Are those words still true? Are words really nothing, just meaningless sounds? I don't know; life is so complicated. It's painful to think about, painful to remember the details of a love no longer in action. But it once was, oh it was. We finally started to become aware of the less-than-platonic feelings the other showed, and things slowly sped up from there.
I remember waking the morning after this realization. We were laying awkwardly on the sofa in the small upstairs room. I suppose sometime in the night we moved from the windowsill. My arms were wrapped around her . . . it was so strange that suddenly I had this wish granted, that I could hold her. I began to withdraw my arms, but she surprisingly grabbed hold of them before I could.
"Don't let go," she whispered.
"I didn't mean to be so forward," I said nervously. She yawned and looked up at me.
"Harry, we've been best friends for five years. It's ok." I started to talk but she continued. "We didn't really get a chance to talk last night . . . "
"I know, but it just didn't seem right. Everything is just so complicated . . . why can't it be as simple as loving the ones you love?"
"Don't let the prophecy control your life, Harry. Live it for yourself."
"I'm nothing more than a damn weapon, 'Mione." I felt myself breaking down at that point. I started to let tears silently flow down my face. Hermione was quick to wipe them. "Thanks," I mumbled.
"Harry, I lo . . . "
"Please, Hermione. I can't hear that yet, I just can't. I'm sorry." She looked miserable after I said this. "I do too. Just . . . words are too much for me now."
"I'll be here when you're ready then," she said. I had the feeling she was taking it the wrong way. She got up and started to leave the room.
"'Mione," I whimpered. I felt like life couldn't get any worse. But oh how wrong I was.
I went to her room to look for her. She was sitting on her bed with her head in her hands. I walked to her and sat down, taking her hands away from her.
"I can't let my emotions take control of me. I can't be weak, Hermione. I'm sorry if I'm not ready to fully open myself to you. I just need time," I said, bringing her hands to my lips. I felt her shudder as I placed a kiss on them. She looked up at me with loving eyes. I began to feel like maybe life would be bearable . . . just maybe I could be happy for the rest of my life. It sure as hell seemed that way . . . but oh how it didn't end like that.
We were strangely comfortable together after all of this. The next few days were blissful. I tried so hard to be strong and to fight my urge to hide from her. I was so scared to endanger her. I tried explaining this to her but she didn't seem to understand. She wanted to stand by me through everything. It was a foreign feeling. Was that love? Standing by your love no matter what? Yes, that was the tip of it. I felt that love every time I looked at her, even though I was too weak to openly tell her everything I felt.
We had our first kiss in those few days. It was something unlike anything I had previously experienced. I remember sitting on the same windowsill again our third day there. I was yet again gazing deep into the night sky, thinking of everything I had been through. Not feeling sorry for myself, no. I was contemplating how strange life was. Hermione walked in and sat next to me, leaning her head on my chest. It felt so wonderful to have her there; her presence was always so relaxing. I still hadn't let her confess love . . . I felt too weak then. I thought confession would make me weaker. But I came loose, I confessed through the most passionate means possible.
"How are you feeling?" she inquired. I let a small smile escape, but I refused to look at her.
"Better with you here." She blushed profusely. "I mean that," I added.
Her eyes were gleaming, and I could feel her feelings for me. I lost control of everything I worked for . . . I let her see my true feelings at that moment. I cupped her face in my hands and gently brushed my lips against hers. She leaned back on my chest when we parted and sighed. She felt so good.
I think we were both confused at what this sudden pivot meant. The Weasleys were due to come the next day and we didn't want to express our love around them. On the day of their arrival, Hermione and I sat in the extravagant living room. She had her head in my lap as she read to me from one of her muggle novels. I remember the scene clearly, as if it was yesterday. I mustered up all the courage I had and grabbed hold of her hand. She immediately stopped reading and looked up at me. I bent down and let my lips run along hers once more, but it didn't end there. She sat up, staring deep into my eyes. The look in her eyes begged for more. I placed my hand on her cheek, and she shuddered at the touch. I placed my lips on hers once again, but this time I felt myself become daring. I let my tongue slip out and gently brush her lips. She gladly accepted my plea for entrance. The kiss quickly turned passionate; five years of love finally poured out of my heart and onto her lips.
But once again, fate wasn't on our side. We didn't hear the front door open, six Weasleys walk in, and a very angry Ron walk into the living room. He cleared his throat loudly, and I broke from Hermione. Her face turned the deepest red I have ever seen. Ron looked like he was about to jump me.
"What in the bloody hell was that!" he shouted. Mrs. Weasley walked into the room, stopping Ron from any further yelling.
"Ronald! Watch your mouth! Is that any way to greet your friends?" she said, obviously oblivious to what had just happened. Ron stormed off as Mrs. Weasley came toward me and Hermione. There was a slight twinkle in her eyes. "It's good to see you two," she said as she pulled me into a motherly hug.
Ron was furious, Hermione was embarrassed, and all of the adults were extremely stressed from all the extra work now that Voldemort was slowly creeping back to complete power. The Order was supplying us with all of the information on his movements. They finally seemed to realize that I had every right to know what was going on with him. The death toll slowly rose as all of us became more nervous. I tried to avoid all confrontation with Ron, but finally we faced each other.
"Mind filling me in with what's been going on this summer? Or do I even want to know?" he spat at me one morning.
"Don't be such a prat. I'm sorry if you have feelings for her, but I love her!" I shouted back.
"Like I don't! Harry, you are so selfish, always taking all the glory . . . "
"Don't start that shit, Ron. You know I don't intentionally set out to make your bloody life miserable."
"It sure as hell seems that way!" As I made to leave the room, Hermione timidly walked in.
"Harry, Ron . . . please," she pleaded. Ron looked at her in disgust. She walked over to me and grabbed hold of my hand, and then grabbed hold of Ron's. "We have been friends for what feels like forever. Let's not ruin this. Ron, I love you. Harry, I love you too. I don't love either of you more, just differently. Can you accept that?" I knew I had to be strong for her, but Ron was being such a jackass . . .
"Don't screw up your friendship. And don't do anything in front of me anymore," Ron replied jokingly.
"Friends?" I asked.
"Friends," they both replied. Hermione gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and Ron slapped her playfully.
"None of that now!" he teased. But I knew that there would be plenty more of that. Maybe I wasn't ready to tell her all of my feelings, but I sure as hell wanted to show them to her.
With peace between us and summer half over, it seemed like things would get better. I seemed to have forgotten about my troubled past and future in that time. But I would soon be remembered as Voldemort's threat slowly grew.