orokid: Hey... sorry about this, but I was listening to this song and I LOVE RASCAL FLATTS! ((Shifts eyes and sinks back into the crowd, unnoticed)) Heh heh...

Disclaimer: I don't own squat all, so don't think I do! I wish I did, then my dreams would all come true, and my fantasies- ((Stops, thinks, laughs nervously)) ANYWAY! On with the fic...

I FEEL BAD

Harry felt his hands tighten into a fist, but then release the pressure to once more form a hand, as he listened to the front door slam. The house seemed to shake with the ferocity the woman, who was now marching down the driveway in complete and total anger, asserted upon it, yet he didn't move. It was as if he were numb to it all, that he didn't care that she was walking from his life without any wish to return to it. He felt like he should've been sobbing his heart out, like he should be running out the door and tell her for the billionth time that she was the best thing in his life and that he couldn't survive without her presence in it.

He should have, but he didn't.

The Man-Who-Lived, formerly 'Boy' until his great achievement of murdering the evilest man alive in his time, just didn't care anymore. If she wanted to leave him that badly, than he would let her and never ask for her to come back. He'd become numb to her attempts to make him hurt, to make her the only thing he paid attention to in his life, and he was just through with her. She expected him to break apart like he usually did, to die when he realized just how much he needed her, but what she didn't expect was for the man who once rolled over to her every command like a dog to just give up on everything she represented to him as well as give up on her. Her, the woman he regarded as a goddess and gave everything to. He had just given up, and that was it.

And it was strange to admit it, but he did feel something as he heard the engine of the car they bought together roar to life. It wasn't the love that he thought they once shared, not regret for letting her leave from his side like she was doing now, nor even the compassion he could feel when he realized that this was for both their interests. It wasn't the memories that lingered behind, never to be forgotten but rather cherished within his heart as a special moment between him and a woman he thought he loved.

Harry James Potter- auror, orphan, and independently wealthy- just felt bad. Not the sort of bad that he had allowed he to waste all of those years and the only thing he got in return was heartache. No, not that. It was more like because he didn't want to stop her from driving out. No, that wasn't it either.

It was because he didn't feel bad for not doing anything at all. He could stand where he was and watch her put that car in reverse and zoom out from the home that now seemed just right for the likes of him alone, that he could feel absolutely nothing when he slipped his hands into his pockets and merely gaze numbly as she made it out to the road. He didn't know why it seemed so easy to just stand there, but it was.

But he did feel like he should've done so much, and he just knew that it was better that he hadn't. If he had, so many problems would've popped up afterwards, and it just would've caused her to find yet another reason to be angry with him later on. Today, it was about how he took to spending more time at work rather than with her- which would thus mean he was cheating on her because there was NO way work could preside over her. Tomorrow, it might be because he'd want a night out to celebrate the survivors from the war. Or maybe he'd want a rest after a tiring day at work while she wanted to go out for the day, shopping in London (with his money, might I add). Maybe even if he was talking to another woman, even his own best mate, she'd drive a knife across his throat and split him open.

Harry was just done with the hurt the woman continuously gave him throughout their several years of dating- from day one to the point of moving in with one another- and he knew that she could just drive away like she just had, drive off a cliff maybe, and he still wouldn't mind it. If pain was what she fed off of, than he was sick of being her bottle, and it seemed as though she hadn't taken to a glass cup she had to lift by herself. She had made him like this, and so she had to live with her own actions from here on out, and drinking from the bottle he placed his emotions seemed too empty now.

He gazed out the window numbly, not feeling the hurt that he might've usually felt if he was actually feeling at this point in time, watching as she turned behind herself angrily, looking for the traffic that obviously would not come in the street that had been created by magic itself. Smiling sadly, feeling only the pain for bringing pain in general, he gave her a wave as she looked back at him one last time, and he laughed lightly as he watched her gaze back towards him with complete and total hatred. It was obvious that goodbye was beyond the words that she wanted him to say, but this was how it had to be. She had made her bed, her grave, and now it was her turn to lie in it, no matter how unsatisfying it might've been.

And with that, she pulled from the driveway, leaving him only smiling in her absence, a chuckle on his lips and a certain left over feeling in his heart. He felt bad, of course, but because he didn't feel horrible that she was gone from his life never to return, at that was that- no ifs, ands, or buts.

Turning to the table, he took off the glass he had been drinking from earlier, before she had went and exploded, off a piece of paper that he had left there for no particular reason, and the words were more than readable at this point in time. The lettering was in his writing, and it was very legible for once in his life.

Dear Ginny,

The love that we had once shared had been the best thing to have ever happened in my life, and I do not wish to forget the precious memories that we have shared in this lifetime. Never once have I followed the gazes of lust that you claim I responded to time and time again, and never once had I loved another than you- but I realized something today, while drinking my coffee, thinking about our current battle for victory. Always, I have let you win and let you believe what you would about what I do in my time, but I do think that those days are through. Because, while thinking over this same cup of coffee, I have learned something about me, about you, and about us.

The things I have learned about me is more than explainable, since I'm sure that you have thought them out yourself time and time again before we go to bed each night- sometimes in the same bed and sometimes not. You used to claim, and sometimes still do, that I have feelings for other women other than yourself, and I used to think that I did not- but this is where learning comes in. While talking about you to my closest friend, a woman that you call your own close friend some nights as we'd cuddle and talk in the midnight hours, and the words that we've battled one another with time and time again. She spoke to me of the love I began to doubt, and, as usual, understood my actions better than I did myself. Slowly, I found that one thing was leading to another, and our lips had frozen on one another's before we had realized our folly. Since then, I haven't been able to look her in the eye, and she hasn't done the same with me either, leaving us in an awkward point of our friendship, and I know that she is waiting for me to decide whether we should continue or let me draw the line at that simple kiss and continue on lying and 'loving' you.

Obviously, since this cup of tea had happened two mornings ago, I believe that we know of my current decision. But, so far, lying to you, someone who pretends to love me back, is something that I find myself unable to do. I wanted to say that I want to continue this relationship- but with her. Not you.

And I know of…

The letter would continue, although it seemed more than obvious that this particular love letter hadn't been what she had though it had been. And, thus, her getting angry over it all was probably the ideal action of a woman like her. Finding that your beloved no longer loved you was one thing, but finding that he loves another was something that could hurt a woman more than anything. Or, at least, that was what he was guessing, since he remembered fully the door she had slammed.

Sighing, Harry took a sip. Today had been a long day, and getting it over with was a better thought than anything else.

His eyes looked towards the edge of the room, gazing over the black-corded telephone, and a smile came to his face, past debating at this exact point. It was time to make an important call…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

orokid: heh heh... yeah... lol. What do you think? Review, would ya?