Can you guess what I'm going to say? That I don't own Harry Potter? Got it in one!
I choked back a sob. My heart was pounding and my head ached with sorrow. My indifferent shield that I usually had up was fading and I couldn't mask my feelings. The only thing worse than this pain was the numbness that had crept up my neck, fingers, and toes. My body was unmoving, frozen in time, so my chances of bolting up to my dormitory to cry were diminished. I slumped in my armchair and glared at the fire that was warm and cheery; the opposite of my feelings. I felt someone sit next to me, and I did nothing to stop them; I merely ignored them.
They leaned close to me, "It's okay to cry, Lily. It doesn't make us weak, it makes us stronger." I took my time to answer, "What would you know? You're not feeling what I am. Tears are too trivial, too materialistic for this pain. I can't cry away all of my hurt." They spoke back to me in a calming, reassuring tone, "I never said that you can cry the pain away. But it does help." I looked up at them, and jumped back in shock. James Potter sat before me, with a sympathetic and understanding look etched on his features.
I moved away from him; ashamed to show emotion in his presence. Apparently, he had other ideas. "Lily, please just look at me." At this I turned further. "Don't turn away from me. Please." His voice just sounded so raw, so I complied. I turned back, completely aware of my tears. He leaned over and wiped my tears away with his thumb. I leant into him, against his chest, all of my reservation dissolving. He put his arms around me.
I couldn't have told you how long we sat there, just sitting there, never moving or speaking. Finally, when I heard everyone walking back from dinner, I spoke, "Thank you." He gave me a puzzled look. "Thank you? For what?" I looked up into his eyes, letting my own orbs fill. "For being here. For just sitting here with me. For letting me cry. For not questioning me." I added mentally 'For being….being my only confidante, my only saviour.' He looked down at his feet. I smiled weakly. And finished my speech, "And for making me smile again. For loving me for who I am. For letting me open up to you."
I leant up towards him. He gazed into my eyes. I felt myself getting nearer to him, and him growing closer in turn. Our lips met. It wasn't like in the movies, where they passionately embrace. Or like in the romance novels, where the guy takes control and worships every inch of the heroine. No, this was on its own level. It was soft, and made my heart flutter. It made me forget…
I lay in bed that night, listening to the sounds of all the other girls sleeping. They, of course, hadn't suspected that anything was wrong. I was a good actor. I good fool anyone into thinking I was completely fine- a happy and normal teenage girl. Except James. I couldn't hide myself around him. I didn't know why, but he got past every one of my obstacles and barriers. What got me was that when he got into my very soul, he didn't laugh, didn't tease or use it to his advantage. He understood me. He was my happiness, my hope. He kept me up when I was about to fall. He caught me when I went over the edge. He was the only one who could make me laugh when all I wanted to do was cry. He was… he was…
He was my shoulder to cry on.
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