Title: Too Late
Summary: Harry finally gets it.
Note: This is just a bit of drabble. A drop in the bucket of my dry spell.
And it's hard sometimes.
You think you know a person inside and out. Think you're an expert in your own right on this single person, only to find out one find day, while your walking back from class, that all the years of hatered and bitterness and fights in the hallway weren't real. That they never happened.
Oh sure the punches were thrown, the words exchanged, but the feeling behind them - that's what makes it not real.
Because you realise suddenly, much to your horror, and (suprisingly enough) excitement, that that silver gaze never held loathing or contempt but longing and passion and hurt, because you, yes you Harry Potter, where the one who pushed him aside and you hurt his pride but he never stopped loving you anyway - though his pride would never allow him to tell.
And despite all this, the sudden realisation that everything was a farce, that you've been lying to yourself for seven years . . .
It's too late.
Perhaps it always was.
