Not Mine

It's late. Too late. Her eyes hurt, her throat hurts, and her "brain" hurts. She's tired. Tired of thinking the same thoughts, tired of insomnia, and tired of holding back. She's tired of fighting the fucking urge to pounce.

When He's not near, she misses Him dreadfully. She regrets every decision that takes her away from Him. Every conversation that doesn't involve or isn't about Him.
When He is near, she feels sick. She's terrified of doing something wrong. Of lowering herself in His estimation. Of Him finding out. Of someone else noticing and telling Him.

She only feels safe when they argue. When he makes her angry, then she knows what to do. What to be. How to be. Who to be. She knows He (and everyone else) winds her up because she almost always responds. With Him, she will always respond.
She loves it when she turns the tables. When she mocks Him.. When He becomes the fool. She smirks and she cackles and everything feels right.

But when He becomes bored and moves on, she struggles with her telling face. She struggles, lest anyone see, against the pain, the desolation, and the loss. She struggles not to follow Him wherever He may go.
She attempts to lose herself in surrounding conversations. Laughing, debating, joking, talking but anyone who looks close enough can see her eyes returning, again and again, to where He once sat - as if her mind was playing tricks and He will re-appear any second. He never does.

She wonders if He knows. If He knows that three weeks ago she kissed his friend. She doesn't even like the creep. She was very drunk and doesn't even remember it - thank God.
She wonders what He thinks about it. She wonders if He's noticed his friend's unwelcome increased attentions to her. She dreams of Him rescuing her from his lecherous come-ons and idiocy.
She's scared in case He knows and thinks she's interested in the letch - what if it scares Him off?! What if He thinks she fancies Potter?!

When He looks at him her heart breaks. The-one-she'll-never-be. Despite obvious issues, she could never be what He wants. She tried once. She got as far as the door and glanced at her reflection. Sorry, his reflection. She couldn't. She hid in her bed until the glamour wore off, and tries to block it from her mind.

She hates what He does to her, but can't bear to think of a day when He doesn't. She doesn't know if she loves Him, but she does know that she longs to have the chance.
She wishes she could just tell him how much she admires his eyes, and that the only reason she stayed up til 5.30am, in the common room, was that He was there. That when it's just the two of them talking, how she can't help but be happy. Despite her terror and anxiety, she feels elated. How she needs Him, but can't possibly survive in the same world, if He is not hers. How her first thought on seeing Him is:
"Mine."

Only He's not.

Remus Lupin belongs to Sirius Black.

And Lily Evans can never have Him.