Unresolved

Can't they just figure it out already? Bloody unresolved sexual tension. Gets in the way of everything. People say that love is a never ending rollercoaster. The greatest thing that will ever happen to you. It's a load of rubbish, it is, that can ruin everything. Don't believe me? Take my two best friends. Messed up their bloody lives. Bloody wankers.

It was always the small things that made her blush. The tiniest things that he would do. A smile, a wink, a brush of their hands. These were catastrophic events, causing silence and nervous tension. When I couldn't stand it anymore, I would stay something stupid, the tension would leave the air, and they would be back to normal for awhile, then something would set them off again. It got so I couldn't be in their presence anymore. Let them figure it out.

But, then I took to wandering the corridors, and soon scoped out the best spots in Hogwarts. The rock by the lake, the very edge of the Forbidden Forest, just within viewing distance of Hagrid's Hut, the middle of the Quidditch Pitch. That's where I met her. She changed my views. My everything.

I knew her of course. But the center of the pitch is where I got to know her. It was awkward at first. Then she said something, and we both started to laugh. I can't tell you what she said, just that it broke all ties to any formalities that we might have had. I learned about her. Her hair, her smile, the way her eyes lit up when she found something interesting. Her favorite color, light purple, food, Sugar Quills, animal, Jarveys, or hobby, writing short stories.

But more than learning about her, I learned about love. How it makes you feel. And I grew less exasperated with my best friends. I took more time with my food. Closed my mouth when I chewed. I became conscious of not only my every move, but hers as well.

Is this what he feels like? Like every single part of him has to be with her, touching her, talking to her? That everything he does has to be perfect, all for her? To change his every flaw, make himself as perfect as he can in her eyes? No wonder they're so tense. They can't seem like they're changing. Every move is controlled, measured, planned ahead. There can't be any mistakes, any movements that aren't previously okayed. It's a dance that they do everyday, every night. The dance of wondering love. The dance of want, need, unfulfillment.

If they don't get on with it soon, the whole world will fall apart. Voldemort is still out there. To beat him, he needs love. He's got lots of love. My family, me, Lupin, Dumbledore, even McGonagall. But he needs her love. The kind of love that only she can give him. True love.

That's something that we've talked about at the pitch. It wasn't uncomfortable. It was honest, open, frank. I learned a lot about myself that day. I think that I found my true love. Now if only they would realize that they've found theirs.

Sometimes I think about locking them in a room. I'd need to take their wands of course. Can't have the bloody Boy Who Lived And Can't Do Anything Concerning His Heart But Can Fight Dark Wizards and the Smartest Witch Of Her Age Who Can Be Surprisingly Stupid getting out of there in a hurry, lest they do something unscripted. Maybe I'll lock them in a broom cupboard. Though it would be hard to get them a private one. I swear there are waiting lists for those things.

Maybe I'll lend them one of my thinking places. Where I let out my anger, be serious, ponder problems. Where I found love, and hopefully, where they realize that they have theirs. But for now, I have a meeting with my love. I don't know what we'll do today. And I don't care. Just as long as I'm with her.

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I just wrote this in about 20 minutes……please review!

I don't know when I first knew that I loved him. Maybe it was when he cried out in his sleep that summer before our seventh year began. Or maybe it was when I crawled into his bed, hoping that I could comfort him. Or when he grabbed me in his sleep one night, and when he woke, he didn't apologize like he usually did. Or, maybe it was when he jumped on that troll to save me.

It doesn't really matter anymore. The bottom line is, I love him. And I can't tell him. I don't know if he feels the same way, and it's driving me nuts. I've even looked it up in the library, but all I found was a book of love spells, and I would never do that to him. I think he's noticed. I think everyone has noticed- even Ron. But I don't know if he's noticed that I've changed, or that I've changed because I love him.

I looked in the dictionary to see if there was a name to what I'm feeling. Unresolved: not solved; not brought to a conclusion; subject to further thought. I can't decide whether to tell him or not. Whether to risk our friendship or not. Whether every glance we share, every touch that sends shivers down my spine, if those smiles are made simply for me, or if I'm just wishing for things that aren't real.

Every time that he says something, I take it apart, analyzing every word, every period, every comma, until all that's left is a bundle of confusion. I can't talk freely anymore, for fear that my secret will just come bursting out.

Ron's getting annoyed, I can tell. He leaves us alone, left to wallow in our own uncertainty. Things are so uncomfortable between me and him. Sometimes I'm ready just to blurt it all out, consequences be dammed. But then I look at him, with his black hair that's just begging to be brushed, and my resolve melts. How could I possibly risk all that I have with him?

I spend more time in the library, half hoping that he'll come in, and spend time with me, half hoping that he'll just leave me alone. Meanwhile, we're all fighting the war. Everyday bad news comes in, and I'm just waiting for word to come that my parents are dead. But expectation doesn't make the loss any easier.

It's a Tuesday. It's cloudy outside, but otherwise the sky is clear. I'm sitting at the lake with Harry and Ron when one of the school owls comes over to us. I start to shake when it drops a letter down on my lap. I'm not expecting any mail, and I didn't send any letters to my parents. I open it, already crying on the inside.

Dear Hermione Granger,

Last night, at 10:34 pm, we received an owl from Oxford, England that suspicious activity was taking place at 106 Alfred Street. We immediately sent out a team of aurors, only to find the Dark Mark and two bodies. Since then, we have identified these bodies as one Jane and one Mark Granger.

We are sorry for your loss.

Sincerely,

Gawain Robards

Gawain Robards

Head of Aurors

Department of Magical Law Enforcement

As I started sobbing, I felt the letter being taken gently out of my hands, and almost instantly, being surrounded in two pairs of arms. As I buried my head into the nearest chest, I recognized the smell. Harry. My comfort. I couldn't lose him now. Now, he was my everything.

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