𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒, james potter

35. i hear the sound of my own voice asking you to stay

IT SEEMS AS though everything has suddenly caught up with Nesrin.

The heartache of the last year. The anger and confusion. Every single ounce of sadness has come rushing back to her after months of pressing it all down.

It has all come back in full swing during this very night.

And that is how Nesrin finds herself in the kitchens, a bottle of firewhiskey in one hand and tears streaming down both of her cheeks.

She cries for all of the innocent lives lost in the past few years. She cries for James and how heartbroken he looked that day when she walked out on him. She cries for her brother who may have just been forced into the Dark Lord's bidding. She cries for Regulus who shouldn't have to be dealing with all of this so young.

Most of all, she cries for herself. She cries at how utterly pitiful and pathetic she is. She cries because she is angry. So, so angry at herself. She cries because the only thing that ever made her happy is the one thing she can't have and she cries because she doesn't want to have to do this anymore.

She doesn't want to pretend as if she's not hurting.

She throws back the bottle, taking a swig of the drink and ignoring the bitter aftertaste it leaves as she swallows it down.

Just as she's about to finish the bottle, the door to the kitchens opens.

She turns and sees a blurred figure—it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust.

When they do, she just stares at the boy from her past life. The boy she was just thinking about. The boy she hasn't stopped thinking about for the past year and a half.

They stare at each other from across the room, lost in their own thoughts.

He walks over to her slowly, as if he cannot understand why she is here, what she is doing. When he's a mere step away, he crouches down in front of her to look into her eyes. He takes in her sullen face, her red rheumy eyes, the unmistakable tears cascading down her soft cheeks.

There's a knot in his chest that wasn't there before. He wants to do everything in his power to stop her from feeling like this, from ever feeling like this again.

He fears that he will do anything to see her smile.

He fears that the past year and a half of thinking he had gotten over her has been in vain.

He takes her face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over her cheeks to get rid of her tears. It doesn't matter; more come running down right after.

She sniffs, too exhausted to be ashamed of herself.

She studies his face. Her eyes move over his features hungrily—as if this is the last time she will ever get to see him.

Her hand reaches out to touch his lips.

"James," she whispers. More tears cascade down her face. "I'm sorry."

His heartbroken gaze is the last thing she sees before she closes her eyes. His arms coming around to hold her upper back and under her knees is the last thing she feels before sleep consumes her body.

✧ ✦ ✧

SHE FEELS THE warmth of a broad chest against her back. For a moment, she thinks she's dreaming. She relaxes back, wanting more of this warmth before she has to wake up.

Then she hears soft breaths at the shell of her ear. Feels the weight of a muscled arm around her waist.

Her eyes snap open. The light blinds her for a second, a searing pain shooting through her head. Taking in her surroundings, she realizes in a horrifying instant that she is not in her dorms. She is in a bigger room, on a softer, wider bed. A room that is far too big to be a dorm room—most likely a Head Boy or Girl's quarters. For a second, she doesn't remember what happened last night. And then, suddenly, it all comes back to her.

Firewhiskey. Kitchens. Self-pity.

James.

Slowly, hesitantly, she turns her body around to face the person she has a creeping suspicion was the one who brought her here.

As she moves, the arms around her tighten their hold. Her face comes to a stop right in front of his. His eyes are closed, his long lashes touching the tops of his cheekbones.

She realizes that James is still asleep, his light snores echoing in the otherwise silent room.

His arms are tight around her, and she doesn't know how to slip out of his hold without waking him up. She sighs quietly and opts for just observing him.

She hasn't been this close to him since the last time they were together—before she broke up with him. He looks so at peace, his features more boyish now than the times in the last few months when he would gaze upon her with a serious look on his face.

She thinks again about how safe she feels with him. How easy it is to just slip into his arms and feel as if nothing could ever be wrong ever again.

There is a slight pinch between his brows. Before knowing what she's doing, her hand reaches up to smoothen it out. Just as her fingers touch his skin, however, his hand shoots out to grab her wrist.

His eyes open, but he doesn't look angry or upset or anything other than calm. She widens her eyes in surprise as they stare at each other for a moment.

"Sorry," she mumbles under her breath, starting to move away from him to get up and leave the room. She has gotten more in these past hours than she ever could have hoped to get from him again.

He doesn't let her move from his arms. Instead, his hold tightens even more, their chests pressing flush against each other. He closes his eyes and moves his head down to rest in the crook of her neck. As if the past year and a half never happened. As if she didn't hurt him. As if this were just another regular day in fifth year.

So quietly that she wouldn't have heard it had she not been fully attuned to his every movement, he says, "Can you please stay for just five more minutes?"

Her breath hitches.

She swallows hard.

Not trusting herself to speak, she just nods. She closes her eyes too, reveling in his touch.

She is being selfish.

What will happen when the five minutes are over? How will she ever face James again?

How will she feel every single time Lily smiles kindly at her?

The thought of Lily causes her to snap her eyes open and push away from James. She will not allow this. She cannot allow this. She won't be able to live with herself.

"I can't," she says. She wants to take the words back, but she can't. She wants to take the past year back, but she can't.

Without looking back at James, she pushes herself off the bed and leaves the room.

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 !

freaking the fuck out because taylor allison swift killed me and brought me back to life by announcing speak now tv.

july 7.

shut. the. fuck. up.

no one talk to me for the next 2 months.