Prologue
Here I am… alone, again. As I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling, I wonder how I let it get this far. Even though it isn't very far at all. You see, I'm in love. I have been for thirteen years. The problem is, that she is so far out of my reach that I can't stand it.
I know, you're wondering how anyone could be out of reach for me, Harry Potter - The Boy Who Lived, The Man That Defeated Voldemort, and the Most Eligible Wizard for the past ten years running. But that's the thing. I love her because she doesn't see me as any of those things. I am just Harry to her. I will always be just Harry.
I am in love with the most amazing woman. She is brilliant, beautiful, charming, gentle, graceful, generous, lovely… I could go on and on. But the big thing that she is, is… married. And to boot it all, she's married to my best friend. Ron Weasley is the luckiest bloke on the face of this earth and he doesn't even have a clue.
Ron was always jealous of me when we were at school, because of what I had. All I had was a name. If I could have changed my name, I would have. I never wanted to be Harry Potter, the-boy-who-always-lived-in-peril, the-man-who-had-to-kill-Voldemort-in-order-to-live, the-so-called-savior-of-the-wizarding-world. I still don't want to be Harry Potter. I want to be Ron Weasley, the second youngest of seven siblings, the son of the Minister of Magic, the father to two beautiful children, and the husband to Hermione Granger-Weasley, my other best friend, the woman I love.
I'm not quite sure when I fell in love with Hermione, but I stayed back as to not interfere with she and Ron. I was there when Ron asked her to the Christmas Ball during our sixth year. I was there when Ron proposed to her in the Burrow after seventh year. I was the one who walked her down the aisle and gave her away. I am the godfather of their son and daughter, Arthur and Candace. I was there for both births. I was there through it all even though it was killing me inside.
I knew I needed to be there for them. I am their best friend, after all. I want them to be happy. At first, I knew that they were, but now I'm not so sure. Neither one looks all that happy anymore. Anyone looking from the outside would think that they are the perfect couple. I've seen the truth, it's not all peaches and cream.
I'm not saying that their marriage is bad. It's just not as smooth as the front they put up for everyone else. Sure, they fight, everyone does. But what kills me, is that my redheaded prat of a best friend is blind and dumb. He doesn't ever see how wonderful his wife is.
Take tonight for example. All of our friends got together to celebrate my thirtieth birthday. Happy Birthday to me! Well, enough of the self pity for now. Tonight, Hermione looked exquisite. Her hair was charmed up in a twist exposing her smooth neck. She was wearing a black strapless number that did nothing to hide her 'assets'. A little cleavage, a little leg… damn… I have never seen her look more radiant. Did Ron once give her a compliment? Take a wild guess.
Every time I saw her, I told her how wonderful she looked or how beautiful she was. My heart swelled at her smile. I don't remember her smiling at all throughout the party except when she was with me. Maybe I'm just seeing things, or not, as the case may be. Maybe she did smile when I wasn't looking. No, that would have been hard to do, considering I couldn't take my eyes off her all night. I wonder if she noticed. So what if she did? It's not like I can do anything about it.
I really wanted to slap Ron upside the head when he refused Hermione a dance. I saw her sit dejectedly in the corner watching him 'mingle' with our old friends. 'Mingle' is a very nice was of me saying 'flirt'. When I saw her sit down and slowly start to sip her wine, I graciously offered a dance. At first she refused, thinking I was pitying her. I finally talked her into it after a couple moments of puppy-dog eyes and a crooked smile. It was the best time I could have ever imagined.
She felt so good in my arms. I could get lost in her perfume, her scent. The smile I couldn't suppress was mirrored on her face. I love making her happy, even if its only once in a while. We danced together most of the evening, getting lost in the music, unphased by time, enthralled with each other.
When we all left to go our separate ways, Ron had the audacity to thank me for keeping Hermione occupied throughout the night. I never wanted to punch him so hard in my life. I nodded to him and watched as he turned, put a hand on the small of her back and whispered something in her ear making her laugh. Why can't I be the one with his arm around her? I want to be the one who makes her laugh. I want to be the one going home with her.
Now, here I am… alone, wallowing in my self-induced misery. She could have been mine, but I refused to follow my heart, thinking that I would make her a target for Voldemort. I knew that I had to confront him, and one of us had to die for the other to live. I would not put her through that hell. Losing your best friend would have been one thing, losing your lover would have been even worse. She deserved a future, and I was never sure I could offer that, until it was too late.
Ten years. Ten years I have watched their marriage. Ten years, I have been their sounding board. Ten years, I have been miserable. I don't think I can handle another ten minutes of this. I love her. I want her to be happy. I want her, plain and simple.