Disclaimer: I own only the original character. I don't own Harry Potter or any of the Harry Potter Character's and the lyrics are from the song "I am trying to break your heart", by the band Wilco.
I am an American aquarium drinker
I assassin down the avenue
I'm hiding out in the big city blanket
What was I thinking when I let go of you?
As Harry rode a muggle bus down the rainy, November streets of London, he couldn't stop thinking of their first meeting. It had been almost a year ago and on this bus.
He was sitting in his seat, not thinking about anything in particular (a rarity for the boy-who-lived), when the bus stopped and she got on. Harry felt as if he had been electrified.
She was tall, not as tall as him, but tall for a girl. Her hair was long and wavy and definitely brown, but in the neon lights of the bus, it looked a dark, dark shade of red. She wore nothing complex, just a black pea coat and a pair of jeans.
When she turned to find a seat, her face found him in awe. She had bangs that swept over her forehead, arched eyebrows over a pair of kind looking grey eyes, high cheekbones, and a pair of light pink lips dying to be kissed. She saw him staring intently at her and bit her lower lip. Harry found himself more intrigued. She looked up at his forehead and soon, he found her sitting next to him.
"Hi," she said in an accent native to England.
"Hello," he said back. She was searching his forehead and he knew that she had seen the scar.
"Are you Harry Potter?" she asked. Surprised that a muggle knew who he was; he took a moment to answer.
"Yes," he said in a low voice. He couldn't be too careful, anyone might hear him. His heart had started racing his wristwatch as he waited for her response. She smiled and Harry felt relief.
"Fiona McDermott," she said, holding out her hand to shake. He took it and was pleasantly surprised to find it soft and her nails painted a nice, light shade of red.
"An Irish name for an American accent?" Harry asked. Fiona's cheeks flushed slightly and she looked down to the floor.
"My parent's were born in Ireland, raised there, went to Hogwarts and met each other, then moved to America because they thought they would be safe from Voldemort," she explained. Harry, once again, found himself in shock not only at her use of the dark lord's name so casually, but with the fact that she was a witch.
"Unfortunately, they weren't. They were visiting my dad's mom while I stayed in America, with my mom's friends, when they were killed by a death eater. I was a year old, kinda like you," she explained, with sorrow in her voice. Harry found himself somewhat comforted by the fact that he met another orphan of the first war.
"Did you go to a magic school in the states," asked Harry. Fiona nodded.
"The Salem Magical Institute," she replied. Soon, she looked up and pulled the lever, signally the bus to stop.
"This is my stop," she said. She turned get up, but Harry found himself grabbing her arm.
"When can I see you again," he asked, finding himself a little embarrassed by his audacity. Fiona smiled and a pink blush crept on her cheeks.
"Tomorrow, same time, same stop," she said. She winked, then left Harry dumbfounded with himself.
It wouldn't be the last time Harry found himself in awe of Fiona.
Let's forget about the tongue-tied lightning
Let's undress just like cross-eyed strangers
This is not a joke so please stop smiling
What was I thinking when I said it didn't hurt?
"You should've worn a tie and jacket," said Fiona as she tried to untie Harry's bowtie. They had just returned from a ball that Harry was invited to and were now back at Harry's place. Harry buried himself in Fiona's neck and started suckling it as she continued to untie his bowtie. Fiona whimpered and soon, her arms were no longer trying to untie the god forsaken bowtie. Her arms were around Harry's neck.
"Lucky for me you just wore a sexy, little black dress," said Harry as he unzipped it. Fiona was now running her hands through Harry's tousled black tresses and shuddered involuntarily at the cold air hitting her back.
"Lucky for you, I'm not wearing any panties," she whispered into Harry's ear.
I want to glide through those brown eyes dreaming
Take from the inside (baby) hold on tight
You were so right when you said I've been drinking
What was I thinking when we said good night?
Harry couldn't think, he couldn't see. All he knew was this moment. All he could feel was himself buried inside of this wanton goddess. All he could think was of the passion he held for this beautiful woman.
