Author's Note: This is extremely short, almost a drabble. I hope you all enjoy it.
-------------------------------
I have
waited for you for so long.
The crowd cheers you, and you respond. You loop and twirl through the air, and
they scream louder. You're their hero, knight in shining Quidditch robes, and I
remember when it was me up there beside you. You made your moves and you chased
the snitch and you won, over and over. And every time you did, your teammates
hugged you, your friends hit you like runaway trains.
They couldn't wait to touch you, step into your aura of victory, feel the
triumph radiate from your skin. You were golden, at that moment, and everyone
wanted you, and everyone wanted to be you. Everyone wanted to be close to you.
I was the only one who didn't, and I bet you wondered why. I bet you thought I
was jealous.
I stood back, most times, and let them have you. And you looked for me, I know
you did. I taught you this game, these rules, and you wanted to hear me say how
wonderful you'd been, that was spectacular, Harry, your best yet, and I said
it. And I meant it. But there was so much more I didn't say.
You made me happy from the moment we met. I needed a Seeker, and you...you were
perfect. I admit I had my reservations. How could you, small as you were and
young, hold your own with players so much bigger and stronger than you? But on
the broom, in the air, there was no awkward little kid. There was you, determined and strong, and ready. And for a long
time, that was what I saw. A little kid with the power to make my Quidditch
dreams come true, and nothing more. But then....then,
oh, Harry, you started to grow up. And my dreams were different.
I told myself it was camaraderie, the affectionate spirit you feel for your
allies, the ones who have fought and won alongside you. It couldn't be anything
else. You were so young, four years younger than me... and a boy. Not even a
man yet, like I thought I was. And you were impossibly beautiful, and when you
looked at me, I saw something shining in your eyes. It's hero-worship, Wood, I
thought. You still wanted to hear my praise, I thought. Lying to yourself can
gain you peace of mind, even for a short time. And then something happened.
You came to me, the night before the Farewell Feast, my last. I was leaving
soon. You wanted to tell me goodbye, you said. You wanted to thank me. After a time,
you fell silent, waiting for a response, and my words were stuck. I couldn't
say what I wanted to, and I couldn't bring myself to say what I was supposed
to. And I saw the hurt in your eyes, and felt the distance between us, the one
I'd put there, because I couldn't stand you being so close. You turned to
leave. And I thought....what did I think? That I was leaving, that whatever
happened I wouldn't be seeing you again for a long time, and just this once, I
wanted to show you some of what I felt. Give you all the attention you'd sought
for the past three years. Tomorrow I'd go back to my life, and my life would go
on, and I'd find a girl to love me and marry me someday....Harry, don't go.
I said it aloud. "Harry, don't go." And you turned back to me and waited,
waited for me to say something, still unsure. I still had no words, and the
silence surrounded us and bled into us. So I gave you what I could. I reached
out for you, and you were already there. You were so close, so close to me, and
my hands told the truth, my heart beat the story, and I knew you knew. It was
in every line of your body, this body that relaxed against me, these hands that made my sighs a benediction. We held each
other, for that brief moment. And then we parted, and we said our goodbyes.
And life went on.