Like A Brown Paper Lunch Bag

"Lily, please... I-I don't think we should continue like this..."

"Shut up James, just come here."

"Hmph," James groans as he is pushed onto the bed.

"Well... if that's the way you feel about it..."

"James, seriously shut the fuck up."

*********

"Christ, you're beautiful," James whispered. He smelt the vibrant red hair splayed out in front of him on the crisp white bed sheets. Silently he rolled over, slipped out of the oak-framed bed and tiptoed down the stair case, across common room and into the boy's bathroom.

It was not supposed to be this way, no, not at all.

Lily was using him, he knew that. But what he did not know, did not have a clue at all about, was why.

He looked into his own reflection in the mirror, it stared angrily back at him.

Why wasn't he the one she wanted and needed so very, very badly? How could he blow her brains out every single night with the, he even has to admit, the bashful boy he is, fairly large equipment and still carry on like this every night Every night as they reached the top of their desire together he would proclaim his undying love for her. But each night as he looked into her emerald eyes she was not looking at him, but past him, as if it was someone else she was giving her body to completely.

She constantly refused his other advances. She would not collapse into his arms and let him carry her off into the sunset, no matter how much intimacy they shared. She would demand him to the Head Girl's private room most nights. Only to and discard him like an old and particularly knobbly sock afterwards.

And he found that impossible to believe.

His heart ached with the pain of not being able to hold her for very long, and not being able to give her what she needed emotionally, because he just could not find out what that was.

**********

Fuck.

James never got it did he? Why, he seemed to want more than any guy ever wanted. Well, pig headed, ignorant bastards want is a chance to get into a chick's pants right? Right?

Apparently this was not enough for James Potter, the Quidditch star Chaser.

Fuck him; fuck him and his fucking dick and everything else about him. Why would anyone want to hold someone, to be with someone so utterly perfect and pretentious like him? All he was... has ever been... is just a stupid little boy pretending to be a man.

Men, there were no real purpose for them, why they were still in existence was almost a mystery.

Almost...

They did have one small, well not necessarily, positive point on their side.

And damn them for having it.

*********

Such blue eyes,

Oh so pretty.

Like the skies,

Much too pretty.

Mortimer's hair,

You're too pretty.

Should you die,

Forever pretty.

Remus hummed a tune as he walked through the doors of the library.

*********

Narcissa looked at the strand of hair that lay on her pillow. It was such as beautiful colour, such unlike her platinum, blonde tresses. Just the single line of life on her pillow reminded her of the head lying on it the night before.

Making her bed, she felt the white satin sheets slide under her fingers. They reminded her of milk white skin that was under her fingers the night before.

Pulling the quilt over the bed and tucking it in place reminded her of the way it was torn out of place the night before.

Under the bed, her feet skimmed a red, velvet slipper. Picking it up, she traced a slim finger over the gold embroidery of a lion. It reminded her of the wearer, and what they had shared the night before.

It reminded her of Lily.