I analyse her, as if looking at something dirty, she does not deserve to be judged, but judging is fun, I enjoy the way they squirm, the way they can't handle it, any of it.

She is flirting, blatant, her fingers slipping through her hair, eyelashes heavily blinking, but she has a brain, she must, right? She tilts her head, voice like sick honey,

"Can I sit?"

I tilt my head back, arching a brow,

"Something tells me you're not an independent woman, I like woman who just sit, they don't need someone's permission, after all, it's a free country, isn't it?"

I can hear Rose sigh, air slipping between those irresistible lips, it seems around Rose I need to prove myself, to prove to her I am strong, but it is strange, I am starting to think that she prefers me weak, like when I was on the floor after the fight, destroyed by myself.

Lola sits. Her bag hits the floor, I can hear perfume bottles bump the ground, the clank of make-up products, and again I can feel a growing disgust. She grabs some food, and starts eating, her voice is high pitched, a soprano, but unlike Roses' it sounds like the squeaking of tires, Rose's voice sounds like a birds.

And so the tires squeal,

"Rose is Dom okay? We haven't talked in days, it's like she's avoiding me,"

I glance at Rose, she blinks slow, and glances down at her hands, pulling on a see through smile, and in her eyes I see a torture, I can almost see a hillside, and there is blood, and V is there, and Rose is too, Rose is crawling, clawing towards a corpse. The corpse has white hair. Her voice trembling ever so slightly she speaks,

"No, she's just a little tired, nothing to worry about…."

She blinks again, hard, and Lola goes on, and my ears are starting to hurt,

"Rose I had some problems with the astronomy homework, I feel like such an idiot,"

Rose laughs, and reaches into her back pack, without a pause, pulling her own completed diagrams out and going to hand them to the waiting girl, and again, disgust, and my hand slips over Roses', her skin is like fire, and I run my thumb finger over her knuckles in a swift motion, shaking my head back and forth, gaze dark as I speak to Lola,

"Then maybe you should pay attention in class, or ask for extra help."

Rose scoffs, and sends me a quick glare, standing slightly and dropping the work into Lola's awaiting hands, tossing her a soft smile,

"Ignore him, he's just stressed, and a teenage boy, they all act this way, bloody superior,"

Lola laughs softly, and hands back the work, shaking her head, gaze steady,

"No, he's right, I shouldn't take your homework, maybe after lunch today we could meet up and you could help me,"

I glance at Rose, she laughs softly and nods, eyes kind, but I can see behind the kindness, a disgruntled disappointment, and I continue, my voice harsh,

"There are teachers for a reason darling,"

Lola pauses awkwardly and blinks and then laughs. And her voice is amused when she speaks again; her words making my heart skip a beat,

"It's funny you say that, Rose told me to be careful, because it's impossible to not fall in love with you, but I disagree,"

I glance at Rose, who rolls her eyes, tongue stuck in her cheek, and arching an eyebrow at me, as if saying 'dare to prove me wrong idiot', and I give Lola a long look, my voice thick,

"Care to elaborate?"

She nods, voice steady,

"I think you are rude, and harsh, but I think underneath that you are a nerd, and afraid of fame, I think you should be interviewed by me,"

I grind my teeth together, and laugh loud, causing everyone in the hall to look up, and I stand, eyes angered and pick up her plate of food, and drop it, it shatters as it hits the ground with a boom, as soon as I do the action I regret. Because I see Rose's eyes, and they are not proud of me, they are disappointed. As if I have let her down. But how? How? I grab Rose and I's bags, and wave good bye, eyes rolling as I stride out of the great hall, and behind me, I watch out of the corner of my eye Rose stand hastily and take out her wand, fixing the plate with a quick flick, and apologizing by the tenfold, as she runs after me, feet hitting the ground with a rhythmed pattern, her steps short, simply because of her small stature.

As soon as we are out of the great hall she grabs onto my hand. And my breath is taken away. It was only months ago that she refused any touch, any brush of skin and skin, any thought of flesh on flesh. She feared it, contact, the responsibility and emotions that came with it, but now, she grabs onto me, without a second glance, a thought, anything.

She has changed, for me, possibly because of me, and her fingers are soft, her skin delicate, but her veins, her blood it is bold, it is fire, it is fighting for me and against me, her wit challenging me at every chance, at every opportunity.

And I follow her, how can I not? She is incredible. I wonder what about her is so bloody strange, maybe it is the way she has a maturity, a deep understanding of pain, maybe the way she sees good in those that are vial, maybe the way she lets Sheila hit her, because she has empathy, stronger than anyone I have ever known. And that is what makes her so beautiful, because she is different, it is refreshing, it is like ice on a summer day, it is what you need, and grow to not be able to live without.

She rounds on me, hair flying, I watch each strand fall in perfect imperfection. And her words are lost to me.

"What?"

Her eyes are rolling, and she is doing that adorable sulking face, where her face slims, and her eyebrows furrow,

"I said that Lola deserves a chance, and my homework and what I do with it, is my decision, not yours Potter,"

I laugh softly and lean against the wall, hand running through my hair, I love the way her eyes follow the movement, as if accidentally, as if she too has this feeling, she must right? It can't just be me, it can't.

Her hands are crossed over her chest, crumpling her uniform,

"I don't intend to be funny you bloody idiot,"

I grin, watching the way she huffs and puffs, as if she wants a response, a fight, and yet she reprimands me for fighting, please, if she could she would use iron fists to beat me to a pulp.

"I can't help it, you're adorable,"

Her teeth sink into her lip, and my eyes attempt not to follow the movement, she steps forward and lets out a sigh, leaning on one of the desks,

"Did you have to break the plate? You know there are people in this world that are starving, and you wasted an entire meal because you are pissed off?"

I stop at her words, and so she continues, voice convincing,

"Listen to me, violence is never the answer; those are your own words James"

I lower my gaze and murmur softly,

"Are we having our first argument Rose?"

She gives me a long disgruntled look. And turns away, her voice harsh, her words real,

"You are no longer a child James, tantrums are for children, you are older-"

She stops at that and winces slightly, glancing down at her hands. And I know. She knows, she must know, that I am older, by a year. Staying back to be with my friends, Fred, John, Lysander, Scamander. Staying for them, so we could learn the empty work together, and create memories, precious things like those. That rarely I have ever known.

My voice is soft when I speak,

"You know don't you?"

She turns her head slightly, and watches me with curious eyes, but does not acknowledge my words. I wonder what I like about her. I suppose her morals. She stands firm in her beliefs; she does not flinch when I yell. When the plate breaks she cleans it up, apologizes, lectures. But I do not mind her words, in all my life no one has ever stood up to me, and told me to stop. It is refreshing; it awakens a hunger for competition, for a rival. For victory. And yet I let her beat me on the Divination test. One victory lost, but she will be pleased, and I will be amused. Not a victory won on merit.

I continue,

"When did you find out?"

She watches me, weary, mulling over sentences in her head, what words would fit the situation, what words would not be rude. What words would be preferred. I wish she would just speak, not think, not consider the possibilities, the probabilities. I wish with me, at least me; she could say what she wants to. With freedom.

I nod, no response. And my voice is soft when I speak,

"I'm sorry I broke the plate, I'm sorry I hit Thomas, I'm sorry I don't like Scorpius, I am sorry that you don't like my personality, I'm sorry that I am a monster, I am sorry that you know that man, me…"

She turns slowly, and her voice is a whisper,

"I am not afraid James…"

I stare at her, and she raises her chin, meeting my gaze, and goes on,

"I will never be afraid of you…"

I bite my cheek, and laugh, eyes dancing,

"I've killed…. I've hit…. I've cursed; I've done bad, bad things Rose…. Things that make me a bad man,"

She nods her head, and slowly, so very slowly she steps forward, and wraps her arms around my neck, I watch her stand on her tippy toes, and she whispers into my ear, her breathe soft,

"I am not afraid of you James, I am afraid that you will not hold me, that you will not accept me, the real me…"

She lets go of me, and we stand, parallel. And she smiles, her lips barely lifting, her voice shaking,

"You are not the only one with secrets James…"

She backs up and goes for the door, but I stop her, my voice calmer now, more light, back to the topic of Lola,

"I… Did you not see how disgusting she was acting?"

