Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine, nor are the lyrics (which belong to Stone Sour, "Through Glass")


How do you feel? That is the question

But I forget ... you don't expect an easy answer

--

It was layer after layer of impenetrability with him.

Every time she stole an inch, he'd throw her back a mile, retreating back inside himself. But the scar tissue was easier to break than the hard shell of armour had been, and every time she fell, she landed on her feet, relatively uninjured and prepared for another long run.

Breathless, but in due time, she'd catch up to him, letting herself imagine that in that last, seemingly endless leg of the race, he'd slowed down just a bit, and waited for her. His hand would be slippery and impossible to grab onto, as usual, but that didn't stop her from trying. Which each attempt, came a small reward. But time and her trying persistence would eventually alert his better sense, and he'd send her instead a Trojan horse.

--

When something like a soul becomes

Initialized and folded up like paper dolls and little notes

You can't expect a bit of hope

--

His manner never repelled her; it entranced her.

He was what she tried to feel. Wise to the ways of the world – mature, sophisticated, but above all, irrevocably stubborn and sure of his ways. There was not a glimmer of self doubt in those eyes. He knew of his capabilities, and he exploited and demonstrated them guiltlessly to the world. And, hard pressed as they would be to admit it, people respected him for that. Sure, this respect came hand-in-hand with a deep, pure loathing of the man, but the respect in itself was incomparable. She couldn't of another person that could lead an army of soldiers with endless amounts of hatred for him blindly into battle, secure and faithful under his lead.

She'd tried to mimic him for years. She'd tried being demanding, she'd tried being studious, she'd tried being downright cruel, but it never got the desired effect. At least ... not the one in particular she was desperately searching for. She earned the respect of her hapless peers, even a handful of her teachers, and other notable adults ... but no, never, from him.

She had the world at her feet, but all she wanted was a second glance from the man who was never meant for it.

--

So while you're outside looking in

Describing what you see

Remember what you're staring at is me

--

Courage had never been her strong suit, but after the years, she'd found enough bottled up somewhere.

Events had aged them more than time had. They both were worn down and used up, the tool of a world they didn't belong in. She had maturity and intelligence as her weapons, and he held daggers much of the same inside his cloaks. She could never fully wrap her mind around what he was, or how it was he came to be, stuck and unwilling to even try. He never made an effort to see past her misleading simplicities. The girl was more than most women, but he was skilled in the avoidance of such unfortunate facts, until she finally found her face and name, those which had been hidden away for an appropriate moment such as it was.

Neither cared much for appearances. His dark silk hid his face, her unruly curls exploited hers. Each face was etched with more than it entailed. Each was plain to the naked eye, but extraordinary if you happened to be searching. They exuberated a feeling, not a thought. What she felt for him had grown as she had, and she was not afraid to accept what time had told. What he felt for her had appeared from nothing when she changed everything, and he hid it away in the darkest crevices of his mind.

--

Cause I'm looking at you through the glass ...

Don't know how much time has passed

All I know is that it feels like forever

--

It was a paper cut-out of an image she'd created.

It would blow away in the wind, if she did not clung on to it with her dear life. Minutes passed like ages before she realized he was her wind, trying with everything exposed to toss it all away. But she'd grown up as she'd always wanted to, and he'd never believed she had the ability to. She was difficult, and she tried his patience, finally breaking into something that no one had been able to before. His eyes strayed to hers now; they were filled with something true, something pure, something she'd worked herself to the bone for, and something no one could ever take away.

As he looked in her direction, through the crowd of faceless bodies and useless minds, she had never felt so sure. It chilled her bones and riveted her spirit. Until that moment, she'd never found her high, but she knew then that the rest of her life would be spent trying the patience of this impenetrable man.

In his eyes, she knew...

He hated her.

--

When no one ever tells you that forever

Feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head

--

She'd never try to breathe again without his poison.

It was embedded in her bones now, she knew. She'd decay with him in her last specks of dust. She woke up with him in mind, and never slept alone. He was there, in her thoughts, in her dreams. He'd taken her over without even trying. Without the slightest bit of a similar desire running through his veins, he'd captured her heart, by merely allowing her his slightest attention. And, Merlin, had he taught her well. Before his day was over, she would disrupt it. Before the night had started, he would have a glass clutched in his hands and her name rested bitterly on his tongue.

She broke through every layer of him, blind and unforgiving. Down to his last defence, he was scattered all over her board, unable to disarm her. She was in his every shadow – she never spoke, but he knew she was waiting. He had trained himself so well to resist, by now it was a reflex action. Underneath it all, he didn't know himself like she did. He didn't know what was under the layers of bitterness and mistrust he built by hand with the bricks of others, over the endless years he'd spent without her. And now, he was standing on the line, watching his wall crumble, and trying in desperation to decide whether or not he wanted to rebuild it.

In their choices was born the largest difference between them, and they couldn't hate each other more for it. As he held her stare with his depths and she held his face with her passions, the decision was upon them.

He was the pretender, and she was the believer. Which life the kiss would end, was anybodies guess.

--

And it's the stars, the stars, that shine for you...

And it's the stars, the stars, that lie to you.


A/N: R&R if you like it ... or if you don't. Anything's helpful, and reviews make my day, really. )