I sit, and watch, and wonder.
How is she so sweet and carefree? How do these hard times not show in worry lines on her smooth face? Her long blond hair billows out behind her as she jogs across the school grounds. Looking for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks I suppose.
But I wouldn't know. I sit here, lucky to catch sit of her out this wide window I hide in, watching her gaiety; her protuberant grey eyes sparkling and a smile on her pink lips. How I wish to run my finger over them, feel as her little red tongue tentatively flicks against my fingertip. Goosebumps rush down my arms at the thought. She would stand there in shock, I think, staring at me unblinkingly, such an expression of herself. Perhaps, she would smile shyly, kiss my finger, her hand gently touching my arm in acquiescence.
I can't help but be shocked at my brazen thoughts, my laugh quiet but bitter. If I ever found the courage-Gryffindor indeed-to approach her in this way, I am sure she would rebuke me in the harshest manner. And yet, in all my imaginings, I can't seem to put on her face that look of disgust I know would be there. I had never before seen any but carefree complacent smiles or radiantly shining giggles on her face. I can't stand the looks of pain she hides after an extended stay with her housemates. How could they be so cruel?
My hand ran back through my hair, scratching my scalp, fisting in the bushy mass. Outside the window her pert derriere was outlined by the wind in her colorful skirt as she bent over looking intently at something on the ground. Suddenly she dropped on her stomach, knees bent and feet waving gaily in the air. Is she reading a book?
A smile and a wave of affection for the pretty witch grip me. We have more in common than expected, with both our love of learning and knowledge. Only she didn't let it overcome her sense of decorum. Or maybe, she did. Everyone seems to think she is crazy with her accounting of strange magical creatures, but isn't her search but for knowledge. Even I can't begrudge her that.
I can feel the chill October air creeping in through the glass window. She isn't wearing a cloak, the silly chit. She'll catch her death of cold. I can't help myself as a daydream of being rewarded for bringing her wrap cause a smile on my face.
She'll never know of this, of my longing for her. Of how I wish to take her petite hands between mine and pull her close, leaving light feathery kisses across her face, down her neck. Of how my body wishes to press close to hers, feeling our hearts beat wildly in concerto. How I wish to claim her as my own.
She must have felt my eyes boring into her, for she jumped to her feet and turned, looking quite eerily in my direction. I knew she couldn't see me but still I heard my squeak as I fell in a dive off the window ledge, hiding from her penetrating gaze.
Maybe someday, I'll find my courage.
A.N. Part one of two. I was reading a few stories with this pairing, and felt the need to write my own. So, how did I do? ::laughs at self::