Half Way

A/N: One shot... nothing more to say. Well... PLEASE don't leave a flame because I wrote this from my own P.O.V. I know exactly what this character is feeling... because I'm feeling the same. This is the most personal thing I've ever written.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Summary: Do you see what love did to me? Did you see how I could go this whole time, telling a story, and still end up asking more questions than stating facts? The truth is...

Half Way

When you're thirteen love is the most complex and simple thing in the world. For all it has its ups and downs. It goes in different directions and nobody knows exactly why. You've been dating your boyfriend for a week or so, and you tell him you love him. But that's not how it was in the old days. True love didn't come around too much and the three words were sacred. It was like saying You-Know-Who's name. Only the brave dared it. I never even went far enough by saying it when I had met that ebony haired boy. But I knew it must be true. I knew it must be love.

Love either changed over time, or you change. A little bit of both most likely. I'm only fifteen now; but time doesn't change too much over two years. I've been wondering lately, how can you be in love and yet not know what love is? Is it so overwhelming that you can't put it into words and that you know what is it? Is it so overwhelming that you stutter nervously if you don't know how your counter thinks? Is it possible to understand how it works? Is it possible for me to be in love?

You could ask anyone; they'd probably say yes. Oh, I talk about him a lot. I sit with him. I hug him good night; I kiss him on the cheek. And every once and a while I see him touch where I had kissed. But that's just me. I see what I want to see. We're foolish like that. We can't help it. I can tell you all the good things about him that would make you think that he adores me. And... I could leave out all the parts that counter my hypothesis. We are like that. We can't change it; and we don't want to.

False hope, some call it. But that's not even the beginning. I can tell you my personal journey. I can tell you exactly how complex it is. If you think potions is hard to understand, wait until you hear what happened to me. It all started in first year; as most stories do. But not my first year, his first year. He's ahead of my by a year. I saw him at King's Cross Station. He was confused, befuddled... alone. At first I thought it was pity. As young as a ten-year-old seems, I knew the difference between apples and oranges, transfigurations and charms. But love and pity? I knew little of either.

Pity. That's what my family was. We were poor; people took pity but I didn't mind them. We manage. We strong; we're united; we're a family. Love? I know love is what Mum and Dad feel. I know you kiss someone because you love them. That's what's been so wrong. People kiss to kiss. I don't want to kiss someone I don't like. I don't want to kiss someone unless I really like them. Kisses, even little ones, seem so serious in my eye. I won't kiss a guy by pressure or by bait. I won't do it if I know that's the only thing he wants. I know that I have to like someone a whole lot to even have a fraction of what love is.

Mum would always talk about her dates with Dad. About how they'd have so many, one after the other, because they never wanted to be apart. She loved to hold his hand and walk through Diagon Alley just to be in his presence. She wanted to buy him the moon; and him to her. She wanted to have his kids; and she did... there are quite a few of us, actually. I knew my dad didn't rush to say he loved her. He didn't say it after one date; nor two; not even after twenty dates. Mum would have been a little thrown off if he had; and the same with me.

In my second year, being able to decipher between love and pity became extremely difficult. He rescued me, he saved my life. He comforted me as I cried with all the shame I felt. But I was still a little girl to him. He saved me for my brother. I wasn't exactly sure he would have saved me if the two weren't friends. I understood that I was foolish then. I learned different—but not right at this point in my life. Later on I awaited his love. I awaited him to come and sweep me into his arms. I waited for him to leave some kind of message; if not tell me himself. All throughout my second and third years I awaited his love. Only to find that he took a fancy to someone else.

If you know me, you know I wasn't too keen on getting on with someone else. But I lost all my senses of reasoning with him. I don't understand how. Does love do that? Does it make you do things you don't want to do? Does it completely control everything like all the Greek Gods that controlled all the mortals in Greece? I really thought so for a while. I dated. I dated any boy that wanted to date me. Because every time I saw him he was staring at her. Every time I saw her walk by, I saw his eyes follow. He never noticed me stare. He didn't notice me walk away quicker or even stab the food in front of me a little too hard. This is when it gets more confusing: I wanted him to notice... but I'd have to scream out loud if he had.

