Love and Love and Love

by Sophie.

James and Lily are childish hatred turned undying love.

He sees her for the first time on the train to Hogwarts. Her pale legs are pulled to her flat chest, white teeth nibble nervously at a pouting lower lip. A pretty face marred with tear tracks and lines of worry. It's hardly a time to be anxious, he thinks, because heading to Hogwarts for the first time has to be the most exciting thing he's experienced in all his eleven years.

When he mentions this, she glares at him, all green eyes filled with something he's never seen before. And she's angry now, flushed and vulnerable. Later he'll remember not to point out her weaknesses, not to let her realise when she's being petty.

He sees her for the last time, sitting hunched, baby wrapped in those pale arms. She's the epitome of courage, of stubbornness, of love, and he doesn't know where it's coming from, and he wants to call out, he wants to tell her that he loves her, but most of all, he wants her to run.

But he doesn't have to think about it for long, in fact, soon he doesn't have to think about anything at all.

Lucius and Narcissa are begrudged acceptance turned cruel love.

They meet at a pureblood dinner, where their parents cackle over Lord Voldemort's latest jaunt. He's bored, but attentive, the host of the night. She catches his dead grey eyes. A flicker of white-blonde hair, quite similar to his own, a flash of deathly-pale skin. His betrothed.

They part on a dark night, she's screaming gallantly, spitting out curse after curse. He bats them off with some difficulty, feisty this one, but then again, he's always known that. Tonight he goes back to Voldemort, tonight he saves his family.

"You are saving yourself, scum." She chokes, angry to the bitter end.

He leaves in a flurry of white hair and dark robes, absorbed perfectly by the night.

Molly and Arthur are blushing crushes turned unconditional love.

She's 18 and a clumsy waitress at Hogsmede, all red-hair and curves. He's a charming face, a worker for the ministry, a kind, a thoughtful, a lovely man. He greets her with smiles and a cherry-red flush, she responds with much of the same.

Seven children, three houses and a puffskein later, she still hasn't seen the last of him. He welcomes her every morning, a kiss on the forehead, a smile, a kind word, and good god, she's grateful.

R and R?