Rambled Ponderings

Disclaimer: Me no own Harry Potter. It belongs to J.K. Rowling and other related companies. Me only own the fic. Surely we all know this by now?

Author's Note: This is from Harry's POV. “You” refers to Hermione. Very, VERY sappy and corny, but oh well.

Much thanks to Jennifer for the beta, and Sandra, Romy, Val and Kalie for giving me their input and being such great people. This goes out to you.

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Some might say that I'm the unlikely hero who turns out to be a hero after all. Some might say that I'm the famous celebrity who never gets any rest, day in and day out. Some might say that I'm just an ordinary person who didn't deserve any of this. Some might say none of the above; only the opposite.

You, on the other hand, know me better than any person would. Inside and out. Sometimes I feel like a see through, transparent version of myself when you look at me with those quiet eyes of yours. Anyone can see what I am, who I am, just by looking at me. Know all my secrets, my dreams, my visions, my hopes. Everything that makes up me. That doesn't bother me, though. Since only you see what's underneath the surface, what's beyond the facade that I put in front of people. Only you know - and see - who I really am.

Am I a monster? No . . although you could call me a murderer. But you don't, since that's not what I am. Why call me something that I'm not? I have an identity, but not a false identity. Unless I really wanted to appear to be a thief or something like that, let alone passing myself as a murderer. So am I a thief? No. What am I, then? Only a lost, confused boy wandering this dark world of ours, searching for answers. And never finding them, no matter how hard I try. Some answers I find along the way, but the main ones I want to find out are never answered. They remain unanswered until they choose to appear. Am I a hero? I'm not the definition of a typical hero, but I'm the definition of a real hero. Not someone fake. And you see that. You see beyond the so called “hero,” whom I'm portrayed as by the press and the whole wizarding world. You see only me. Your best friend who goofs around and plays pranks and is normal. Me, Harry. The typical boy trying to wade through life and its obstacles. You see that.

That's all it's been these past seven years. A heaven like eternity, it seemed, that had to come to an end at last. Seven years filled with endless adventures that changed us for a lifetime, learning of the truth about life, managing to get through obstacles, always being there for each other, realizing the true meaning of friendship, and that everything's not what it seems. All of that is not ending; to tell the truth, it's only the beginning.

And all the way, you were there. Always, not even for a second doubting me, what the truth really was and who I am wasn't what I appeared to be. A mirage. I was just, in your eyes, your best friend and a person whose true self wasn't depicted, nor acknowledged by the media. They only wanted the hero. Not the real me. Not once did you doubt me, no matter what people said.

You trusted me, believed in me. You supported me all the way through, helping me whenever I needed it, being a true friend. Even at the worst of times, you were always there. Never wavering in your trust and belief in me, standing by me whenever I needed you (which I always, if not nearly always, did). Someone whom I could depend on, no matter what the circumstance was. Someone who cared about me and made sure I was all right, even if I pretended I wasn't. And if I wasn't all right, you would try your best to make me feel better, which in some way, somehow, you always did. Someone who listened to me and made time for me whenever she could. Someone who looked out for me, and because she cared about me, did everything in my best interest, or she thought was right for me. Which it always was. The rare friend who will always be there for you and support and help you if you need it. That was you.

Yet, now, my feelings have changed. Somewhere along the way, they changed, evolved into something more. What they are; I could only describe them as something more than friendship. Something deep, that goes beyond a mere person's understanding; something only the heart and the mind knows, and those few people who feel it, understand it, know it. They don't bother knowing what it is; they already know what it is, subconsciously. They feel it.

Do I regret feeling this way, stepping over the invisible, never to be crossed line? No, I honestly don't. So I break a rule; I always break rules. The rules (or actual guidelines) of friendship is another thing entirely, true; I'm not treating them with jest. Yet, why should there be a limit when it comes to friendship? Why can't it be something more? Why must it stand only friendship, and nothing more? Is it because we'll regret it and end up making a mistake? Something never to be rectified? Or is it because it's something right . . yet is considered wrong? Condemning ourselves to regret because of society and its rigidity? All because of breaking the number one guideline of friendship: Never turn it into something more? If it's because of all this, all that I've questioned, then sod the rules. They can't decide what is right and what is wrong for us; only we know. No one else does; no one can decide for us. Only we can decide for ourselves.

So this is what we've been reduced to, shackled by society and its firm belief in absolute righteousness? You know what, I no longer care anymore. I'm not going to deny what's right for me. And you shouldn't either, since you know this is right for you too. This is right for you and me. So why deny what's right for us? And regret for the rest of our lives why we never took the chance and didn't follow by society's rules? Better not to regret not doing what was right for us, Hermione, and what was wrong for society. Since all this is just what we need; you and I. We need this.

And I'm not missing out on this, what we have, since it's something rare. Something that doesn't happen often, only to people like us. That, and I want this. Loving you is what I needed; being more is what I want. You feel the same way I do, I know. And you're not denying it, I see. It's all I can do is to just cry out and be grateful for all this, for you. For the few things I have and do not take for granted. At least try not to, anyway.

So what's there to lose? What's at stake? Nothing, really; our friendship isn't going to be ruined or anything along that line. Sure, I have full confidence in this, and I have a reason. It's not that our friendship will withstand anything, but more that I know there's nothing at stake. Nothing to lose, nothing to regret. You could argue that our friendship is indeed at stake, but it honestly isn't. Why? Since we're not risking our friendship here; we're risking our desires. I know that doesn't make sense, but somehow, it makes sense to me. It does to you too, I see.

Now as I'm standing here, waiting for your answer to my tremblingly asked question, one thing occurs to me: You have not only always been there for me - you've been there since the beginning. Since that chanceful meeting in a train compartment, filled with a menagerie of trunks, pets and candy, you've been there. Although in truth, you weren't actually there with me, by my side. But I could tell you were.

Your answer is only a nod and bright eyes that shine unlike any star in the universe and a happy, tearful smile. I'm not sure whether to think or just act on impulse. So I just act on impulse and grab you by the waist and spin you around until we're both dizzy and laughing and elated.

Never had I felt so blissfully ecstatic as I do now. And for me, it's very unlikely that the happiness is going to wear off any time soon.

Not that I want it to. Not at all - if it lasted forever I wouldn't mind. Since being happy with you is where I want to be. And that's the only place I want to be - here with you.

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