prompt; "I can't keep loving you"
a / n; I've actually been meaning to write one of these for ages. It's strictly JamesNarcissa, but I like to think maybe there's a touch of ever so vaguely implied JamesLily. Enjoy.
edited; May 12, 2010 at 12:46 p.m. for formatting
There is a time when you don't know the difference between up and down, left and right, and the girl in Arithmancy catches your eye. And it should have stopped there (but it didn't).
Her name is Narcissa--flower-pretty and thorn-sharp, and you should have known where this would end, pushing up poisonous shoots and things unfit to grow in a garden, but you're sixteen and you always slept through Herbology anyway--the smell of earth and air and sickly sweet overwhelmed.
She smells ever so vaguely of it, and you tell her this with your lips against her collarbone.
She rolls her eyes, and she's all you can think about, except--
--springtime romance is fragile and foundling and one day you wake up and the frost has set in and you tell her ("I can't keep loving you").