She lets out a laugh, broken, but real,

"Yes, she was acting very flirtatious…"

I grind my teeth together and grab her hand, my eyes indignant,

"Rose, I wish you would stand up and tell her to stop, tell her I am yours,"

Her cheeks become rosy, and she looks down, her voice soft,

"James, no one can own a person, people are not objects,"

I sigh, and step closer,

"Fine, I am giving you permission to own me…"

She coughs, spluttering, and lets out a shaky smile, head shaking,

"Everything is moving so fast,"

I lean closer,

"Aren't you interested?"

She gives me a long, idiotic look, and then hits me over the top of the head, whack, and I shriek, grabbing at her, but she runs away giggling, teeth shining with her eyes, and she shakes her head,

"James Sirius Potter, you will be the death of me,"

I nod. And she goes to the door but pauses and looks back,

"James, Lola just wants an interview, and she's close with Dom… Can't you?..."

I shake my head, eyes playing games with her,

"I don't do interviews, in fact I hate them, my life is my own, and school is a safe haven from press, and all that crap, so I'd rather not, okay?"

Her eyes are seeing through each layer, digging underneath, and she watches me for a long time, the minutes ticking by, and then she nods, smiling slightly,

"Alright, but apologize to Lola when you get a chance you idiot,"

I sigh and duck my head as she goes to hit it, raising my eyebrows and taking a strand of her hair, playing it between my fingers, the strands are soft and smell fragrant,

"Whatever you say crazy,"

We watch each other for a moment, and then she giggles, head shaking as she snatches her bag from my strong hands and walks out the door, casting me a glance over her shoulder, and our eyes meet, and each time everything stops.

Her eyes hold a fear, and it is reflected in mine, we are both scared, we are both terrified, we are worried that Dom is not okay, that we will not be okay, but we have to be, because there is one thing I never do, and that's giving up. I am strong, I will not be defeated.

She sends a grin, flashing like lightning, and I feel my heart boom. I cannot get used to it. Ever since we came back to this world, to Hogwarts something has shifted, in our relationship. We have a silent understanding, that we care, that we are faithful, and there is nothing else to say, we are silent in our understanding, and we are brave in it. We are here for each other, no matter what, through whatever.

We have never sat down and talked about it, this new, and incredible us, but it is known, between us that it is important, and sacred, and here.

I start to follow her, to class, but stop, watching her.

I am not a watcher, I do not watch other people, they are unimportant, I am watched because I am a god, I am worth watching because I am the best of the best, and one day they will know just how much I have done for them, the ungrateful followers. I admit, people should watch me, I deserve to be watched, so why waste my time looking at others when there is a mirror, and my face, my eyes, my body is defined as number one, so who could possibly be better, why look at less, those who will never come to my level, why waste precious moments of time I could be using to live, to die.

But then she came into my life. Bloody BlackThorne, and she smiled, and she had a grin like fire, and it kindled, and set a flame to something I have never felt before, a desire to watch her, all day, every day, to waste away my precious time of my short life, just sitting and staring, I think I could watch her breathing, the air that slips out and in her lips is fascinating enough to captivate my attention for the rest of my life.

Rox pushes her off, and Rose stumbles, her bag slipping from her shoulder and onto the ground, boom, and she is turning, hair flying in the slight breeze, eyes wide, I can see her pupils shrink with the sunlight of the new day, who new sunlight could be such a blessing.

"What are you looking at?"

I don't hide it, its Fred who speaks, and I have nothing to hide, I am proud of her, Rose, I am proud that she can smile, that she can glow, that she breathes, I have never been proud of someone else before, only me, only me is worth the pride.

I tilt my head, voice honest,

"A goddess,"

Fred follows my gaze and laughs, hitting me on the back, eyes sparkling,

"You've lost it man; I don't even recognise you,"

I bump his shoulder, but continue to stare, he sighs, grinning,

"Where is the narcissistic, egotistical brat that we all love so much?"

I hit him over the head, eyes not moving,

"He is still here; just now he has a gem that is very precious, something to fight for,"

Fred full on laughs, and steps in front of me, blocking my view, eyebrows raised,

"Bro, seriously pull yourself together, it's gonna get creepy, okay, like stalker, insane, things like that,"

I give him a sharp glare, and hit Fred over the head, causing him to stumble forward, into the sea of students, and I laugh at his outraged expression, voice mocking,

"Worry about your own mental stability Fred, I'm doing fine…."

He rolls his eyes, and slings an arm over my shoulder, it weighs nothing, and he leans closer, eyes worried,

"But why did you have to choose her, she is an odd one Jay,"

I give him a long glance, and arch an eyebrow, head shaking,

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He shakes his head, murmuring,

"Nothing…"

I give him a long look. And sigh, eyes trying to convince him to tell me, but he lowers his gaze, so Ii hit him over the top of my head, my voice jokey,

"You are seriously not gonna tell me! Where does you loyalty lie?"

He grins at me and takes cover as I try to grab his hair, and yank it out, eventually he responds,

"Merlin James, can you take a deep breathe every once in a while?"

I stick out my tongue, my grin flashing across my face, and he rolls his eyes, his voice amused,

"Sometimes you act like you are mature and cool, but I know the real you, James, the real you is a four year old,"

I let out a rage full scream, and tickle him, and he laughs, eyes wide with shock, hands hitting at my hands, eventually he gives up with pushing me off, and lets out a groan, telling me in a hushed voice of what he meant,

"I saw scars, all over her arms, and not normal ones, nail marks, bruises,"

I am silent, my fists going slack and hands falling by my side, deep in thought. And he gives me a long look, and goes on, voice trembling,

"So I thought it was self-harm, but when I saw her last week, they were gone, all of them, as if they never existed, but that's not possible…"

The bell rings, and he goes to continue, but I stop him, my hand over his mouth, as I watch Sheila and her friends walk by, she halts and gives me a long look. And chuckles, dark, her voice still sickening, thick,

"Extend my concerns to Rose about her leg; I hope she is feeling better, so unfortunate that she fell in the bathroom last week,"

I roll my shoulders back, and crack my knuckles, leaning down until we are level, voice wicked,

"Yes, I patched her all up, it was very intimate,"

She swallows, blinking several times, and I grin, mocking her,

"What, jealous?"

She pushes me away, and laughs softly, head looking down, and she shakes it, eyes glassy,

"She is beautiful James, prettier than me, she is kind too, I'm not kind."

She pauses, and glances at the eyes that watch us, and she bites her cheek, eyes sad,

"Wish her good luck for me. She is so innocent, how will she ever survive the eyes, huh James? When I couldn't…"

She tips her head, and adjusts her bag, walking away from me. And I watch her leave, my smile disappearing. How will she? She won't. But she has to. I let out a breath, and turn to glance at Fred, but he has already disappeared into the crowd. And I wince, hand running over my face. I was too harsh with him. And a voice rings in my head. To treat him better, as my equal. Often I forget that Fred cares about me, that they all do. It is nice, having someone care.

I leave the stairs, and ditch class. I need a voice, a friend. I need Albus. He got sick sometime last week, and still hasn't recovered, refusing to take the weird draughts that Madame Pomphrey creates as medicine. He has always been rather careful of potions, probably because when we were younger I would torment him, by putting weird things in his drinks, in his soup, under his pillow.

I must admit I have never been and will never be the best brother out there. But I try, sometimes.

The Slytherin dorm is far beneath the world, in the dungeons, and I pause at the common room door, and give the beautiful portrait a cunning grin. And she huffs, opening for me, voice silky,

"You don't pay me any attention anymore James, you never come and visit anymore, I shouldn't let you in,"

I send her a coy smile, and she rolls her eyes. The dorm room is empty, and cold, but not unbearable, the kind of cold that makes your eyes open wider, and you grin, I love grinning, it makes my jaw line more prominent.

I don't knock, but open the door of the third year's boys dormitory with a loud bang. And I immediately regret not knocking. Freezing as soon as I see them.

Albus is on the bed, surrounded by tissues, but next to him, with his head resting on Albus' shoulder is a blonde haired boy. Malfoy.

