Infatuated
By PotterheadAlwayz
"Good night." He said.
It was just two words. Two words, with nothing extraordinary or complex about them. But I could write an essay on how much it meant to me.
He was standing at an arm's length from me. I could smell his exotic and addictive scent of newly polished broomsticks. He was slightly taller than me, so his head was bent, as his beautiful doe shaped, green eyes looked into mine. His lips had a slight upward curve in them; yet, they seemed to be sad, giving an impression of a tired smile.
His messy hair bordered his matured-looking face, with two or three strands partially covering his scar; the scar which always intrigued me and had me fascinated. I wonder how it would feel if I kiss it, or trace it. His glasses lay carelessly on his nose.
His Adam's apple bobbed ever so slightly. His shoulders hung about casually and yet, held an impression of briskness. His one hand dug into the pocket of his trainers, and the other clutched one of Fred and George's fake wands.
He stood there, just like that, and I took in all I could about him at that one moment; a freeze frame, when time seemed to still, and the only sound in the world is the wild rush of my heart beat.
It's been almost five years since I had first seen him in person, and six years since I've heard about this "hero". For the past four years I've watched him grow; watched him get taller while developing a good shape. I've observed him turn from the meek and unsure boy to the man who is now a confident duelist, to the fighter who stood by truth even when pretty much everyone thought he was lying.
And yet, it looks like I have not changed at all. I still feel like the flustered eleven year old who had a habit of knocking things over whenever I see him. My heart pounds whenever he looks at me, and I still get dreams about him which make me smile like an idiot.
But there always is a change. Change in not the way I started thinking about him, but change in the way I started handling it.
Hermione Granger. What would have I done without that girl? She taught me to feel confident. She was the one who taught me to get a grip and become strong.
Most importantly, she taught me to be myself.
It's been almost three years since Hermione and I had that talk. She had helped me become the confident and attractive person I am. Yes, I don't deny it. Attractive I am. If I am not wrong, or, if Hermione is not, I'm bound to win Harry by this year. I'm pining for that day, waiting for it and craving for it.
I've not missed the stealing glances Harry gives me at times. I've not missed his wandering eye. I'm always aware of his gaze when he stands behind me. The heat of it burns into my skin. But I don't think he had realized his feelings. But I'm pretty sure he will. Soon.
The time freeze seemed to break away, and I smiled back at him. "Good night." I replied.
He smiled too, and headed to his makeshift bed on Ron's room. I stared at his disappearing form for sometime and turned to my room again.
The moment I turned back, I again felt that pleasurable stab of his gaze on my back.
A/N: Guys this is my first fanfiction! Do please give your reviews, comments and criticism. Would mean so much! Looking forward to writing again, this was fun! -PotterheadAlwayz