He Doesn't Know

A/N: (Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters, backdrops, etc.) Just an idea I’ve had for a while. Was going to make it into a Lily/James, but works better as an H/H- so I worked with that. Hope you like it!! He Doesn’t Know

He doesn’t know I’m watching him, glancing up frequently from my potions essay, pretending to write feverishly across my parchment as my thoughts stray from cauldrons to him. He doesn’t know I watch him every night, reading Quidditch Illustrated or engulfed in a heated match of wizard’s chess, my eyes darting back to my paper every time he glances my direction.

He doesn’t know I’ve memorized the contours of his face, the sparkling emerald gems that blink approximately fifteen times a minute, the supple cheeks that dimple with every single grin. He doesn’t know I’ve counted the freckles dancing above his smile, the one that makes me melt every time he gives it, illuminating my entire soul.

He doesn’t know I long to wind my fingers through his disheveled mane, feeling its forbidden softness beneath my fingertips. He doesn’t know I lay awake at night, staring at the scarlet-painted ceiling that looms above my empty four-poster, dreaming of his muscled body laying there beside me.

He doesn’t know I’ve gone to every Quidditch match and practice, peeking between the unfilled bleachers while he’s commanding the empty field. He doesn’t know I long to bestride the broom behind him, feeling the wind ripple through my hair and the warmth of his body radiate through mine.

He doesn’t know I looked for him, that first day on the train, searching every compartment for that notorious lightning scar, itching for the chance to view the ‘Boy Who Lived.’ He doesn’t know I tried to impress him, rattling off my knowledge like a prissy know-it-all, failing miserably to catch his full attention. He doesn’t know I cried for weeks when he ignored my whole existence, wondering why I was chosen to be an outcast among my peers.

He doesn’t know I fell in love with him the instant he saved me from certain danger, battling a ferocious mountain troll within the confines of the women’s toilet. He doesn’t know I lied for him that day, and him alone, wanting nothing more than to kiss him with every feeling that resided within my tiny body.

He doesn’t know how hard it was for me to turn away, to go back from whence I came to save another, when I yearned to be with him. He doesn’t know my heart ached to be beside him, to help him face whatever lies ahead, across the flickering wall of flames to the unknown challenge beyond. He doesn’t know what I would have seen in the mysterious Mirror of Erised, or rather, who to be exact.

He doesn’t know I’ve thought about him each and every summer, during every holiday and all the times between. He doesn’t know I’ve written hundreds of sappy letters, hidden beneath my bureau for fear of ridicule and rejection. He doesn’t know I’ve celebrated every single birthday, whether I was present or not, and sang to a moving photograph I keep buried underneath my pillow.

He doesn’t know what lengths I went to research the mysterious Chamber of Secrets. He doesn’t know that I gladly would have died by the basilisk’s stare, if only for him to love me eternally and defeat the Dark Lord in his path. He doesn’t know how much it meant to me to see him standing beside my pallid cot, as I awoke from dreamless sleep and gazed into his eyes.

He doesn’t know I longed to violate the rules that bound me to my hourglass, to turn back the hands of time and sneak into the nearest empty classroom, snogging him senseless as he felt every part of me. He doesn’t know I wanted to hide forever in that cupboard, feeling his heart beat with mine as I tossed the chain about our necks, brushing a strand of silky darkness out of his eyes so green.

He doesn’t know I was a nervous wreck sitting in the quiet forest, doing everything in my power to keep from spilling my feelings out in to the open. He doesn’t know I took in every word he spoke that evening, reveling in the fact he would share such personal things with me. He doesn’t know how afraid I was to lose him, to Black or the wolf, or even Peter. He doesn’t know how much it hurt when he realized his father was truly gone, or how much pain I felt in knowing it the entire time.

He doesn’t know how frightened I was when his name emerged in a pool of flames, emitting an eerie glow across the silent room. He doesn’t know how hard I worked to help him, how I loved our private lessons, how much time I put into all the tasks at hand. He doesn’t know the crestfallen look that appeared on my poignant face, when I learned I was Victor’s captive in the unfathomable waters, and not his.

He doesn’t know how unattractive I felt when neither he nor the other member of our trio asked to escort me to that splendid dance. He doesn’t know how much worse it made me feel to know I was an afterthought, and not a dominating choice.

He doesn’t know when I descended the stairs in my sparkling gown of periwinkle, gliding down the regal staircase in the most elegant of manners, that my eyes were not on my escourt’s as they should have been. He doesn’t know I watched his gaze as I made my graceful entrance, trying with all my might to gain his attention, and ending up with a mere glance as if he didn’t even know my name.

He doesn’t know I actually enjoyed the article printed with our names, revealing to the wizarding world our secret love affair. He doesn’t know I gladly would have taken physical abuse from Mrs. Weasley for the story to contain the truth- if the truth was what was printed.

He doesn’t know I hoped and prayed the wizengamot wouldn’t find him guilty. He doesn’t know how nervous I was to see him leave the Order’s headquarters, as if being sentenced to die a thousand deaths. He doesn’t know the thrill I felt when I saw the glinting badge resting in his upturned hand, unable to contain my feelings as I embraced him in my arms. He doesn’t know the sorrow that came after when I realized it wasn’t his.

He doesn’t know the pure bliss that welled within my heart when he told the truth of Diggory’s death, the pride I felt at his many chivalrous accomplishments in that old deserted pub. He doesn’t know how often I wished to be the one that stayed after our furtive meetings, gently kissing him beneath the mistletoe. He doesn’t know what strength it took to conceal my burning anger and overwhelming jealousy. He doesn’t know how utterly miserable I was, watching him watching her, when no one was watching me.

He doesn’t know I sit here now, reflecting on all the things he doesn’t know, wondering if he ever will. He doesn’t know why I suddenly sit upright in my chair, placing my essay absent-mindedly on the table, and relieve it of supporting my petite frame. He doesn’t know I fix my gaze on his, watching his bottle green eyes stare back at me in perplexity as I make my way across the room.

He doesn’t know why I sweep my chestnut tendrils from swinging against my blushing face, reddening as I lean over the boy that knows so very little. He doesn’t know why I press my lips to his, sending waves of electric shock throughout our bodies, feeling his hands reach around my tiny waist to pull me in to him.

He doesn’t know why I finally tangle my fingers in his illustrious messy locks, running my hands through the thickness of his hair. He doesn’t know why he deepens the kiss, putting his hand to the back of my hair and pushing us closer together, his tongue searching my bottom lip as I whimper.

He doesn’t know why I finally release him and stare into the olive pools I’ve always gotten lost in, smiling at him breathlessly and nuzzling my neck in his. He doesn’t know why he holds me throughout the stormy night, the crackling fire the only sound amongst our even breathing. He doesn’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment; that I’ve vowed to love him forever until the end of time. But he does now.

A/N: What did you think? Please read and review!!! <3