Hey all. This is my second Harry Potter fic, quite different from the first one, I think. For one thing, it came to me all of the sudden, all at once. Plus, there's less humor and actual plot, and more romance and angst. It takes place during Harry's fifth year, and it is told by Harry. Voldie's not in it, nor are any of his cronies, because they're mean and I'm punishing them. Hope you like it anyway. Please review!
And for the record, I am not J.K. Rowling, nor am I even of the same zodiac sign as she is. However, I am cruelly exploiting her characters for my own evil purposes. Bwahahahaha! So sue me and you'll be sorry (plus, it might make me cry...).
The Indescribable Something
By Scabbers
So when he first admitted to me that he kinda sorta liked her, *like that*, I was excited, right. I remember exactly the way he looked, all flushed and terrified, but pleased to get it off his chest. And I thought, how perfect. The two people I love the most, in love with each other.
I made a point, after that, to slyly push things along. "Oh, you guys work together," I would say most innocently in potions class, and then I would work with Dean or someone at a nearby table, where I could push back a satisfied grin and watch the electricity flow between them.
I think those moments, watching them work and bicker, were the times I loved them the most. You see, that was when I understood them the most. I understood them in the context of human nature in general, and I understood them especially because they were Ron and Hermione. Because they were my best friends, and I knew them so very well.
The scene usually played the same way. They'd be mixing some potion side by side, trying to make like it was an accident every time they brushed their elbows together, or sometimes shoulders and hands. Then, at some point, Hermione would helpfully suggest some improvement that Ron might make in his stirring technique, perhaps something she had read about in a book. And Ron would kind of glare at her under those red eyebrows, looking very much like an irritated, tail-twitching Crookshanks.
So maybe Ron would say something to her, some brutally sarcastic remark designed to let her know exactly what he thought of her endless "suggestions". Ron still hadn't figured out that when Hermione gets all constructively critical, it's just her way of saying she loves you.
Anyway, they'd be working up to a big, healthy fight, when all of the sudden, they would just start laughing. That was the one thing I never understood, why they couldn't help but smile when they locked eyes. I would watch them and try to figure out what was so funny. And then Dean would heave one of his exaggerated sighs and remind me that we ourselves had a potion to mix, and could I please, for once, stay on task? It used to drive him nuts, working with me.
Then, later, Ron would sort of fish for details. The old "Do you think she likes me?", except it wasn't his style to come right out and say it. He seemed to figure that once he had confessed his burning passion, there was no need to confess it again. He would just subtly mention her name, like "Hermione said this potion was used to cure such and such during the Middle Ages", something like that.
And I recognized that as my cue to say something encouraging, to mention how she was looking at him while he was measuring ingredients, or how she seemed to smile a lot when he was around. Truthfully, I could tell she loved him; her voice got different when she said his name. I made this observation to Ron, and it was nice to see him so embarrassed and pleased. I knew how he hungered for the tidbits I was giving him. This, I understood completely. I was very experienced at having a crush.
~
Since I started at Hogwarts, it was always Cho Chang. There was something about her- the way she rode her broom, that smirky smile like she had a secret and it was damn funny. It used to be that a glimpse of black hair against a Ravenclaw blue Quidditch robe was all it took to give me that trampoline feeling in my stomach. The indescribable something.
It changed though, after Cedric. Something sinister lodged itself in my brain and distanced me from my own emotions. I would look at her and I'd get the feeling again, sometimes so strong I'd have to press my hand to my stomach to make sure it didn't explode, but then it would get all mixed up with my brainwhispers. And what my brain was whispering was, "You did it on purpose, Harry. You wanted Cedric to disappear, so you could have Cho."
And Hermione would hug me and tell me to stop driving myself crazy about it, because it wasn't my fault. And Ron would pat me on the back and tell me he was there if I ever wanted to talk about it. And I would lay there in my bed each night, staring at the blur around me, and trying to sort the whole thing out logically in my head.
I had never meant for Cedric to die. And it wasn't my fault. This much, I realized. Still, whenever I saw the sadness that sometimes lingered in Cho's eyes, I could not help but feel the weight of it on my shoulders.
And that was why she and I could never be anything. For a long time, I refused to acknowledge this, but in one clearsighted moment, it finally sunk in.
