The Other Woman
I always knew id lose him, there was someone else who had a claim on him, a pull that he just couldn't ignore. It was there in his eyes every time he was talking to me, holding me, kissing me, they were always right at the back of his mind.
There was the cancelled dates, where I was left standing waiting for him to turn up, only to return to the common room to find him in some in depth study to increase his chances with them. I couldn't complain, every time I tried to he just flashed a winning smile at me and said I had nothing to worry about. But not even the twinkle in his eye could hide the truth
Id always loved him, he was my hero. I worshipped him from afar, watched every little thing he did, was close to being called a stalker. My first glimpse of him caused me to go, in Fred's words 'all warm and gooey' and yet I was only 10 years old. I knew then id found my soul mate. Of course by the time I saw him next twelve months later, id convinced myself I was in love with him. I sat watching him eat or playing chess with Ron or chewing the end of his quill whilst trying to complete essays or….. well you get the idea. And then at the end of the year he became my hero when he literally saved my life, and this just caused me to love him more. That was also the year I met my competitor, and I knew what he saw in them. I was mesmerised, excited and disappointed all at once.
The next two years, our paths crossed and we were sort of nearly-friends and despite various members of my family teasing me about 'the boy who saved me' I never told anyone how I felt. There were other boys, but whilst I was holding them, kissing them, my mind was on him- where was he, what was he doing. Well I guess I know how the boys felt now then.
By his fifth year I had an acceptance that he just wasn't going to be mine. That he'd always see me as his best friend's kid sister. And strangely that made things easier – I could actually talk around him, be myself, so the pain was made easier by the fact I could now be his friend – hang out with him, Ron and Hermione. So, all in all, a bittersweet year. The year ended with a group of us trying to get into the Ministry of Magic to rescue Sirius – he wanted to leave us behind, but I was adamant, I had to go to protect him, although it ended up with me terrified and him protecting me.
His sixth year was when everything happened. I was his friend in my own right. I laughed and enjoyed myself and then after one hell of a Quidditch victory, he kissed me. He kissed me. All my Christmas and birthday presents rolled into one. The next few months were magical and yet, still I could feel the presence of someone else. I tried to pack as much in frantically, suspecting that something was about to go wrong. And it did. Death eaters attacked, we fought, Dumbledore died. My relationship ended.
He tried to justify it, said he was protecting me. I wanted to scream at him that it didn't matter, we could see it through together but his eyes showed me that he couldn't be changed. He was leaving me for them. He had to go after Voldermort and he had to go alone – well without me. I didn't have the stubbornness of Hermione to tell him I was going to, and I wasn't sure I could cope with saying too much anyway. So you see the other 'woman' won. Harry chose to go after the person that invades his dreams, that interrupts his every thought during the day.
I suppose you can't lose what you never really had. So goodbye Harry, I love you and I believe I always well. Go after them with my blessing and I'll be waiting when you get back. Go kill Voldermort and when you have, when you're ready to love me, I'll be here.