Warning: Since chapter 11, characters have flown off JK Rowling's page and into my own little world. Angst plays a major role in the changing of the personalities.
Harry's POV
Pure hell. It was awkward as hell. And with every sound we didn't make, my heart broke. I had changed everything. And I could never fix it ever again. She'd look at me for two seconds and quickly looked away. She'd look at me when she thought I wasn't looking. I'd look at her when I thought she wasn't looking. But we both knew it. I knew that she knew that I could see her looking. And I knew that she knew that I knew that she knew that I was looking. But we kept looking. Sneaking glances and coughing politely. I'd laugh sometimes. I don't know why. It wasn't funny. Or maybe I was laughing at how stupid I was. To have messed everything up.
We got quieter. I couldn't take it. I was going crazy. She was talking more and more with Ron, Ginny and Ned. They'd unintentionally exclude me out. Ron would ask me sometimes how I was. I'd tell him about 'this girl'. This…*someone special*. He tried to understand, Godric bless him. But he just couldn't. He was there for the manly hug when I needed it. He bought me the beers and drank them with me. He tried so hard to give me advice. I'd laugh so hard when he did. It was so ironic that Hermione's boyfriend was trying to fix me up with her. I'd come home drunk and see the pain in her eyes. She hated seeing me beat myself up. She'd talk to me late at night but I'd never register what she said. In the morning, it was as though I'd never gotten drunk. We were still silent.
I wrote her a note and left it on her table.
I need more time. I'm not going to let you slip away. I'm going to fight for you. I'm going to make it work. Because some things are worth fighting for.
I didn't even know what I was talking about. Fight for what? I didn't know. I just had to reassure her that I wasn't going to let something like this ruin our friendship. She could do whatever she wanted to do. And what she did was reply with the exact same message on my desk the next morning.
You're right. Some things are worth fighting for.
I thought things would have changed then. I was stupid. Things didn't change. Things got worse. We were hypocrites. Or maybe she wasn't. I would often think that maybe she was trying and I was just ruining everything. Maybe I shouldn't have even said anything. I was going crazy. No one understood what I was going through. I had trouble concentrating on spells. My non-verbal magic was on the fritz. I'd lose sleep, wondering if she was thinking of me. When she was reading at her desk, I wondered if she really was reading and not sneaking glances at me like I was. I was completely crazy. Ron and Ginny saw it and when they asked Hermione, she told them it was personal and that they shouldn't pry. She got closer and closer to Ned. Ron did, as well. Ginny would go out with friends but when she came back, she'd join in. They made their own twisted little friendship circle. It made me sick. Then I'd take a step back and wonder if I was obsessed.
What is an obsession, anyways? When does an obsession become an obsession? With pictures? With tears? With endless thoughts? How many thoughts a day does it take for it to become unhealthy? Are all obsessions unhealthy? What makes an obsession unhealthy? Or maybe I wasn't obsessed. Maybe it was normal. You know, those teenage phases all those books talk about. About a confusing time that happens to every teenager. Maybe I skipped one when I was young. Maybe that was what was happening to me. Maybe it wasn't an obsession at all. Maybe it was all in my head. But healthily. Did that make sense? I had no idea.
She was leaving to see her parents for two weeks. Two bleeding weeks. I chose to stay at home with Ginny and continue my research on Harris, the Death Eater we were chasing. She was planning on leaving first thing in the morning, around four o'clock. I had just gotten out of the bathroom when I saw her in the hall. She was in her pajamas, on her way to bed. I approached her. She saw me. I saw she saw me. She knew that I saw her see me. And then Ron interrupted before a conversation even began. She looked away. I tried to answer Ron's question as best as I could. But once it was answered, it was as though my courage had dissolved. I couldn't look at her anymore. I walked away. I went downstairs. Anywhere. Anywhere but there. I went into the kitchen and fixed myself a snack. Then I went back upstairs.
