What You Don't Know
You never knew that it wasn't one sided. You never knew much of anything, to tell you the truth. It was always just talk, just ego, just your incredible ability to drive me completely mad. Oh, and you drove me mad often – always. There were days when you made me want to throw something at you, to poke your eyes out with my wand, to make you regret the second you even called my name in the hall. But you never knew that my heart fluttered just a little when you did.
It took me years to figure it out. And it had nothing to do with my intelligence, but my pride. I wouldn't let myself fancy you, I wouldn't let myself care. Every time you tried to talk to me, ask me out, compliment me, I would always just hear my own conscience telling me that this was wrong. You were a prat. You still are, actually. And egotistical, oh, I could not stand your ego. It always seemed like there was an extra person in the room because of it. It was the third wheel. And yet, I always felt like I was the one in the wheel that didn't belong, I was the sore thumb. That's probably another reason why I hated you so much, you made me feel incompetent. You made me feel like I wasn't enough. You never knew that though.
You fell asleep in the common room a lot. I hated that too. Your thin body lay across the lush crimson couch and I thought it to be a waste of comfortable space. Your glasses were skewed across your face and your hair seemed to have a life of its own, though I'm not sure how that differs from any other time. You didn't know this, but I could never stay mad at you for long. This was one of those times. When you were asleep, as cliché as it sounds, you were the picture of virtuousness. You actually brought a smile to my face at those times. You never knew that I was the one that took your glasses off of your face and set them on the table. You never knew that I was the one placing the blanket on you to make sure you stayed warm, nor did you know that as I settled the blanket around your shoulders I found myself pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead.
But I still hated you. The second you woke into consciousness, I hated you again. You were loud, immature, annoying and you still followed me. I had to tell myself that eventually you would have to fall asleep. It was my mantra. I think I fell in love with you in your sleep. I know that sounds disturbing, but as your eyelashes fluttered closed and your breathing became slow and melodious, all of your faults melted away.
I never hated your faults. I'm positive you never knew that. They were your quirks, the things that were inimitably you. Nobody else had the same air of charisma, the same exhausting feel of arrogance (though I'm sure Sirius came as a close second), or the same habit of ruffling their hair. You never knew this, but I smiled inwardly as I watched your hand twitch slightly before moving to your hair. I hate when you do that.
You never knew that I cared about you. You never knew that I was the one tucking you into the common room couch. You never knew that I kept sneaking glances at you over the pages of my book. You never even knew that I fell in love with you. I never knew it either. And if I did, I never admitted it, even to myself.
I used to catch myself writing about you in my letters to home. Rather, my mother used to mention how your name came up a lot. At first I wrote of how you were the bane of my existence, and then somehow it became a tale of our adventures as Head Boy and Girl. My mother is not thick, she caught on quickly.
As did the girls in my dorm. We were never close, but we did our fair share of gossiping. And somehow, I seemed to forget the boys were the hottest topic in our gossip ring. The mere mention of a boy's name brought on the full Spanish Inquisition, and as fate would have it, your name came up. They rounded on me as though they would eat me alive, and I'm sure my blush as they repeated your awful name didn't help any. I never meant to blush. I never thought I would blush about a boy, especially not you. But I did. But again, you never knew that.
The next weekend, you asked me out again. I thought for sure one of the girls in the dorm let something slip, but then I remembered that it was natural for you to do so. You never knew that I had planned on saying yes since that dorm incident. You asked, and of course, I said yes. Your eyes lit up when I did and there was such a broad grin on your lips I thought for sure that they would crack. But you stayed whole, even as I crumbled on the inside. I knew it at that moment that we could never go back to the way things were.
You never knew that as you took my hand my knees turned to jam. You never knew that I could see you were going to kiss me in your eyes and yet I did nothing to stop you. You never knew that as your lips pressed against mine, I was saying I loved you. You never knew that I was saying "I do".
I'm not just writing this letter to you to tell you that I love you. I'm writing this letter to tell you all of my little secrets. You are my prince charming, as clichéd and awful as that sounds. Tomorrow we say our vows and become man and wife.
I no longer need to wish for you to fall asleep and become the man that I love, because even awake, I can't seem to stop saying that I love you. It's my new mantra.
James, you never knew that it wasn't one sided, but you'll always know, that it never will be.
Love,
Your soon-to-be wife, Lily.