Torn

-AN- Thanks for checking out my story. It’s my first story here and I’m so excited to share my stories. I’ve gotten a lot of mixed opinions about how I went about with this story, so hope you like it. Thanks again and review! :) —

Ok, so my life’s not perfect. But it was. Oh believe me; it was. It started with a letter.

Dear Ms. Granger,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry . . .

It all took off from there. My parents were dentists, muggle dentists, so it took a lot of explaining and convincing on Professor Dumbledore’s part. I always knew wizards and witches existed, I read about it in a very old, very classified book I once stumbled across. I had no idea that I myself was a witch.

My parents allowed me to go. I spent the rest of the summer reading my school books. They were fascinating; I always had a love for books. I read about spells, magical cities, my school . . . and then I read a book about famous people. That’s where I first heard his name. Harry Potter. There were photographs of a baby, bright emerald eyes and a thin scar on his forehead. This was the boy that vanquished the Dark Lord, this little baby? No, there was another picture. The same bright green eyes, the same scar . . . only he was my age. My age? I thought long about him. I hoped he would be going to Hogwarts. If only I knew then. If only I knew.

September first. The day everything started, everything became so different. I went to King’s Cross with my mother. I had read how to get onto the correct platform, so I said goodbye to my mother and walked into the barrier between platforms nine and ten. I heard my mother gasp behind me. I turned around and waved goodbye.

The train was beautiful, red and powerful looking. There were students all around me, showing off spells they had learned and chatting animatedly with each other. That’s one thing I never was good at. Making friends. Come to think of it, I never really had any friends in primary school. I attended a small private school with snobby little girls who had rich parents. I didn’t like them. They didn’t like me either; I was too keen on reading and expanding my knowledge.

I walked aboard the train. I remember all of this as if it were yesterday, not the ten years it has been. The train was chaos, kids running everywhere. Some older students had taken charge and kept yelling. A boy my age came up to me and asked me to sit with him.

“I’m Neville Longbottom, this is my first year,” he said proudly, yet timidly.

“Hermione Granger, and it’s my first year also,” I responded, not wanting to go with him but feeling obliged to. We settled into a compartment with two other people.

“Hi! I’m Lavender,” said a tall girl, standing as we walked into the room.

“Seamus, and you are?” a short boy said from the far corner.

“Hermione,” I replied. ‘Why are all these people talking to me’ I remember wondering. No one had ever talked to me at school. How quickly all that changed. How quickly my life had changed.

I left the compartment after lunch, with the excuse that I would go look for Neville’s missing toad. I just wanted to get away. What a horrible mistake. If I knew now . . . if I knew the trouble that would come out of leaving . . .

I walked into an open compartment at the very end of the train. Two boys were sitting in there.

“Have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville’s lost one,” I said, trying not to sound as shy as I was. I was glad I hadn’t said anymore, I nearly choked when I saw whom I walked in on.

I felt my entire body tense.

I remember saying, “Hermione Granger, and you are?”

“Ron Weasley,” stated Ronald, a small boy back then.

“Harry Potter,” Harry nervously said. He looked at me as my eyes flicked up to his scar. Our eyes met briefly. That’s when I knew. I knew that I could spend forever gazing into those emerald pools.

I don’t really remember everything I said. I know I sounded stupid. I began telling Harry all the books he was in and how I memorized all of it. He looked even more nervous now. If only . . . only I had known . . .

My life was never perfect, far from it in fact. But if there was ever a time where I felt like I was a normal boy, it was when I was with her. Her. Hermione. Her name is ever so sweet. My memories of her are peaceful and painful. I remember meeting her so long ago. I remember knowing that she was the one. The one to ease the suffering I endured.

She had walked into my train compartment the day we met. I was nervous, for this was my first encounter with wizards my age. It was one of the best moments of my life, leaving the Dursleys. An angel walked into my train compartment as I began my friendship with Ron. She looked at me as if I was the most magnificent thing she had ever seen. Our eyes met briefly. That’s when I knew I could spend forever gazing into those honey eyes. I was so young, yet so troubled already. I wanted her to be my peace. I wanted her to be my heart. If only I knew what was to come . . .

School was hectic, always hectic. Hermione and I were very shy around each other at first. The first time I openly expressed my care for her was on Halloween. She was trapped in the bathroom with a troll. I gathered up the little courage I had and went into the bathroom with Ron. We defeated the troll with a stroke of pure luck. Hermione wrapped me in a warm embrace the moment she was safe. I clearly remember Ron eyeing us suspiciously, so she went over and half-heartedly hugged Ron. He looked enthralled; she looked bored. I dreamt of her that night. I dreamt of how good she smelled and how thankful she was that we rescued her. From that day on, I knew that I could be in her arms forever. True, I didn’t know love. I never had an example of love. No one had ever loved me. But the way I felt in her arms . . . I knew that it was a foreign emotion. I hadn’t recognized it then. If only I did . . . I would have stopped myself then.

