MILES TO GO BEFORE I SLEEP

Summary: Ever since their first day at Hogwarts, Harry Potter - the Boy Who Lived - and Max Moody - granddaughter to the infamous Mad Eye Moody - have been best friends. As they grow up, they realize that they might be connected by more than just friendship. The teenangers find themselves in a difficult situation, though, since Harry's supposed to be in love with his girlfriend Ginny, and Max knows she will make everyone unhappy if she gives in and admit her love for her best friend.
All too soon, it becomes clear that their fates are linked even deeper, though, since Harry's destiny can only be fullfilled with Max' talents. When the war breaks out, the two have to overcome every emotion they have known so far - - - for the greater good.

Part I


"We shouldn't be doing this!" Why were these words coming out of my mouth? "We really shouldn't!" Because I knew what I did was simply wrong. What we did was wrong! "We…" But his lips met mine again, and our tongues intertwined – making it impossible for me to protest.

I felt his hands on my waist, and my skin broke out in goose bumps under his fingertips. No, he isn't supposed to do this! I'm not supposed to enjoy it! It's not supposed to feel so good – so right! My body starved for his touch. Gently, his fingers skated over my ribs and stopped right under my breasts, as if he was unsure if he was allowed to go further.

"Stop it!" I broke the kiss. Not because I didn't want this – but because I wanted it too much.

"I'm sorry." He drew his hands away slowly.

"We have to go back, Potter," I whispered and turned to the door, grabbing for the knob. He stood behind me. I could hear him breathe. I could feel his presence like an aura of heat warming my back. Ants crawling up my spine.

"Moody," he said, and his voice never sounded so sad before. So powerless.

I left the room and dived into the noisy crowd in the common room without turning around. I fled. I threw myself into that mass of joyful, happy people, and I thought I had never felt so awful before. Among all these students, I felt completely lost and alone.

"There you are!" A muscular arm wrapped around my shoulder. Warm against my side. "Where have you been?"

Dean smiled at me, and I forced myself to smile back, even though I felt nauseous.

"Just… in the backroom. Looking for more butter beer," I explained hesitantly.

He was too drunk to notice the uneasiness in my words. I was surprised he was still able to talk without lulling. "Missed you."

A good girlfriend would have said something like: 'Missed you, too.' But a good girlfriend also wouldn't lie or kiss her best friend or let him touch her the way Harry had just… No! I forbade myself to think about it.

Dean dragged me over to a group of his friends. Seamus shot me the same nasty glance he has given me on a daily basis ever since Dean and I got together. Great! Even when drunk, Seamus was still the same dick!

He tried to engage Dean in a conversation about football, knowing this was something only the two of them shared. Honestly, it was okay for me that Dean and Seamus were such close friends and had about seven thousands of insider jokes. Most of those, I have to admit, I didn't even want to understand. I, after all, had a lot of secrets, too, which I shared with Harry, Ron and Hermione. Well, and now, I also had a thing with Harry I couldn't talk about to anyone.

But Seamus was unhappy anyway, because even though Dean talked to him about Manchester United, he also had his arm wrapped around my shoulder. If Seamus had asked, I could have told him that I wasn't very pleased about this either. It was so… possessive.

There I was, in the middle of a crowd again, and Lavender Brown tried to choke me with her eyes. I know what you think, I told her in my mind, I know you despise me. My eyes wandered off to an armchair near the fireplace. Ginny was sitting there, leaning against Harry's shoulder with a serene smile on her face. And Harry? He looked at me, too. He starred at me as if I was the ultimate traitor, as if I had chosen for things to be that way. As if there was no beautiful red-haired girl by his side, adoring him with a child's need of protection.

I shook my head. No, Potter, I thought, you've chosen Ginny already. I'm not a broom or something you can trade when you're sick of your first choice.

And I was Dean's. He was the one who asked me to go to the Yule Ball with him the day we learned about the event. I wasn't his back-up plan, Potter – he didn't come to me and begged me to go with him for our friendships sake so he wouldn't embarrass himself. That's what you did.

