Figments

"It's raining outside," He says from behind her in a voice just above a whisper. She sees his face in the glare of the window as the raindrops fall down the damp glass. Her green eyes meet his in the window, her right hand slowly moves to the cold glass in front of her and she whispers that she knows.

"It has been all day." A slow tear falls from her left eye and trails its way down her cheek.

He stares at the slight curl of her hair and as much of her as he can see in the wet glass. The rain trails down the image of her face as if she were crying the very tears of life. Her face has never looked more lost.

"Can you even look at me?" Her shoulders stiffen and her hand falls away from its place at the window and she closes her eyes.

"I'm afraid." It's that one statement alone that breaks any sense of pretending inside each of them.

He's never known her to be afraid of anything.

He takes a step closer, reaches out slightly before allowing his hand to fall back to his side. His hesitation has been the death of them before.

But maybe that's the fear of love.

"Of what?" he chokes out as lightening flashes outside. She flinches, but only so that he is the only person who can notice.

And silence, no words, just the feeling of fear that has ripped its way into her heart. She no longer knows, no longer understands that idyllic world she once spoke of with glitter flashing in her eyes.

She can close her eyes and see a phantom of a dream, but she can no longer reach out and touch it.

More tears fall and she looks to the ground. Slowly, she turns to face him as a sob leaves her lips. And he's still as beautiful as she remembers him.

"Of you. Your eyes." He takes a step towards her, hesitant, as hesitant as he was days before when he broke what was left of her heart, and he cups her cheek.

"Lily… I…" She looks into his hazel eyes, so hopeful, but turns away at his voice. She has faced her fears in a matter of seconds and was met with the worst of realities.

Because whoever that boy was that once liked her, this man could never be him. He would never throw himself head long into a passionate love when he knows she can not put her whole heart in it.

And she can't, not with all the death that has been torturing her.

He isn't as he was before, when he felt immune to the pain of heartbreak. To know that the emptiness in her eyes could never alleviate at the sight of him, to know that his love could never fully save her, it would be the death of him.

And that dream that she had put her hopes on, of that young fifteen year old boy who used to chase her, is gone.

It's dead. That boy is grown, a figment of her own imagination as much as that girl he once chased has faded away. They're gone.

And all that's left is two poor children growing up in the broken times of a war. Two children who possibly need each other more then each could ever realize.

"Please James, don't. I'm… I just… Sometimes, I think that if you just love me everything will turn out okay."

Gently, he grabs her hand and intertwines his fingers with hers. "And then what happens," he asks.

"I wake up," She says as she turns back towards the window, her fingers slowly slipping through his until his grasp is completely gone.

And there's nothing left for him to do but walk away.

End

A/N: Everything from HP Books belongs to JK Rowling