I let out a deep breathe, and clear my throat, making a very loud noise, and Albus jumps up, pushing Scorpius' head off of his chest quickly and reaching for a shirt, hands trembling, watching me with a very vivid gaze. Malfoy doesn't move. And I thank every god that at least he has clothes on.

I swallow the burning rage, thinking of Rose, the corridor, her hands on mine, her smile vivid,

"Except Malfoy James,"

I blink, and rub my temple, grumbling, as Albus walks towards me, hands reaching for me, but I back away, eyes dangerously golden,

"Don't touch me you sick person! I hate being ill, don't"

He grins and puts up his hands, backing away, eyes asking me if this is okay. If it can be okay. If just this once I can let it be okay. And I nod my gaze steady. Yes, Albus it is alright. And he smiles, wide, and it reaches his eyes, and lifts my heart. And I let out a smile, for him, my voice steady,

"I'll come back later,"

He nods and then sends Scorpius a sharp look, throwing a pillow at him,

"Go to class Scorp, you already missed a week for me,"

Scorpius stands and wraps his arms around Albus, chin resting on his shoulder, voice muffled,

"And I'd miss a thousand more for you,"

Albus grins and closes his eyes as he gives him a soft peck, just a blink of contact, but I look away, grumbling some not so good things under my breath. And I make my way down the stairs, glancing behind me, as Scorpius follows me, expressionless. We say nothing until we come out of the room, and past the beautiful portrait, who tisks. I stop walking. And so does he. And eventually I turn to faced him, my back finding the wall.

I stare at him. Scorpius, what does everyone love so much about him? What is so bloody interesting about him? He is handsome, but in a delicate, kind of broken way, so handsome doesn't seem to be the right word. He isn't funny, he hardly laughs, and when he does, it's soft. He isn't charming, he doesn't put in any effort to be noticeable, if anything he tries to go unnoticed, so why does Rose, Albus, everyone I'm close to somehow like him?

He watches me in silence and I him. To me he has always been a Malfoy, a villain, and more now than ever I want to punch him, hex him, because I wonder if Rose does not accept my touch, but does accept his, why? Because he is gentle, relatable? He doesn't lie? Wrong Rose, he does lie, but apparently you do to.

When I speak my voice is gruff, angered, but restrained, and my fists that curl to form this anger, my veins that pop, my heartbeat, all held back, because Rose likes him, so he must be good, even a little, right? She can't be that bad a judge of character, right?

My voice is taught,

"You can have him Malfoy,"

I pause, running a hand through my hair, my voice aggressive,

"But if you hurt a hair on his head I will personally murder you in the slowest, most horrible way possible,"

He stares at me, blue eyes piercing, and then he glances down, voice distant,

"I don't deserve him…"

I arch a brow, tongue running over teeth and nod my head, leaning forward,

"No, you don't…"

He gives me a sharp look. And looks away. His voice is soft; my ears strain to hear him,

"I don't need your permission to be with him, you don't own him,"

I roll my eyes, and chuckle, dark, teeth grinding, veins popping,

"No. You don't need my bloody permission, but if you don't want your life to be hell, I suggest you value my opinion,"

He tilts his head, voice still deadly quiet,

"I love how you casually threaten me every now and then,"

I grin, teeth flashing,

"I'm glad. Glad you recognise that I am no joke,"

His gaze wavers, and he looks down,

"No one is laughing Potter,"

I arch an eyebrow. We are silent for some time. And eventually he speaks; voice choked, a little scared,

"Rose has been distant; I see her not watching me, but you…"

I don't respond, but lower my gaze. And he goes on,

"I'm not jealous. I'm not nervous. Rose is smart, she knows what you are like, she wouldn't be acting how she is if she didn't know,"

I consider his words. He is right. She has not been close, not until she started to understand, not the façade but the me. I like how she wants to know me. No one has ever wanted to know me before. His voice is a little sad,

"You do not need my permission James, nor do I think me being against it will stop you, you are not someone to be controlled."

I nod, eyes a light with a flame and his voice becomes grieved,

"She is strong minded, she is stubborn, if her eyes are set on you, then you are screwed… And you are the luckiest man alive,"

I swallow, observing him from the floor up. His barefoot stance, wrinkled clothing, sharp collarbones, and high cheekbones, eyes interested, but a little worried. I lean on the wall, hands finding my pockets, and grin, my eyes dance,

"I am, aren't I?"

He shakes his head, and laughs, so very softly,

"Potter? Does she know about you?"

I freeze, and tilt my head. He is asking if she knows about how I am in the D.A and therefore an Auror. And the answer is yes. If she has read the diary, and experienced the spells, taken back in time, ripped through the pages of my life, then she already knows. But her character to me has not changed, other than the sense of acceptance, as she and I come closer.

And I grin, wide, and nod my head,

"Yes, she does Scorpius, she is learning, slowly, at her own pace, about me, all aspects of me,"

He swallows. A hand coming up, as if to strike me, but it lowers. I don't wince, I watch him, and his eyes hold demons, and his voice is a vicious whisper,

"You can't tell her about me, how I also am on the D.A,"

I tilt my head to the side, and sling my bag over my shoulder, my feet leaving at a leisurely pace, leaving him wondering, oh so hoping, and he yells after me,

"You are not the only one that can make threats James, Albus and I, we're close, he listens to me, wouldn't it be unfortunate if I told him some bad things you've done, just by accident,"

I am turning, and I don't need to run, my wand is already in my hand, the spell slipping through my mind like hell, it is raining, and he flies up, hands and feet flung back, suspended in the air, and I feel the blood rush in my veins. And I grin, lips stretching over skin, he breathes hard, fighting the hex, but it is pointless, I flick my wand, soft, and his hands are pulled behind him, and I stop, just before the bones snap, and become dislocated from his delicate shoulders.

I step forward, once, twice, and tilt my head, eyes daring him, and my voice is deadly, and I watch him, I watch the fear light his eyes, like smoke, and he will burn for what he says. It is menacing, my voice ringing,

"Careful Malfoy, you might just piss me off…"

My tongue runs over white teeth, my jaw prominent, he may be beautiful but I am gorgeous, he may be a Malfoy but I am a Potter he may have Albus' heart, but he does not have his blood. He may have Roses' interest, but I will get her heart.

I lean forward, my words slithering like a snake,

"Rose loves you so much, but you have neglected her, and she has lost interest, just make sure you keep Albus focused, or his eyes may stray,"

I tilt my head back, Adams apple bobbing, and I smirk, cheek bones sharp, so sharp they could cut his delicate profile,

"I won't tell Rose your secret, but she is smarter than you give her credit for, and if she wants to know, then she will know."

His eyes hold a burning hatred, mixed with the fear, and he spits, it is hot, it sticks to my face, and he grimaces, that perfect face becoming warped,

"You a**hole, you bloody jerk,"

I blink slowly, and laugh, loud, high pitched, insane, and my eyes have changed, and reality is forgotten, he will pay for spitting, for disrespecting,

"You spit on me, when you know what I am capable of? You are such a fool Malfoy, such a fool,"

He shakes his head, eyes holding a sadness, and what he says, his words, they hurt me, they hurt me so I wince, I cannot help it,

"What does Rose see in you? Other than the monster, what can she possibly see?"

I don't know the answer, so I turn on my heels and walk away, whispering the spell underneath my breath and without looking back I release him from the binding charm. And just like that his body crashes to the ground, with a hollow thud, and I hear a string of curses, a string of anger, let him be pissed. Let him rage, I won't let her go. And though Rose is blind to how bad I am, blind to how horrible I am, she still is here. So I don't complain.

Night comes, and I check on Dom. She lies on the cot, her back to me; she is talking to herself, her words lulling. Madame Pomphrey says that her parents have been informed. And I think of poor Fleur, stressing about her depressed daughter. And Roxy and Lucy come in, soon after me, and sit by her side. Spending the night next to her. And with dawn's warmth, Valentine's Day arrives, after the very long time it has taken.

The sun holds sadness, and is barely noticeable. All I see is darkness, as thick clouds descend for a thunder storm later tonight. We get the day off. Simply because why not? We work hard at Hogwarts, a day off is not the end of the world. And yet we all rejoice.

Originally I planned for Valentine 's Day to be just me and Rose. But with the visit to Dom yesterday. My mind is changed. Us. All of us, need to live, and it is this us, incredible that all love each other.

