Thank you for all the wonderful feedback I got for the first chapter! ^^
Here's your second, the third is being written as we speak <3
Enjoy!
Harry really was no use to anyone when his mind was fixated on Hermione. Which these days, was most of the time. Fortunately for him though, he was very good at covering it up. As far as anyone else was concerned, Harry was a dazed and confused young man who had yet to find his place in life. They were half right. Harry was dazed and confused, but he knew exactly what he wanted.
That was where he hit a slight snag.
It was extremely frustrating, having something dangled in front of you and Harry had never really experienced that before. It was an odd feeling and he did not like it one bit.
Harry saw Hermione every day, knew her better than anyone else on the planet, and had no hesitation in saying that she felt the same way. Their friendship was unbreakable and in many ways far stronger and more personal that Harry could ever be with Ron. Yet Harry still felt empty. Every moment he spent with her was both blissful and excruciating; she always left him thinking he would do anything to have one instant more. It was slowly killing him inside to know that he would leave everything he knew behind in a second if it meant being with her.
But she wasn't his to have, and that knowledge hurt worst of all.
If it had been anyone, anyone other than Ron.
It was Ron, though, and no amount of sulking or jealously was going to change the fact that she was his, and not Harry's.
He knew that and he didn't need reminding. It didn't stop the thoughts, however, the ones flowing through his head like molten lava. They were selfish and irrational, and so utterly unlike him.
Ron didn't deserve her, didn't treat her the way he should. Hermione was worth so much more than that. Why didn't she see that he would give her everything, spend his life trying to make her happy in a way that Ron never did? Harry could show her what love was really like.
Harry was disgusted with himself for even thinking that way. Hermione was not a thing to be owned, hell; she could hardly be contained as it was. Her firecracker personality was what got to be at loggerheads with Ron in the first place. On, off, on off. He could never keep track when it came to Ron and Hermione. They had more twists and turns in their relationship than a rollercoaster. Harry had lost count. Ever since they'd gotten together in their last year at Hogwarts, Harry had doubts, but he hadn't said anything. It had taken them so long to get started in the first place and in any case, he wasn't in love with her then.
He was now, though, and it didn't stop him from wishing he had done something earlier.
It started out as a just a feeling, a familiarity whenever she walked into the room. He felt so at ease, so relaxed, a feeling he never got from anyone else. At that stage, he didn't recognise it for what it was. Then he began to take Hermione's side in her arguments with Ron, a thing he thought he would never do. When weighed up next to each other, Harry considered Ron to be the one who could cope better with the fighting, so he became Hermione's rock to lean on when she needed it.
Harry had always been protective over Hermione, but he had also known that she could take care of herself. It was only when he aimed to protect her when she didn't need nor ask for it, but merely because it was her, that he knew something was up.
It had been so subtle, Harry couldn't really be sure that it had happened. They had been sitting at their usual café spot, laughing at an old memory of Hogwarts without a care in the world. Then, in a split second, Harry did a double take.
He loved Hermione.
Harry was head over heels, completely and utterly, heart wrenchingly, earth shatteringly and fantastically in love with his best friend.
Time seem to slow and he stared, open mouthed at her as she threw her head back in laughter, the light catching her teeth. She positively sparkled before him. She was like an angel descending from heaven, a goddess forced to remain in a human form, and the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Crap.
Hermione? As in, Hermione Granger? His Hermione? Surely not. Was that even allowed?
Harry had hoped that it was merely an infatuation. Every male unconsciously considers a relationship with their best friend at some point, right? It would surely pass; he was obviously just appreciating Hermione as a friend. There was no crime in admitting she was attractive. It would all blow over soon enough.
But it didn't blow over. Once Harry had realised, he began to appreciate all the other things about her too. Like how she would chew the nub of her quill when working, or else gnaw the end off the straw from her drink. If either were absent, her lip would do. Harry found it extremely painful to watch as her teeth would manoeuvre and mould, while her tongue positioned. It was a challenge to keep the focus relative to her working state as oppose to…a different situation.
Or like when she was thinking about something problematic, how she reached up and ran a hand through her hair with a rough tendency so strands fell out of place and pieces were left sticking out and ruffled. Harry thought it made her look positively wild, and that did nothing to distract him either.
Or perhaps the more simple things, like Mr Weasley's birthday in which she would drop by with a singing card and a toy aeroplane, or saving all her postage stamps for Neville's collection. No matter how busy or tired she was, she never stopped thinking about everyone else. How she fitted all of it in was beyond Harry, but the fact that she did it because she didn't have to was what brought a smile to Harry's face.
So, here he was in knee-deep trouble, with absolutely no way out. There was no off switch, and though he had gone through a phase of trying to ignore it, in the end he gave up. He had considered modifying his own memory, but for some reason that seemed a bit extreme.
From then on Harry had lived on in emotional turmoil. Mortified at his sudden outburst of feelings he concluded that he had three options.
1. Tell Hermione how he felt, however embarrassing or nerve-wracking that might be. The Pro's, it could work in his favour, Hermione could confess her long time feelings for him, Ron would be jubilant at their finding each other and he henceforth spends the night having hot and passionate sex with the love of his life. The Con's, Hermione might be horrified, accuse him of blasphemy and send Ron to Avada Kedavra his ass.