We were so young and so naive then. I was so carefree. I knew that I had feelings for this girl . . . the girl. The girl I could spend forever with. I look back so longingly at the days our friendship was blossoming, the days when the love inside was about to burst. I had never loved before. The emotion was pouring out of my very soul. It was like I had taken my first breath. It was my first breath of the life I was destined for. But no one is meant for the pain my life turned into . . .

My memories are so clear, yet they are so faded. I hate thinking about them, yet I can’t stop. She is like a drug to me. She always has been. I can’t get enough. I’m addicted; I’m addicted to her memory. It kills me inside. She is still torturing me . . . if only I had known then that this would happen. That it would end that way, that painful way. Sometimes I wonder how it happened. Hell, I don’t even really know what happened. I still sit and think about how it ended. It’s a mystery . . . a mystery I live to solve. A mystery that I will unravel . . .

I spent the entire summer my first year thinking about her. I didn’t receive a single letter from her, after all the times I wrote. I was depressed . . . the first major depression I fell into. Many more would come and I would never fully escape any of them. After I found out that Dobby held my letters from me, I could have died in frustration. She had been writing me and I hadn’t known. I felt like she hated me. I loved her. I knew I did, even at the tender age of twelve. Oh now young and naive I was!

If I ever find her . . .

I won’t. I don’t know if she’s even alive. I excluded myself from the world. I have become a shell of a human without her . . . I love her.

Her.

-AN- Thanks for the feedback, it really helps get the story up! I hope you guys like the story. And yes, the chapters will get a bit longer as things progress. Enjoy! —

Him. Harry. Harry Potter. I felt like an angel around him; he always treated me as if I was the most precious thing in the world.

I remember when he didn’t respond to my letters for an entire summer. I went into a depression, the first of many I would encounter. I thought of going to his house, calling him, writing until he responded. But deep down, I knew that he would only get in trouble by his aunt and uncle if I went into such desperate measures. I waited in my despair until Hedwig finally came to my house . . .

Harry explained everything that happened over the summer, all the details about the lunatic house elf. I was outraged, but knew the poor creature didn’t mean any harm. I began to write Harry almost every day. We spent so much time together through our letters. Neither of us openly expressed our feelings. We were too scared that the other didn’t feel the same. Oh, if only I stopped it then. Those were the golden days, the days where nothing mattered. The days where innocence surrounded our shadowed lives.

I thought the next year would be so much better. In the previous year, Harry had to encounter the Dark Lord. He was almost killed in the experience. Death, pain, and agony had woven into Harry’s life. I prayed that he would have an easier time this year. I thought I would make sure of it. Oh how wrong I was!

The year started blissfully as Harry finally came to the castle. He was held back from the train, for the barrier had sealed itself. Upon his return, I felt the breathtaking warmth of being wrapped in Harry’s embrace once again. I tried to convince myself that Harry didn’t like me more than a friend, regardless of my love for him. I tried to bottle all the love deep inside of me, but every once in a while it would creep out.

Strange things began to happen that year. It started with a message written in blood on the wall. Mrs. Norris, the caretaker’s cat, was petrified. Everyone blamed Harry; they thought him to be the heir of Slytherin. He also began hearing voices . . . I worried so much about him. Attack after attack, petrification after petrification, I realized the answer. It was so obvious. I ran down the corridor to find Harry and tell him. I was attacked before I could tell my love.

Harry was smart enough to finally figure it out. He solved the mystery and let fate play its game. I faintly remember him talking to me as I was petrified, though I don’t remember the words. He only blushed when I asked him what he said after I awoke.

I awoke. Harry had defeated Tom Riddle without my help. I was deeply hurt that I couldn’t be there for him. He killed the basilsk, he destroyed the diary of Tom, he saved Ginny and ensured safety for the entire school. He was so brave, so smart, so charming . . . everything I could ever wish for. Damn it, if only I could have stopped myself!

He was like poison. His face, his scent, his charm. They took over my mind. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t sleep, I found it hard to breathe without knowing he was safe. It was painful to think about how much I loved it. In fact, it still is painful. The poison still seeps deeper and deeper into my broken heart.

