Seeing

His eyes are amazing. They change constantly, managing to convey a range of emotions in a single heartbeat. They're so dark, almost black, that sometimes I feel myself falling, almost losing myself in their depths. When he's happy or amused, there's a spark in them that can't help but make you smile. When he's angry, they become stormy, troubled. And when he's sad, or he doesn't want you to know what he's thinking, they close over. You can't get past those barriers.

His hair. It used to be just cut short, with big clumps falling into his eyes. I always had to resist the urge to push them away. But then he let it grow, and now he wears it pulled back in a ponytail. He's done that ever since Prongs told him he looked like Snape with it down. I didn't agree, but couldn't say anything- James is more likely to be listened to than me. Snape's hair is greasy, while his is soft and silky. I know that, because I stroked it when he cried into my arms after he ran away. That was the only time I've ever seen him break down.

We're in the common room. I'm sat in the comfy chair by the fire, curled up like a cat. There's a book on my lap, but I haven't been reading it for the past ten minutes. I've been watching him instead. He's sitting with Prongs in the corner, and they're planning something. I can tell, because he's much more animated than normal. He keeps on laughing, that silly little bark that has the power to make my stomach do somersaults, and his hands are moving constantly, illustrating his words.

His hands are gorgeous. It sounds really strange, saying it, but it's true. We were in Transfiguration the other day, and I just looked across the table and noticed them. I can't believe I never noticed them before. They're strong, and yet delicate in another way. His fingers are long and sensitive. I just can't stop imagining those fingers on me, entwined in my hair, touching me... He also wears black nail varnish. I think he's the only guy who could get away with it and not look as though he's trying far too hard.

Now he's fiddling with his earring while Prongs is talking. He only got the thing to annoy his mother, but it suits him. Makes him look sexy and dangerous. It goes with the whole image. The long ponytail, the earring, the nail varnish, the leather jacket, the motorbike... everything is calculated to attract attention. And Merlin knows it does. Every damn person in Hogwarts knows who he is. But they don't. Not like me.

Lily's putting her music player on. She charmed it to work without electricity and now it's playing Queen. Bohemian Rhapsody. He loves that song, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised when he leaps from his seat and begins to sing along while dancing through the room.

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

I'm not the only one watching him now. Several of the females are staring, their mouths hanging open as he twists and turns, lost in a world of his own. He once told me he only feels alive when he's dancing. He can just let go, not worry about anything else in the world. He does look damn good, caught up in the music. He looks like he needs a partner...

Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality

Someone else obviously has the same idea. A fifth year girl I can't recognise gets up. Soon everyone is dancing. Except me. I keep my eyes on him and the girl. I doubt he even realises she's there. His amazing eyes are shut, and his long lashes are resting on his cheeks. He looks up suddenly, as it moves into the Mama part. He sees me gazing at him, and smiles suddenly, lighting up his face. He moves across the room and extends his hand.

"Will Mr Moony dance with Mr Padfoot?"

"Mr Moony would be delighted," I reply, and he sweeps me into the dance. He puts his arms around my neck and his head on my shoulders.

Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time

Just being this close to him is enough. He's like a drug to me, one that I can't get enough of. It's close to the full moon, and I can smell him constantly. I never want to let him go.

The music changes, getting a faster tempo. He releases me, and I almost stagger back. He's jumping around now, dancing with everyone in the room. He isn't picking one person out, preferring to stay free. I wish he didn't. I want his warmth against me, the feeling of having him in my arms. But I can't have that. I retreat instead to my chair, and curl up protectively.

He's smiling again, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He has a range of smiles. There's the one he uses when he's trying to seduce someone. The one he uses to charm people- it works on everyone but Lily and McGonagall. His sardonic, mocking smile, usually saved for Snape. The one he uses when he's amused. And there's his smile when he's happy, the most beautiful one of them all. I've only ever seen it happen when the Marauders are alone. I'd do anything just to see that smile, and recently I've noticed a stab of jealousy when one of the others manage it.

Now he's climbing up onto the table, playing air guitar and screeching along with Freddie Mercury. There's something wild about him, a careless abandon as though he couldn't give a stuff what other think of him. And he doesn't, not really. I suppose that draws me to him. I have to be in control of everything in my life, and I always consider how other people will react. They do say opposites attract.

He smiles across at me again, and for a second my heart stops a beat.

Then he sees a seventh year dancing near him, and follows her appreciatively with his eyes.

Nothing really matters to me

I don't matter to him. I could watch him for ever, but he'll never watch me in that way.