Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling…except the plot.

A/N: This was an attempt at clearing my writer's block, so I apologise if it's no good. Any who, couldn't think of a name for it, so I just made this one up. Sorry if it's crud.

Denied Feelings

By Appello

There were so many reasons it wouldn't work, Montague had almost lost count. She was a Gryffindor, their quidditch captain, a muggle-born, and a Dumbledore supporter. He was a Slytherin, their quidditch captain, a pureblood, and a Voldemort supporter.

Their friends hated each other.

Their families hated each other.

Their sides hated each other.

But still they kept on.

If anything, the violent opposition from all sides seemed to strengthen their need for each other. Their kisses became more desperate, more frantic, knowing that each one could be their last.

He told himself that he was only doing it for the sheer thrill of it. That the reason he no longer thought about anyone except her was just his mind responding to the "forbidden fruit" she represented. He was not affected by her presence; he was merely enjoying it while it lasted.

She told herself that she felt nothing for him. That she had always wanted to try out a Slytherin, and that he would lose his appeal soon enough. The fact that Fred Weasley no longer filled her with excitement was because she was used to being with him, and the reason he appeared in her head every night rather than her boyfriend meant nothing except that she was just a normal girl, behaving like any normal girl would.

Yet they still met each other. In the Astronomy Tower, in the quidditch rooms, in the prefect's bathrooms. Anywhere they could, they met. And they could never get enough of each other. No matter how hard they tried to satisfy the hunger they felt, they could never entirely satisfy it.

00000

"Angelina," Montague picked her up effortlessly and pressed her against the wall. They were in his quidditch office, where they knew there was no threat of being disturbed.

"Mmm," she grabbed a tuft of his dark hair and drew his head in to kiss her. Their tongues caressed expertly, each one knowing just the right places to touch.

Montague pulled away, just enough to stare into her eyes. Those huge, dark eyes which tormented his dreams, and haunted him all day.

"Shouldn't you be in detention?"

Angelina laughed flippantly, the rebellious streak that always awakened around Montague rising within her. "Let's just say I had better things to do," she whispered in his ear, her breath warm against his skin.

"You know Snape'll do his nut if you don't show up," Montague growled forcefully, withdrawing his arms from around Angelina's slim body, and, with an effort, stepping away.

Her smiling face hardened almost instantly. "Are you trying to say something Montague?"

He took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. "I'm trying to say that I don't want you to get in trouble," he said, without thinking.

"Ha!" Angelina scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. "Do us a favour Montague, and stop pretending that you care what happens to me."

He frowned.

"I'm sorry you feel that way Johnson," he replied coolly, his face closing over, a sure sign that the discussion was over.

"So am I," she replied, and walked out.

000000

It took only a week of blatant ignoring on both parts for Montague to realise just how far gone he was. She was all he ever thought about. In lessons, at meals, with friends. Even during quidditch, she was always at the back of his mind, her face taunting him.

And at night. Well, let's just say he was beginning to lose his grip on reality.

After a week of silence, he managed to get her alone. He caught her on the way back to the Gryffindor common room, grabbed her, and pulled her into one of his favourite abandoned classrooms.

She wouldn't meet his eyes.

"What's going on?" he demanded, his voice sounding gruffer than he had intended it to. "Where have you been all week?" he amended, softer this time.

"Around," she still wasn't meeting his gaze. "Doing schoolwork. Catching up on detentions."

The bitterness in her voice caught him by surprise.

"You're still upset about that?" he asked incredulously. Women, honestly.

She finally turned her head to meet his steady gaze, her eyes burning angrily.

"We can't keep doing this," she said.

He took a step closer.

"Why not?" The feeling of her body against his, after such a long time, was almost more than he could handle. His hand twitched.

"Because," Angelina began fiercely, but she was cut off as Montague's mouth came crashing down on hers in an almost bruising kiss. She responded instinctively, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself against his firm body. "I…belong…to Fred," she finished between kisses.

Montague broke the kiss, running his hands through thick, dark hair and cupping the base of her neck. "And you love Fred?" he asked quietly, his blue eyes burning into hers. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"That's not the point," she answered restlessly, breaking away from him in frustration. "Fred and I are engaged. It doesn't matter whether I love him or not."

"But you don't," Montague concluded, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction.

"Sometimes, we have to do things we don't want to," replied Angelina coolly, backing towards the door.

"And why is this bothering you now?" he grumbled impatiently. He didn't like what she was doing to his body. And he didn't like that she was leaving.

Pausing at the door, she turned her amber eyes towards him, pleading with him to understand. "I have to go," she whispered softly. So softly he had to lean forwards to catch it, and even then he was not sure he had heard correctly.

"It's your choice Angelina," he told her simply, his voice projecting none of the turmoil raging within him. "You can't have both of us forever."

She nodded once, to show she understood, then slipped out of the door like a ghost, shutting it with a deathly click behind her. Montague leant against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to compose himself. He shouldn't be bothered that she'd decided to break things off. In fact, he should be glad. He had been planning on doing it sooner or later anyway, and they were both better off this way-there weren't as many hurt feelings. Yes, Montague assured himself, striding purposefully towards the door, he certainly didn't need that little stubborn Gryffindor anymore, that was for sure.

But, even with those comforting minds floating around his head, he was still thinking about her as he let himself out of the room. And she was still there as he closed his eyes to sleep that night.

He knew she would be there for a long time.

End