And things went on like this for yet another school year. Our third year. It was another year of pain and suffering. It’s so hard to remember my first years, yet they appear before me so clearly. They were sickeningly sweet and naive. I loved Harry. I still do love him. He’s my soul. He’s my life. He’s my love.

Where are you now, my sweet? Where are you? If I ever found you . . .

I won’t. I did my best to keep myself out of the world. I don’t even know why. The truth of my life is buried underneath mounds of lies. The truth of the ending is a mystery . . . one I must discover.

One day.

One day. One day I’ll find the meaning in my life again.

My third year. Yes, I remember it. I remember the pain, the suffering. I promised myself I wouldn’t let her get hurt again this year. After spending days by her hospital bed, confessing my love to her unconscious self, I could not bear the pain. I struggled to keep my feelings for her a secret. We spent so much time alone together that year that it was so hard to. I would suddenly feel the urge to just let loose. But I couldn’t.

I knew she cared about me, she showed that when she got my broomstick confiscated, constantly watched out for news on “my murdering stalker,” and stayed by my side. I worked so hard that year to produce the Patronus, a spell that could save me from dementors.

Everything went haywire near the end of the school year. Not that it wasn’t crazy before. Sirius turned out to be my godfather, who wanted to kill Ron’s rat. It confuses me to this day! This day. This day nearly eight years ago. This day of pain and agony.

Sirius was sent to be destroyed by dementors, though he was innocent. Hermione and I spent a lot of time together in attempt to save him. Thank god Ron had a broken leg . . . this was my chance with her. At least I thought so. If only I had known then!

The two of us went back in time to save my dear godfather. We were able to talk for a while, but right as I began to tell her about my feelings our time was taken from us. I know it sounds selfish, but I still wonder if things would have been different now if Lupin could have transformed just a moment later . . .

We saved each others’ lives that night. I loved her so much. The love dripped from my very body. How could she have not seen this? Was she blind? Heaven knows with that girl!

The school year was soon over, but my problems were far from it. I spent a miserable summer at home, the hell I called my home. But soon I was invited to the Burrow. I knew she’d be there too . . . I thought this would be the perfect time to confess. How wrong I was!

Summer at the Burrow was heaven and hell. I remember wanting to pour my heart out to her the moment I saw her there. I couldn’t, not then at least. We went to the Quidditch World Cup and strange things happened. After the game, the Dark Mark was conjured with my wand. Hermione tried to convince the adults that it couldn’t have been the house elf. How wonderful she was . . . she put her heart into the well-being of others. I was scared for her; I wanted to keep her safe from danger, safe from the man that put that godforsaken thing into the sky . . .

The school year only led to hell. Getting entered into the Triwizard Tournament was not a good thing. I did get to spend extra time with her, but now I see that it only led to destruction. God, I wish I could go back and change things. I wish I could find her now. Every piece of me longs for her, I wish I could find her.

With her help, I was guided through the tasks presented before me. But there was one she couldn’t help me with. The Yule Ball. This was my chance, my perfect chance. I could confess everything and show the world my love for her! I could have, at least. But no, I was more arrogant than I knew. I asked Cho instead, deciding to bottle up my pain and love once more. After being rejected, I knew that I needed to ask Hermione. But upon asking her, she said that she already had a date. I went into a deep angst depression. My love, my one true love . . . taken by another?

It made me physically sick to see her with Krum. I couldn’t stand the fact that she could need anyone but me. Me. I was the one for her. I always will be. I don’t think she ever even liked the stupid git; she just wanted a date. But she came to me again. She came to me. She helped me with the last task; I learned so many spells from her. After so much time alone together in empty classrooms, I still wonder why the hell I didn’t make a move. I was scared. I needed her so much, but I was so scared that I would ruin the beautiful friendship we built. I wanted more . . . more than friendship.

Everything is a blur. Winning the tournament with Cedric, Voldemort coming back, Cedric’s death, fighting my mortal enemy once again . . . it all seems so surreal. I came back for her though. Her memory allowed me to fight, to keep strong, and to come back. I was so scared that Voldemort would hurt her . . . I knew that my death would hurt her even more. I came back and found her. I didn’t want to talk to her at first, I had been through so much. I loved her so much, I didn’t want to tell her all the horrors I had seen. I loved her. I love her.

I still search for her. Yes, it’s true. I know she’s alive, I still feel her within me. I must find Hermione. My one true love. She’s out there somewhere . . .

Does she still think about me?

<AN> I hate cluttering up with these, but I just want to thank everyone that gave feedback. It really helps to get the story written and running smoothly. Thanks a lot, I’ll try to get each chapter up as soon as I can! Keep the feedback coming =) </AN>

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.

