There's always one moment, a moment that, until you look back at it, seems insignificant. A moment that has the potential to change everything forever. A moment that you look back at and pick at every single detail wishing you could go back and change something, everything. A moment that would make you always, always be careful what you wish for.
But only later, after everything has already worked out, do you realize that, even if you could go back, you wouldn't change a thing because that moment was perfect in its own special spectacular way.
"Just leave me alone!" She yelled, stomping her foot. But contrary to her statement he just stood there staring at her, wondering if she had, indeed, just stomped her foot and thinking that if she had she was much more childish than he'd ever thought or expected. But he also couldn't help but think that…
"You're really cute when you do that." He said and she groaned, wondering just how much trouble she'd get in if she hexed him and then thinking that even if she did get in trouble it would probably be worth it and then, and at this point she was getting tired of thinking so much, she wondered how in the world she'd gotten into this situation and wishing that he'd find someone else to fixate on.
"Go away!" She said, trying to put more force into her voice than she'd put into her last yell but finding that it was impossible seeing as she'd already reached her limit for the day and her vocal cords had taken most of the brunt.
"I don't know if I want to." He said, knowing that he may as well have sat in front of a fire while the wind was blowing toward him but he couldn't resist. There was just something about her when she was mad.
"I swear to Merlin, Potter, if you do not get out of here right now, you may never move again." She said, squeezing her eyes shut and hoping with all her heart that he would leave because, in all honesty, in her current state of distress she doubted she would be able to think of a spell good enough to follow through on her threat. That was one of the things she hated about him, he succeeded where all others failed. He could disrupt her focus until she couldn't think straight and what she was best at, hexes, curses, and, most importantly, spells flew out the window. Any other time nothing could block her focus but something about him just got under her skin. Her friends, well most of her friends, said that was a good thing, that the best guys could get under your skin in the best, and worst, ways and that's how you knew that they were good for you, that they were perfect for you. But she never believed them because that was stupid. If someone was perfect for you than what would you have to fight about? The answer, or at least her answer, was nothing, nothing at all. At least, that's how it was with her boyfriend and so she thought that was how it should always be.
All the while, he was staring at her, doubting that she would follow through on her threat (and of course he was right) and wondering if it was smart to continue bothering her when she so clearly wished otherwise. Then he wondered why he kept bothering her when she so clearly wished otherwise, when she so clearly wanted nothing to do with him and then he had an epiphany, a moment of stupidity if you will or a moment of sheer brilliance. She had a boyfriend. Okay, so that's not really an epiphany. But wait for it. There was no reason. If he loved her, and I mean really loved her, like die for her loved her (which he did), then he should leave her alone. Like she'd always asked. Liked she'd always wanted. Because if he really loved her then he wouldn't bother her. He would leave her alone and let her go on with her life without him interfering. Because that would be best, for the both of them. She'd be happier. He was sure he'd be happier, too. Once he got over her. Because he would, of course he would. How could he not?
"Fine." And then he left. He knew that he wouldn't be coming back. But she thought, or maybe she knew, that he would.
Okay, all you people, they were fighting about the Snape incident.
