Disclaimer: last time I checked, I wasn't Jo Rowling and I doubt that's changed.
Two sides of the same coin
There was always something exotic about you, something intangible that none could touch but all could see. You walked these halls, a bag too heavy for your frame over your shoulder, your sweeping hair a veil over your face. Everybody saw you and loved you, and yet nobody did.
I remember Harry used to tell me you were too fragile to actually touch, too soft and delicate to really possess – and he'd sigh, and bury his face in the crook of his arms, as if he somehow felt he had no right to speak. He'd always come to me to talk about his problems with you; perhaps he felt we had something in common, or perhaps it was just because I was a girl.
He loved you, I could tell; but he always knew you were never his to begin with. He had your little smiles, your chaste kisses, your hands to hold in the corridors –
But he never had what I had – your passion, your need, your urgency. He had you in public where I had you in private. I had fumbling, desperate groping in a broom closet inbetween classes, your hands a moving fire on my body, and hard kisses with tongue and lips and teeth drawing blood, and the explosion of pleasure and pain in every fibre of my being as you drew my torture out – and you filled me, green and red and blue and yellow and orange and purple and colourless. He never saw you become undone the way I did, as I dipped my head ever lower and you pulled at my long, bushy hair and only rewarded me with my name in the ecstasy of orgasm.
He never had you, Cho.
But then again… Neither did I.
- fin -