They're young and foolish but they know what love is - caresses and sweetness, notes scribbled on pretty pink paper, wine and of course, boysboysboys. {They're young ladies, and girls like boys. } Novels speculating beauty and quiet poetic words.

{she's quite poetic as well, but she doesn't count}

It is not love.

It is not love when Alice grabs her hand {"Marly, I just saw the most amazing thing!"}. It most certainly is not love when Marlene rolls her eyes, huffing and cold {"Everything's amazing to you, Alice."} but there's a secret fondness but that's just because Alice was her best friend, okay. Most certainly not love.

It is definitely not love when Marlene snaps at Lucius for insulting Alice again {blonde bimbo, dumb ass, mud blood, dyke - she snaps at dyke} but it's something. It is not love when Alice pulls Marlene into the snow, laughing and skipping like she's justsoyoung again, and Marlene makes sure she doesn't get hurt. It's never love when Marlene makes sure Alice gets her mind off the war for at least one day. It is never love.

It is not love when lips {girls' lips} are pressed together, purely by accident. It is not love when there is heat that is so beautiful, so amazing, so terrible, so burning, so searing, so terrible, so amazing. It's not love when it spreads from Alice's face to her toes and back up again, killing her and bringing her to life all at once, warmth and protection from the snow {like Marlene has always protected her} but burning her, killing her from the inside {Marlene is fire, get too close and get burned}. It is not love when Alice leans up to shove her away.

It's not love when all Marlene can see is goldgoldgold.

{alice is gold. gold hair, gold flecked eyes, gold smile, heart of gold}

It's not love when Alice crawls into Marlene's bed again that night {Marlene protects her from nightmares. Marlene is her rock}. It is not love when Marlene offers her a glass of wine {they're both over age, shut up} and grabs Alice's favorite - she remembered!- because neither can sleep.

It's not love when they share another poisonous kiss, just as murderously perfect as the last.

It's not love when even when she breaks the kiss, she savors the taste of Marlene's lips - it's curiosity and the fact she loves the wine. It's not love when Marlene's lips quirk into a smile Alice knows oh too well as fake, disappointment obvious in gorgeouslovely eyes like emeralds.

{so close but so far - it fits them too well}

It's not love when Marlene says nothing but obviously doesn't approve of Frank and Alice. It's not love when Marlene asks Dumbledore to get a mission the week of Alice's wedding. It's not love when Marlene glowers at the wedding ring. It's never love. Love is for a boy and a girl, not girls.

It is most certainly not love but it is not 'just friends' but-

{the most amazing blue eyes are all too memorable, darling, like the blue of the sky but bluer and she sees her in the clouds, secret smile like she was apologizing 'forgive me, i love you'}

maybe in another lifetime, it could've been.

{but it wasn't and that was just fate, c'est la vie, wasn't that what you told me? Alice, I can't remember}