—A/N— I know the story is somewhat vague in the sense that it doesn’t explain what happens. They will explain everything slowly; I can’t give it all to you at once! From here on, each chapter will only cover a small potion of time since I have so much to write about after OotP. Enjoy! —

I felt lost in every possible way. Sirius was dead in result to my stupidity. I hurt my friends, the only people I had left. Misery surrounded me; life felt unbearable. Voldemort was back, he was back and everyone knew it. It would only be a matter of time before the world would feel his wrath once again. My life faded before my eyes. Thus started the worse summer of my life, and quite possibly the best.

I spent a month with the Dursleys. They were even more wretched toward me after being threatened at the train station. I would lock myself in my room for days at a time, not eating or sleeping, barely even living. Agony swept over me stronger than I had ever felt. I remember all the letters I would receive.

Harry, I’m so worried about you. You haven’t responded to a single letter all summer. This is so hard to say . . . I care about you so much. We need some time together, there are things that need to be worked out. Please Harry, don’t do this to yourself. You have to be strong now, don’t let him catch you weak. I . . . we need you Harry. Please write; I miss you. Love, Hermione

Her letters were always like that. I loved her so much, but I had to push her away. She couldn’t be close to me now . . . not after what was going to happen . . .

Yes. The prophecy. Its words haunted me, never escaping my mind. I had not told anyone. I was alone in the world; my soul purpose was to vanquish the Dark Lord once and for all. I was scared to get too close to anyone. My solution was to push everything away. If only I had succeeded . . .

I wish with everything I am that I was able to get everyone out of my life. Didn’t they understand what danger it was to know me? No, they didn’t understand the full extent. I couldn’t bring myself to explain the prophecy. It would be a weight on everyone, and they would just try to help me. I didn’t want help. I wanted a way out, but I knew that the world would fall if I did not stay alive to defeat Voldemort. He would certainly kill her . . .

Her. I loved her so much that it was painful. That was my mistake. I loved her so much that I would forget about my horrible destiny. I would tell myself that I was allowed to be normal, to love. That is where I was wrong. She continued to write to me, as my heart continued to pine for her. I got to the point where I needed her. I couldn’t function. I was still in a state of grief and I needed her to pull me through. But it only led to destruction in the end.

My mandatory stay at Privet Drive was coming to an end when I received the letter.

H. Potter,

We sent you our regrets on your recent loss. Attached is a copy of the last will and testament of S. Black. Please sign the parchment and return to Gringotts, Diagon Alley. All possessions will be transferred to your vault at the time we receive your owl.

Best wishes,

Gripwak Dernhom

Director of Inheritance

It was a painful realization. He was gone . . . forever. It was official. I set the letter on my table. I was too stubborn to finalize the arrangement. I also realized that it was time I wrote a letter . . . to someone.

Hermione,

I know I haven’t written. I’m sorry. Things have been . . . strange for the moment. You’re probably right, as always. We need to see each other. How about coming to Grimmauld Place next week? I’ll invite the Weasleys, also. Think you can arrange someone to take me?

Love from,

Harry

Reading the letter again, I wonder why I did this. Why did I endanger them? Why did I allow myself to forget the prophecy and become closer to the people I love? I’m a fool, I see that now.

Hermione wrote me back the very next day. Ron was on a family vacation, as the twins felt it necessary to share their new wealth. So she was to pick me up, and the Weasleys would come later that week. I was nervous, very nervous. I couldn’t spend all that time alone . . . completely alone . . . with her. I knew I wouldn’t be able to. I immediately began to regret asking her, but it was too late to back out. I knew at that moment that things went wrong.

Hermione came to pick me up, as promised, and I ran out the house, muttered a quick goodbye to my angry aunt and uncle. I think they were just angry that I was going somewhere safe. I sat nervously in the Granger’s car as her parents began to make small talk. I remember my nervousness and anxiety so well. We arrived on the correct street and entered Sirius’s home . . . my home. To my surprise, Lupin had greeted us on the way in. I immediately began to question him on Voldemort’s activity.

“Death. The wizarding world is reek with it,” stated Lupin with a look of disgust. Like I hadn’t expected death. “Let me explain, Harry. The muggles don’t know much yet, just to be alert. You-Know-Who is biding his time, making us weaken as we worry. He has only taken out those who openly express their feelings against him. Many reporters have died, each death as mysterious as the next.” His words are still fresh inside my head. Every horrible detail lingers within me at every waking moment.

I sat alone most of my first day there. She would be next; her death was so near. At least, that is what I told myself. I convinced myself to distance myself from her . . . until she came to me.