I wasn't Dean's best friend since the moment we first met. He wasn't the boy I helped saving the Philosopher's Stone. I didn't need to assure him that I, too, could feel the presence of Slytherin's monster and believed him unconditionally. We didn't sit huddled together in a corner in Hagrid's hut, concealed by the Invisible Cloak, watching our friend getting arrested and Dumbledore being sent away. No night spent in the Howling Hut with Dean, discovering secrets and witnessing events that would change our lives and future forever. He was neither the one whom I helped surviving a tournament he was too young for, nor the one who saved me from Barty Crouch in return.

Damn you, Potter, that was all you!

Dean was the one who first kissed me under a mistletoe – really kissed me.

And it took me almost five years to realize that you should have been that one, too, Potter.

"What are you thinking?" Dean's words catapulted me back into reality.

"Nothing," I said a little too hastily.

Seamus was still glaring. "Anyway, I think they played well and…"

A scream interrupted dearest Seamus, and honestly, I didn't think it was a pity. We all turned our heads to see Ron lying on his back in the centre of the common room. Too much fire whisky, I diagnosed with sympathy. The mindless dwarfs that happened to be our fellow students all starred at him with a mixture of delight and shock, and the only one who stepped up to help was Hermione. The best friend you could have. The best friend I ever had, certainly.

She tried to get him onto his feet, and he just dropped back onto the floor.

"I'll help you, Mione," I said.

"It's okay, I'll do this." Dean grabbed Ron under his armpits and managed to stand him up straight again. "Come on, buddy, let's get you to bed." He smiled at me as he dragged Ron up to the boys' dorm. Dean. The sweetest boyfriend you could have. He even tucked your drunken friends in for you. Definitely the sweetest boyfriend I ever had.

Hermione left the common room, too, frustrated, and Harry followed her, probably glad to have a reason to escape Ginny for a while.

"Ron can be so embarrassing sometimes," Ginny told me as I walked over to her.

"I know what you mean." I tried to laugh, but the knot in my throat wouldn't let me.

"Dean's a sweetheart, though."

"Yeah. He… really is."

"And you're such a cute couple!" She chatted on as if we were at a private tea party. "I swear you're the most adorable couple in the whole school. He's popular and handsome, and you're just so pretty! Everyone says that, Max."

I don't care what everyone say, I thought, because I hate everyone!

Ginny was so sweet that I was sure I would get diabetes any minute. "Believe me, Gine, there is no other dream couple than you and Harry. You're… perfect." The word cut into my larynx.

Dean returned without Ron before I could hurt myself with more words. "Thank you," Ginny said.

"No problem." He put his arm around me. "Wanna go for a walk, Max?" He knew better than to give me stupid nicknames. He knew I hated being called "love" or "sweetheart". He knew me. And he really tried to make me happy.

"Sure." We said goodbye to Ginny and sneaked out through the portrait hole. We walked through the deserted hallways in silence. Me because I still had to fight the image of Harry and his hands on my skin, and he because… I didn't know, and I didn't care back then.

Only when we had made it out of the castle and breathed in the fresh night air did he speak up. "It was getting kind of… crowded in there."

"Yeah. Kind of."

He held me against his side as we walked. Soft moonlight gave his face an even more handsome expression by softening his features. "Things are getting kind of weird with Umbridge around and all," he said.

"Yeah. She gives me the creeps."

"But DA, that's a good idea! You and Harry, you're great teachers."

"Thanks."

"And you're a great kisser." We stopped and he bent down to softly put his lips onto mine. I felt his hand slipping under my shirt and slowly – very slowly! – wandering up my back.

I buried my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. I loved him. Or at least, I liked him a lot. I didn't want to hurt him. He, too, could make excitement rise in my stomach. I longed for him, too. I enjoyed his jokes, his easy manner. I loved spending hours alone with him by the lakeside.

We were a perfect couple. Looking at it from today's point of view, I knew I could have been happy with Dean. I was – for some time, at least. But I guess we just weren't meant to be. He wasn't meant for me because I was too different. He was everything I wasn't: Normal and loveable, caring and uncomplicated. Naïve enough to see me as a better person than I actually was.