The lake is clear. And the sun rises, until it is high in the sky. The snow has melted, slowly, and though the wind is chilly, I use spells to make it warm, to make it safe. And then they come. In twos, and threes. Us. We. And I wish I knew, that we, one day will be Legends. That there will be books written with our names in the title. On great romances, and incredible feats, I wish I knew then, that this us. All of us have a future of hell. Because then, I think I would have cherished it more.

And so they come. To the weeping willow, where the four, Marauders met, James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin. Today. It is the day, our future starts. And I wish I knew. Rose wishes too. The tree is old, it has a grown so big, larger than a house, towering over the world. First, comes Teddy with Victorie on his arm. They give me a hug, and they sit. I create tables out of thin air, drapes out of grass, roses out of water droplets, and little lanterns float in the sky, I create fake stars that shine for us. That shine for her.

Teddy's hand is strong, and his eyes are purple, and his voice touches my heart,

"This. All of us, coming together, it's a good idea,"

I grin, and pat him on the back,

"What can I say; I am a genius after all,"

He laughs, head shaking, and takes Victorie by the hand, the touch sweet, and they sit on the ground, hands interlaced.

Then comes Lysander and Scamander, John running after them, hair ruffled eyes wide. They are young, they are innocent. And they tackle me to the ground, and we are fighting, fists flying, and grass with it, clothes taring, and we are laughing, it is not a fight for power, it is a fight for freedom, and we are free. This we.

Then Fred, Roxy and Lucy beside him, and we simply watch each other. And then Lucy rolls her eyes, giving me a dead look,

"James give Fred a big smooch, and get over it,"

I grin,

"Great idea,"

And wrap my arms around him, trying to kiss him, as he screams for help, eyes wide, and Roxy takes out a muggle device and takes pictures, giggling. And the moment will last forever. When we are old we will look back at today as the best and the worst. And we will think, how blind, how idiotic. Yes we will. If we live that long.

Then, Albus, and Lily on his back, his hand wrapped around Scorpius' broad shoulders, and Lily is running at me, tackling me, she is wearing a ridiculous dress, puffy and white, smeared with dirt, she has a bright pink eye shadow on her eyes, and her fiery hair is flying behind her, and I kick at her, as she clings to me, making funny faces, screaming at me to laugh. And so I am, till I am doubled over on the ground clutching at Albus, begging him to save me. And I watch Malfoy's lips curve up slightly, but when he sees me looking, he fixes them back in a straight line. And gives me a dirty look, which I am quick to return.

Rose Weasley comes with Frank Longbottom on her arm, and gives me a long look, and her eyes find Scorpius and Albus' hands, interlocked. And she lets out a breath, and gives me a soft hug, her arms soft, her eyes clouded with emotion.

As they go towards the party. I grab at Frank and stop him from leaving, and turn him to face me, and I whisper, soft,

"Do you think Dom is pretty?"

He looks slightly startled, and lets out a laugh, voice booming,

"I'm not blind mate, she is stunning,"

I grin and give him a cunning look, and he looks slightly confused and then realises and laughs, going to hit me but I duck, and flip him over, and then we are rolling in the grass, as he yells at me about how Dom deserves better cousins. And again, we are laughing, and my lungs ache.

It is into the afternoon, when they arrive. Rose, V and Dom. Dom in the middle, she is beautiful, in white, flowers woven into her hair, eyes shining with a joy for living, and she is looking at us, she is watching us. She will always be watching us.

And Rose, her eyes are only on Dom, and V gives her a long look, and then gestures her head towards me, and takes Dom in her arms, leading her into the tent, by the weeping willow.

Rose is wearing a long dress, it is light blue, like the sky, and it is simple, not extravagant, no jewels, no gold. It is her. Beautiful without extravagance. She gives me a long look, and walks forward, until we are feet apart. Eyes dancing.

"I thought I was your Valentine Potter,"

I nod, and give her a small chuckle, and turn away, hand flying to my hair, eyes lighting with a passion,

"Yes, you are, but so are they, I think we are all each other's Valentines,"

She nods, and reaches for my hands, and I reach for hers, and I twirl her, fingers slipping over her skin, over her wrist, curving around her palm, her fingers closing on mine, and she steps closer, head tilted up to look at me, and then she looks past me, at the tree, it is still now. As no one approaches it. And she smiles, our hands interlaced, fingers woven together. My palm big, hers small. But equal. We are equals.

Her voice is soft,

"This is where it all began… Isn't it…?"

I nod, and wrap my arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder, eyes watching where she looks. She lets out a breathe of wonder, her voice like music,

"You are brave like him James, brave like your grandfather, brave like your father… Don't second guess that…"

I nod softly. And as I watch the wind flow, I can see them, as if they are the mist rising from the lake, the Marauders, and James he is laughing at something Sirius said, while Remus scolds. His eyes. James' eyes hold a power, hold a fire like mine, and I am stunned by them. And then I see her. Lily. She runs up, an exam paper clutched in her hand, red hair streaming behind her, and she wraps her arms around him. And they are turning in the air; I can hear their laughter, whispered in the wind. Whispered from the past.

I swallow.

Her voice is soft when she speaks, her voice is magical,

"Will we ever do great things like they did?"

I nod again, my voice softer than hers,

"We will do incredible things Rose, I promise…"

She glances up at me, inches apart. And she smiles, her eyes are still sad, but I am here, arms wrapped around her, and I pull her closer closing my eyes and letting out a trapped breath. She is warm. She is solid. She is living. She will live. I will make sure of it.

We enter the tent. Outside is day, but in here, it is night, and the stars shine brightly, fake, a full moon, shining like oblivion. And the candles float on air, making the room have long shadows. And one long table, dined in food of every variety, we all sit. In our groups. Me and Rose sit next to each other at the head of the table, and Albus and Scorpius at the opposite side. And we laugh, and we talk, and we eat until we cannot breath. And eventually I stand.

Raising my glass with me. I am their leader. I am chosen to lead them. These people, in this room are the future. My voice is strong; it has never been this strong before,

"Today is the day we celebrate our loved ones, and here in this room, is everyone, everything we need to survive, to live, to be happy,"

I look at each face. Fred, eyes locked with mine, proud, Victorie, leaning on Teddy's shoulder, smiling up at him, Teddy scanning the room, each face, each person, each of their futures, eyes changing colour with emotion. My friends, John, Lysander, Scamander, nodding, eyes wide, breath caught. Albus, grinning, he loves me, god, he loves me so much. Scorpius, his eyes on Rose, watching Rose, loving Rose. Lily, eating a crème brulee silently, eyes wide, frosting on her cheek. Rose Weasley, watching Scorpius watch Rose, who Albus owns, his Malfoy. Roxy and Lucy, eyes on Dom, eyes sad, eyes hopeful, eyes unaware of the future. V, she looks only at me, and she gives me a small nod, encouragement, it is all I need. Dom, her eyes do not see me, her eyes are on Frank, and they are pained, as if she knows she is running out of time. And so Frank watches her and she watches him.

And Rose. I do not need to look at her, for her hand if holding mine under the table, fingers soft, and she gives my hand a squeeze, as if to say you can do it, I believe in you.

And I go on, voice shaking,

"We are the future; each and every one of us is the future. And it iis scary, I hate admitting I'm scared, but the future, it scares me,"

I nod, lowering my eyes, and then I smile, brilliant, and let out a laugh,

"I love you, all of you, yes and you Malfoy, as much as I hate to say it,"

They chuckle, and Scorpius rolls his eyes. And I let out a breath,

"We are brave, no matter what house we are from, we are brave, no matter what family we are from, we are brave, and we are brave because we have each other, and that is all we need, right?"

Rose's fingers intertwine with mine, and I can feel her pulse, running wild, boom, and boom, and boom it goes. And my voice fills the room, it fills it all,

"We are the next generation. And we cannot be us, without each other, so let us raise our glasses to that, to this new, and incredible us, for we are one, and we will last forever,"

And the glasses are raised, and time stops, a click and Roxy takes the photo. It is captured, the first time fate was challenged. Back then we were so young. I was young. I had still not learned how to control it. My magic. I had still not kissed the girl I loved. I had still not lived entirely. I had still not known death. Changed the world. We are so young, we are so naive, and we are only this us with each other. And so we live through each other, and for each other. And therefore we are forever. We are legends. We are monsters. We are the future. Your future. So watch out.

