A Deeper Shade of Purple
By Myriad Dewdrop
Disclaimer: I'm not JK Rowling, I don't profit from this, if I did – you'd know because then my name would be on the books.
Summary: After Deathly Hallows Lavender has something to say. Oneshot
Perhaps this is soul bearing, I refuse to care either way because I'm going to do it. I'm going to write this down.
Ron,
I love you. I try to think it's just as a friend, and in reality I think it is – most of the time. But I have wanted you. I have. I've looked at you and yes, - I've imagined us together. Of course my actual dreams are tame, which leads me to believe that I truly care for you – as a person, a friend. I don't want to steal you, to rip you away from your wife. I want us to know each other, like best friends would. And I guess that's where you come in. You're so closed – to me, and even to others. I think the frustration from that has lead to the moments in my mind that are basic demonstrations of a horny teenager. I want us to be so close, and I suppose if that can't happen in the way I want it to, then the physical aspect of things kicks in. Because maybe, just maybe I'm a bit silly that way. Maybe I think if you can't show interest in me as a person, then maybe you can show interest in my body, and we can get close that way. But I suppose even then my thinking's flawed. Because the truth is sex doesn't really signify closeness anymore, does it? No, you can flop around on top of a person for half an hour and then go your separate ways, I suppose. No emotional connection required. I guess I needed to write this, because the truth is I'll probably never tell you any of this. You know, I've tried very hard to get close to you, to know you. And I guess I've made progress since you don't hate/ignore me anymore. But I don't know, you know? Sometimes I've felt like there was something there that you weren't saying – something so mind-blowingly important that it would change the dynamics of our relationship forever. It's a shame you never come up and talk to me. I don't bite, really. And I guess I always was the one to come up and talk to you – but it's tiring talking to a wall. Sooner or later the lack of response starts to drive you mad. I've melted your walls completely at least twice, and I liked the man I saw. But it's hopeless, isn't it – I feel all out of sorts. Always, around you. I feel as if you're piercing me with your eyes, and that my soul does not live up to your standards. Your expectations. You really have made me feel like shit about myself sometimes. Whether you knew it while it happened, or not. I don't think even I knew that until I wrote it down. Don't think I admitted it to myself. I feel better now that I wrote all this, admitted it all, plain and free. You are my love – someone I love, and have loved for a very long time. I just don't know what that means anymore, what will happen now. Will you believe in me when I say we can be the best of friends? We will be, I hope. I know I must stay positive – or I'll never have a chance.
-Lavender