It was the beginning of April, and Ron and Hermione had finally made the significant transition from hand brushing (accidentally on purpose) to hand holding. Watching them outside one afternoon, when they thought no one was around, I felt my throat get all tight and lumpy. Hermione was sitting crosslegged on the grass with Ron's head in her lap, his long body stretched out beside her. She was sort of playing with his hair, twirling it on her fingers and stuff, and they were just looking upside down at each other and smiling.
I thought, I want what they have. I want the indescribable something with the someone I could just sit there and smile at. I realized suddenly that Cho and I could never be that for each other. We were both nurturing the ghost of Cedric Diggory, and he would always be standing between us. It made me feel so lonely, and so very tired.
~
And then, I started getting jealous. I felt the sour green blood flowing through my veins, and I hated myself for it, but it was there just the same. I no longer sought out Dean to be my Potions partner, so Ron and Hermione could work together. Instead, I made them say it, made them ask me if I minded working with someone else. And then, in the chilling voice of one who has been greatly offended, I would say, "Of course I don't mind. I understand you'd rather not work with me."
Ron's eyes would narrow at me, and he'd turn kind of pink and annoyed, until Hermione would squeeze his hand to calm him down, and just give me a friendly smile, ignoring my glare. She never got mad at me for the way I acted. Hermione understands things, always has. And I think she must have explained it to Ron, because only once did he approach me, all frustrated, asking, "Why are you doing this to Hermione and me? Why are you trying to make us feel bad for wanting to be together?" I'm glad she explained it to him, anyway. I wish she would explain it to me.
Well, Ron stopped getting mad at me, and then I started feeling guilty about the whole thing. I didn't like the thoughts I was having, the person I was becoming. I spent a lot of time brooding in the common room. I missed the old dynamics of my friendship with Ron and Hermione. I missed the way it used to be. I missed having a crush on Cho. If nothing else, it gave me something pleasant to think about in the quiet moments.
I would usually claim the couch in front of the fireplace after dinner, a time when Hermione was usually in the library studying, and Ron usually went with her to keep her from studying. Me, I would stare at the magic flames, always tall and bright and lively. I would stare at them until my eyes lost their focus and my breathing became rhythmic and my brain became empty.
And then, one evening, Ron and Hermione surprised me by wordlessly plopping down beside me on the couch, with me in the middle. *With me in the middle*. Hermione opened up a book and started reading, and Ron just sat there, cracking his knuckles. "And we're not getting up," they told me without speaking, "Because there is no place we'd rather be. We would rather be with you than without you."
They sat with me every evening after that, and sometimes a few other Weasleys would join us. I was always between Ron and Hermione. After awhile, that's what finally lulled my little green monster to sleep, what changed my emptiness to tranquility.
Finally, one night it all struck me as ridiculous. "Ron, switch seats with me," I demanded suddenly. I jumped off the couch, turning to face him. "Sit by Hermione."
Ron seemed startled. "No, Harry, really. It's okay. We want to sit by you."
"For real, Ron, switch with me." I saw Hermione cover an amused grin with her book. I looked at them, each in turn, and made sure they looked at me. I made sure they knew that I was okay, that I would behave, that I loved them. However you want to put it.
He shifted over next to Hermione, and I settled into the seat he had warmed up for me, between Ron and his sister Ginny. "Hi," I said. I had known Ginny for years, but not at all, if that makes any sense.
She glanced up at me, blushing. "Hi," she said shyly, brushing a strand of red hair back behind her ear as she turned back to the homework she was doing. I watched her work for a minute, tracing her profile with my eyes. I knew she knew I was watching her. I could see it in the way she breathed.
Finally, she turned and looked at me directly, face to face. Her eyes were very, very blue. I wondered if she still had a crush on me like she used to, growing up. I thought I wouldn't mind.
"What is it?" she asked, but gently. "Um...," I said, and started fidgeting with my glasses. Then she started fidgeting with her hair. I didn't look away; neither did she.
Then, suddenly, she smiled. And I smiled. And we just sat there smiling at each other. And I felt it in my stomach, the indescribable something, only it was different than it felt with Cho. It was softer, less of a trampoline and more of a tickle. It made me laugh, for no reason, really, the way it always was between Ron and Hermione.
