Apology
You always stood alone. Even when you were surrounded by your countless adoring fans, you fitted into their group like a hippogriff did amongst flobberworms. I supposed that was why the first time our eyes met inside the library, I showed you a place where you could hide.
You reminded me of him - the way you cringed at the hordes of unrelenting fans, the way fame spoke nothing to your heart. You knew you were good at Quidditch and wanted to do something in the sporting circle, so you joined the Bulgarian team and led your country to the finals. I was there, you know. I watched you fly.
Just like how you watched, unblinking, as Harry soared the skies on his Firebolt, navigating past the Hungarian Horntails, and eventually getting the golden egg.
He flew well, didn't he?
"...Maybe."
You never liked it when I started talking about him. Was it jealousy, or was it the small bubble of ego you often try to hide?
It could be both.
Maybe.
So that could be why, that day, in the library, when you asked me out to the Yule Ball… I had expected it.
I said yes.
Now, looking back, I've only just realised how much I was using you back then, just to incite reactions from two of my friends… Yes, the two of them.
I'm sorry -- but, still, look it this way...
At least… At least, for that one night, you weren't alone anymore.
owari.
Notes: I have no shame is saying that I have not written the Harry Potter fandom in a very long time, or the fact that this was rushed for a writing camp I attended about seven months ago -- we were supposed to write a story about a character that everybody knows, and who else should I pick but...
If you liked this story - surprises of surprises, maybe you'll like to check out an old fic I'm pretty proud of, with good comments? The Boy Next Door, under the pen-name Whispering Hope, story ID 2167523.
Cheers.