It took me a while to say it out loud, but I did.

It had been hanging off the tip of my tongue ever since I met you. Ever since I laid eyes on you: unruly hair, black as a crow's feather and impossible to calm; brilliant green eyes that mirrored exactly what was on your mind; bisque, Quidditch darkened skin that shone with the gold that is part of what you are -Gryffindor.

The first time that I knew I wanted to be near you. Wanted to be something to you, maybe a friend. But you didn't. You never wanted me as anything, not as an acquaintance, not as a friend, nothing at all. I'm right, aren't I?

And I've wanted to tell you this for a long time. I wanted to be something to you after I said this, and what has it made me, Harry? Would you tell me if I asked?

I want to know. You let me know that you didn't like me at all. Do you remember what you said? What you said to tear me up into shreds, rip me apart so that I would never feel anything towards you again? I don't think you do. But I do. I remember everything you say to me.

It's hardly just coincidence that I do, Potter. You could call it an obsession. You could call it stalking. I call it something near *pain*. Utter, unbearable *pain* because I was never, and never will be anything to you.

Has what I said made a difference to that? Will just merely knowing you and taunting you and flying with you out on the Quidditch field the closest I'll ever get to your mind? To your heart? What do you feel for me? What do you feel for me *now*?

"I *hate* you, Harry Potter."

Do you feel something for me now, Harry? Am I something to you now? Would you tell me if I asked?

...Harry?