She was there. Hugging Ginny goodbye. Or maybe me? Had she come back to see if I was in my room or had she just forgotten to hug Ginny? I pretended to lose grip on my bowl. I bend down and slowly cleaned up the carpet with my wand. I heard their conversation. I heard her wish Ginny good luck on her games and that she'd be watching. Then I heard her walk away. For good. I turned around and she was gone. She had gone into her room-with Ron-and I hadn't said anything. Maybe she was waiting for me but got frustrated. Maybe worse. Maybe she didn't care whether or not I said anything. I racked my brains for the next few days. I should have chased after her, screaming her name desperately. I should have turned her around. I should have grabbed her and never let her go.
But I didn't. She was gone. And I hadn't even said goodbye. So I came home to an empty house three days later, gloomier than you should be at the start of a long weekend. And I wrote her a letter.
I've been asking myself lately what is it that I'm scared of exactly? What could I possibly be afraid of? You? No, that's impossible. I'm scared for you, Hermione.
I'm scared the world will never really know you. I'm scared you don't know what I see. I'm scared you don't see what I see. Do you see what I see? …No, you probably don't. Because I bet you don't hold your breath when you see yourself with your hair up. It's not like this with my Ginny, Ron and Ned. I don't worry about them. I don't worry about losing them. I should. They have just as much chance as anyone else. So why worry about you and only you? What makes you so different? What makes you so special? I like you a lot and it scares me sometimes. Because the more you like, the more there is to lose. But this still isn't different from my any of my other friends. What makes you so different?
It's because I'd die if I lost you. And that's what scares me. That scares the hell out of me. I like you so much it scares me. I can't do it. I can't get closer. I can't find more about you that I'll end up liking. I want nothing to do with you. But I want to know everything about you. But I don't. I don't want to look at you one more time because I might start staring. I don't want to say goodbye because I might start crying. I don't want to hug you because I might not let go. And that might scare you. I know it scares me.
I'm getting sick of myself. I don't know what I want anymore. And if I do, I don't know if I can fight for it anymore. What kind of a person am I if I can't even fight for you? What kind of a person am I if I can't change? Even for someone like you? There's something about you that makes me want to change myself for the better. Just to be a better person. To be a happier and better person to like myself more.
You can stop the world from spinning with a smile. I want to deserve that. I want to be a better person and deserve a world-stopping smile. I'm still growing into who I want to be. But it's because of you. You do that. Just by being yourself. That can't be bad. You can't be bad. You can't possibly be bad for me if you're already doing that. So I don't care anymore. I'm changing myself for the better. I'm going in and I'm not looking back. I'm changing. For you.
Because you don't hide your freckles with makeup.
I read it over and over and over again. Sometimes I'd fall asleep next to it. I changed some words occasionally but I wanted to keep the general idea there. She was special. She was different. Different. She was smart. Had priorities. Had a family. She was fun to talk to. She could talk. That made her different. She could talk. She didn't answer things shortly. She used correct punctuation, making long paragraphs at times. She was smart. So smart. Not just academically. Smart in a way that no girl at school ever was. We could talk for hours, about nothing, really. She could use sarcasm. She could tease. She could be serious. And all through this, she was still a shy, nice, girl-next-door girl with her own insecurities. And yet I looked past all that and perhaps saw something. Or perhaps rather what I wanted to see. But she was special. And after losing so many people in the Second War, I wasn't ready to let go of Special.
So when she came back, I left some reports on her desk. The top ones were the location of Harris. Under them was my letter. I was scribbling some notes and couldn't help but look up. She took the files and smiled her "Gotcha" smile. Then she saw the letter. She quietly put it in her purse and I saw her reading it on her lunch break. I couldn't keep watching her read it. I didn't want to see her reaction. We went home in silence that night.
She never responded back. Sometimes I'd nervously ask her if she was alright. She'd say, "With the letter you gave me?" I'd stumble. I didn't want to talk about it unless she brought it up. I didn't want to hear her say she didn't feel the same way. So I'd say no and dash away. I'd always run away.
