Chapter 5
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own nothing. I'm just an oppressed proletariat.
Author's Note: Once again, thank you for the many wonderful reviews. I really appreciate it, and as a promise, for keeping me motivated, here's the chapter you're waiting for. Enjoy! But please remember to review (constructively!).
This is how the story goes: boy meets girl, girl meets boy, boy saves girl, girl saves boy. You meet her, she meets you, you save her, she saves you. That's your story, the both of you. At first glance it signifies something very stereotypically romantic - you meet her in, where else, but the train, you play hero and save her from a troll, and then she saves you from yourself. Everything fits in with the formula, it's a box office hit, only there's a troll in your story and what you have is not exactly romantic.
Until now.
You have your lips pressed against hers, she has her lips pressed against you, and that only means one thing.
Kissing.
The last thing you ever expected to be doing.
But also the only thing you've dreamed of doing.
And now you're doing it. You're kissing her, and her lips that taste of cinnamon and apples and spice.
You're kissing her, but only for the briefest second. For a brief, explosive second that scars you for life - in a good way. Unlike that thing in your forehead.
But it all has to end. She immediately pulls back, and she has a look of shock in her face. You expect her to burst into tears, but she does not. You expect her to beam, but she does not. In fact, there is nothing in her face but shock. Pure shock.
Your heart drops.
"I'm sorry," you finally manage to say.
She looks at you as if you're the craziest person in the world, and you're whole life just shatters there and then. But then she says,
"Don't be."
And so you look at her. This time you're the one with the look of shock in your face. But then it immediately turns into confusion. She notices your preoccupation, and she continues,
"Don't be. I'm the one who should be sorry," she whispers.
This time, you look at her as if she's the craziest person in the world. Immediately, you try to counter her, but then she bursts into a nervous laugh, and she says,
"Oh God, what is wrong with us? It's not like it means anything! It's an accident for God's sake!"
And so you smile too. But your heart is breaking into pieces. She's killing you, but of course she doesn't know that. All she knows is that you're her best friend and that the kiss was just an accident.
But it kills you. Kills you. Kills you. Kills you.
Daily Prophet Exclusive: Harry Potter Jumps Off To Death
So you just nod your head and pretend that everything's fine and that it's nothing to worry about. You even shrug your shoulders and you give a little `yeah, no worries', but then you know, and she knows, that everything's changed. You don't know if it's for the better or for the worst, so it kills you. The uncertainty kills you like the bittersweet innocence of that kiss.
A bittersweet kiss - you tell yourself you're turning into a bloody bawling god-forsaken weirdo. But then you feel a little pain in your heart, a little shudder, and you know that it is indeed a bittersweet kiss.
So you just stay quiet. And she stays quiet. And you know that she's assessing the situation. You know that there is an underlying current there, because if it's nothing to worry about, then why this reaction?
She probably knows the truth, and that kills you.
After a couple of seconds, or a minute, or two, hell, you don't really know, you look at her, and she looks at you.
"What is wrong with us? It's not like we had sex," she whispers to you. This time, you can't avoid but give a laugh. She joins you.
"Well, I guess we're just too overcome with shock," you reply, hesitantly.
"Yeah, I guess so," she reaffirms.
And then you both turn quiet again. There's that uncomfortable silence that breaks your heart, really breaks your heart, because this doesn't happen under normal circumstances.
"So..." you begin to say, but then you stop because you don't really know what to say. You just want to break that bloody silence.
She looks at you, expectantly. After a second, she finally says,
"What were you saying?"
You look down, and you mutter,
"I don't know, I really don't know."
She nods her head, and she gives a sigh. You notice that there's a look in her face, something unexplainable, not sadness, but close to it. You decide to close your eyes because you can't bear it. You can't bear that look on her face. You can't bear the uncertainty. You can't bear the fact that you can never go back. Everything's changed. The revelry, the harmless flirting, the bed sharing, it's all gone.
But that's nothing compared to the friendship, the 10 odd years of friendship, that could suddenly go down the drain because of that one stupid move.
"Oh well, I guess it's good night then," she finally says.
You manage to nod your head.
"Good night," she whispers to you.
"Good night" you're supposed to bid back, but you don't get to say it.
You don't get to say it because she kisses you.
Really kisses you.
Softly.
Gently.
As if she has all the time in the world.
And so you stand there, in shock. Your mind is a fusion of different sensations, of different images, of a time warp going back and forth from 10 seconds to the present from 100 seconds to the present from 1000 seconds to the present.
She's kissing you.
But then she begins to cry.
Tears start to fall down from her eyes.
And she immediately pulls back.
You look at her with confusion.
And this sends her to tears even more.
You plan to ask her what's wrong, you plan to hold her in her arms, you plan to kiss her - and then it occurs to you, she's crying because you just stood there, and didn't kiss her back. She's crying because she feels that you've reject her when you'll kill yourself just to taste her lips for the briefest second.
But you don't get to ask her, or to hold her, or to kiss her, because with a soft crack, she's gone.
So what do you do?
You follow her. You'll follow her to your death because you'll never let this go.
So with a soft crack, you're there with her again.
And her tear-stained face.
Her tear-stained face that looks at everything except you.
But you don't let that bother you. Because there is nothing in hell that will stop you from kissing her back.
So you grab her.
You grab her with such ferocity that surprises the both of you.
But this time, you don't think about it.
Because you kiss her.
You kiss her.
Not softly.
Not gently.
But ferociously.
You kiss her with all the desire inside you. You kiss her with all the passion you bury inside you. You kiss her. You kiss her. You kiss her.
You taste her.
You taste her lips. You taste her mouth. You taste her soul.
You taste her.
And you won't stop because you can't stop and she won't stop because she can't stop.
She's kissing you.
She's tasting you.
She's kissing you with such intensity that your mind just goes blank.
All you know is that you're kissing her and she's kissing you.
All you know is that you're holding her and she's holding you.
All you know that it's just you and her and nothing else.
So you kiss her.
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