Hey guys! This is my first ever fanfic. Please read and respond and
tell me what you think. Just tell me if you want more! All comments are
welcome!
Sometimes, when I'm alone, I cry. I cry because I'm not what he wants. He wants a family and a huge house and I know I can't give him that. It rips me apart inside to think about it. Deep in my soul, I know that I'll never be enough. I cry because he'll never touch me the way I long to be touched or hug me to comfort me like he does Hermione. Mostly, I cry because he doesn't know. He doesn't know at night when I cry into my pillow, it's because he's blind. He only sees us as Ron Weasley and Harry Potter: best friends, not lovers. I could be the best thing he's ever had, but he doesn't know.
He doesn't know that he's in my dreams every night. His arms are around me, holding me tight, and when I wake up, I can almost feel him next to me. I know I'll never really hold him, but my thoughts are littered with his body pressed next to mine. Our hearts beat together, our breathing synchronized for a frozen moment in time. In my dreams I know what it feels like to hear him say he needs me. I know what it's like for him to look into my eyes and search my soul to find that I want him too. He presses his lips to mine and for that moment, the famous Harry Potter is mine. I wake up from the dreams unsettled and sweaty and shaking. I know it's only a dream but I can almost taste his kiss. He doesn't know that I'm weak and ashen-faced because I've been dreaming of him again.
He doesn't know that I hate Cho for reasons that I can't explain to him. All I know is that when he looks at her, his emerald eyes soften and show the innocent hopeful side of a boy and the desire of a man. I wish that just once I could feel everything he feels and burn that feeling into my soul. Then maybe I could make him understand. He doesn't know that I know exactly how Ginny feels. I know what it's like to need to know what his hands feel like on the small of my back. I know what it's like to like someone so much and still feel invisible. I wish I could make him feel that. But he doesn't know what any of that is like.
I wish I could tell him that he's not alone. I know he has no family but really, what is a family? Someone to love you unconditionally? I do that already. Some one to hug you when you're happy? Cry with you when you are sad? Pat you on the back when you've done something well? I do ALL of those things and I could do so much more. I want to be the one to hold him when he's had one of his nightmares. I want to be the one to kiss his scar when it is hurting him. I want to be the one who makes love to him passionately when he needs reassurance that he is needed. But of course, he doesn't know.
Every minute of my existence is haunted with images of him. Sometimes they're real; sometimes they're fabrications of my mind. He doesn't know that this love I feel is suffocating me, that I'm drowning in my emotion. I don't want to keep on living this life because I know that I can never be what he wants...or what he needs. He's always been there and now when I need him the most, he doesn't know. I guess he never will. Harry Potter, I'll love you for eternity.
@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~
Harry's eyes brimmed with tears as he read the parchment for what seemed like the hundredth time. "I could have done something," he said in a choked voice. Every day since Harry had found the letter he'd felt a tremendous guilt. "I could've stopped him. I'm Harry fucking Potter. I beat the worst fucking wizard that ever fucking stood and saved a whole goddamn wizarding world but I couldn't even save my best friend." Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the newspaper clipping that he always carried. "Wizard commits suicide in shock of war", the headline read. "That's what they let you're mother think. They played it off like you were some kind of coward. Like you were afraid to fight. But it wasn't the war," Harry sobbed, "it was me. You just couldn't keep fighting me. I'm sorry Ron...so sorry....why was I so blind?"
"Harry?" Hermione's voice called timidly. "We should go. It looks like the rain is coming in."
Harry took one last look at the tombstone that lay in front of him. "G'bye Ron." "Oh, Harry.... it'll be ok. It wasn't your fault. Ron was depressed and no one could help him." Hermione said, climbing into the muggle car. "It is my fault, 'Mione. Cause I love him, and he doesn't know..." It wasn't until the car drove out of site that the rain started to pour.
Sometimes, when I'm alone, I cry. I cry because I'm not what he wants. He wants a family and a huge house and I know I can't give him that. It rips me apart inside to think about it. Deep in my soul, I know that I'll never be enough. I cry because he'll never touch me the way I long to be touched or hug me to comfort me like he does Hermione. Mostly, I cry because he doesn't know. He doesn't know at night when I cry into my pillow, it's because he's blind. He only sees us as Ron Weasley and Harry Potter: best friends, not lovers. I could be the best thing he's ever had, but he doesn't know.
He doesn't know that he's in my dreams every night. His arms are around me, holding me tight, and when I wake up, I can almost feel him next to me. I know I'll never really hold him, but my thoughts are littered with his body pressed next to mine. Our hearts beat together, our breathing synchronized for a frozen moment in time. In my dreams I know what it feels like to hear him say he needs me. I know what it's like for him to look into my eyes and search my soul to find that I want him too. He presses his lips to mine and for that moment, the famous Harry Potter is mine. I wake up from the dreams unsettled and sweaty and shaking. I know it's only a dream but I can almost taste his kiss. He doesn't know that I'm weak and ashen-faced because I've been dreaming of him again.
He doesn't know that I hate Cho for reasons that I can't explain to him. All I know is that when he looks at her, his emerald eyes soften and show the innocent hopeful side of a boy and the desire of a man. I wish that just once I could feel everything he feels and burn that feeling into my soul. Then maybe I could make him understand. He doesn't know that I know exactly how Ginny feels. I know what it's like to need to know what his hands feel like on the small of my back. I know what it's like to like someone so much and still feel invisible. I wish I could make him feel that. But he doesn't know what any of that is like.
I wish I could tell him that he's not alone. I know he has no family but really, what is a family? Someone to love you unconditionally? I do that already. Some one to hug you when you're happy? Cry with you when you are sad? Pat you on the back when you've done something well? I do ALL of those things and I could do so much more. I want to be the one to hold him when he's had one of his nightmares. I want to be the one to kiss his scar when it is hurting him. I want to be the one who makes love to him passionately when he needs reassurance that he is needed. But of course, he doesn't know.
Every minute of my existence is haunted with images of him. Sometimes they're real; sometimes they're fabrications of my mind. He doesn't know that this love I feel is suffocating me, that I'm drowning in my emotion. I don't want to keep on living this life because I know that I can never be what he wants...or what he needs. He's always been there and now when I need him the most, he doesn't know. I guess he never will. Harry Potter, I'll love you for eternity.
@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~
Harry's eyes brimmed with tears as he read the parchment for what seemed like the hundredth time. "I could have done something," he said in a choked voice. Every day since Harry had found the letter he'd felt a tremendous guilt. "I could've stopped him. I'm Harry fucking Potter. I beat the worst fucking wizard that ever fucking stood and saved a whole goddamn wizarding world but I couldn't even save my best friend." Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the newspaper clipping that he always carried. "Wizard commits suicide in shock of war", the headline read. "That's what they let you're mother think. They played it off like you were some kind of coward. Like you were afraid to fight. But it wasn't the war," Harry sobbed, "it was me. You just couldn't keep fighting me. I'm sorry Ron...so sorry....why was I so blind?"
"Harry?" Hermione's voice called timidly. "We should go. It looks like the rain is coming in."
Harry took one last look at the tombstone that lay in front of him. "G'bye Ron." "Oh, Harry.... it'll be ok. It wasn't your fault. Ron was depressed and no one could help him." Hermione said, climbing into the muggle car. "It is my fault, 'Mione. Cause I love him, and he doesn't know..." It wasn't until the car drove out of site that the rain started to pour.