A/N:
It's been a while that I've been here in fanfiction but this actually a first for me to write a story. It started out as a challenge but I've fallen in love with the thought of it. I'd love to hear what you think of it, though.. Read on...

Words
by Heaven'sSweetSmphonies

Prologue

Don't you sometimes wonder that if you dream and wish for something long enough and hard enough, will you finally get it? If you concentrated all your energy on it, would it, at long last, will itself to come true? And then, crazy as it may sound, if you give her words, you wonder, will she reject them? Will she scoff at them? Laugh at you face to face? Be shocked and vow never to speak to you again? Or will she give you one of her sweet and beautiful smiles and say those words right back at you?

I know, sometimes, there are too many possibilities like failure, rejection, and humiliation. Possibilities that you dread and wish you could ignore. Yet they are all you can really think about; just when you're about to sleep, about to eat, about to smile; every single time you do mundane, earthly things, these thoughts creep into your mind startling you, depressing you, making you wish you can just block them out.

But, alas, that can never happen. No matter how much you attempt to pull yourself together and shake the negativity out of your life and think positive thoughts, with every positive thought, you have two negative thoughts that spring up as rebuttal.

But then you berate yourself and say that dreams never come true unless you make it so. You give yourself endless pep talks and optimistic advice. And then, just when you finally gather up the courage, you turn and see yourself losing, burned and you tell yourself, "No way I can take that chance and end up making that a possibility."

So, idiot that you are, you keep on dreaming. Hoping that it will someday happen, knowing full well that it won't. But that's how you are. Cowardly, hopeful, dreamer that you are. You just sit back and say, "Tomorrow is another day." All the while, knowing that tomorrow will just be like today and yesterday- a failure. A dismal, crazy, stupid failure that you know you brought upon yourself. That's when you go about telling yourself, "So sue me!" like the crazy madman that you are.

After all, it's painfully obvious that nobody writes their diary in second person. Like it's not your life, but just a show you're watching and you're talking to its characters, telling them what to do. But this time around, you can't do any rewrites. Not when you don't have the backbone to do so.

Dream on, loverboy, dream on.

Get a life,

Ron Weasley

Ron closed his diary; put down his quill, noting that he, again, had chewed off the ends of it. It had been a long time before he had thought of writing in a diary. Not when he thought of it as such a feminine act. But he had succumbed, especially when he had no one to talk about his problems to, no one to confide in.

He used to tell himself that he could handle it. Used to tell himself that he was strong and a little heart ache was easy compared to what he had been through. But he was wrong. Every single painful thought was like a Cruciatus curse on his heart, only a hundred times worse with no way of it being stopped.

Yet what had hurt the most was that he couldn't just ask help from the people around him. Not when a little romantic predicament was the least of everyone's worries. He couldn't ask help from his best friend- he was to preoccupied with what loomed ahead. Not his sister- she was too worried about his best friend. And, of course, not his other best friend, not at all; especially since she was the root of all his problems.

But he could never blame her. Not when he couldn't possibly survive without her. Not when he couldn't think of a day without setting eyes on her face. So he'd replace that— she wasn't the problem. No, instead, she offered the solution. The real problem was him. His dependence on her presence and his eternal need to see her, hear her; be with her. Yet the inability to tell her so.

He knew that no one could possibly know what he was feeling. For everyone thought and just assumed that they were together. That he had given her the words. When all along he hadn't and didn't know if he should. No, he knew that he should, if only to lighten the burden in his heart. He just didn't know if he could.

When they had begun spending more time together it was not because they suddenly agreed to be a couple. No. It was actually just a way to help their best friend think that it was about time that he got a move on and admitted love for his sister. Give him a little love before the difficulty of battle would overcome him.

It had made him ecstatic- the thought of spending more time with her thinking that over time he could finally tell her. But it had gotten harder each day. For each day that passed they grew more and more comfortable in each other's company. They could spend hours side by side and not say a word yet feel as though they've been talking nonstop. It had been a relief, a sweet joy, a silent victory— and it had scared the living daylights out of him.

He had thought before that he was in love with her. He had been wrong. That hadn't been love. Only when after spending more time with her had he finally discovered the depth and intensity one can feel for another. That was love. True blue, one and only love. He didn't know if he deserved it, didn't know how to keep and preserve it and make it work. So he had kept it hidden.

And the more time that went by without him being able to openly declare his love, he knew the day would come when his heart would spontaneously combust; blow up from the tremendous pressure it longed to be free of. But he always told himself, "Not yet, not yet." Told himself so much hat it had become almost like a chant. And because he was weak and stupid, he had allowed himself to retreat like a loser does.

