Authore's Note : Another story that came out much more bitter-sweet than I had wanted. Originally, it was supposed to end on a happier note, but I like this version.
Insufficient
Michael Corner, Dean Thomas and many others. I've run out of fingers on which to count all of them; the boys you've been frequenting lately, that is. They're all very passive relationships, though. Your flings with Michael and Dean were the most obvious. Anyone else might not've noticed the others, but I did.
I noticed the slight changes in your character : leaning in ever so slightly towards them; just the way you generally hover around them for a short while, but avoid to get too close; the modest touches, brushing an arm, sweeping a lock of hair aside - nothing that could seem unlike what a friend would do; and if it gets past a couple days, hands disappearing under the table to intertwine but all the while the other still animates a conversation or holds the utensils.
Of course, I only notice this because I watch, because I care who you're with (and why isn't it me?) I suppose I feel a little jealous, envious that they'd get to be yours even if for so short a while. However, I have no right to do so. We've never really been a thing, or together, or however you wish to say it. I'll admit to myself that we've had our moments - I'm sure you do to - but we never acknowledge them between ourselves afterwards. As far as we're to be concerned, it never happened.
Then there's my favorite part : the inevitable break-up, when you swerve to the opposite side of the halls to avoid them, conversation between the two of you is limited to greetings if not inexistent, and you throw angry glances their way - which you believe to be discreet, but I certainly see them. It doesn't take long for you to find another boy, though.
Someone else to parade in front of my eyes, and my eyes only, as I'm the only one watching.
Oh, yes - I'm fully aware that you know that I'm observing your tumultuous love-life. Every so often you turn away from what-ever it is you're doing and you give me this look, a wicked grin plastered on your face, and there is some sort of defiance there : "Doesn't it bother you that I'm with him?" And how it does, but you're not mine, never have been. I am not justified in acting out on my jealousy, so I let it be, let you jump from one relationship to another much as I ache in doing so.
Other times, you look upon me with pity - or maybe it is with sadness? The sentiment is hard to pinpoint. Either way, you are no longer playfully challenging me, no longer trying to bring up the envy that lurks within me. Rather, you seem almost pleading : "Why aren't you doing anything about it?" I think these looks pain me more than the others, because you are calling me out on my cowardice; my inability to be the me you want me to be, the person that whispered tender words of love to you in those moments we both pretend never happened.
You're with Harry now and it's rather serious but those pained looks, they're much more frequent.
And they're never going to stop because I'm not brave enough to step up.