I Feel
by Glassesfreak206

Rating: PG13
Ship: Harry & Hermione
Canon: Books 1 - 6
Genre: Angst, Romance
Status: Complete
Length: 1,096 words in 1 chapter
Published: 14 Jan 2007
Last updated: 14 Jan 2007

He stayed with me for five years, just as a distraction. Because he really wanted her. ...I saw them that night, you
know.

From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/6838/

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1. Chapter 1

I know what people say about me. They think I’m perfect. They think I’m that fairy tale girl who used to be poor and
quiet. And then one day she rose up and spoke up. And she got the hero of the story. And that’s true. I did. But I’m not
perfect. And I have feelings of my own. They’re wrong. I’m not perfect. I feel. I don’t care what anybody says. I feel.
He makes me feel that. He makes me feel. In more ways than one.

We’d been together for years. Years. When you stay together with someone for years, it means something. If you’re just
dating a girl because she’s your best friend’s sister, you don’t stay with her for years. When you’re dating a girl
because she’s the prettiest girl at school, you don’t stay with her for years. And when you’re dating a girl to have her
distract you from your other best friend, you don’t stay with her for years. But of course, that’s what he did.

Not the first two. The last one. Yes, you read that right. That’s what he did. He dated me to distract himself. And I
knew it, too. Pathetic, isn’t it? I wish I could blame myself. That I was too naïve and young to think he wanted me. But
I can’t. Because it’s his fault. I didn’t force him to kiss me that day. I didn’t force him to ask me out. I didn’t
force him to stay with me for the last five years. Yeah, you read that right, too. Five years. Five years, he stayed
with me. Isn’t that just peachy? He stayed with me for five years, just as a distraction. Because he really wanted…her.

I saw them that night, you know. Their first night. We were all out at a restaurant. My brother, the blonde one, him and
her. There was tension at the table so after a while, she left. I mean, she really left. She took her napkin and slammed
it on the table, got up without excusing herself and ran out the door. He screamed her name and ran after her. He ran
after her. He never runs after me. So that was the first sign. I got up ran after him, ignoring my brother’s protests. I
opened the door to the restaurant, looking around. It was raining, hard. Of course. How ironic and suiting. I flung my
red hair back and continued to look around for them.

I found them in an alley. Along with my broken heart. They were there, scrunched up against the wall. Half dressed and
snogging like hell. He had taken off his shirt and was just wearing his tie. She had taken off her skirt. I looked at
the shirt and skirt on the floor. The silly fact that they rhymed lost me. Because I bought that shirt and skirt for
them. I saved up money and that shirt was the first Christmas present I bought him. The skirt was her birthday present
the blonde one and me got her. Both articles of clothing were bought with love. And now, there they were, on the floor.

I couldn’t look anymore. Because his hands were starting to wander all over her body. Her bra and his trousers had
mysteriously founds themselves on the floor. And even the thunder couldn’t drown out their sounds.

I felt like throwing up.

I felt like throwing up.

I felt like throwing up.

I ran back to the restaurant. I went in, accepted my brother’s coat to keep me warm and sat down. I told them I didn’t
find them. I couldn’t find them. Which was true. I didn’t find my loving boyfriend and best friend. They died that
night.

He never spoke a word about it. Neither did she. Life went on like nothing happened. Was I stupid to never say anything
to them? Maybe I wasn’t. Because I just wanted them happy. Even if that meant my heart was broken. Was he happier with
her? That thought killed me inside. But I wanted to know. I wanted to know if he was happier with her. Because I was
tired of waiting around for him to choose.

They did it again on her birthday. She spilt some cake on her blouse, accidentally. She was upset because her parents
had just sent it to her that day and she didn’t want it ruined. He offered to clean it up for her. She accepted and they
went upstairs. Later that night, I would wonder why no one offered to clean it with magic. But for that present time, I
only wondered why I didn’t say anything. Or walk in on them and stop them. They came back down, fifteen minutes later,
and they had the biggest smiles on their faces. No one seemed to notice. I did.

We broke up that night. I told him I knew. He told me he was so sorry. I asked him if he was sorry for doing it or sorry
he got caught. He told me he was sorry for doing it. I swore at him. I threw things at him. I threw everything he bought
me in the past five years at him. They all broke. And then I asked him questions. Why her. Was she prettier than me?
Smarter than me? Richer than me? More talkative than me? Nicer than me? Funnier than me? Shag better than me? He cried
at all these questions, answering with a soft yes to some of them.

I don’t know who cried more that night. When we called her over and had one big huge fight with all of us, we all said
things we didn’t mean. We all said things we did mean. He and I decided I would get everything. The house, everything in
the house, and the muggle car. And him? He would start his life over with her. He certainly had enough money to. And in
the end, they left the house, together. I was left alone. I cried myself to sleep that night, wondering what they were
doing.

They’re wrong. I’m not perfect. I feel. He makes me feel that. He makes me feel. In more ways than one.

A/N: If you liked, please read Dedicated. It needs love. Constructive criticism on this one, please.

Dedication: To those reading Dedicated, surely by now you all know who this fic is dedicated to. To those who aren’t,
it’s dedicated to *someone special*. You can choose whoever you want, as long as you’re happy. I just don’t want you to
go to waste.