The day goes by, in laughter, in soft touches, in food, and drink, and we raise our glasses over and over, cheering things like Dom's head dress, and Fred's jokes, that make each of us wince but we would never tell him just how bad they are. And it is the beginning. Isn't it? Of the next generation. It is the first meeting, with all of us in the same room, breathing the same air, living the same moment. The first of many.

And then we are dancing, close, softly. Rose curtsies, eyelashes fluttering, and I pull her close, eyes closed, our hands wrapped around each other, and she whispers, voice soft, as we sway to the music, flowing in the air,

"James, your speech was incredible, I'm proud,"

I rest my chin on the top of her head, and murmur back,

"Why?"

She laughs softly, and leans into me, eyes closed,

"Because you are brilliant, and I am very lucky, aren't I?"

I nod, and she giggles, hands giving me a slight slap, but it is light and childish, it is young, and I like it. The youth of it. But we are broken apart, Lily smiling up at me, grinning,

"Can I have the next dance you disgusting dinosaur?"

Her voice is small, her expression comical, and I grin, lifting her up onto my shoulders, and she squeals. I pull Rose close again, and it is the three of us. The two women in my life I care the most about. My sister, and this new, incredible and slightly insane Ravenclaw.

And the moment could last forever it feels like it should, but it is broken. It is broken like glass. And it shatters. And it is Frank, voice loud, that yells the words, and it is Frank, oh poor Frank who saw her first.

I remember his words. We all will. For it was Valentine's Day, February 14th that death came, and did us apart. And so he screamed, one name, four words, and I began to run.

He is breathless, eyes wide like a wild animal, hands trembling, and he is gasping for air, for life, for anything, and so he speaks. And it breaks. Everything breaks. A long with my heart.

Five, four, three, two, one. He says,

"Dom… She isn't moving…"

I am running, I have never run so fast, Lily is taken by Rose, her arms shaking, her eyes wide, and in them I see blame. As if she knew this would happen. As if she was waiting for it. And as I run, as I run I can see things. I can see a promise made by Minerva McGonagall that everything would be okay. That Dom would be fine. But Dom isn't fine. I am running by houses, by places, by hearts, and my heart, this heart, is pounding, and I cannot tell if it is adrenaline or fear, or the pain of loss that sends me whirling through the air, and I am apparating.

And then I see her. She is on the ground. And it is game over.

I stare at Dom. She is limp. Why is she limp? It doesn't make any sense. She just needs rest, I was getting a potion, it will help her, and it will make her remember me. My name, I'm James, how could anyone forget my name, my name is one of a kind. Dom, you must know me, merlin, you have to. You are my sister, by love, love? What is this James? Why are you so scared? She is fine. She is Dom, she doesn't need anyone to take of her, because she is strong, she protects her friends, she protects others, and she doesn't need protecting, right?

But she does not look fine. Her chest is ripped to shreds, blood pools onto the ground, and where her heart should be, is a gaping hole, and there is an empty feel, a war is at the start. And my feet are hitting the ground. Don't worry Dom. I am coming, like hell I am.

Veins lay torn on the ground, I can see arteries popped, and the white of bone, the blood reflects the sky. Setting in all its glory, as time refuses to halt. I have saved lives before, the feeling, of hearing their heart boom and keep going. It is bliss, it is pride. I am narcissistic in my pride. So I can save her. You can do anything James, right?

I am running. The wind is cold. I cannot remember the last time I was cold. It feels like it is all shutting down, my mind, my world. But why? Why James, you have seen death, you have killed, blood on your hands, you monster, you disgusting, terrible person. She is dead. She has to be. There is no other option, but I refuse.

I have to save her, I'm James bloody Potter, it's what I do, I save people, I have to, because one day they have to save me, they have to remember me. Dom, you must last forever with me, you must make a difference, you must live, you must. You hear me?

I am on the ground, I am by her side, my hands are trembling. They never tremble, I am steady, I am careful, I don't let my heart go because it can be hurt, it can be broken, so I hide, I am good at it, so why does this hurt? What is this? Pain? What is this? Tears? Since when did the world hurt this much? Why can't I breathe, I need to breathe, James you have to be strong, you are the strong one, no matter what, always. Wake up James, you can't give in, you are strong.

Fight. Breathe. Repeat.

My wand is in my hands, my palms are sweaty, I can't breathe, and it slips. Why am I nervous? Have faith in yourself, you're a Potter, everyone here expects you to save her, to pull out a spell no one has ever heard of, and they will pat you on the back and forget all you have done the day after, and that's okay. Because one day they will remember.

I can't hear. There is a buzz, I can see people's mouths moving, but I cannot understand. I have to save, I have to make a difference, it is my job to chance this world, I rid the evil, I save, Dom, I will save you.

My hands are on hers, I can hear a pulse, I can feel the gentle rhythm of life, weakened, but she won't give up on me. Don't give up on me.

And then I hear it. Rose. She is screaming. She is screaming Wake up. She is on her knees, she also can't breathe, she is clutching, pulling a corpse to her body, her hands are desperate. She also can't see. She is shaking, she is wondering if she can survive this, if she can live without her, and she is finding an answer, that she cannot. She also can't hear. She also feels numb.

She trembles like a leaf, she is yelling, I can hear it. Her voice is like thunder. It echoes, as if her words are trapped on repeat, destroying me. My lips are parted, my hair matted with sweat. I haven't run that hard in years. I haven't been scared in years.

Rose's voice is hoarse, but I can hear it,

"Dom, I'm here, please, listen, you can't give up, I'm here, everything will be okay, I'm here now, you have to hold on, okay, listen to me Dom, you have to live. For me. For me."

There are times in life where it is all over. And there is no future, there is no end, the beginning, it all, swirls into this darkness. My hands are shaking. And I can see the stars; they have never shined so bright. They are beautiful, those stars, I wish I could escape to them. I wish I was them, and my only job would be to shine. I can do that. I can shine just by breathing. But I have forgotten how to breathe, how the air is supposed to reach your lungs if they are collapsing.

In life they teach you things, your parents teach you to be kind, to care, and then grieve when death happens. Your teachers show you how to cope with anxiety, depression, pain. Your friends show you how to live, how to smile, how to cry. Your girlfriends show you how to break up, how to make your heart more mature. But no one ever shows you how to breathe. It sounds simple. But for me, the complicated things come easily; it's the simple, easy things I can't understand. Like why I am crying…

And I am falling, and then I hear it, in the buzz of silence, I hear it, its Dom, we are young, so very young, her little hand is reaching for mine, is reaching for me, she is always reaching for me, she is short, three feet, cheeks chubby, her eyes are wet with tears, I remember, sitting next to her, my voice soft,

"Don't cry."

I remember her looking up at me, and she shook her head, her voice tiny,

"I am scared James. I don't want to be alone, I want to grow old, I want to live forever,"

I remember bumping her shoulder, smiling,

"We just have to take each day, one by one and we will be okay, I promise,"

I remember her watery smile, her small hiccups, and the sniffles, her nose all runny, her voice small,

"James protect me till the end, right? And if I do die,"

I remember her face, in the moonlight, her hands on mine, her fingers stubby, the stars had been beautiful that night too,

"If I die James, please do not be sad; tell me you will live on for me, promise,"

I remember laughing, ruffling her blonde hair, she hated it back then too, my voice was amused, why was it amused?

"I can't live without you, without any of you, we all need each other, we will all grow old together, I promise we will all grow old together,"

I remember her eyes shining, her head heavy on my shoulder, her hands warm,

"James, one day we will not all be here still, so we need to move on, to live without each other,"

My hands are shaking; I can see stars, darkness. I can still see the soft tear stains on her cheeks, her blue eyes were filled with a worry, and I wonder if she knew, if there was a way she knew that she wouldn't make it. But she needs to make it. Because I love her, she is my cousin, my sister, she is one of us, one of this beautiful us, so she has to stay, she can't leave, not like this, not without goodbye.

"Promise me."

