AN: Since it's been a very long time... I decided to upload this. A picture inspired this and it just stuck in my head for like two days and after being haunted by it, I decided to write this thing.
The link to the picture: chupachup . deviantart art / hp - longing - 69844082 (don't forget to remove the spaces :D)
Harry tiptoed to the Common Rooms, trying to avoid Hermione and Ron. He stuck onto the walls, creeping silently in the shadows with his invisibility cloak.
He kept wearing the invisibility cloak while he was roaming in the castle, trying to remember the path he stumbled on months ago.
He found the path leading to the courtyard and sprinted towards the garden. Many people probably didn't knew the secret path Harry had found and he was extremely grateful for that.
There's a path hidden by an awful lot of bushes. It led to another path with dozens of all sorts of flowers from roses to lilies. The combination of the flowers' scent wasn't unpleasant; it was somehow tranquil and refreshing. After the flowers path, there's a secluded part of the flower garden. The section was fenced with bushes and trees. Inside it, there're lots of portrait statues. There were the four founders and the Headmasters of Hogwarts. Harry never knew what they looked like, but it seemed very interesting to see them carved in statue and you could read their biography below their names.
He liked reading all of their biographies. It was all interesting. He had a particular favourite though...
The man was still alive and well, though he's mildly dour now after the Voldermort shenanigan. He wasn't a man you could call attractive when you first looked at him. Most people would be scared at him. Then again, Harry wasn't "most people".
He noticed the long, elegant hands at first; how it managed to dance gracefully during potion-making. Then he noticed his voice; dark and rich, the smooth baritone and how it seemed to be deeper when he insulted somebody. Then he noticed the hooked nose; alone, the nose would've looked ugly, but for him, the nose made him looked aristocratic. Finally, his hair. Harry always watched how his hair was all greasy during lunch and dinner, but never at breakfast. It was all because the potions' fumes. He always wondered what it'd be like to touch those silky, raven strands...
In overall, he favoured this man. A lot.
And yet...
He couldn't forget the fact that this man loathed him with great passion in spite that Harry had saved him during the Final Battle.
The boy smiled sadly.
He tried relationships. He tried both women and men, yet none of them could see the person behind "The-Boy-Who-Lived". None of them was interested in "Harry".
He knew it was futile and would be unrequited, but he couldn't help it. The hitch of breath, the loud thudding heartbeat, the exploding mass of butterflies in his stomach, and the rush of blood to his cheeks. He couldn't prevent it. Without him knowing, he fell hard and deep. He would often think what would it be like if they had gotten married. He would often daydream of two children: one boy with his hair and his dark onyx orbs and a girl with his dark silky hair and his bright green eyes. They would run around the fireplace during Christmas morning, showing off their gifts while the two of them sat on the couch. He would be looking fondly at the children and pulled Harry closer to his embrace. Harry flushed at the image.
He knew his daydream wouldn't come true. He knew deep down, Severus Snape wouldn't even spare him a glance. He knew he should've stopped the silly daydreams and hopes. It's just that he couldn't. He couldn't do it. No matter how many times he tried thinking about something else, it always ended up with Severus. His thoughts were often occupied with the name.
He stepped closer to the statue in the corner. He looked at the empty stone orbs, imagining it to be the deep onyx orbs. He tiptoed and pressed his lips onto the cold stony one.
He whispered quietly, 'I love you. Do you know that?'
After that he left the garden, leaving his feelings unattended.