~*~
I was so into the problem Hermione and I had that I barely remembered to say; Ginny and Ned got together. Yes, that was quite a shock. Turned out he had the hots for Ginny. He merely hung around and got closer to Hermione so she could give him pointers on what her best friend loved in a man. They declared it over dinner and we all clapped loudly. I was happy for Ginny, really I was. But when I saw Ron put his arm around Hermione and kiss her cheek, it all faded away. Ginny and Ned left early to go catch a movie. Ron, Hermione and I played a board game. They paired up. They were cheating to help one another; I could tell from their secret smiles. I couldn't take it. I said I was tired and went up to my room. I nearly killed myself when I tripped over a stack of papers and landed on my bed. My new room was still dark. I took advantage of the mood, crossed my legs on my bed and stared off into the shadows.
I was happy for Ginny. Really, I was. But I couldn't help by envy her happiness. Then there was Ron and Hermione. I felt such a clash of emotions. I loved Hermione. She meant everything to me. That feeling scared me and I brushed away the "STALKER!!" thoughts. I just wanted to see her happy. As long as she was happy. It was alright if she didn't want me. I just wanted her to be happy. I knew I was opening myself up to getting hurt. But I didn't care and gasped when I realized that was the truth. I just wanted her to be happy. Closing my eyes, I started to breathe very slowly through my nose.
But I wanted her. Oh, I wanted her so badly. I felt like I was going to explode if I didn't have her. If I couldn't smile at her and talk to her. If I couldn't say good morning to her. I wanted her so much. I wanted her to talk to me. To feel like I was there for her. I wanted her to want me.
I so badly wanted her to want me badly.
In the end, I guess I didn't know what I wanted anymore. I wanted…I wanted what she wanted. If she wanted to end it, I'd end it. If she wanted to keep fighting, I'd keep trying. But I just didn't want her to get hurt. I was scared she was hurting already. I was scared I'd hurt her already. Too much. If I hurt her, I'd never forgive myself. I'd end it in a second.
~*~
I went back downstairs and saw her alone, readjusting pieces on the board. She was sitting. All alone. Alone, for Merlin's socks. I was so close. So close I could cry when I think of it. I was so close to sitting next to her. But before I even walked down the flight of stairs, Ron came back into the room with lemonade; her favorite. She drank it happily. He smiled, pushed a curl of hair out of her way and kissed her tenderly. They had a talk a couple of months back and he promised he'd change for her. He did. People change for her. She's worth changing for. She dropped her drink, held his cheek steady and kissed him back. Oh god.
They were happy. Smiling. Talking. Laughing. I ran to my room. Because if I didn't, I would have killed Ron. Oh fuck, I thought to myself, I can't even do that! I can't even let her go. I can't. I couldn't. It was impossible. The feelings I felt for Ron. I hated him. I hated him so much. I hated him. I wanted to burn him alive. I wanted to perform a never-ending Crusiatus curse on him. I wanted to toss him off a building, point and laugh. I wanted to kill him. I hated him so much. I loathed him. It made me want to rip myself to shreds. Ron was such a good guy. He was my best friend. So brave. So generous. Such a good heart. Such a good man. And I hated him with every last nerve in my body. I was a horrible person. The things I wanted to do to him…he'd never speak to me again. But I couldn't stop my thoughts. I hated him so much. In fact, I hated Ginny as well. I hated Ned. I hated that they could all talk to her. I hated them.
I envied them.
I wanted her to see me the way she saw them. I wanted her to talk to me. Have lunch with me. Laugh with me. Joke with me. Tell me how her day was. When I stepped into a room, I wanted her to turn her head and look at me. I wanted her to want to know what was going on in my life. I wanted her to watch her favorite movie with me. I wanted her to make some tea for me. I wanted her to go to Diagon Alley with me. I wanted her to ask me how she looked in the morning. ME. ME, goddamn it, ME. Not them, ME.
~*~
After fixing the mirror I broke, I stared at myself through the glass. I couldn't do it. I couldn't let her go. Fuck everything I just said. I wasn't going to ask her what she wanted. Some things are worth fighting for. I wasn't going to let her go. Because I couldn't. Because I wouldn't be able to handle it. It would kill me. Kill me.
To see her everyday.
To see her with her friends.
To see her smile and laugh.
To know
That she was happier without me.
Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. You meet Special once in a lifetime. You don't let Special go. You just don't.