Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the related characters, plots, places, or creatures.

Warnings: Slash, one-sided HP/RW

Authors Note: Well, this was not what I was supposed to be working on, but this is what came out when I sat down to write. Hope you like it. Special thanks to my beta Cyhyr for being so amazingly prompt in editing. You're the best!

I can still remember the first time you told me you loved me. It was the middle of the day and we were out on the Quidditch pitch. I had come to find you on behalf of Hermione because you had skipped class again. You'd been really depressed and withdrawn lately. We were both worried about you, but she kept telling you to snap out of it and bugging you to tell her what was wrong, and every time she did you just got defensive and told her to fuck off. So I came to find you, hoping that you would open up a bit more with me if I didn't pressure you too much.

I can still see you sitting on the bleachers, rolling your wand between your fingers. I don't remember much of our conversation, but I can still see the look on your face when you said those three words. I didn't understand what you meant at first. I thought you meant a love between friends. So I said it back as I always do. But then you shook your head and said, "No. I love you."

Even then, it didn't really sink in. Even then as I told you, "I'm sorry, I don't feel the same," it didn't really sink in. It didn't sink in when your depression got worse. It didn't sink in when we stopped talking, causing Hermione to be the one between us. It didn't sink in.

During all this time, you were still my best friend. We may never have talked, hell, we would barely even look at each other, but you were my best friend. You were always my best friend.

Then, as we were wont to do, we started talking again. We played it off like we had stopped talking due to me being jealous of you getting into the Triwizard Tournament, but we both knew better. And we both knew that if we continued not talking much longer everyone would realize it was more than that and demand to know what had happened between the Boy Who Lived and His Best Friend. So we started talking again. But never again brought up what you said.

As I said before, it took a while for what you said to sink in. It really hit me though, after you pulled me out of the lake in the second task. The judges may have chosen me because I was your best friend, but I was the best choice for more reasons then they knew. You loved me as one lover to another, except I didn't return your love the same way. So I really was one person that you would sorely miss.

And life, as usual, went on. We graduated Hogwarts. You defeated the Dark Lord. I joined the Auror program. Hermione went to Law School and fell in love with the boy who sat next to her in Creature Rights. They got married and are expecting a baby in May. You and I are going to be godparents. You went on to join the Magpies as their star seeker. You and I were both in our first year of our professions. Both still in training actually- your season hadn't started yet, and Aurors go through four years of training before they get put into the field. I was returning to my flat after having dinner with Mom and Dad and I found an owl waiting for me when I got home. He had a letter from you. All it said was, "I know something you don't know."

I immediately wrote you back demanding that you tell me. You refused once, but upon my further pestering you simply wrote back "I love you."

Not thinking I wrote back, in an odd sense of déjà vu, "I love you too. But what do you know?"

And you told me that that's what I didn't know. That you loved me.

Once again, I had to apologize and tell you that I just didn't feel the same. I was miserable for days. Fearing the worst. That once again you would stop talking to me, but this time, would have to reason to start again. I was like a zombie for almost a week. I tried to talk to you about it, but this time you acted like it was no big deal. This time, you merely felt like I had a right to know that you still loved me, but you hadn't expected me to return your feelings.

I spent months, waiting for the worst to happen. Waiting for you to suddenly decide that it was too much. Too painful to keep in contact with me. But then you did something else. You moved on. Started dating people. First one boyfriend. Then another. You got serious with one boy you'd met at an after game party. You told me you were happier than you'd ever been. That you loved him immensely. And I was beyond happy for you.

I never met this boyfriend that made you so happy. I would send you an owl everyday. Sometimes more than one a day. Just talking about my day. Little things like that. Sometimes I'd get a response, sometimes I wouldn't. I was always nervous about flooing you though because I was never sure when you would be busy or when you'd be home, or even have time to talk. So I'd ask you to floo me. Occasionally you'd forget, but you were usually pretty good about remembering. Because I was important to you. And I didn't mind when you forgot, because you were busy, and even though you were my best friend and the most important person to me, you had other things going on.

But then Pig died. And after I told you, you said you'd floo me the next day. And you never did. And what used to be every other day letter's became every week. And sometimes every other week. There was no lack of fondness for me, no diminish of feeling. But something more was grabbing your attention and keeping it there. I didn't know what. You never talked much about what was going on with you, even though I told you every little thing I did. I never knew really, what your day-to-day life was like. I didn't know anyone you'd met except for the name of your boyfriend, who I still hadn't met. I didn't know who you hung out with, who you liked, who you couldn't stand, even though I'd told you all the drama that was happening with me.

Eventually, my letters became just like a diary. That's almost what I treated them as. 'Oh, something happened, better make an entry into the diary,' for I never knew when I'd get a response from you. If I even would get a response from you. Because you were always busy. Because there was always something else taking up your attention.

Maybe you just spoiled me, being in love with me. Maybe I was just greedy. Just wanted to be the most important person in someone's life. I don't know. I realized it had all changed when I found myself writing a letter to a friend from training before I wrote a letter to you. I realized something had changed when I was upset and depressed and you promised to floo and forgot. I realized something had changed when I found myself wishing, just once more, to be important to you.

You have moved on. And even though I never loved you the way that you loved me, I still love you. And I don't want to do the same. I can't imagine a world where you aren't the most important person in my life. I don't want to imagine it. But if we keep going the way we're going, I'm going to have to make a change soon. Because I can't keep curling up in bed, upset, when you forget to floo. I can't keep panicking every time you don't write me for a week or two. Now don't get me wrong, I'll always love you. And you'll always be my best friend. Nothing will ever change that. But you've moved on, and it's looking like soon, I'll have to too.