I remember shaking my head, but eventually, after lots of arguing, I remember saying,

"If I cannot save you, Dom, then I will move on for you, I promise…"

I remember pausing, and pulling her close, voice thick,

"But I will save you, every time, no matter what."

The world is not turning, the world is frozen and I can hear her, her breath is shallow, she has no heart, her chest is torn open, she is unformed, she is tortured, it is not the death she deserves, she deserves the best, so why this? I can't. I can't let her go. She will grow old with me, she has to.

There are three laws that cannot be broken. Time, death, and love. I can break time, I can mould it, I don't know how, but I can, I can. Nothing is impossible. And I cannot live without her; I cannot face the world without her. She must remember me; she must watch me, just one more time, just one last time. She deserves the best, she deserves a chance, this is hell, this world is not fair, but I am a god, I am above, I can save her. I have to. I promised her I would. I never break a promise. The ground is cold; my hands are covered in something red. But it cannot be blood, I refuse, it isn't blood. It can't be, because Dom deserves so much more, if she just could smile one more time, it would be enough. If I could die instead of her, if they killed me instead of her it would be enough.

Why is the ground stained red, why is it crimson, why can't I breathe? Death. It is final. But I refuse, death is not final, death cannot be final, I refuse to believe, to let this happen, I am above, I am me. I am James bloody Potter. And this is Dom we are talking about, Dom who is always there, trailing behind us, why did I never love her? Why did I never love her?

Her smile is perfect, she has prefect teeth. She is allergic to pepperoni, of all incredible things. I always tease her about it. She hates me for it. Good. I deserve to be hated.

Rose is on the ground, her wand is in her hand and she is murmuring spells, her voice incoherent. She is praying, she does not know to whom, she needs me. Rose needs you James. Rose will not survive this world without Dom. You cannot lose her too, Rose is everything, Rose is everything. Rose is all I can wake up too; Rose owns it, my heart. I cannot loose her like this, I need her, I cannot live without her. ROSE NEEDS YOU JAMES. WAKE UP YOU FOOL. SAVE HER.

My wand slips, it hits the ground. But I do not need a wand, I am strong, I can save her, I can change the world if I want to, I can change it all, I am incredible like that. Right? RIGHT!?

History is watching you James. History is daring you. History is telling you to change it all. History is judging you. It is time to rise James. You have to rise. I can see them, my father, my mother, Hermione, I have never seen Hermione broken, she is sobbing, she is running, sending fire messages for doctors, for help, for a way to cope with the pain that is coming. And her eyes they tell me that she has seen this a thousand times, and that she wishes, oh how she wishes that she will never see it again.

And Fleur. She apparated into the scene of swirling smoke, of ash, and the setting sun, bathed in the colours of heaven, but she does not want heaven, she wants heaven to go away. There is a bond between mother and daughter. Between the creator and their loved, and she does not move, she cannot move. She has also forgotten how to breathe.

Always composed, always smiling, always mannered. She does not sob. She stands, and she stares. Her body trembles, and the tears slip down her cheeks silently. Her lips shake, her hands are fists, nails breaking skin, I can see blood dripping from them, onto the ground, fusing with the blood of her dying daughter. She is broken, her hands are fists of iron, she is angry, at herself, at everything. And she falls to her knees. Her knees hit the ground. Boom. And she does not look at Dom, but at me, and she is pleading, a mother that cannot, that cannot face this. She cannot. She will not survive. They are all looking at me, they need me. Rose, Fleur, Hermione, Dom. Dominique Weasley needs you James. She cannot live without you, she will die James. The blood will be on your hands if you do not change the world, you need to change the world.

"James."

Her voice is soft, like hell, like pain, my hands are clasped in hers, I can hear a soft pulse, it trembles, it shakes, it is not strong, it will not last the hour, she is dying James, she is nothing without me,

"James. Take care of them for me, you have to-,"

My head is shaking, her hands, they are going limp, no, they can't go limp. She needs a miracle, she needs an angel. But I am not an angel, I am the devil, I cannot save her. I cannot. How can I be strong? I am weak, I am broken, I cannot be strong. I am failing.

And I remember. A new voice. It's my fathers. It was after the first time I killed someone. It was not on purpose. Or maybe it was. I remember the spell, slipping from between my lips, and I wonder if I had known that he was too weak to deflect it. I remember his body crumpling. In a flash, and you cannot go back. There is no back. None.

I remember what he said. He whispered it to me, as I clinged to him, tears slipped down my cheeks then too. I had been scared of what it meant, giving up. He had said,

"James, you cannot control death, but you can prevent it for as long as possible…"

I find my voice, it is soft, it is a whisper,

"Stay alive for me, you hear me Dom?"

She shakes her head, her eyes are glacy, she cannot blink, I lean closer, just over her ear, my breath soft,

"Stay alive…"

She smiles, her lips bleed, and a single tear slips down her cheek, her voice is broken,

"I don't want to die like this, James? I don't want to die like this…"

I nod, her fingers slip, and I grab onto them, the tear is clear, just one, it traces the outline of a stunning face, over the arch, the curve, it is like glass. And in it I see a thousand memoires, a thousand dreams, she just wanted to live. God dam it she just wanted to live. It isn't fair.

She lets out a sob, and coughs, her lips are stained red, why? Why are they red? Why can I not hear her breathe, she needs to breathe. Breathe for me Dom. She takes in a shaky breath, the air is hollow, I watch it echo down her throat, her voice is just a shadow of who she was,

"I am scared James. It hurts,"

And Rose is there, her hand swiping away the tears, I can hear Rose's heart break, I can hear it, it is like the breaking of the world, it is the end of everything. Rose's lips re moving she is screaming for help, for anyone, her eyes are wide, I can see the whites, she is like a wild animal, and in those eyes I see it. A blame. She thinks Dom is dying because of her. And I can't let her think that. I want to say it isn't your fault, it isn't anyone's. But I cannot tell a lie. We are all to blame. We all should have noticed. Dam it.

She clings to me, Dom, with one last glamour of life, one last burst of breath, just one last flicker of the flame before it burns out, before it is snuffed by death. Her lips are cracked, her teeth are a sickly black, from that crimson blood, or from poison, I cannot tell. Her tongue lays limp, it does not move when she speaks, the vibration of her desperate voice keeps me steady, stay steady. And so she speaks,

"Make the pain go away, it hurts, oh James, I cannot live, it hurts too much,"

I shake my head, and there are tears, on my cheeks, I am crying. I have never cried before. Not like this.

"I can't. Oh Dom, I don't know how, I wish-,"

Frank is there, he stands behind me, he does not move. He stares. They all do. And V is there, her hands on Rose, holding her, she is holding Rose because I cannot, because I am suddenly weak, I am suddenly so very weak. She is crying, V is screaming, for help, for God, for anyone. I can see the medics, they are running, they are coming to take her away. They cannot take her away. She is my Dom, she is my cousin, she is my friend, she cannot leave, I need to save her. It's my job. I'm James Potter. If she asks me to make the pain go away then I will. It is my job. I have a duty. Do you hear me James? You have to.

I hear it. The last breath, the last slip of air, it is cold, it has been cold for weeks, and I have been blind, I have been a fool. It is all my fault. It is all my fault.

"Dom, listen to me, you have to listen to my voice, I am going to try something, you hear me? I am going to save you, I promised you. So I will. Okay?"

She is shaking her head, she has no more tears, her eyes swim with them, sadness, grief. I will save her. They can live without me. I am worth nothing compared to her, I will save her, my wand is in my hand, and I am murmuring a spell, it is foreign to my lips, I am creating it, the emotions, this fear is creating it, I can save her, a life for a life. My life is worthless. My mind works in patterns, it can see things I cannot, it can hunt them, and it finds them. Solutions this world does not know, solutions this world will never know.

But hands stop me, small hands, they are warm, and I turn and Rose shakes her head, her hands tremble, her voice choked,

"I can't live without you James, I can't live without you, I can't…"

There are tears running down her cheeks, they are broken, she is broken, she falls, onto the ground, head shaking, her hand forming a fist, grip like iron on my wrist, and she whispers over and over,

"I need you James. Please, there must be, please, I can't…."