-A/N– Yes, this chapter is a little shorter. Life has just been taking control of me. I’m getting behind on my writing, so hopefully I’ll be able to finish the next few chapters soon. Maybe some reviews will inspire me ;). Thanks everyone, and enjoy! --

I came to him one night. I had to go see him, get him out of the trance he was in. I wanted him under my trance. I loved him so much that it was killing me, ripping apart my soul. It got to the point where he was painful to think about. Come to think of it, he still is. He still has that effect on me . . . my bittersweet poison.

I could barely control myself alone with him. I didn’t know what to do . . . or when to tell him the truth. The truth. It was something so crazy that I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I loved him. It was absurd! I let my heart go somewhere I tried so hard to keep my mind out of.

Harry tried to spend a lot of time alone, something I wanted to prevent more than anything. Deep down, I knew that I had to give him his space. He was mourning to such a great extent. I knew that I had to go to him sometime. After all, we were alone in this world. The Order members came and went, but it was just me and Harry in my mind. I was such a foolish girl . . .

I found him sitting in a small, empty room upstairs. He was just sitting on the windowsill staring blankly in the sky. I made to leave when I spotted him, as he was sitting in my reading spot. I tried to run from the fear and nervousness inside of me.

“Don’t go,” I heard as I headed out.

“I don’t want to bother you, I just . . . ”

“‘Mione, I don’t mind.” He beckoned me forward. I clumsily walked to him, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten in each step.

“I come here to think a lot. He showed it to me once, how relaxing the sky can be as the breeze hits you.”

“Harry . . . ” I said looking into his eyes. But he wouldn’t look at me.

“I feel nothing.”

“What?”

“I don’t feel anymore. I coast through life without feeling its warmth, coldness, cheer, pain, lo . . . ” He broke off quickly as he deepened his gaze into the heavens. His eyes reflected the bright moonlight.

“I’m sorry Harry,” I said hesitantly, moving a little closer to him.

“No. Don’t. Don’t come closer to me,” he said, barely over a whisper.

“Why not?” I noticed my mistake in asking that right away. Not only because of how stupid it sounded, but also because of the sadness that immediately washed over him. He began to speak in a voice low, deep, and harsh. The prophecy. He said it word for word to me. I gazed at him in the awkward silence that followed. The pain in his eyes was unbearable.

“Oh, Harry . . . ” I said as I put my arms around him. He needed love. He needed to feel. I did not think that he could ever give that to me, but I felt like I needed to show him how I felt. Harry was stiff at first, but the loosened in my arms. I could feel his sporadic breaths against my neck. I remember the scene all too well. He let tears flow as I held him there. It could have been hours sitting there, I don’t know. I do know that it was the pivot point in our long journey together.

I remember him finally withdrawing from my arms. He shifted uncomfortably and leaned back against the wall behind him. I wiped his eyes and gazed into his emerald depths. The ever-present gleam that once filled those eyes had disappeared.

“Why is my life like this?” he said. It wasn’t a statement full of angst, sadness, or pain. It was monotonous. It was full of the emptiness he felt. It was enough to bring tears into my eyes. He continued with his weak, unstable talk.

“Why, ‘Mione? I do everything I can, and fate acts like I’m a criminal. I hate this damn world. I’m ready to leave it.” Fire flared up in his eyes. I felt almost afraid of him.

“Harry . . . ” It was so hard for me to talk. I could not tell him everything. I just couldn’t.

“No. I’m a weapon, that’s all I am. Let the world fall around me.”

“Please don’t talk like that, this wretched world would be nothing without you.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m a monster. I kill everything I touch, or love.” He spoke these last words slowly, not looking at me the entire time. I did not see the moment for what it was. I did not want to believe that he felt something between us, especially when he was vulnerable.

“You know that’s not true. Harry, I could not stand this place without you.” He let his gaze fall upon me. I felt it pierce through me. Silent realization began to dawn on both of us. The smallest smile made its way onto his lips. He nervously moved his arm around me, and I leaned onto him.

“Harry, I . . . ” He pressed his finger over my lips.

“Words are nothing,” he said with a gleam in his eyes, something that had not been present in those beautiful oceans for quite some time. We sat there staring into the infinity for what felt like all night.

“Words are nothing,” he repeated before letting himself drift to sleep. I let myself fall asleep within his warm embrace. He needs me now, as a friend I told myself. Maybe more than a friend. Just maybe. I leaned up and placed a kiss on his forehead. He looked so peaceful sleeping.

“Words are nothing, love,” I whispered before laying my head on his chest and forgetting all worries.

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.