A/N: Uh, yeeeeah. So. This is a…thing. A small thing. That I wrote and edited on two separate occasions in the wee hours of the morning. It's largely plotless, and more an attempt to get out of a writers' slump than anything.
But. Read it anyway.
And review.
And I'll love you forever.
~*~*~
Dear Harry,
For once in my life, I'm not quite sure where to start.
This is…an odd situation. Unbelievably awkward as well, but I suppose that goes without saying.
After six years of friendship, you know as well as I how much I depend on an ability to control myself; to hold my emotions, keep them in check, handle anything and everything that comes my way. And I've always had moderate success.
That is, until today.
Today, when it all came crashing at my feet.
To be perfectly honest, I can't rightly remember why you pulled me aside in the first place. Something about breakfast…or a troll…or maybe it was what trolls like to eat for breakfast…?
Anyway. There we were, in that little alcove off the west corridor, talking about…whatever it was. And you were so serious, and your hand was still on my wrist where you'd tugged to signal that you fancied a chat, fingers brushing my skin, and you were so close, and…
I was trying so hard, Harry. So hard. You must have known that. Must have sensed or perhaps even seen it in the way I was biting my lip and avoiding eye contact.
But I was doing all right. Well, even, once I found that small little crack on the wall just to your right, and the spider that was weaving its way in and out. Harold, I decided he was called, as you went on about toast and Quidditch, or whomever, and occupied myself with thoughts of his spider-wife Martha, and the thousands of tiny spider children they undoubtedly had; Mitchell and Edmund, Anne and Elizabeth…
And then you laughed, and I lost focus; found myself trapped in those bloody mesmerizing eyes of yours…
And it all went to hell.
I jumped on you.
Sorry for that, by the way. I must've knocked you into that wall fairly hard; the bump on your head was rather large.
You should have seen your face. Pure shock if there ever was, followed by…well. I can't be precisely sure, as I'd closed my eyes.
I don't know what I was thinking. Or, no, I suppose I do know what I was thinking: that you were gorgeous, and I wanted a snog. What I don't know is what came over me. Why I couldn't hold it in, why I had no restraint, why there was no fear in my mind, no hesitancy, whatsoever, that you would pull away, or run, or possibly look at me in disgust and ask why I'd done something as stupid as that?'
You didn't, you'll remember. Break away. Or faint. Or have any of a number of less-than-desirable reactions, for that matter.
And I was surprised. Still am, in fact.
I…I didn't expect it. I didn't see it coming. And I certainly didn't think that you'd spin around, press me against that wall, and kiss back, of all things.
Ever. Not in a million years.
It was brilliant. You were excellent. I felt like I could soar -
But I apologize.
For afterward. For the way I backed away and stared at you, before making some God-awful excuse about research in the library. For leaving you there, with your hair tousled, and your eyes wide, and your breath ragged. For being too afraid to explain myself.
I'm not sorry for the kiss, itself, Harry. I won't allow myself to be. Being with you, like that, it's…it's the best I've felt in a long while. Since Sirius' death when you began to pull away; before all that silliness with Ron last year. I haven't felt so free, so alive since…ever, really.
Things have never been so right as you and I, together, thoughts racing, hearts pounding, tongues colliding -
I sound like a cheap, trashy romance novel.
It's just - I want you to know that I -
I need you.
I want you.
I love you.
Sweet Merlin, there's no way I'm sending this.
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