She lets go of me, hands covering her face, hands covering her face, and she is screaming, at the top of her lungs, she is screaming because she has lost it all, the world, and she knows me, she knows me so well. And she cannot live without me. And Rose must live. But Dom can't die. And I whisper, my voice broken,

"You will learn to forget me Rose, I promise, with time, you will learn to live without me, live every day like your last Rose, understand? You have to. And make sure they remember me, they have to, I have done so much, I have done so much…"

But Rose shakes her head, her smile is sad. And her words are twisted with a bitter, dark hatred, self-hatred,

"I chose right. I rather her than V. I chose who my heart loved less. And now she will die, she must die, mustn't she? Its fate. It's over James, it's all over…"

And I watch her. I love watching her. She has so many emotions, but she supresses them, because she needs to help others, rather than herself. But I wish she was selfish. I wish she wouldn't care so much, so that her heart would not be so hurt. And I don't understand her words. But I will show her it is not over. And I let go of Dom's hands, and I take her, Rose, in my arms, and my lips touch her skin, rushed, hasty, soft, loving. And her eyes close as tears fall, I kiss her forehead, her head bent in sorrow, and I whisper,

"Promise to not miss me…"

And I continue the spell, just a few more lines, but her hand goes limp, her fingers uncurl, and the soft, steady boom, the lullaby of her pulse ends. And there is no sound. It is over. In a flash. In a matter of minutes we lose our innocence, our childhood, our friend, our life, we lose everything.

There are moments that words cannot explain. There is suffering to terrible to name. And so you hold her, and you pretend it is okay, it has to be okay. You smile; she would want you to smile. It is empty. Death. It is empty, it is like a flower, dead, you cannot make it bloom again, you cannot, but you can remember it. And so the world takes pity on the Potters today, on me. And it is unimaginable, it is not possible. So we freeze, time is endless. Words cannot reach it. Life cannot complete. She is in my arms, if only a few more seconds, if only I had saved her sooner if only I was dead, if only I was on the ground instead. There are challenges. And no one can replace her. Nothing can. She is our friend, she is my cousin.

Rose is on the ground, she lies parallel to Dom, her hand intertwined with hers. And her eyes, they close as the last beat of pulse brushes against her skin. It is thanks to Rose than she lived this long. Rose knows spells I do not. It was elvish, what she had whispered, her first instinct, like mine was to save, to take the pain away. It made Dom have an artificial heart, a fake heartbeat, a pulse, it only lasted minutes, all of this only minutes.

Rose lies there emotionless, eyes hutting out the horror but the tears still fall, slipping down her cheeks from shut eyes. She is pretending she will wake up and it will be okay. Her lips are parted, they tremble. And she squeezes her eyes close, her breathing shallow. And then she opens them. Her eyes. And she shakes her head. Just once. And then, like a hurricane, a storm it comes. Words. Ugly, horrid words, they spill from her lips, not all in the same language, not all in the same form. Some twisted, some kind, and she is shaking, and slowly, she lets go of Dom's hand. Her fingers slipping from the dead.

And her small arms wrap around herself, holding her together, and she rocks herself, back and forth, murmuring tears like ice falling endlessly. In her tears I see Dom smiling; I see them by the lake, in the bathroom, nail polish in hand. I see Dom on the train, younger and older. I see Dom in the dark, hair woven with flowers, I see….

There is no God. There is no future. There is only hell; there is only pain, and blame and this sickening anger.

Her fingers slip from mine, boom, her hand goes slack, and her eyes freeze, and she smiles, she is beautiful, like an angel. Boom. Her hand falls back, onto the ground, her muscles relax. She is not in pain anymore, she looks peaceful, as if she is happy. I am glad she is happy. Be happy.

The little vein in her throat stops moving, there is no more sound in this world. It is the end. She is looking at the sky. The sun is setting for her. I have never cared for the sun, or how it set, Rose cares, Dom cares, why don't I care?

I hate me. You had one job James, you stupid idiot, you had one job, to save her and you could have. You are capable of miracles. And one last tear traces her cheek, it is not clear, it is red. All the red, the red on my clothes, the red on her lips, the red in her veins, it is blood; it is the blood of the dead. There is a pain we cannot name. And so we push it away, the grief, the possibility. There are no words. And we suffer, together. Frank falls to his knees, and he screams, long, it doesn't break the silence. Nothing can.

There is a last breath, it is soft, it is just a whisper, just a silent plea, and her lips turn up, at the corners, she is at peace. But I am not. I am not okay. I need to protect her. I need to be strong, for them now, if I cannot save her, I will save them, Rose, Frank, V, Fred, who comes running, horror painted on his face, Roxy who is in hysterics, laughing at the top of her lungs, breathy, broken, as if she has lost her mind. And maybe we have.

And softly, so very softly Dominique Weasley speaks her last words, they are quiet, they are desperate, they are kind. She was always so kind. Her speech shakes, her voice quakes, but we all hear it, all of us, holding our breathes, listening, it is all we can do, because it is too late to do anything else.

And with her last breath she says,

"Live for me… Every moment, live it like it is your last…."

Boom. Over. And the red tear that traces her cheek, running over her cheekbone, over her face, slipping down until it rests on the arch of her chin, it trembles there, it is dark, it signifies all that I cannot face. I cannot face. But I can face anything I'm James. I'm strong. I don't cry. I never cry.

I stand. My legs shake. My wand is forgotten, I stare ahead, but I cannot see a horizon. I look around, these people, they are my people. I must protect them. They are my family, they are my world. Fred, holding Roxy in his arms, trying to calm her down, his eyes are red, bloodshot. Frank, Lucy is by his side, hand on his shoulder, she is whispering something; she is trying to tell him to breathe, when she has forgotten how. Albus, Scorpius holding onto him, as he stares, unable to move, to comprehend, their hands interlock, they love each other. Scorpius' hands wrap around him, but his eyes, they look to Rose, and they hold a fear that she will never be the same. And I fear it too. We both do.

John Prewett and Lysander, trying to stop Scamander from running at her, at anyone, from fighting, from killing whatever he can get his hands on, he is angry, he is raging mad. John looks me in the eyes, and he wants to reach me, to help me, he knows that it is over, that I cannot handle this, not this, but he does not know how to help me. No one does. Fleur, and Bill, Victorie, are running to Dom, screaming, they are checking for a pulse, I watch their faces loose hope, loose life. And Teddy is there, he stops Victorie from collapsing, his eyes are scared, he does not understand, his eyes find mine, they change colour with every blink, he is terrified, he cannot control it, and he too, wants to help me, he wants to because he knows I watched her die in my arms, my Dom, our Dom.

My dad is there, he is shaking his head, he is blaming himself, he is putting up spells, to ward off the rest of the world, to hide us, the grieved for just a moment, because this moment counts. It counts.

My mom clutches at Lily, hiding her eyes, from the corpse, the bloody chest, the wrenched out heart, the bloodied wrist, the gruesome sight, the empty eyes. And my mom also looks to me, she is scared, she is scared I won't survive this. And I don't think I want to.

But then my eyes find Rose. She is staring at her, Dom. She is smiling, whispering to her, she is refusing to believe it, she tries to laugh, but it turns into a sob, and she clings to Dom, trying to make her sit up, fixing her hair, she murmurs soft things, her lips smiling, but not her eyes, placing her lips on hers, breathing air into her dead lungs. Her wand shakes in her hands, but she does not give up, she tries every spell, every spell, trying to heal, she speaks in ancient tongue, she recites the spell I was just saying, but she does not know the end, so she cannot save, and all is pointless. But unlike the rest, she does not give up hope. She wipes her tears frantically, her hands are shaking, her nails covered in blood, the red sticky substance smears across her cheeks. She takes the hands, and the world. She brings them to her lips and breathes, trying to warm the cold flesh. She is shaking her head; she is rocking herself back and forth, singing a broken lullaby to the sleeping corpse.

She keeps shaking her head, her breath unsteady. And V is trying to tell her that she needs to be okay, that she needs to breathe, to remember that it isn't over, but for Rose it is.

I can see it in her eyes. Rose is giving up; she does not want to live. She wants to die; she wants the pain to be over. But she can't die. Because I can't live without her. I can't. So I will live for her, for you Rose, and I will teach you how to breathe again, how to live again. It is not the end of the world. Nothing is. Those are your words Rose. I will prove them to you, I will prove it all to you .I cannot save Dom, but I can save you. I will save you. I swear I will. It isn't your fault Rose; promise me you will understand that it isn't your fault. Please.

