The One
A fanfic by She's a Star
To Crystal (pepsiangel on ff.net-check out her fanfic!), who practically got down on her knees and begged me to write more H/G! :)
All of my life, I've always heard about "the one". You know, that special person who makes your heart race and knees go weak. That phrase has always been around. I first heard it when I was very young, barely three years old, in the books of fairytales that Mum would read to me. Prince Charming for Cinderella. The Beast for Beauty. I still remember when I was around five, asking Mum exactly what "the one" was. "Well," she'd replied, "They're that very special person. After a while of knowing them, or perhaps even when you first meet, you realize that you couldn't share your life with anyone else."
"The One" continued to follow me around after that. When I was seven, I overheard Charlie talking about his first girlfriend and how he thought she was "the one". Even my favorite song, Spell on My Heart by Celestina Warbeck, had lyrics about finally meeting "the one".
I never gave much thought to the phrase until my older brother, Ron, started at Hogwarts. At Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, I caught my first glimpse of Harry Potter. After I got over the fact that I'd actually seen HIM, the Boy Who Lived, I realized that he'd given me this strange feeling. To this day I can't describe it. It was just...strange. The feeling bugged me, so I eventually decided I'd felt it just because it was my first time meeting a famous person, and I forgot about it. But then, when Ron came home with long, exciting stories about his adventures with Harry and how brave he was and how he'd defeated You-Know-Who AGAIN, the feeling came back. And then, when Harry came to stay with us that same summer, I realized something-this wasn't just a famous boy who had defeated The Dark Lord, he was it. I'd finally met that one that I'd heard so much about.
For my first two years at Hogwarts, it didn't bug me that he didn't return my feelings. I was perfectly content just thinking about him. But then, watching the third task in the Triwizard Tournament at the end of my third year, I realized something. Seeing Cedric Diggory dead was like a slap in the face, and I realized that Harry could have very well lost his life without knowing how much I cared about him. So that summer, when he came to stay, looking more worried and miserable than ever, I finally got up the nerve.
It was a Sunday morning, and I'll always remember it. The air was warm and light and held a carefree breeze. The twins and Ron were de-gnoming the garden while Harry watched. I had felt so awful, so certain that all that would come of this was embarrassment and humiliation, but I still approached him.
"Harry, can I talk to you?" I'd asked.
He had looked more than a little surprised, and with good reason. We hardly ever spoke, and when we did it was never about anything of importance.
"Sure," he'd replied with a shrug.
I'd felt as though I was going to pass out at any moment, but I still led him to our rickety old porch swing and sat down, then indicated for him to do the same. He did.
"So...what did you want to talk about?" he'd asked.
I'd taken a deep breath and had to force myself not to cross my fingers. "Harry, I like you."
"Er...oh," he'd said awkwardly, looking as though he wished he was anywhere but there.
I had the exact same feeling, and had almost just given up and said, "okay, that's it, you can go now."
But I'd known that I couldn't. What if this was my only chance?
"A lot," I'd added. He'd shifted uncomfortably. "Uh.." I hadn't known where to go from there. "You know what Prince Charming was to Cinderella? What The Beast was to Beauty?"
"You mean her soulmate...the one?" Harry answered, then seemed to realize where the conversation was going. He suddenly looked VERY uncomfortable.
"Exactly," I'd said, hoping he didn't notice how vigorously my hands were shaking. "Well...I think, no, I know, that you're that to me."
Harry had turned very pale. "Ginny-"
"I'm sorry," I'd felt my cheeks redden. "I didn't mean to bug you, I just...I just had to tell you."
Harry had looked positively devastated, and I'd felt my heart sink. Quick as lightning, I'd risen from the swing.
"Wait," Harry'd said. I gingerly sat back down. "It's just," he continued, "It's just...you CAN'T feel that way about me! You CAN'T care about me. Hell, you can't even have anything to DO with me!"
"Why not?"
"Because," Harry said heavily. "Look at what's happened to the people that are around me-my parents were MURDERED, Ron and Hermione have ended up HURT so many times because of ME, and now Cedric is dead just because he KNEW me-we weren't even good friends!" He'd sighed. "Next it could be Sirius or Ron or Hermione or you! I don't want Him to hurt you, Ginny. So just...stay away from me."
And with that, he'd risen and walked away.
"But what if I don't WANT to stay away?" I'd called after him. "What if I'm willing to risk it?"
He never answered.
He never turned around.
I think he cares about me. Sometimes, when I look up, I catch him staring at me, and I just KNOW he's remembering that day, that conversation. And sometimes, though it could very well just be wishful thinking, I think I see regret in his eyes.
I love him, I think. That's a scary thing to feel when you're only fourteen. But I do. And there's a possibility I always will.
And yet I have no clue if we'll ever be together.
That's something you simply can't know the answer to when Harry Potter is "the one".
Disclaimer: Pretty much everything, minus the general idea, is J.K. Rowling's.
A/N: Thanks so much for reading! The idea for this just popped into my head, and I haven't written anything in a while, so voila! I hope you enjoyed it, and I'll REALLY appreciate it if you review!
