𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 [𝐣.𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫]

15: 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔤𝔢𝔡, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔣𝔲𝔩, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔦𝔡

TW: Use of the word 'babe' unironically (Also, please no Emmeline slander, she's literally done nothing wrong)

The aftermath of James Potter's memorable night could be described in many ways. To many first years, it gave them hope, for if you fawned over someone long enough, they were sure to relent.

Even if it took five years.

This lesson was particularly dangerous, and not nearly as romantic as it might've seemed. Superficial affection had nothing to do with the heart's desire, only the head. And of course, the head contained miles of nerves and neurons, capable of so many terrifically horrible feats.

We could convince ourselves of occupying Wonderland as we remain very much within the borders of reality, our backs pressed against the rough hickory tree in the backyard.

This, of course, was the least of Brigitte's worries. Jealousy had reared its ugly head, and while it hadn't yet managed to slip through her firm masquerade (the keyword being yet), she could feel her patience stretching awfully thin.

She had nothing against Lily Evans, nor was her relationship with Lily strained in any sense. In fact, it had seemingly blossomed between the two, Brigitte albeit living vicariously through a girl who frequently indulged in oversharing. It was a win-win situation, she supposed, her remaining justifications few and far between.

As the month of November progressed, tensions happened to be awfully high between Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, for reasons unknown to man. Interactions were less than pleasant, petulance exchanged like answers on the latest Herbology homework.

Jealousy was a spiteful emotion, clenching at your insides with a promise of never letting go. Accompanied with the sensation came guilt, the shame as she looked at Lily Evans and wished so dearly that she was in her position. As he watched Emmeline Vance bury her tongue deeper into Sirius's throat, wondering how he let himself fall for the straightest aristocrat in all of Europe.

Why must the universe subject us to the agony that is love?

"Hey, Brigitte," James greeted, same as always. It was such a familiar notion that she almost laughed. He didn't know about her festering feelings, about her hours of staring into the mind void she'd created in Transfiguration, about all the nights she tossed and turned, hugging her pillow. She hadn't been good enough for James Potter. And he was all she wanted.

There was something so innocent about his oblivion. In his magnificently hazel eyes, there would only be Lily. She wanted someone to look at her that way, to witness the ending of the world, and still only see one person.

Maybe her feelings for him were fake. Maybe she was being superficial, projecting all her problems onto a boy who provided solutions. Maybe it was just a crush, and it would only be a matter of time before she was laughing at herself for wanting to be with James Potter. Maybe she just liked the idea of James, maybe she just lonely, or depressed. Or maybe a culmination of both.

Please, in the name of Merlin, let me just be depressingly lonely.

*******

"Oi, mate! Can I talk to you?"

James pulled out the two-way mirror from his back trouser pocket, grinning as he met Sirius's expectant gaze. "I've always wanted to use these for something other than detentions. What is it?"

Sirius smirked, catching a glimpse of Snape in James's background. "Ooh, look at the greaseball go. I'm surprised he could keep his head up, with that gargantuan nose of his. Wanna irk him a little? I'd reckon giving Evans a good snog in his line of sight ought to finish him off."