I had to forget him; I knew. But how easy is it to forget this particular boy? How do I understand that I can't fight my feelings? He can fight his. He did throughout his fifth year, and I watched him. It was more of the same throughout sixth year; this year. How can it be possible to want something and the complete opposite at the same time? How can I sit here, letting you all know my story, when I can't even tell it? How can I want the attention I can't have, but still cringe when he smiles my way? How is it that he notices me exactly when I don't want him to? And sometimes when he does I still find myself debating at whether I want him to stare or look away. When I started dating he didn't really seem to care. He was a bit shocked; Hermione had told me when I asked her. But it didn't really matter because he was always staring at her.

I lost all my principles when I started dating. I lost it all because I was falling for the Boy-Who-Lived; the Boy-Who's-Lost is what we should really call him. He didn't notice my stares, but yet he was able to look at me and make me forget what I had always believed in. He made me snog the boys that I didn't love; I didn't even like them. He made me forget that I'm supposed to be different. That I'm not really who I am. But then I realize that I am who I am because of him. We're all shaped by our friends and pupils who we live around, correct...?

Do you see what love did to me? Did you see how I could go this whole time, telling a story, and still end up asking more questions than stating facts? The truth is... I love you, Harry Potter. I realize that now. I realize that you make me who I am, and I want to be this way. I realize that this is a once in a life time thing. That you have a choice. Yes or no; yay or nay. You can pick me or look again. The offer is here. Regardless of if you love me or not, just know I love you. Know when all your defenses fall I'll be here. Know that when you seem to have lost it all, I'm here still loving you. When you think nobody cares, know I do. Know I'd give myself for you... and to you. I'd die for you, and I'd live for you. By with you... or by staying behind. Know I'll love you. Know I trust you with all of me...

With all of that said I have one question: How is it that I have to climb a thousand mountains, swim a hundred rivers, fly a million kilos, just to get to you... and all you've got to do is smile to get to me?

I held the article happily in my hands as I walked down the corridor. That must have been record speed for me, I decided. I wrote a whole editorial for the newspaper in only fifteen minutes. I was happy with it. Folding it up and putting it into my cloak, I looked up and noticed that Harry, too, had the parchment in his hand. He was walking towards me, and I didn't know whether to smile or not. Another one of those mixed signals... smile or frown... laugh or cry. He stood in front of me and handed me a piece of parchment. He smiled genuinely, a smile I hadn't seen in a long time; then, after pulling me into a bear hug he strode down the corridor and out of sight.

I pulled myself out onto the grounds, having the sun burn my fair skin. I opened the parchment and saw that it was a letter from Harry.

Hey, Gin

I know this letter seems little, compared to the big article you wrote for the newspaper. Don't blush... I know you are; I know you two well. (I giggled at this, covering my burning cheeks) I know... this isn't a very appropriate way for me to tell you what you want to hear. I could tell you in person. I know you're thinking I should. But imagine me doing so! How could I counter your article? You know I can't, but I'll try.

I hate to be selfish, Gin. But... you're the only person I mind being second to. Maybe I can't write a good story, article or potions essay. But I don't mind for once being out shown. I'm laughing as I write this because I know you're thinking that I never want to be in the spot light; that's true. But how could I not want to be known for something other than the Boy-Who- Lived... or the Boy-Who's-Lost, as you so kindly put into your article? Okay... okay... enough stalling. Get on with it, Harry. I know that's what you're thinking. Okay... this is what I wanted to say:

I blush whenever someone says your name.

....

Okay, so that was part of what I wanted to say. Not saying that that's not true. Just saying that this is, truly, TRULY what I wrote this to say. I wanted to thank you for pushing me into it. Your article made me act. It made me want to tell you that I understand your feelings. I understand what if feels like to think the simplest of situations odd... Though I wish I could tell you why we do that, all I can tell you is that I feel the same way. I feel exactly the same...

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

It's about time I told you...

About time I let you know...

I've longed to be the one to hold you...

And it's about time I started to show...

I love you

Love,

Harry

I look back up at the thresholds and I see Harry staring at me; leaning against the wall waiting for me. I wiped a tear from my eye and started smiling as I walked towards him. And for once he met me half way; on feelings, on love, and on life. I know that never again will I walk anywhere alone. He'll meet me half way.