53. It shouldn't hurt to love you

Lunch gave Harry a moment to ponder his situation. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending how one looked at it, his troubles this time weren't of the life threatening variety. Today Professor McGonagall had announced the upcoming Yule Ball that champions, and their dates, had to open for.

Why, why, why? If given the choice, he wouldn't have paid any attention to the ball. There was only one person who he wanted to dance with him, but that was impossible.

The Pale Lady wasn't a student at any of the three schools. But the idea of taking another felt very uncomfortable. At best he would take Hermione or Luna, but they seemed to have gotten dates on their own.

Around him, the guys seemed to be more excited than he. At the moment, they were pointing towards Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons Academy. From what he had heard, she was part Veela, though Harry didn't know for sure.

The boys around him seemed to be entranced by Fleur, some of them went as far as to drool while staring at the girl blankly. "She's a right amazing one, eh?" Questioned one of the guys.

Ron dumbly nodded as he sighed. Even Neville was peeking, although his face was flushed.

"What do you think, mate?" Ron finally directed towards him.

Swallowing some of the sandwich he was eating, he looked Fleur over. He knew virtually nothing of the girl. What little he did know wasn't flattering. On every interaction she had been borderline hostile. Her behavior was most likely caused by the competitive nature of the tournament. The poor attitude degraded what little attractiveness Harry believed she had.

"She's alright", he said with very little conviction. His tone made the others look at him oddly. "What?"

"Mate, are you daft? She looks amazing." Ron finished slowly as though speaking to a child.

At that he had to snort. Ron didn't understand the meaning of amazing or beauty. Glancing again at the girl in question, he saw the same as he did previously. Her visage didn't draw his attention to her. Even the way she walked left much wanting. The faint silvery aura that originated from her hair was interesting, from a magical prospective. Honestly, he could barely understand what they saw in her.

"What do we have here my brother George?"

"I think I have an idea brother Fred. Little Harry has his eyes on a particular girl."

The twins walked up to the gathering of boys during the conversation. There was a hint of mischief in their voices.

"Ignore them, Harry. What kind of girl do you want to ask to the dance?"

It didn't take long for Harry to answer Ron's question. "I want to ask a tall girl with dark black hair. It needs to glimmer in the sun, rather it's curly or straight. She needs to be mature but playful all at once. I want her caring and astute. But most of all, she need to be a friend. Someone you know really cares about you. She shouldn't be effected by my status as the Boy-Who-Lived. That's the kind of woman I would want to take with me to the Yule Ball."

The others looked at him strangely. Even the twins looked at a loss at what to say. Harry merely shook his head and made to leave.

As he walked away from the table, George spoke, "Well that was odd."

On his trek, he ignored a crowd of Hufflepuff students, typically the kindest of them all, jeering at him. None had the courage to look him in the eye when he passed and truly looked upon them. While he was used to it, pain always followed such heavy handed rejection. But he would work pass it and get over it.

He always did.

Instead he tried to figure out what to do with the dance. No matter how he thought about, he wanted only the Pale Lady. No one else was acceptable in his heart. Frustration grew as he clenched his fist, the chiming of his head dress only added to it.

There had been other girls that had asked him, but he turned them down quickly. He had internally thought of all sorts of excuses, they were shallow, it was dishonest, he didn't know the girl and etc. But the truest reason was that they weren't the Pale Lady. They wouldn't laugh with him or point out things he failed to notice.

He wanted so dearly to ask her to come. But he had no means to easily bring her into the ball. The teachers would see that she wasn't a student, and thus he would rely solely on her skills to be able to blend in.

In conclusion, she would be tasked with figuring most, if not everything, out and he was reluctant to do that. A major portion came from his ignorance of how busy she was and what it was she was doing. To spend as much time as she did already must been a task and a half.

As his head dress chimed, time itself seemed to stop, color fading from the world. He could just barely hear the sounds of time harshly stretching, independent to his actions. Ignoring the discomfort, he stopped in front of a plain door. Opening it, he found himself in an abyss. Across the void, sprinkled with stars, was another familiar door.

Stepping boldly, he walked across a bridge of dust trails and grabbed the doorknob. Before he opened the door, his face morphed between worry, fatigue, and self-deprecation. Calming himself down, he opened and smiled at what he saw.

The Pale Lady was merely sitting on her comfy couch, her hair tied in a casual ponytail. If they could see what he could see, others wouldn't dare humor the notion of him with another. And so he locked up his desires, he would not ask. He would not burden her. Caring for another meant that at times one would place themselves second. Harry closed the door behind him.

Surely, Harry wasn't a selfish person. This was obviously the right choice.

So, why did his heart ache so?