Scorpius leaves Albus and goes to her, to Rose, and she turns to him, her eyes fearful, and she screams, and the world comes into focus, and I can hear again, hear her words,

"Why isn't she waking up? Scorp? Why isn't she breathing? I don't understand? Why?"

She shakes her head, grabbing onto Dom's hand and she presses it to her chest, to her heart, tears streaming down her face,

"Be strong Dom, it'll be over soon, the pain, I promise, do you hear me, tell you me hear me, please, please,"

She falls to the ground, gasping for air, and her hands are balled into fists and she hits herself, over and over, screaming, she is angry, she is raging mad. Her voice cracks, her words are harsh, her hands clutching, frantic.

"Wake up, listen to me, I am here, I am here Dom, I am so sorry, I shouldn't have chosen, please understand that I love you,"

Her breath is ragged, she screams again,

"Look the doctors are here, they will save you, when I can't…"

She is scrambling to her feet, and she tries to make Dom stand, cradling the corpse to her chest. And I am walking forward, my feet heavy, my gaze strong. And I push them out of the way, V, Scorpius, and I wrap my arms around her, and I pull her close. And I can feel it, she is home, I am safe in her arms, and she is safe in mine. And I whisper what she needs to hear. And she leans into me, and we are one. My voice is broken,

"I am here Rose. And I will never let you go,"

And I know that together we will make it through this. And that Rose needs me to be strong so I will be strong; she needs me to be strong because she is lost. She has lost it. The will to live. I can see it in her eyes. I can see it. But I can make those eyes shine again. Because Dom asked me too, and I repeat it, Dom's words to her, because she needs to hear it, because then she will understand,

"Live for me… Every moment, live it like it is your last…."

The body is dragged away, and the scene is cleared, the blood erased, and slowly, one by one we leave. In pairs, alone, in groups, all of our eyes bloodshot, our bodies numb with pain. But we do not move. I cradle her, as she cries, for hours, she says nothing. There is nothing worth saying. It is over. Her life. It is all over. And as dusk, and then night descends we stand. And people walk by, students, teachers, friends, family, some stop and stare. And they whisper, and I know what they are saying, they are saying that we are going through the unimaginable, and that we deserve pity.

And so it is today, Valentine's day that the world pities the Potters and the Weasleys. They say have sympathy, they look and they see heroes who have lost so much in such short breathes. They say don't stare. They say have pity, have mercy on our lords. They say give them time. They say it is a tragedy. They say that they will grieve for us. And so the nation grieves for us, and we grieve for her.

I have never been pitied before. It is a new look in their eyes, a new wonder. As if they want to help. I have never been stared at like this, like they want to reach out and take my hand.

My face is wet, and Rose still trembles. My hands are numb, my muscles taught. And she still trembles.

It begins to rain, the water pours down around us, it clings to her skin. And my arms are wrapped around her, hands buried in her hair, our bodies close, skin on skin, hands on hands, nails digging into flesh. It is desperate, it is hopeless, we need each other to stand. Each droplet clutches to her flesh, and the storm drowns a whirl wind of hell.

Her eyes are closed, eyelashes long, and tears slip, caught in the rain and the storm, and she whispers, sometimes the words are incoherent, but at other times I can hear it. Blame. Hatred. Pain.

She is small, she is young, she is broken. She has seen death, but not death like this, not death that blinds you, that kills you.

Oh Dom, what have you done?

My eyes are closed, tight, and in them she dances like a phantom, blonde hair whispering in the wind, her laughter like bells, she has flowers in her hair, braided, and loose. She is rising from the lake, her smile makes her eyes crinkle, and I can see a dimple, on her left cheek. She is smiling at you James. She will never smile at you again James. Never again.

She is waltzing towards you, eyes not looking at you, but at Frank, smiling, she loved him, but I told her that she cannot date, not him, because he is my friend, my idiotic unworthy friend. I destroyed her life. You bastard James. Do you see now? You will never see her look at him like that again. She will never look at you again.

Her hand is in mine, and she is dragging me to see something, but I cannot see what, and her hand slips, and I let go, because she is the stupid cousin, and I go back to the party, it was a birthday party, I left her behind. You fool. I wonder where she could have taken me, but I never care. Don't care. Not now. This is not the time to care James.

And it is not enough. The pain cannot be drowned, not by alcohol, not by tears, not by anger, not jewels. It is not enough, never enough for me to be who I am. She just wanted to live. Don't we all? Death is an empty feeling. When I killed for the second time, I did not cry. I regretted, and I had nightmares for months, and sometimes, when my guard is down, those phantoms also follow me. But it gets easier. You learn to ignore. You learn to be strong through a façade. You will learn Rose. I will teach you.

The water, each droplet is cold, like ice, and the heavens weep for her, lightning lighting up their stormy anger, and there is a rage, in my veins, it burns like liquor. Vengeance. They will pay. Yes. That's right they have to. They have to.

There are days my life is normal. I walk in school, pretending to be younger than I am, pretending to not care. Pretending until it is not pretend. But then, there are days like this, days that re marked in History. That they will read about, and say, what did James Potter do when he saw Dom lying there, heart torn from her chest? Is it a, b or c? Circle the right answer.

What did I do? I sigh, it hurts. My heart hurts, I wish it didn't, I don't like this kind of pain, the kind of pain you can't control, the kind of pain that destroys you.

I want to be brave, but here, as the shop keepers turn off the lights, going off to go to bed, as the students walk with heads bowed, and whispers said, back up to the castle, teachers streaming behind them, happiness is foreign. And the stares leave. Hours pass. The rain is heavy, then light. And we hold each other, we need to, we have to.

Roses' hands form fists in my shirt, gripping the cloth with a fierce need. Her fingernails clawing at my flesh, she is angry, at herself, at the world. I am too. We both are.

She finds her voice, like music to my ears, but it is a hollow sad sound, it hurts her too .It hurts us both. I lean into her, and she asks, she calls, she is all I have left. And so I hold her close, I wish I could pull her inside of me, into my heart, so she could never leave. But I can't. Her voice is soft; it holds an eerie grief, choked,

"James?"

A question. My name. And I reply, my hands going around her waist, pulling her closer, though there is no space left, she is warm, her skin is on fire, her breathe is hot, she is alive James. And I cannot help but think that that is all that is important. Right?

My voice matches hers, kind, soft, listening,

"Yes?"

And then I see it. This is not the end. This the beginning of our story, the true beginning of our lives, of our wars, and the horrors we will see hand in hand, and if it took a death for us to become like this, to meet, to care, to love, then was it worth it? It scares me that the answer might be yes.

Her hands are on my back, tracing my should blades, her touch is soft, her touch is loving, but her voice is brutal, like a whip it hits, and cracks, and I see a rage, kindled, burning,

"They must pay… They will pay James, for all they have done,"

I pull away. And we stand. Parallel. Rage full eyes on madness, it shines through both of us. And she extends her hand. An offering. The beginning of an alliance, a treaty, a contract. And her voice is new, she is new, and she will be strong for me, as I will be strong her for her,

"James Sirius Potter, let's make them burn in hell,"

Her hand shakes, her body quivers, the street, flooded with rain looks like a river of blood. And there is a corpse somewhere, being held in the arms of Fleur Weasley, and it is their fault. They crossed a line. The forgotten have forgotten something very important. That there is one family you do not mess with. But they did. And this was not a warning, this was a battle, and we lost. This was just the start.

I take her hand, and our veins, our lives connect. No going back. Yes Rose, they will pay, we will make them burn until they beg on fallen knees for our pity, for our mercy. They will not survive us. Not us.

Fingers clasp around fingers, palms on palms, skin on skin. The thunder roars in our ears, as the heavens fall, and faith is burned to a crisp. They wanted a reaction; they are prodding, seeing how strong we are. Well, they are in for a brutal surprise. Fools.

And my voice is full of a malice, and it goes boom,

"There is no going back; they will pay for what they have done,"

She nods, eyes wide, heart tortured,

"Yes James, we will make them pay…"