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15minuteficlets
Dec. 28th, 2003 08:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cerulean_skyYeah, a friend mentioned this, and I thought it sounded good. I probably don't need to tell you more than what's there, and what isn't there you'll probably still all get anyway. :D
For15minuteficlets.
When he looked back, and thought of her eyes, it was the fire in them he remembered best.
The fire in the green.
He remembered thinking he could have watched the flames dance in those eyes for hours, never stopping.
But those eyes were not destined to be his.
He never told anyone. He never would tell anyone. It just wasn't done, for a Slytherin to like a Gryffindor. But that's what happened. But he never told anyone. Instead he masked that wonder, adoration, behind hate and cruel, cruel words. And he crumbled inside at every wince they withdrew from her. And soon the flames in her eyes turned to hatred.
But there was nothing to be done.
And then he lost those flaming green eyes to another. To one he hated beyond everything else. To Potter.
And now they were back. Those green, green eyes, were back, the fire in them the same, the same hatred.
One that matched his own.
But now he didn't marvel at those eyes, didn't sit in wonder at the thought of them, have them memorized as well as any potion recipe. Now he wanted to extinguish them. To put them out.
And so, when he saw Mr. Potter hand Mr. Longbottom the correct ingredient, taking away the incorrect one from him just in time to prevent an explosion, he still snapped out "Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for interfering with Mr. Longbottom's potion."
For
15minuteficlets.When he looked back, and thought of her eyes, it was the fire in them he remembered best.
The fire in the green.
He remembered thinking he could have watched the flames dance in those eyes for hours, never stopping.
But those eyes were not destined to be his.
He never told anyone. He never would tell anyone. It just wasn't done, for a Slytherin to like a Gryffindor. But that's what happened. But he never told anyone. Instead he masked that wonder, adoration, behind hate and cruel, cruel words. And he crumbled inside at every wince they withdrew from her. And soon the flames in her eyes turned to hatred.
But there was nothing to be done.
And then he lost those flaming green eyes to another. To one he hated beyond everything else. To Potter.
And now they were back. Those green, green eyes, were back, the fire in them the same, the same hatred.
One that matched his own.
But now he didn't marvel at those eyes, didn't sit in wonder at the thought of them, have them memorized as well as any potion recipe. Now he wanted to extinguish them. To put them out.
And so, when he saw Mr. Potter hand Mr. Longbottom the correct ingredient, taking away the incorrect one from him just in time to prevent an explosion, he still snapped out "Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for interfering with Mr. Longbottom's potion."