As I walked out to the frozen lake, I could see the quidditch pitch off in
the distance to my right. The quidditch pitch where Harry Potter, my
infatuation, was practicing with the other Gryffindor team.
I was always amazed with him, even when I was 5 and he was just a simple bedtime story, something that seemed so.so.unreal. The famous 'Boy-Who- Lived'. I can see why he hated that title, too much like 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'. Too impersonal for someone that was real and true. That's why he was always a mystery, and imaginary thing, one of those made-up superheroes that muggles read about. Just anything but real.
Then, when I was 10 I saw him for the first time. He was so different than you would think someone like him would be. He was just a small, really small, skinny kid. Just like everyone else.
It grew to be an obsession; I was always teased about it.
Then was my first year at Hogwarts, and it was my first chance to really know him, to observe him, and I messed that up like everything else I did. Damn Malfoys, damn Tom Marvolo Riddle, they all can go to hell. Ruined my life. But then there Harry was again, saving me from near death. And the infatuation I had grew, he became MY hero, saved ME.
It went on and on. Now here I am at 13, and I never had but 1 crush. I'm giving up, I tried it all, and I became more forward, more friendly. Sure, I made friends with the girls in my dorms, but still no Harry. But now, my 'Weasley stubbornness' is giving up. Harry missed his chance.
If Ron, Fred or George knew I was out here I'd be the recipient of over- protective brotherness. Its mid-January, the snow is gracefully yet almost demanding and threateningly falling. It swirls around almost as if a spell was being cast, or in one of those over-dramatic muggle movie moments. The sun is setting to the east, a glowing orb of life, and power, sinking slowly over the partially frozen lake. I take out my drawings of Harry on his broomstick casting his eyes looking for the snitch. The pages of his name I wrote down, everything Harry, I rip them up and throw them into a crack in the lake.
The tears began spilling down my face, I don't know why, its not like I just chose now that by throwing papers around that that meant I was getting over him. No, that happened along time ago, its just closer. But it still feels like a piece of me is being ripped and torn too, being pulled away.
After about 30min of this task, the golden orb of a sun has sunk below the horizon. As I began to walk back to the castle, wrapping my clack tightly around me, Ron fell instep with me.\
"Waiting for Harry after quidditch?" he asked kindly.
"No," I replied, "for once, I am actually not"
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k there I just had to get it out, short and sweet, please review, its really sad not to get any reviews. And even tho this would be during GoF, it doesn't relate at all, or else there wouldn't be any quidditch
~*abby*~
I was always amazed with him, even when I was 5 and he was just a simple bedtime story, something that seemed so.so.unreal. The famous 'Boy-Who- Lived'. I can see why he hated that title, too much like 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'. Too impersonal for someone that was real and true. That's why he was always a mystery, and imaginary thing, one of those made-up superheroes that muggles read about. Just anything but real.
Then, when I was 10 I saw him for the first time. He was so different than you would think someone like him would be. He was just a small, really small, skinny kid. Just like everyone else.
It grew to be an obsession; I was always teased about it.
Then was my first year at Hogwarts, and it was my first chance to really know him, to observe him, and I messed that up like everything else I did. Damn Malfoys, damn Tom Marvolo Riddle, they all can go to hell. Ruined my life. But then there Harry was again, saving me from near death. And the infatuation I had grew, he became MY hero, saved ME.
It went on and on. Now here I am at 13, and I never had but 1 crush. I'm giving up, I tried it all, and I became more forward, more friendly. Sure, I made friends with the girls in my dorms, but still no Harry. But now, my 'Weasley stubbornness' is giving up. Harry missed his chance.
If Ron, Fred or George knew I was out here I'd be the recipient of over- protective brotherness. Its mid-January, the snow is gracefully yet almost demanding and threateningly falling. It swirls around almost as if a spell was being cast, or in one of those over-dramatic muggle movie moments. The sun is setting to the east, a glowing orb of life, and power, sinking slowly over the partially frozen lake. I take out my drawings of Harry on his broomstick casting his eyes looking for the snitch. The pages of his name I wrote down, everything Harry, I rip them up and throw them into a crack in the lake.
The tears began spilling down my face, I don't know why, its not like I just chose now that by throwing papers around that that meant I was getting over him. No, that happened along time ago, its just closer. But it still feels like a piece of me is being ripped and torn too, being pulled away.
After about 30min of this task, the golden orb of a sun has sunk below the horizon. As I began to walk back to the castle, wrapping my clack tightly around me, Ron fell instep with me.\
"Waiting for Harry after quidditch?" he asked kindly.
"No," I replied, "for once, I am actually not"
|`:-.-:`||`:-.-:`||`:-.-:`||`:-.-:`||`:-.-:`||`:-.-:`||`:-.-:`||`:-.-:`|
k there I just had to get it out, short and sweet, please review, its really sad not to get any reviews. And even tho this would be during GoF, it doesn't relate at all, or else there wouldn't be any quidditch
~*abby*~