𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒, james potter

02. familiar hazel eyes

IT IS ONLY after she has unpacked and after the Great Feast that they see each other for the first time in over a year.

Nesrin skipped the Sorting Ceremony and the Great Feast, for she hadn't felt up to the task of greeting all the familiar faces she hasn't seen in fifteen months. She has friends, yes, but she does not see any of them lasting longer than graduation. The truth is, all of her so-called friends had been forced onto her in the early years of her childhood.

In reality, these are more Idris's friends than hers. All pureblood Slytherins who have nothing better to do than afflict harm onto muggle-borns and half-bloods and blood traitors. Nesrin can only stand to be around them for so long. The last year was a blessing in disguise in a way as she was able to forget about them as long as she wasn't here so close to them.

Standing near the rippling water, Nesrin stares into her reflection in the Black Lake.

She feels serene at this moment. More than she has felt in a very long time. The constant thoughts of loneliness never seem to go away—not completely at least. Standing near the pitch-black depths of the water calms her somehow. She feels at peace and finds herself closing her eyes for just a second and breathing in the sweet smell of the beginnings of autumn.

The leaves and twigs on the ground seem to shift quietly, but Nesrin hears it.

Footsteps.

Slowly and unsurely, Nesrin turns her body around to face whoever is behind her. Her eyes land on heartbreakingly familiar hazel ones that even in the darkness of the night, still seem to ignite fires deep inside of her heart and body. The first thing she notices is that he is taller. At one point, they were almost the same height with him only being a couple of inches taller. Now, he seemingly stands nearly half a foot higher than her.

His face has seemed to mature a bit, the shadows of his cheekbones angled inwards in a handsome manner with his glasses perched on his nose. His robes have been discarded, only a white collared shirt covering his toned upper body. The upper button is undone. Nesrin wishes it didn't affect her as much as it does, but she can't help her gaze wavering down to where she can just barely see the beginning of his chest. Dark tresses of hair fall into his face, and she recalls just how messy his hair always got with him constantly running his hand through it.

He has his sleeves rolled up, revealing a set of strong forearms. His biceps seem to have grown massively—they barely fit inside his shirt. Nesrin longs to once again be able to be wrapped up in his strong hold, protected from the harsh, bitter world outside.

She never will again, though, and this thought weighs her down.

His hazel irises drift down her figure slowly, the action so achingly familiar that Nesrin's heart picks up its pace. But then she remembers that it will never mean what it once meant ever again. His eyes shift back up to hers, holding the eye contact so intensely that Nesrin feels as if she can't breathe.

They are standing far enough apart, more than arm's length. However, Nesrin feels as if this distance is too small. If she gets too close, she will go back to being the foolish sixteen-year-old she used to be. She cannot.

James's eyes are filled to the brim with vulnerability and raw emotion. Nesrin tries not to reflect these back onto him through her own eyes, but it seems nearly impossible when the love of her life is right in front of her.

"James." Her voice is so quiet that she's sure he doesn't hear it.

But he does. And it kills him to hear his name drip from her red lips for the first time in over a year as if it were never not spoken. It is a sound so foreign yet familiar that he may have not heard it for a thousand lifetimes and still remember the feeling that came with it.