And a loser he would be, until his "I love you's" remain a silent declaration in his heart.

I sometimes wonder if I could just hold the sides of his face and make him tell me what I already feel every single time we are together- the love that emanates from him, the love that I don't know why he would never tell me.

There are times that I think that maybe he doubts my love or that maybe he does not know of it. This makes me want to just march right over to him and demand that he stop being cowardly and tell me that he loves me and tell him that I love him.

I know— very bossy and forceful. That's why it's only a dream, a fantasy that would never wind up as a reality. Not when I have feminine dreams of being wooed and persuaded with sweet words and loving gestures.

When I made the plan for the two of us to spend more time with each other "for Harry's sake" I had hoped that we could talk about maybe being a couple, especially since I liked him. We started out as being a little more that friends, it was unspoken, yes, but I understood that. I understood that we needed adjusting; him more so than me since he had just recently left a relationship.

But as the days had passed and we grew so used to each other and so comfortable with each other that silence was just as satisfying as conversation, had the reality finally struck me. I didn't just like the guy. I was in love with him, plain and simple.

It filled my heart the day I finally had that realization. It made everything seem brighter, sweeter and better. It was like, for a moment, forgetting that tomorrow could possibly involve us in a terrible war. It made me want to sing and hug everyone around me. It made me want to shout out to the world how wonderful and lovely it felt to be in love. That was when it hit me! I knew I was in love. But I had positively no idea if I was loved.

Loving the guy was one thing but I couldn't just go around on a high when I didn't know if he loved me back. So I became attuned to his words and movements. That's when my heart swelled when I realized that there was a huge possibility that he could love me back. So I waited and waited, sure that he would soon tell me of his feelings. But the day hasn't come yet. I often tell myself that I was done waiting and it was time for moving but I look at him and see what he has to offer. So, I tell myself again that I should wait. For I knew that what I would have at the end would more than make up for it and that was worth more to me than anything.

But by golly, I am going to have those words, even if I have to coerce it out of him!

Just kidding,

Hermione Granger

"Ouch!" Hermione cried out as she realized that she had been pulling on her hair rather forcefully. She had no idea that she had been venting her frustration on her hair. She had thought the diary was enough for that. Apparently not.

She sat in silent thought at the frustration that was her love life. She knew that with the war that was about to happen, it wasn't something that she shouldn't succumb to but succumb to it she did. She dwelled. Dwelled on the hurt that she was not given the words, that she wasn't given the love that she longed for. The love that she needed; the love that she wanted and shared.

Every single time she looked at him, she knew. She knew that her world would start and end with him. That after the war if one of them didn't survive, they would be empty, a half of a whole that would forever be incomplete.

She hated every minute that she couldn't spend holding his hands, kissing his lips, whispering in his ears. But it wasn't her fault. She just didn't know if it was his. She knew how his first relationship had come about. The girl had offered herself to him. So who was she, Hermione Granger, to think that she should expect his gentle persuasions.

She was the one he loved and she knew it. She knew that he probably knew that he loved her. It troubled her that maybe he couldn't read the subtle signs he had given him to tell him that she loved him. He wasn't one to understand something not directly said.

She looked around her and took in the vibrant red of the spacious bedroom. She was, after all, Head Girl and it was an added bonus to being the most prominent student in the whole school. And it was even more fascinating to know that at the room beyond hers was Harry. Harry, who had broken history when he was made a Head Boy without having been a prefect during his sixth year.

It comforted her, yet it troubled her how much the urge to open up to him became greater and more apparent as the days and weeks passed. That made it uncomfortable because he was immersed in the upcoming war and nobody could blame him. She would just have been glad to share her quarters with anybody she hated if that meant she can channel her energy into something else.

She rose from her desk and began pacing around her room— disturbed, distraught and frantic. She knew that her feelings were suffocating her and she knew that she was desperate for something beyond what she had at that moment.

But, dreamer that she was, she still wanted and needed to be told first. As she always expected that a girl should be. And because she loved him and believed in him, she was going to let him think it through.

She only wished that before they were forced to fight for their lives, he could share with her his heart.

A/N:

I hope you enjoyed that. Thanks to those who'll leave me a review... My update depends on you... I promise to update in two weeks. I guess for every 5 reviews I get I'll minus 2 days to that ultimatum... As reviews would undeniably make me write faster... So much faster...

Toodles...