A/N: Deep, slow, short beginning. If you like, please stick with it.
He took a deep breath. It wasn't the first time he'd done this but he wanted to make sure he could correctly convey what he wanted to say. "The thing is," he started. "She's got this smile. And when she smiles, the whole world stops. Just for a second. And everything seems to go a little bit out of focus. Just for a second. And I wonder if I should be cleaning my glasses because I'm unable to see anyone but her. But it's just for a second. And then life goes back on, and it seems like everyone else hasn't noticed that the world just stopped spinning."
He paused.
"The thing is; she's got these eyes. And they are the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. They're the most incredible colour. Like melted milk chocolate. Have you ever seen that kind of colour? Only when you're cooking, I guess. Or you could just look into her eyes. Sometimes I'm looking at her and I wonder what her parents thought when they first saw her."
He smiled, thinking of all the times he lost himself in those eyes.
"The thing is," he continued with a smile, "She's got this laugh. And it's an incredible laugh. It sounds like giggling, but it's not. It sounds like squeaking but it's not. It's just incredible. And it's a laugh that makes me want to record and play over and over again. It's a laugh that makes me want to make her laugh all day long. It's a laugh that makes me want to do anything to make her laugh."
He was caught up now. She did that do him.
"The thing is; she's got these facial expressions. It seems like she has a different one for every situation possible. She can raise her eyebrows or lower them. She can lift one side of her mouth or develop a twitch near her eye. And every single one of these expressions seems to be so original and so…her. And every time I see them, I just get caught up in them."
He smile faded. He started to fiddle with his fingers. A tear slid down his cheek. "The thing is," he choked out, "I kind of love her." He pushed his head into his hands, barely feeling the comforting hand on his back. "And every time I even think of her, I hate the fact that I've taken this long to notice her."
"It's alright, Harry," Dr. Knight soothed. "It's alright to feel this way." He helped Harry back onto the chair.
"I'm sorry," Harry apologized.
"It's alright, Harry," Dr. Knight responded. "It's an emotional time right now. Talking about it is going to help, irregardless of what you think."
"Yeah, yeah," Harry muttered, collapsing into a chair with a sigh. They were silent for a while, listening to the soft ticking of the doctor's watch. Harry clucked his tongue. "Do you think," he wondered out loud, "I'm not meant to have anyone? Do you think I'm meant to be alone?"
"Everyone has a right to be happy, Harry."
Harry was silent, looking away.
Dr. Knight sighed. "Why don't we talk about your childhood, Harry?"
Harry nodded, swallowing hard. "The magazines are wrong. I mean, I did have a horrible childhood, and my years at Hogwarts were dangerous. When we were battling the horcruxes, we faced danger everyday." He smiled again. "But she was always there for me. She made me feel safe. My childhood was…normal. And loving. Because of her."
"Harry," Dr. Knight interrupted softly. "Let's talk about your childhood before Hermione."
Harry didn't respond.
"Harry?"
"The thing is," Harry gulped, "I can't think of a time before I knew her."
Dr. Knight scribbled something quickly on his notepad. "Harry, have you ever considered yourself an obsessive person?"
It was fast and subtle. Harry raised an eyebrow and glanced over his shoulder. "What?"
Dr. Knight took off his glasses.
"No," Harry stated. "No." He spun back around and folded his arms.
Dr. Knight licked his lips, putting down his notepad. "Tell me about your fiancé, Harry."
Harry was silent, watching his stomach go up and down. He closed his eyes. "I don't want to talk about Nicole."
Dr. Knight nodded slowly. "You want to talk about Hermione."
"I want to talk about Hermione."
Dr. Knight leaned forward in his seat, causing a soft squeaking sound to erupt from the leather. "Why?"
"You know why," was the soft reply.
"Harry."
Harry remained silent.
"What are you scared of, Harry?"
"I don't want to lose Nicole."
"They way you lost Hermione?"
His eyes snapped open and he jumped out of his chair. "I don't want to lose her!" he stated loudly, "In any way! I love Nicole! I don't care what you say, I love her."
"But not the way you loved Hermione."
Harry closed his mouth.
"Harry."
He swallowed.
"Tell me about her."
Harry tried to stare him down in vain.
"I have all the time in the world."
"I bet you do," Harry gritted.
"Tell me about her, Harry. Tell me about Hermione. Tell me about Nicole. Tell me everything, Harry. You want to talk. You need to talk. I want to listen."
Seconds ticked by and Harry slowly got back into his chair, slouching forward, resting his chin in his hands.
More seconds. More minutes. They sat there in silence. "Fine." The doctor clicked his tongue. He put down his notepad and started to get up. "If th-"
"It started about a year ago."
Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to *someone special* out there. The thing is, you're
kind of exceptional.
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