2. He kept quiet and remained `The best friend' for the rest of their life. The Pro's, no Avada Kedavra-ing and two best friends. The Con's, inner conflict with himself that threatened to explode into insanity at any given moment.
3. Move to Switzerland. The Pro's, an easy way to solve all problems. The Con's, a tad drastic, and he did not particularly like Switzerland.
He had been highly tempted to choose the third option, but decided against it. Hermione would most likely track him down and then what would his excuse be?
The first option was...out of the question, and Harry subsequently named himself coward of the century. There was so much room for error with that selection, and he thought it preferable to wait until an opportunity cropped up that he could seize.
So, that left only option two. Harry didn't like it, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances, so he rolled with it. It had taken some getting used to and granted, he slipped up occasionally but all in all it worked pretty well. What he hadn't counted on was the obsession.
It was kind of like sticking a jar of cookies on a tall shelf and telling a kid he can have one later if he's really well behaved. So the kid sits there at the table waiting to be told he can grab one until its all he ever thinks about. He lives and breathes it, waiting for that moment in which he can reach up and take it.
Harry was that kid, and he was going insane.
It was getting progressively worse, so Harry decided to go and visit the one person who magically knew his secret, because she apparently knew everything there was know about anything strange and confusing.
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`Good Morning, Harry' Luna said dreamily, looking up from her ridiculously large watering can to smile at him. `I was wondering when you would call here again.'
`Morning Luna' Harry replied, hopping from one paving stone to the next in an attempt to reach her. `How have you been?'
He avoided a rather ferocious pair of weed cutters that were making their way across his path and sat himself down on the nearby swing hanging from a tree.
`Oh, rather well, thank you' she said, poking her head out of the large sunflower patch she was deluged in. With her bright blonde hair and oddly frilly green dress she looked like one of the flowers. `I found a horrible infestation of Wrackspurt in my dining room last week though, I should have known when the Postman turned up looking particularly saddened, it's a clear symptom, you know.'
`Really?' Harry grinned, twisting the swing's ropes from side to side. Luna was always good value. `What does a Wrackspurt look like?'
`Oh, it depends' said Luna, and Harry noticed she had the odd twig of leaves sticking out of her hair. `They're mostly invisible, but they have terribly sharp little horns. If you ever get pins and needles Harry, beware, and treat your house immediately.'
Harry always enjoyed talking to Luna Lovegood immensely. She was guaranteed to brighten up his day no matter the circumstance, and he shared a rather odd bond with her that made their friendship quite an unusual one.
He lifted his feet off the ground momentarily to allow the weed cutters passage once again and watched as Luna retreated backwards out of the flower patch on her hands and knees. She kneeled upright, cocked an ear towards him as if listening intently for something and then tutted to herself.
`It's getting worse, then?' She questioned, poking around in the soil for something. `Careful with that one, Harry, it gets grumpy in the early morning.'
Harry quickly retracted his finger from what appeared to be a large, pulsating hibiscus and watched as it emitted a snarl and brandished itself towards him. `Yeah,' he murmured, taking his eyes off the growling plant and focusing once again on Luna. `It's been harder for her lately, I think. They're getting pretty bad now.'
`But how are you, Harry?' She inquired, staring at him with her large glassy eyes.
He shrugged and fiddled with some bark on the tree. He could feel Luna's eyes on him. There was a small paused silence, and Harry saw no choice but to give in to her stare.
`It's hard to sit back and watch it all. I feel like I should be doing something to protect her. He's going…he's going to hurt her, Luna. He's going to hurt her really bad, and it kills me to know I can't be there to save her.'
Harry stared resolutely down at his shoes and saw a wand being waved out of the corner of his eye. Luna say down on her newly conjured stool in front of him and leant her elbows on her knees thoughtfully.
`You know,' she said, picking leaves out of her long plait. `Hermione might not be smart enough to recognise a Misty-eyed Spingler when she sees one,' Harry smirked at this comment on what Hermione would say if she heard about the Misty-eyed Spingler; `but she can take care of herself. You can't always be there to fight her battles for her, Harry.'
Harry didn't look at her. He stared stubbornly at the grass beneath his feet, knowing she was right.
`I can try.' He mumbled, digging his shoes into the dirt.
`Everyone needs to learn from their mistakes.' Luna replied gently. `Even Hermione, but you have to give her the chance.'
`So I stand here and wait for it all to come crashing down on her?' Harry accused, looking up at Luna who was giving him her familiar unblinking stare.
`That's life Harry.' She stated simply. `Be there for her when she needs you, like you always have, and she'll thank you for it later. Trust me.'
Harry sighed and got up from the swing, watching as Luna retreated back to her patch of sunflowers. He began to make his way up the paving stones once more before he turned, and looked back upon the frilly green dress that was rummaging through the leaves.
`Hey, Luna, how's things with Ron?'
She paused and then turned on her knees to gaze up at Harry. `Ronald is finding it harder too, but he'll get through it. He has a wonderful sense of recovery.' She said admiringly, knotting her fingers together.
`But how are you, Luna?' Harry asked finally, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his green eyes searching hers for something remotely like what he was going through.
Luna twisted back to her garden and clipped the stem of a large sunflower. Getting up from her crouched position she placed it in Harry's shirt buttonhole, smiling vaguely.
`Oh, I get by.' She said, fiddling with the flower's petals. `I am his friend when he needs me, and for now, that is enough.'
Hope you liked it! Please review :)
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