A/N: Ha-ha, another one I found in my deserted one shot's list. Wow… I think I wrote all of these at like one time. Ha-ha. Now, HBP came out in like 2005 right? … I forget, but I wrote it during that time. Now, if it was out in 04-05, then I was just… ahem… thirteen. Wow I feel old now.
Disclaimer: Silly kids, Harry Potter's for JKR… he-he…
Lost Love.
She had just lost her love.
He had just lost his love.
The Gryffindor Qudditch team had just won. Everyone was celebrating, except one. She was wandering around, looking for him. Then she saw him, walking into the Gryffindor tower, smile on his face. His emerald eyes looked tired, but happy none the less.
He walked over towards the other students and got a butterbeer, grinning at their victory.
There were a few students sitting on the couch, playing games, snogging, but still cheering. There were students that were snogging by the corners, or even out in the open. It reminded her what she couldn't—or shouldn't—have. There were very few students that were actually sober; she was one of them. She couldn't bring herself to drinking the butterbeer, having fear that she'd drink far too much and, somehow, get drunk enough to spill her heart out to him. Students were on the stairs, clearly haven drunken too much. There was the faint smell of firewhisky, but it was expected. There were sandwiches aligned on a table far off to the right, drinks on the left.
She looked towards her red-headed best friend, who was currently with him. He turned towards her and smiled at her, motioning for her to join them. She hesitantly smiled and walked over. They talked about how they won, what the score was, but she paid no attention. Her attention was on him. The way his hair would stick out at every end, the way his eyes glistened with happiness when he talked about qudditch, the way he smiled, showing slightly out of place teeth, the way he'd laugh, giving him that boyish innocence that he'd been deprived of since he was a mere child.
She hadn't noticed that she was staring, and that he was snapping his fingers while chanting her name as if it were a mantra. She shook her head and just said she was thinking. Which, she was. He nodded and started talking to Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, and the ever shy, Neville Longbottom. They still weren't the best of friends, she noted, but they were nice friends.
He deserved happiness, and she'd give it to him. Voldermort be damned. Prophesy be damned. He deserved more happiness than Merlin himself. What he had to go through, no one deserved that. He faced so many people that wanted to kill him, and he survived them all, just barely, though.
He needed to love and be loved. She knew that a fair few of the girls at Hogwarts loved him. But that was just it. They loved the idea of him, not him. She knew she loved him, but deep down in her heart, she knew. She knew that he'd never love her. Never, at least, not as she loved him.
She knew there was no point; that she should just move on. But a small—minuscule—part kept on saying that he loved her back. That there was still hope. That all was not lost.
She walked around the common room, admiring the work that the founders must've put into them. She'd never really appreciated it, but now she saw, every little detail was matched to perfection. Everything was in line; the lamps would match the sofa, the sofa the rug, the rug the paintings on the ceiling.
In the midst of her admiring, she bumped into someone. She didn't really pay attention, just mumbled a sorry and walked away, towards him.
But before she got there, someone had beaten her. The one with fiery red hair and gorgeous brown eyes, the one with the perfect, petite, slender, figure. She was every man's dream. There were no flaws to her.
She saw, a determined look on her face, while walking up towards him. She put her arms around his neck slowly, as if giving him time to adjust. He slowly, a bit hesitantly, snaked his arms around her waist. And before thinking twice, he leaned down and kissed her.
Cheers could be heard around everywhere. They all knew that they'd end up together. Even she knew, but she couldn't bring herself to actually believe it. Still, she believed, they'd figure their love for each other.
Slowly, they pulled back, her cheeks flushed, his hair messier than ever. He looked over, as if asking for permission; she put on a mask and beamed at him. Then he looked over at his mate, he didn't say anything, just gave a small smile.
He then slowly broke apart from her, though still holding her at the waist. She was beaming, victory etched on her freckled face.
He looked around at the cheers and whistles and gave a shy smile, knowing that people would soon be asking money from other people saying that they've won their bets.
He looked at her chestnut brown eyes and smiled slightly, eyes showing a flicker of sadness. She, too, looked at him, but now, opening her eyes so he could see everything: sadness, anger, happiness, and most importantly; love. He looked at her and started walking towards her, but was interrupted when a crowd of people started forming around him.
She looked at him once more, eyes only reflecting sadness now, and left.
He looked over the crowd, but found that the bushy haired girl was no where to be found, and frowned.
She'd lost. There was no point now. She'd lost her love to the beautiful red-headed witch.
He'd lost. He might as well go back to his new girlfriend now. He'd lost his love.
A.N: Okay, so, what do you think?
Reviews are welcome, as are flames.
Oh, and if you didn't know:
He was Harry.
She was Hermione. And a little bit of the she was Ginny.