And then, I understood.
~
The end. Hope you liked that. Sorry my Harry is girly in some ways. I happen to be a girl, and evidently not a good enough writer to suppress it when I write boy. Review!!
And for the record, I am not J.K. Rowling, nor am I even of the same zodiac sign as she is. However, I am cruelly exploiting her characters for my own evil purposes. Bwahahahaha! So sue me and you'll be sorry (plus, it might make me cry...).
The Indescribable Something
By Scabbers
So when he first admitted to me that he kinda sorta liked her, *like that*, I was excited, right. I remember exactly the way he looked, all flushed and terrified, but pleased to get it off his chest. And I thought, how perfect. The two people I love the most, in love with each other.
I made a point, after that, to slyly push things along. "Oh, you guys work together," I would say most innocently in potions class, and then I would work with Dean or someone at a nearby table, where I could push back a satisfied grin and watch the electricity flow between them.
I think those moments, watching them work and bicker, were the times I loved them the most. You see, that was when I understood them the most. I understood them in the context of human nature in general, and I understood them especially because they were Ron and Hermione. Because they were my best friends, and I knew them so very well.
The scene usually played the same way. They'd be mixing some potion side by side, trying to make like it was an accident every time they brushed their elbows together, or sometimes shoulders and hands. Then, at some point, Hermione would helpfully suggest some improvement that Ron might make in his stirring technique, perhaps something she had read about in a book. And Ron would kind of glare at her under those red eyebrows, looking very much like an irritated, tail-twitching Crookshanks.
So maybe Ron would say something to her, some brutally sarcastic remark designed to let her know exactly what he thought of her endless "suggestions". Ron still hadn't figured out that when Hermione gets all constructively critical, it's just her way of saying she loves you.
Anyway, they'd be working up to a big, healthy fight, when all of the sudden, they would just start laughing. That was the one thing I never understood, why they couldn't help but smile when they locked eyes. I would watch them and try to figure out what was so funny. And then Dean would heave one of his exaggerated sighs and remind me that we ourselves had a potion to mix, and could I please, for once, stay on task? It used to drive him nuts, working with me.
Then, later, Ron would sort of fish for details. The old "Do you think she likes me?", except it wasn't his style to come right out and say it. He seemed to figure that once he had confessed his burning passion, there was no need to confess it again. He would just subtly mention her name, like "Hermione said this potion was used to cure such and such during the Middle Ages", something like that.
And I recognized that as my cue to say something encouraging, to mention how she was looking at him while he was measuring ingredients, or how she seemed to smile a lot when he was around. Truthfully, I could tell she loved him; her voice got different when she said his name. I made this observation to Ron, and it was nice to see him so embarrassed and pleased. I knew how he hungered for the tidbits I was giving him. This, I understood completely. I was very experienced at having a crush.
~
Since I started at Hogwarts, it was always Cho Chang. There was something about her- the way she rode her broom, that smirky smile like she had a secret and it was damn funny. It used to be that a glimpse of black hair against a Ravenclaw blue Quidditch robe was all it took to give me that trampoline feeling in my stomach. The indescribable something.
It changed though, after Cedric. Something sinister lodged itself in my brain and distanced me from my own emotions. I would look at her and I'd get the feeling again, sometimes so strong I'd have to press my hand to my stomach to make sure it didn't explode, but then it would get all mixed up with my brainwhispers. And what my brain was whispering was, "You did it on purpose, Harry. You wanted Cedric to disappear, so you could have Cho."
And Hermione would hug me and tell me to stop driving myself crazy about it, because it wasn't my fault. And Ron would pat me on the back and tell me he was there if I ever wanted to talk about it. And I would lay there in my bed each night, staring at the blur around me, and trying to sort the whole thing out logically in my head.
I had never meant for Cedric to die. And it wasn't my fault. This much, I realized. Still, whenever I saw the sadness that sometimes lingered in Cho's eyes, I could not help but feel the weight of it on my shoulders.
And that was why she and I could never be anything. For a long time, I refused to acknowledge this, but in one clearsighted moment, it finally sunk in.
