A/N: A short and sweet story. I know that it isn’t that long, but I wasn’t in the mood for something long, so you all get this to read! Yay! It’s inspired by the song “Every Time I Hear Your Name”, by Keith Anderson (wonderful song, go listen to it). Oh, and I know that this story is like, way AU. Please no reviews being all like, BUT WAIT! THEY’RE DEAD! I’ve read the Harry Potter books; I know that. This is my story. Thanks for reading this everyone!
and i can finally smell your old perfume and not look around the room for you
and i can walk right by your picture in a frame and not feel a thing
Keith Anderson, “Every Time I Hear Your Name”
Her favorite perfume was Fresh Breeze. She wore it constantly
and I could always tell when she entered a room. The perfume wasn’t overbearing,
but she put on just enough that I could smell it across a room. But I don’t care anymore, not at all,
now that I’m over
her. It wasn’t that great of a perfume, anyway. I just pretended to like it, that’s all it was.
And now that she’s gone, I don’t have to smell it anymore. A refreshing thought,
that is. It most certainly is.
My desk is quite a mess right now. I used to keep it clean, with a
bouquet of flowers, pictures of my family, and everything of the sort. A nice clean desk, just the sort
that you might see in a Wizard Home Weekly
magazine. Spotless, colorful. It isn’t that way anymore, no.
It’s a right mess. There’s the Wizard Card that I got in my Chocolate Frog yesterday. I have
ten of him already. I should give it to Missy, the new intern. She just
started collecting them. Yes, I’ll give it to Missy as soon as I next see her. A welcoming gift.
There she is now, actually. “Missy,” I say. “Would you like this card? I have ten.”
Missy smiles back at me. Lovely white teeth, she has. Straight and perfect. “Thank you, I’ll add it
to my collection.” I watch as she walks away.
had lovely white teeth, even lovelier than Missy’s. But I’m over her. I don’t care about her teeth now.
The butterfly flew right up and landed on her shoulder. She threw her head back, laughing at something that I just said, not even noticing the tiny creature resting on her. My gaze remained fixated on the butterfly. It matched her hair a bit, I suppose. It wasn’t really a remarkable butterfly. Just a plain little thing.
“What are you staring at?” she asked, gazing into my eyes, rather than looking at the obvious on her shoulder. Girls always have to be like that. Trying to be all romantic and stuff, trying to find the answer in my eyes, or whatever. I didn’t answer her, watching as the butterfly took a step closer to her neck. “Is something on my shoulder?”
See, now, that’s what I never liked about girls. They’re so dependent. Just look at your shoulder; don’t ask if something is on it. It’s not really that difficult of a concept. “A giant spider,” I answered casually, accompanied by a small shrug. As predicted, she screamed. Bugs really riled girls up, gave them a scare. I got her to look at her darn shoulder, at least. She screamed into the butterfly’s face for a moment. Lucky creature. She was cute when she screamed.
“You lied to me,” she accused. It was cute that she tried to appear all pouty and such. Her lower lip stuck out a little. I was certain that was only for effect; it looked unnatural. “Now you need to make it up to me.” She got that look on her face, the real innocent one. The next thing that happened, I wasn’t expecting it, really. It came as a surprise. Seven years of waiting and then, this. I never wanted to break away from that kiss.
I proposed to Annabel yesterday. My family right loves her. She’s
a nice girl, just the kind that they want me to marry. And now, she’s said yes. We’re rushing it a bit,
but I know that she’s the one
. I’m entirely over anyone from my past. I
love Annabel, I do.
“Promise me that we’ll get married someday?”
I hated making promises. They were full of crap. No one keeps their promises anyway; they just get broken or forgotten, often both. “I would like to, but I don’t believe in promises.” And I don’t want to make a promise that I may possibly break, I added silently.
“Promise me.” She always got silly about things like this.
“I told you, I don’t make promises.” I’m afraid of breaking them, I thought, but I didn’t say that. I wasn’t the kind of person who had fears.
She’s standing in front of me. I want it to be a mirage,
a figment of my imagination. But it’s not; it’s her, just as she looked back at Hogwarts. Same
red hair, same
green eyes. And the same
“Lily, I’m married,” I say, but I immediately wish that I could take the words back. I want to
preserve this moment and preserve the past and just go back with her. I bite my lip, waiting,
waiting for her reaction.
“Are you, James?” she asks, the air of politeness
soaking her words. I nod, unable to say anything. “Well, then. I suppose it’s a good thing that you
never made that promise.
but when i hear your name.
i feel rain falling right out of that blue sky.