Lament

He received an invitation to the wedding, and was surprised by the gold calligraphy embossed on white. He read the details and then took out his wand and set the thick card alight. The faces of the two people blurred and their features faded in the fire as it fell to the sparsely carpeted floor. Thinking rationally for once, he stomped out the flames before the whole house caught fire. Then he stared at the floor and was surprised when tears started rolling down his hooked nose.

"I thought we had something," he said, speaking to the empty room, to the frosted windows and the dusty stairs. He spied a bottle of firewhisky by the sink - there was three days' worth of washing up in there as well. Twirling his wand through his fingers, he made up his mind.

"Accio firewhisky."

The bottle leapt into the air and flew across the room into his hand. Fingers shaking, he undid the lid and poured the whisky down his throat. The dark lord would be waiting for him tonight, and whisky helped with the dulling of memories. He wished he had not opened the blasted invitation. He wished he did not live alone in this dark, dusty house at the end of a muggle village. But most of all, he wished that James Potter and Lily Evans were not getting married.

He could picture them now, they were standing together under the trees by the lake, and the sun was shining, reflecting Lily's hair. At one point he had been infatuated with her, amazed by her hair, wishing to stroke that creamy skin and lost, ever so lost, in those green, green eyes. Now, though, it was the other half of the couple that he looked at - James, standing so tall, like he could never be wronged or doubted or in such a puny thing as love. He knew different. James and him, they had something.

From the first day, he hated him. Hated him with such a passion that he would see little spots of rage dancing in his eyes. He was loved, he was cared for, he was pretty and gorgeous and fucking hell, why was he thinking THAT? Those words only applied to girls, not to little snot nosed well raised brats that would make his life a misery. Already the words were fading, and he was glad.

In the first and second years, James Potter has worked his heart out trying to make his life a misery. He was sure of that. It was only when he came back for the third year that things started changing.

That was the year that he sat on his own in the train, and James Potter couldn't find his precious friends and sat with him, because he was a familiar face. For the first hour, they looked opposite directions and did not speak. In the second hour, James gave him a little smile and he showed his teeth before he could think. In the third hour, they were talking about Quidditch and their families, and about lessons they liked and what lunches they hated. Whenever a shadow went past their door, they were instantly silent, as if they were holding their breath. In the fourth hour, they decided that they had best change in to their school robes. Neither of them left the carriage. He had eyed up James's lithe body and quickly had to turn away to make sure James didn't see what he had to hide. When they pulled up at Hogwarts, James smiled at him again and told him to come and talk to him sometime - but only when they were alone. He had smiled like a fool and wandered off with his heart in his mouth.

In October, he had met James in detention. Oh, the smiles that were exchanged! They felt happy and just started talking like they had on the train. Flitwick kept himself hidden behind the door and wondered about the two boys, so different but yet so similar. He watched them smile and then, at the end of the night, he watched them embrace in the corridor outside. Sev, for his part, could not remember who initiated this hug, but it was the best he'd felt since coming to Hogwarts.

In the fourth year, they met secretly every other week. Every classroom, every secret passageway, was their meeting place. They would embrace and talk and embrace some more. Once, James's lips grazed Sev's cheek, and his own hands wandered as his mind wandered where his hands dared not. On the last day of the fourth year, as they were in the great hall eating breakfast before boarding the train, James caught his eyes and made a little motion - he wanted to see him. And in an alcove just down from the great hall, James said some simple words of sentiment and then leaned in and kissed him. Sev saw stars, saw rainbows and felt like dancing around the place. They did not stop until they only had second to spare. Miraculously, they were not seen.

Fifth year was OWLs year. Sev studied and missed James, who was busy making himself into an animal. When they saw each other, the passion was intense but brief. Corridors, empty classrooms and then the prefects' bathroom, the password acquired from Remus. Sometimes they would touch each other, Sev always nervous because he knew he was doing things that his father had always told him not to. Not that he listened to his father, of course.

And then, then James had humiliated him and Lily had fallen out with him. The confrontation with Lily had shocked him, but not as much as the one with James. Later, he had apologised, said he was stupid and never should have done it. Sev had tears on his face then, as well. James had tried to kiss but he'd said, no, no, don't, and fled the room with tears. James looked shocked but let him go.

Sixth year, no more tears. Sev was done with James...or thought he was, until he walked into a classroom and James jumped out, pulled him into the closest closet and kissed him until Sev was whimpering and thought his lips might fall off from bruises and numbness. James stopped and whispered one word:

"Tonight."

That night, in the room of requirement, they met and flew at each other like nesting doves. Their kisses and embraces were hard and rough, their cocks harder and rougher still. Panting, sweating, crying out, they knew love and sex and each other better than ever. True, Sev could hardly walk for a day afterwards, but he saw his smiling face and wanted to jump across benches to kiss him.

Then he started going out with Lily. Their fingers were entwined, the smile that James reserved for him was now for her... and they didn't touch in the corridor any more, they didn't talk or smile or promise. He was lost, he was lost.

He stared at the blackened invitation on the floor and at the empty firewhisky bottle in his hand. The tears were gone, his hands were shaking. He spoke one word, a whisper of a syllable, a quiet plea.

"James..."