"Harry," she moaned in a delicious voice that just coaxed him to go further, to bring her to the edge.
"Fiona," he grunted as he pressed her bucking hips harder. A few more thrusts and he'd be there, he'd bring her to it.
In only a few moments time, the two lovers reached their climax, together. Harry just laid there with her, not knowing where he began and she ended. He flipped onto his back and held her close to him. He had never known passion like this before, not even with his first, Ginny.
"Fiona, that was amazing," he panted, still exhausted. He felt her cheeks lift up into that notorious smile that he had grown to love.
"It was," she replied in a hushed voice. Harry smiled and kissed the top of her head. Fiona lifted herself up and rolled onto her side. She kept a hand on Harry's chest and brushed a piece of hair from his face.
"Wanna do it again?"
I want to hold in the bible black predawn
You're quite a quiet domino bury me now
Take off your band aid cuz I don't believe in touchdowns
What was I thinking when we said hello?
Harry laid still and watched his beautiful girlfriend sleep, in his beds, in his sheets. They had been together for eight months and Harry knew for a fact that he loved her. He loved Fiona, with all her little quirks and that smile that could soften even the meanest death eater's heart. He loved the way that she would crank music up all the way and dance around his apartment in a pair of old boxers and her motorcycle boots. He loved the way that she was so independent, yet needed someone to love her so much. He loved the way she would just parade around his apartment in her favorite black dress and heels, even if they had no where to go. He loved her.
And that's what put her in danger. Harry knew that for him and for her, it had to be over. Voldemort killed whatever he loved and Harry would never forgive himself if she was killed. He would finish his job, then kill himself to be with her. He couldn't live without her. No. It just didn't make sense.
So why was he going to do this?
I always thought that if I held you tightly
You would always love me like you did back then
Then I fell asleep in the city kept blinking
What was I thinking when I let you back in?
Fiona could tell that something wasn't right with Harry. He wasn't the usual Harry, who would come home, practice spells that he learned that day, then eat dinner with Fiona and then have passionate sex. No. Something was not right in Harry Potter's brain.
She could tell. The way she woke up to him staring, as if he wanted to keep the memory of her engrained in his mind. The way that he would just kiss her, then go to sleep and skip the sex. The way that if they did have sex, he would just hold her and hold her until she fell asleep. It was as if he was preparing for the worst to come.
She knew what was coming. She knew that Harry intended for it to be over soon. She hadn't told Harry that the sixth sense ran in her family and predicting someone's next moves where almost as natural to her as breathing.
And with that, she knew his motives for breaking up with her and it broke her heart into a thousand pieces.
So when the day came, no matter how much she prepared herself, when Harry said those final words, all she could do was sob her broken heart out.
I am trying to break your heart
I am trying to break your heart
But still I'd be lying if I said it wasn't easy
I am trying to break your heart
On that rainy, November day, Harry thought about her and how the final battle came. It was over. If he saw Fiona again, he would take her back, in a heartbeat. But it had been almost two months since the battle and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find a Fiona McDermott anywhere. He had given up and decided that he was meant to live alone.
The bus pulled over and a woman walked on. Her strawberry brown hair was straight and long. She wore a denim mini skirt and motorcycle boots. The bus driver must have said something nice to her, because she smiled an electric smile. She turned to find a seat and saw Harry. Harry looked up into grey eyes that he had fallen in love with a year ago.
She didn't move. He didn't move. She stood there, in awe. He sat there, wanting her to wrap her arms around him. But she didn't.
Soon, she slowly walked to him, her eyes never breaking contact with his. She sat down next to him and stared. He stared right back at her.
Soon, he saw her crack a smile, with tears flowing down her eyes. She threw her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder. He smiled and gathered the rest of her onto his lap. Tears formed in his eyes and he kissed her soft hair.
Harry knew then. He knew that this was right.
Disposable Dixie cup drinker
I assassin down the avenue
I've been hiding out in the big city blinking
What was I thinking when I let go of you?