A/N: This is a little something that I wrote for the Sinfully Romione fest on Tumblr (hosted by the AMAZING coyotelaughingsoftly). It won the Greed category. Special shoutout to callieskye for the beta and all my group chat lovelies for just being awesome!
The first lesson you learn when you're poor is don't want.
Can't believe I'm gonna say this, but it was almost easier before. When I thought I could never have her. Then she was like all those things I could convince myself I didn't really want: a brand new firebolt, a vault full of galleons, a wardrobe with no hand-me-downs. When y'know there's no way you can ever have it, you can make yourself not want it. And I did a damn fine job of it too, for a damn long time.
Of course there were some close calls. That whole Yule Ball disaster. I worked really hard to assure myself that I was hacked off because Krum was the enemy. Weak, I know, but it was working until she had to go and make that stupid comment...it was like she was saying well yelling to be more precise that she WANTED me to ask her. But that couldn't be right. If she wanted me to ask her then that meant...well, I couldn't face what that might mean.
See the reason you don't want, can't want, is that when you want something and then you don't get it, or even worse, ya get it, but then it gets taken away, it's just too bloody awful. So you learn to make your world small, fold it into itself until you only have what is absolutely necessary. If your trainers are too tight or your robes are too short, you don't care. If your favorite Quidditch team always loses, that's ok, you didn't expect them to. If your new best mate shares his gigantic stash of candy with you on the train, you eat it, just to be nice and not hurt his feelings, but not because you want it.
So I distracted myself. Distraction is easy when you're friends with Harry Potter. As the Tri-Wizard tasks went by I could focus on helping him, not on the way that Bulgarian twat seemed to always be in the library when the three of us went in. When you're being put in a magic-coma to get drowned in a lake, you try to not think about her being the sodding thing that git would miss most. It's not surprising really, because if you were honest with yourself you'd have to admit that she was the thing you would miss most. Then you breathe a sigh of relief thinking of yet another reason that you're glad it was Harry's name and not yours that came out of that stupid goblet. How embarrassing would it be to have Dumbledore tell her before you could grow a pair and do it yourself! Ah, Miss Granger, it looks as if young Mr. Weasley is completely in love with you. How fascinating!
So what do you do? How d'ya get that fist to unclench in your chest when you think of them together? Yep, you got it...Fleur. Come on! What's safer to want than a Veela? An older Veela who's a tournament champion no less! Brilliant plan really. You can want her, not really, but go with me here, easily, because she is unattainable. As distant to you as the treasures in those pyramids that Bill had shown you in Egypt.
Fifth year the distractions were still there: Umbridge, Sirius, the DA, but the time we spent together, without Harry, at Grimmauld Place had come dangerously close to blowing my whole plan to utter shit. By the time I woke up to find her beside me in the hospital ward after the Ministry fiasco, looking so pale that I had an agonizing minute or two before I saw her take a proper breath, I knew I was fighting a losing battle. The hard thing is this...you can kinda want a chocolate frog, but if you never see any, you start to forget about them. But what if ya had to spend every bloody day with the most perfect chocolate frog ever made? How could you not want it?
I was already hanging by a thread by the time she blurted out that fumbling excuse of an invitation to THAT party. A rebellious corner of my brain started to hope, the fucker, to plan, to want. It was the kiss of death, wow..I guess it really was, come to think of it. So the rest of my brain, the part that had been trained for so long to avoid these thoughts, took sick pleasure in the information Ginny shared with me. You idiot! How could you think she would want YOU? When she thought that I was some numpty that could only play a good match with the help of illegal magic, I felt a twisted sort of relief in being right. I hoarded all the shit thoughts I could about myself, convinced myself they were hers as well, and sat on them like a dragon guarding it's most prized possessions.
Looking back, I know I behaved horribly, but I really thought I was helping. Sounds mental, but at the time it made sense. If I could burn that want out of myself, we could be friends, proper friends, without me always feeling this ache in my chest when our legs brushed up against each others in class, or when she bit her bottom lip as she read in the common room, or when she laughed at some wisecrack I had made. But a wonderfully awful thing happened instead. SHE WANTED ME TOO. I couldn't believe it at first, but as the weeks went by, I could feel it, and IT SCARED ME FUCKING SHITLESS!
If there was a chance I could be with her, ya know, really be with her, why shouldn't I want it? Because I didn't want to cock it up. Snogging a girl you like, but don't love, don't really want, that's easy. There's absolutely no pressure. If you hack her off and she chucks you, no worries. But, when you want, when you love it's a lot harder. You have to constantly wonder if you're making them happy, if they love and want you too. So, I was a coward, and took the easy way out. Funny thing was, it was anything but. Like Charlie always says, "When someone tells you not to think about Hungarian Horntails, what are ya gonna do? Thinking about Hungarian Horntails."
Which brings us back around again to the hospital. I swear to Merlin that Harry, Hermione, and I should've been sorted into the House of Pomfrey. Guess our house colors would've been white and silver and our crest could have been a huge vial of potion and some bandages on it. Anyway, when I woke up to find her sitting beside my bed I actually thought that I was having a dream or that I had snuffed it and I was in a paradise I entirely did not deserve. She was looking down at me with this halo of curls, her face puffy from crying, and I knew it was all over. I couldn't fight it any fucking more. I loved her. I wanted her. More than I had ever wanted anything. I knew in an instant that if that big mirror Harry showed me in first year was still here that I would look in it and see her, well, more accurately me holding her and never having to let her go. But I knew that I'd hurt her, that I would need to earn her trust again, so I held my breath and waited for another chance.
And for a while it was enough. I guess when you've been dying of thirst, you can be satisfied with just a little bit of water. A touch of her hand on my arm, having her look at me, the smell of her hair, with each little thing I'd tell myself this is enough, more than I deserve. Looks like I would've learned...you can only lie to yourself for so long.
So here I am, at my brother's wedding. Remember that Veela, yep, she's now my sister in law. Dad always said the universe has a twisted sense of humor. It's really not weird, except that I don't want Mione to think that I think that Fleur is prettier than her. I mean she might be to some people, but that's just cause they can't see past all those wonky magic powers. And, you're not gonna effing believe this, that Bulgarian Toad showed up! And ya know what else? I could see the look on his face. I know that look. Hell, I perfected that look! It was the WANT look. Nope. Not again, fucker! So, I panicked and blurted out something, honestly I don't even know what, but it worked because now she's dancing with ME. And suddenly, I could care less about the Toad, or the Veela, or the Dark Sodding Lord.
My hands on her waist, her hands on my shoulders, so close, so good. Heart pounding in my chest, pulling her closer, always closer. She circles her arms around my neck, her fingers brushing the back of my neck. It is so much more than I thought I would ever get, but so much less than I want. And that's the beautiful fucking tragedy of it all, innit? That all the times I've thought If I could only touch her. If I could only hold her. If I could only kiss her. All those times, all those thoughts, even the more, erm, detailed ones that left me tangled up alone in my sweaty sheets, they were all as worthless as Leprechaun gold. I could never have enough of her, ever. I've wasted so much time and energy trying to kill these feelings, but now that I know that I can't, I just decide to let go, and enjoy it: the ache, the hunger, the want.
It's right scary, but it's fucking brilliant too.