It's your own fault, really. Entering an unofficial relationship with the heartthrob of Hogwarts. You've seen first hand how much of an absolute prick he can be; a trail of broken hearts in his wake from letting down girls easy. Or, rather, not so easy. You aren't sure why you thought you would be different.

Maybe it's because you told yourself you wouldn't get attached. Just a bit of fun. Snogging in broom closets between classes, in the bleachers at Quidditch games, passing little notes in Slughorn's class. It wasn't that serious... until it was. And then you caught him with his hand up Penelope Tilbury's robes, and that was that. The facade of something real shattered and the stone cold reality of how he really perceives you thrown right in your face.

Fine. Two can play at that game. He's not yours, so you aren't his. Which gives you every right to seek out other company. And maybe choosing one of his brother's best friends, Evan, was a little petty of you. But he was handsome, with that buzzed blonde hair, and he knew how to have a good time. Even if all you could taste was the cigarettes Sirius smokes every time you're locking lips with Rosier. You aren't sure if you did it to get a reaction or just to get your mind off of him, but the former definitely worked.

"Oi." His hand darts out to catch your arm as you pass him and his friends in the Great Hall during breakfast. "Need a word with you."

And, despite your better judgement, you ignore the remorseful look Remus sends in your direction that lets you know you're absolutely in for it. You nod your head and agree to meet with him in the common room during the Quidditch game.

"You're having a bloody laugh. I mean, him, of all people? That's a joke." He's pacing in front of the fire, stance radiating pure frustration. And yet an ugly sense of satisfaction washes over you upon the realisation your recent proximity with another boy has him, dare you say, jealous. And then comes the accusation:

"You're doing this on purpose."