A fanfic by She's a Star
To Crystal (pepsiangel on ff.net-check out her fanfic!), who practically got down on her knees and begged me to write more H/G! :)
All of my life, I've always heard about "the one". You know, that special person who makes your heart race and knees go weak. That phrase has always been around. I first heard it when I was very young, barely three years old, in the books of fairytales that Mum would read to me. Prince Charming for Cinderella. The Beast for Beauty. I still remember when I was around five, asking Mum exactly what "the one" was. "Well," she'd replied, "They're that very special person. After a while of knowing them, or perhaps even when you first meet, you realize that you couldn't share your life with anyone else."
"The One" continued to follow me around after that. When I was seven, I overheard Charlie talking about his first girlfriend and how he thought she was "the one". Even my favorite song, Spell on My Heart by Celestina Warbeck, had lyrics about finally meeting "the one".
I never gave much thought to the phrase until my older brother, Ron, started at Hogwarts. At Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, I caught my first glimpse of Harry Potter. After I got over the fact that I'd actually seen HIM, the Boy Who Lived, I realized that he'd given me this strange feeling. To this day I can't describe it. It was just...strange. The feeling bugged me, so I eventually decided I'd felt it just because it was my first time meeting a famous person, and I forgot about it. But then, when Ron came home with long, exciting stories about his adventures with Harry and how brave he was and how he'd defeated You-Know-Who AGAIN, the feeling came back. And then, when Harry came to stay with us that same summer, I realized something-this wasn't just a famous boy who had defeated The Dark Lord, he was it. I'd finally met that one that I'd heard so much about.
For my first two years at Hogwarts, it didn't bug me that he didn't return my feelings. I was perfectly content just thinking about him. But then, watching the third task in the Triwizard Tournament at the end of my third year, I realized something. Seeing Cedric Diggory dead was like a slap in the face, and I realized that Harry could have very well lost his life without knowing how much I cared about him. So that summer, when he came to stay, looking more worried and miserable than ever, I finally got up the nerve.
It was a Sunday morning, and I'll always remember it. The air was warm and light and held a carefree breeze. The twins and Ron were de-gnoming the garden while Harry watched. I had felt so awful, so certain that all that would come of this was embarrassment and humiliation, but I still approached him.
"Harry, can I talk to you?" I'd asked.
He had looked more than a little surprised, and with good reason. We hardly ever spoke, and when we did it was never about anything of importance.
"Sure," he'd replied with a shrug.
I'd felt as though I was going to pass out at any moment, but I still led him to our rickety old porch swing and sat down, then indicated for him to do the same. He did.
"So...what did you want to talk about?" he'd asked.
I'd taken a deep breath and had to force myself not to cross my fingers. "Harry, I like you."
"Er...oh," he'd said awkwardly, looking as though he wished he was anywhere but there.
I had the exact same feeling, and had almost just given up and said, "okay, that's it, you can go now."
But I'd known that I couldn't. What if this was my only chance?
"A lot," I'd added. He'd shifted uncomfortably. "Uh.." I hadn't known where to go from there. "You know what Prince Charming was to Cinderella? What The Beast was to Beauty?"
"You mean her soulmate...the one?" Harry answered, then seemed to realize where the conversation was going. He suddenly looked VERY uncomfortable.
"Exactly," I'd said, hoping he didn't notice how vigorously my hands were shaking. "Well...I think, no, I know, that you're that to me."
Harry had turned very pale. "Ginny-"
"I'm sorry," I'd felt my cheeks redden. "I didn't mean to bug you, I just...I just had to tell you."
Harry had looked positively devastated, and I'd felt my heart sink. Quick as lightning, I'd risen from the swing.
"Wait," Harry'd said. I gingerly sat back down. "It's just," he continued, "It's just...you CAN'T feel that way about me! You CAN'T care about me. Hell, you can't even have anything to DO with me!"
"Why not?"
"Because," Harry said heavily. "Look at what's happened to the people that are around me-my parents were MURDERED, Ron and Hermione have ended up HURT so many times because of ME, and now Cedric is dead just because he KNEW me-we weren't even good friends!" He'd sighed. "Next it could be Sirius or Ron or Hermione or you! I don't want Him to hurt you, Ginny. So just...stay away from me."
And with that, he'd risen and walked away.
"But what if I don't WANT to stay away?" I'd called after him. "What if I'm willing to risk it?"
He never answered.
He never turned around.
I think he cares about me. Sometimes, when I look up, I catch him staring at me, and I just KNOW he's remembering that day, that conversation. And sometimes, though it could very well just be wishful thinking, I think I see regret in his eyes.
I love him, I think. That's a scary thing to feel when you're only fourteen. But I do. And there's a possibility I always will.
And yet I have no clue if we'll ever be together.
That's something you simply can't know the answer to when Harry Potter is "the one".
Disclaimer: Pretty much everything, minus the general idea, is J.K. Rowling's.
A/N: Thanks so much for reading! The idea for this just popped into my head, and I haven't written anything in a while, so voila! I hope you enjoyed it, and I'll REALLY appreciate it if you review!