It was the beginning of April, and Ron and Hermione had finally made the significant transition from hand brushing (accidentally on purpose) to hand holding. Watching them outside one afternoon, when they thought no one was around, I felt my throat get all tight and lumpy. Hermione was sitting crosslegged on the grass with Ron's head in her lap, his long body stretched out beside her. She was sort of playing with his hair, twirling it on her fingers and stuff, and they were just looking upside down at each other and smiling.
I thought, I want what they have. I want the indescribable something with the someone I could just sit there and smile at. I realized suddenly that Cho and I could never be that for each other. We were both nurturing the ghost of Cedric Diggory, and he would always be standing between us. It made me feel so lonely, and so very tired.
~
And then, I started getting jealous. I felt the sour green blood flowing through my veins, and I hated myself for it, but it was there just the same. I no longer sought out Dean to be my Potions partner, so Ron and Hermione could work together. Instead, I made them say it, made them ask me if I minded working with someone else. And then, in the chilling voice of one who has been greatly offended, I would say, "Of course I don't mind. I understand you'd rather not work with me."
Ron's eyes would narrow at me, and he'd turn kind of pink and annoyed, until Hermione would squeeze his hand to calm him down, and just give me a friendly smile, ignoring my glare. She never got mad at me for the way I acted. Hermione understands things, always has. And I think she must have explained it to Ron, because only once did he approach me, all frustrated, asking, "Why are you doing this to Hermione and me? Why are you trying to make us feel bad for wanting to be together?" I'm glad she explained it to him, anyway. I wish she would explain it to me.
Well, Ron stopped getting mad at me, and then I started feeling guilty about the whole thing. I didn't like the thoughts I was having, the person I was becoming. I spent a lot of time brooding in the common room. I missed the old dynamics of my friendship with Ron and Hermione. I missed the way it used to be. I missed having a crush on Cho. If nothing else, it gave me something pleasant to think about in the quiet moments.
I would usually claim the couch in front of the fireplace after dinner, a time when Hermione was usually in the library studying, and Ron usually went with her to keep her from studying. Me, I would stare at the magic flames, always tall and bright and lively. I would stare at them until my eyes lost their focus and my breathing became rhythmic and my brain became empty.
And then, one evening, Ron and Hermione surprised me by wordlessly plopping down beside me on the couch, with me in the middle. *With me in the middle*. Hermione opened up a book and started reading, and Ron just sat there, cracking his knuckles. "And we're not getting up," they told me without speaking, "Because there is no place we'd rather be. We would rather be with you than without you."
They sat with me every evening after that, and sometimes a few other Weasleys would join us. I was always between Ron and Hermione. After awhile, that's what finally lulled my little green monster to sleep, what changed my emptiness to tranquility.
Finally, one night it all struck me as ridiculous. "Ron, switch seats with me," I demanded suddenly. I jumped off the couch, turning to face him. "Sit by Hermione."
Ron seemed startled. "No, Harry, really. It's okay. We want to sit by you."
"For real, Ron, switch with me." I saw Hermione cover an amused grin with her book. I looked at them, each in turn, and made sure they looked at me. I made sure they knew that I was okay, that I would behave, that I loved them. However you want to put it.
He shifted over next to Hermione, and I settled into the seat he had warmed up for me, between Ron and his sister Ginny. "Hi," I said. I had known Ginny for years, but not at all, if that makes any sense.
She glanced up at me, blushing. "Hi," she said shyly, brushing a strand of red hair back behind her ear as she turned back to the homework she was doing. I watched her work for a minute, tracing her profile with my eyes. I knew she knew I was watching her. I could see it in the way she breathed.
Finally, she turned and looked at me directly, face to face. Her eyes were very, very blue. I wondered if she still had a crush on me like she used to, growing up. I thought I wouldn't mind.
"What is it?" she asked, but gently. "Um...," I said, and started fidgeting with my glasses. Then she started fidgeting with her hair. I didn't look away; neither did she.
Then, suddenly, she smiled. And I smiled. And we just sat there smiling at each other. And I felt it in my stomach, the indescribable something, only it was different than it felt with Cho. It was softer, less of a trampoline and more of a tickle. It made me laugh, for no reason, really, the way it always was between Ron and Hermione.
And then, I understood.
~
The end. Hope you liked that. Sorry my Harry is girly in some ways. I happen to be a girl, and evidently not a good enough writer to suppress it when I write boy. Review!!