A/N: This was a new idea for me that just popped into my head. I've read a lot of fics lately that don't mention any names, and they always sound so…I don't know. I just love how they flow. I also thought it would be interesting to start each line with the same word. So let me know what you think!!! Oh, and see if you can figure out who I'm talking about, although I'm sure it shouldn't be too hard.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, only the plot for this story.
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It's funny.
What's funny you ask?
Life.
Life is funny.
You see, it's funny because ever since the day that he showed up at our door step, bleeding to death and begging to start over, things have changed.
It obviously took awhile for everyone to warm up to him.
But after a month or so, we could all tell that he was different.
Or maybe, he was actually the same, and we had just never bothered to realize that he wasn't what we all thought he was.
Either way, we were seeing him in a whole new light, a few of us, including myself, were even beginning to befriend him.
We all began to realize these attributes that made him seem so…so human.
It was funny.
How every morning he would wake up and accidentally bang his head on the doorframe because he was about 3 inches taller than it and then we would all hear him curse profusely at it.
How he was such an ass when he didn't get his coffee in the mornings.
How he was such an ass when he did get his coffee in the mornings.
How he rambled to himself when he thought that no one was around to hear him.
How he made stupid mistakes like breaking things and then would spend all night apologizing.
How he wrote in a diary, but insisted that it was a journal.
It was strange.
How I was the only person that he ever really seemed to trust.
How on every second Tuesday of every month, he would simply disappear for the day, and would never tell us where he went.
How although he never liked my friends, he seemed to tolerate them and try not to start up fights with them.
How he had this strange scar on his right shoulder that he would always avoid talking about whenever someone pointed it out.
How he burned the pages of his "journal" whenever he was done writing on them, as a "sense of security" he would always say.
How he would never tell anyone, not even me, what had really brought him to the doorstep of Grimmauld Place that night.
It was almost scary.
How on some days he would be fine, and then the next he wouldn't want to talk to a single soul.
How I found a small trace of blood in the sink one night, and then the next day I noticed a scar forming across his arm.
How his eyes changed so often from sparkling and welcoming, to stormy and intimidating.
How he would completely snap at the mention of certain subjects.
How on some days it felt like I didn't even know who he was anymore.
It was absolutely terrifying.
How every night I could hear him cry for help in his sleep as he obviously went through some livid nightmare.
How after every night like that I would ask him if he was ok, and he would yell at me, telling me to keep my "filthy mudblood nose" out of his business.
How sometimes after these outbursts, he wouldn't even apologize to me about it.
How there were so many days when I wondered why I even cared about him, since it was obvious that I wasn't much to him.
How after I asked about his family, he threw a glass vase at me, which hit and caused several cuts that left nasty scars, which to this day are reminders of who he was, and what he can do.
How he would lash out at all of us, causing a big scene, and even getting violent sometimes.
How much his nasty comments hurt me, and he doesn't even realizes it.
How he doesn't even seem to realize how I feel.
How no matter how much I try to remind myself what he's done to me and my friends throughout the years, how he had tormented me and called me names, the physical and emotional agony I've gone through because of him, I am deeply and madly in love with him.
You see, despite all of these terrible things I've mentioned,
It's heart warming.
How most of the time, after he's told me to keep my "filthy mudblood nose" out of his business, a few hours later he will begin to apologize, saying that it was a heat of the moment thing, and that he would never mean to call me that awful name.
How he was afraid of thunderstorms.
How he makes hot cocoa and tea for everyone on especially cold winter days.
How he gets infuriated when I actually succeed in pelting him with snowballs.
How he asks me to explain the simplest of muggle appliances.
How after very intense snowball fights we would lay in the cold snow as we watched the snow fall from the sky.
How after snowball fights and laying in the snow, he would realize that I was starting to shiver, and take me inside where he'd wrap me in a blanket and sit me on the couch in front of the fire, with him beside me while we either watched the flames silently or talked about whatever was on our minds.
It was amazing.
How he seemed to be the only one who understood my thinking.
How he always seemed to know what I was feeling, even when I wasn't sure what I was feeling.
How on nights when things just got to much for me to handle, he would come into my room and lay on my bed with me, talking softly to me until my tears died down and I fell asleep.
How unlike most guys, he would stay with me the entire night, instead of leaving as soon as I was asleep.
How I felt as though I can tell him anything, even when I probably shouldn't.
How after he threw the vase at me, he felt absolutely dreadful. He was apologizing every chance he could get. He bought me flowers, chocolates and even a really beautiful bracelet from Bergandorf's (a high class jewelry store in Diagon Alley that you can only even think about going in if you're rich, famous or feared).
How every time I wear certain clothes, and the scars from that awful event show, he can hardly even bare to look at me because of the reminders of what he did.
How he's always there for me when I need him.
How although he has done and said terrible things to me, he does his best to constantly remind me that he would never hurt me.
It was incredible.
How the day that my parents were murdered by Death Eaters, he stayed with me. He held me, talked to me, watched me cry, cried with me, and never left my side.
How he exploded at anyone who dared to bring them, or their death, up around me.
How he went to their memorial service, by my side as usual, and helped me through the entire thing.
How the night after the funeral, we sat together in front of the fire, me cuddled snuggly in his arms as he held on to my as if for dear life.
How he stroked me hair absentmindedly and told me stories, trying to make me laugh as I choked down sobs.
How the following Christmas, he gave me a gorgeous yet simple, sterling silver heart shaped locket.
How when I opened it, on the left side was a simple picture of my parents together, which he had enchanted so that they would wave and smile back at me and on the right side was a picture of me and him together, laughing as the snow fell down around us.
How he whispered "so you'll never forget them, and so you'll never forget us" in my ear after he had gently latched the trinket around my neck.
How my heart swelled at his words, which gave me hope that maybe, just maybe he was in a way telling me what I wanted to hear.
How he then turned me to face him and then stared into my eyes, as if searching for how to word what he wanted to say.
How I felt as though I could fly when he told me "you have been everything to me since I got here. I've done so much to you over the years, called you names, hurt you…" he fingered one of the scars on my collarbone as he continued "…and I am so sorry. But here we are, 9 years after our first day at school together, and you are here at my side. After all that I did to you, you still helped me when I needed it, and have been kind to me through everything."
How at that point, he slid his hand behind my head and pressed his forehead to mine and said "it's you who has kept me going ever since I showed up at the door of this place. You are everything, and I'm so sorry that it took me so long to realize this. You are beautiful, caring, smart, talented and have a heart bigger than I could have ever imagined"
How unprepared I was when he tipped his head a little lower and pressed his lips firmly, yet softly to mine.
How at this point, I was flying, and I never wanted it to end.
How he pulled away slightly and whispered, almost inaudibly in my ear, where his warm breath tickled immensely "I love you".
How he closed the space between us once again and I smiled against his lips, feeling like there was no way anyone in this world could be happier than me.
How I heard him whimper ever so slightly when I pulled away again to whisper "and I love you".
It was indescribable.
How I was with someone who had changed my life from the moment I met him.
How just by stepping up to our door, he made a lifestyle that was so simple: funny, strange, almost scary, absolutely terrifying, heart warming, amazing and incredible.
How I was with the only person I could imagine myself ever being with.
How I was with someone who made me the happiest I would ever feel.
How I was finally with someone who was so perfectly imperfect.
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A/N: So there's my little ficlet. I hope you liked it! Please review, because reviews make the world go round! - Erin