The Musts
Quietly, I think of Eliza Doolittle.
That may seem like an odd thing to do at a time like this. Harry certainly wouldn't understand it and neither would he. I'm in the middle of a forest, my best friend and recipient of my affections has deserted me—and our cause, I might add—, and my other best friend (also male) has taken watch, leaving me quite alone in our larger than life tent.
And yet, I'm thinking of Eliza Doolittle.
"There'll be spring every year without you," I whisper as to keep Harry from being alarmed. "England still will be here without you. There'll be fruit on the tree and a shore by the sea; there'll be crumpets and tea without you."
I've never felt so strongly about those words in my life.
Not when he made fun of me in Charms. Not when he accused me of being in love with a teacher. Not when he abandoned me over a rat and a silly broomstick. Not when he was so angry, so jealous, about Viktor Krum. Not when he made it clear that even though he felt...things about me, he would never get up the nerve to do anything about it. Not even when he turned down my invitation to Slughorn's for Lavender Brown, of all people. Never have I felt so strongly about my Henry Higgins.
I'm so used to Brigadoon sometimes—that falling in love moment when two people know that they can't be separated from each other—and I forget that I—that we live in the real world. And the real world doesn't leave room for fairy tales.
If I were to be in a fairy tale, I would've fallen for Viktor a long time ago, or even Harry. Harry. Wouldn't that have been the tale for all ages? I can see tales written about it; like all the heroines with all the heroes in all the stories in all the world. The Chosen One should have been with the Brightest Witch of the Age. It was only right.
The problem is that the Brightest Witch doesn't like to play by the rules of the real world.
Oh yes, she has a penchant for rules. Don't run in the halls and brush your teeth every night and do your homework. Those rules, she'll follow. It's the social conventions that she eludes. You must marry someone well off; that's your place and as the leading lady, you must fall for the leading man and if you have any self-respect, you must go into Healing or something else worthy of your smarts; House-Elves like their place. Those conventions, the musts of the world, are the bane of her existence. She will not follow the musts.
But the musts are not the reason I don't care for Harry as more than a friend. I love Ron with all that I am because that's who I am and that who he is. And that's why we're Eliza and Henry. Because even though he never does what I wish him to do, he will always come back because I need him and some cosmic force knows it, even if he doesn't.
As I follow this train of thought, I realize I'm Henry, knowing I need him and need him to return. Because I've grown accustomed to his face.
"He almost makes the day begin. I'm so used to hear him say 'Good Morning' every day. His joys, his woes, his highs, his lows are second-nature to me now," I whisper-sing instead, cursing Lerner and Loewe for the musical that so defines us.
Oh dear Merlin.
Does that make Lavender Freddy?