A/N:

I got the inspiration for this when I was reading a short story in my literature book, so I cant completely take the credit for this interesting style. I thought it would be fun, however, to do a one-shot in this manner, and it was, for the most part.

Read this as you would an instruction manual. I'm sure there's no question who "You" are. You'll see what I mean.

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How to Love A Marauder

(By TasteOfCinnamon)

You will see him for the first time as you're boarding the Hogwarts Express on the first day of you first year. He will too tall and too scraggly, but note the beautiful eyes. They're hazel, or maybe gold. You cannot see enough to tell. Be intrigued. Be Curious. Smile back when he notices you.

Hate him with a fiery passion the first few years of your education. He will be too arrogant, too self satisfied. Hate his friends too; they're as bad, if not worse. Rest assured, he will hate you too, and invest time into making it known. Spend many sleepless nights wanting to push him off a cliff. Vow to learn how to turn him into a termite.

By the time your fifth year rolls by, something will have changed. Notice him staring at you in class, or when you pass him in the halls. Watch him fall silent when you walk into the common room. Feel certain that he had been talking about you. Feel also the following emotions: irritation, uncertainty, disorientation, curiousness.

When he asks you out for the first time, stare at him for about five seconds before asking him if he's crazy. If he persists—chances are, he will—threaten him with the termite transforming jinx you do not yet know. He should desist. If he doesn't, just walk away. He wont follow.

Before long he will be persisting at least once every week, in increasingly blatant ways:

He will:

Send you cartloads of blood red roses that will be deposited on your breakfast table by what will seem like a thousand owls.

You Should:

Shrug at your friends and tell them it's probably somebody's idea of a funny prank. Magic away what flowers you can; enlist the aid of first years to do the rest. Pay them with the stale Bertie Bott's Beans you've stocked up from the past six Christmases.

He will:

Hire (or blackmail) one or more of the following to sing and dance to a tune he created himself: an elf (house-elf works too), a dwarf, a gnome, various talking household objects, brainless Slytherins.

You Should

Calmly (in appearance) explain to the elf, dwarf, gnome, household object, or Slytherin that there's been a mistake. Use your last Beans to give to them to make them go away. If there's a dwarf involved, give him your gold earrings. When everything is cleared up, help Severus put his pants back on.

He will:

Somehow get into your belongings and write his name on every single one of them in block letters, script, everything and everything. You will wake up to find it written in flashing orange letters on your ceiling and a picture of him embroidered on his sheets.

You Should

Spend the next two hours trying to stop grossing out because you were sleeping on his face all night. Spend the next hour after that shouting at him. When he walks away, follow, using every dirty word you can think of.

He will:

Suddenly turn around in a deserted corridor and grab you. His face will be all to close and his lips all too close. He will kiss you. Your head should be spinning at this point. If it's not, it will be.

You Should:

Stand there and let him kiss you, then politely push him away. Try to think of something to say, and run away when you can't. Sit up in the dormitory on his embroidered face and stare at a piece of dust on the floor.

When you're thoroughly baffled, tell yourself to stop being stupid. Feel almost giddy, as if you were floating. You'll know you have it right when you get that fluttery, bubbling feeling inside your chest. Look in the mirror. Your cheeks will be red. Look harder. Think that you're not pretty enough. Wonder how he could like you.

Then, remind yourself how many girlfriends he goes through a month and how every one of them is worse for having been his girlfriend. Feel angry, indignant that he would try to approach you. Repeat until you're worked up into a rage.

The next day, approach him (make sure there's no one around). Open your mouth to demand an explanation for yesterday. He will cut you off. He will speak. And you will find yourself in his arms again.

Maybe his eyes softened, his chin came down from its regular, jaunty angle, and he told you he loved you. Maybe he said nothing: in this case, just look into his eyes for a bit and feel yourself falling apart. Maybe he just smiled. No explanation needed for that last.

Your heart should belong completely to him within three days. If not, you've done something wrong. You will think everything will go uphill from here. You will be wrong.

He will be disaffectionate sometimes, especially when he is around his friends. When you try to hold his hand, he will pull away after a few moments, and he will call you by your name, not Honey, not Dear. You should find this weird. After all, how many times have you seen him blatantly kissing or groping one of his girlfriends before? Try to remember, however, who he is, and try to be understanding. He made his name being suave, cool, unaffected. Understand that he will not feel comfortable at first opening up to you. Smile and shrug when he acts distant to you, and know that he will warm up before long.

Sometimes he will need you to hold him. This will usually be on a rainy day; he hates the rain. He will feel insecure. He will need you to tell him you love him and that you wont need him. Be accepting. Be compiling. Know that even marauders have their dark hours. Keep these moments to yourself. Feel important, giddy that he needs you.

Remember that you are dating a Quidditch star, and try not to gloat too much. Try not to grin the entire game, or cheer too loud when he wins a match. Calmly smile at other witches who are giving you the jealous eye. Refrain from charming their hair bright neon green.

Remember also that he cannot change for you and the he needs to be his own person. Understand that he still needs to pull pranks now and again, or sneak off during class. Think that it's all worth it when he appears out of a dark alcove with two mugs of butterbeer, or a knitted scarf from Hogsmede just for you.

The years will fly from there, and before long, you will be married and screaming in the delivery room. You will have your own house, your own jobs, and you will be happy. You will love the way he will look into your eyes every night and tells you that he loves you like he really means it. You will love the little romantic things he still does for you, as if you were still seventeen and he was still trying to win your heart. You will love lying in his arms and listening to the rain on the window sills, or watching him read a bedtime story to your son. You will laugh and smile and sing. Life will be perfect. For a while.

You've always known that he would die for you. Hold your baby tight to your chest as he meets your eyes for the final time. See in those beautiful light brown depths how much he loves you and hopes for you. See also the same beautiful brown eyes of the same scraggly boy you met for the first time on the way to school more than ten years ago. Remember the first time he smiled at you, a crooked, self assured grin across the train compartment, a grin that you hated for so long.

You will want to go to him, to hold him and love him as once you did. You will want to have him wrap his arms around you and let him whisper "I love you" into your ear over and over.

Refrain.

Instead, run. Run as fast as you can, as far as you can, and know that you will never, ever, ever see those beautiful eyes again. Know that you will never smile again with him gone. Know that your lovely baby will grow up without a father, and that pretty ladies will whisper about you and give you pitying looks.

As you run, wonder if the pain is all worth it, and if you shouldn't have let yourself get caught up so deeply. Cry because you've been through so much, and will be through so much more because of him. Feel such sorrow and loss that you almost wish you'd never met him. But in the end know that you wouldn't have done differently for the world.

After all, you chose to love a marauder.

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A/N:

Aw, how did you know my favorite 'time period' was the marauder's era? ;)

Oh, and see that little box down there? See it? That's called the 'review box'. Knock yourselves out.