Does he ever think about me now?
I still think back to why I chose Viktor over Harry that year. I was scared, scared that Harry didn't love me. I couldn't bear to the thought of what would happen if he didn't return my feelings . . . I'd rather have him as just a friend then confess and destroy. It hurt so much to see him with Lavender that night, but in a slightly evil way I enjoyed being there with someone else. Harry Potter was jealous! I could see it burning in his eyes, unmistakable. I had stared into those gorgeous eyes so many times; I knew what I was seeing.
I couldn't bring myself to admit to him, even with starting to realize his feelings. He had so much going on in his precious life. I often helped him train for Triwizard tasks. I clearly remember one evening when we were alone. Courage gathered, I leaned in to make my move. Oblivious to what he was walking in on, Ronald decided to bring us dinner from the Great Hall that very moment. I blushed and told Ronald I was checking to see if Harry showed signs of side effects, as we were studying jinxes. I cursed under my breath.
It seems that is how it always went. Our moments were stolen from us . . . others choosing precisely the wrong moment to intrude. Looking back, it seems like fate was against us. It certainly feels that way now. Now, at this dark and desolate hour.
I was so scared when Harry entered that maze. I knew something was wrong; I could feel it. I was so close to Harry that I started becoming tuned into his emotions. When he took so long to return . . . I knew. I knew something terrible had happened. If only I could have prevented it all . . .
He came back a mess. Clutching Cedric's dead body, going off alone with Moody . . . the whole scene was twisted and wrong. My heart didn't beat and I didn't breathe until I went to the hospital wing to see him. He was all right, though his mind was tortured. I could see the pain pouring out from his eyes, a sight that made my heart ache for him. I wished I could erase the pain, but it would only steadily get worse.
As Harry entered another depression, I entered with him. He isolated himself from everyone and everything. I still wrote him, though his return letters were often short. I felt horrible that I couldn't tell him what was happening over the summer . . . Dumbledore made me promise. I could sense that he was angry at me. I plunged myself into an ever deeper depression.
When he finally came to Grimmauld Place, he was seething mad at me. I did my best to calm him and make him understand how much I loved him. If only I hadn't done that, maybe this world wouldn't be so wretched at this very moment.
The school year was nothing short of terrible. Harry and I grew ever closer . . . the moment we confessed drew ever nearer. I tried to embrace him and love him, even with that terrible Umbridge around. She was torturing Harry deep down . . . something that drove me nearly to insanity. He and I were still deep, deep into this depression. I longed to retrieve him from it.
His life steadily got worse as I steadily loved him more. I yearned to take the burdens away from him. That's why I started the DA, a way for Harry to be the amazing person he was. The person he still is. I was able to get so close to Harry . . . sitting alone with him planning lessons. My entire being longed to confess, but I just couldn't bring myself to add to his troubled mind. He still went after that girl . . . when they kissed, I felt my heart shatter.
The thought that Cho was jealous of my relationship with Harry sent joy to every part of me. Cho had seen what Harry was too blind to notice, that I loved him. He looked completely miserable when she ended their relationship, but inside his emerald depths I saw something surprising. It was relief. I silently fell even more in love with him. Oh how foolish I had been!
His life only became worse. With that foul beast taking Quidditch away from him, he began to scarcely live. He lived through the DA, but when that was discovered I saw the weight of the world fall on his shoulders. Dumbledore was removed from Hogwarts, by what Harry thought was his own doing. I could feel the pain and misery seeping out of him. It became almost too much to bear.
And then life erupted. He had another dream . . . a dream about Sirius. Convinced it was real, we went to the Ministry only to fall into a trap. All of our lives were at stake. I was cursed and left unconscious. Upon awakening, Dumbledore warned me not to question Harry, though it became known that Sirius had died, partially at the hand of Bellatrix. The pain within those emerald depths deepened to an extent I did not know humanly possible. He mourned, but there was something else troubling him. Something no one could put their finger on . . .
As the year ended, I tried as hard as I could to show Harry that I cared about him more than anything. He wouldn't talk much and continued to shut himself from within, but I knew that I was making a breakthrough. It seems so surreal that all of this happened, that it wasn't just a horrible nightmare. If only things had gone differently then . . .
I concluded the year with a promise to him, a promise that I would see him as soon as possible. And with an embracing hug, that was that. He was left to grieve alone. He was left to start possibly the worst summer of his life, and quite possibly the best.