Ironic
A/N: I don't own Harry Potter. Ironic is set a few years after Hogwarts. I got the idea for this from another ff, so if you're reading, sorry. I couldn't help myself. And thank-you loads to Zoe who the story would be worse (and a lot shorter) without.
It had been three years since I had seen Them. I called my old classmates Them now because I didn't like to talk about them. They had driven me to do this, especially Him. He was the worst of all of them. He was my main motive today. The person who I wanted to hurt the most.
I dressed and apparated to Hogsmeade and walked up the long stony path to the cold castle in which I had encased my deepest emotions. I had hidden my pain in it's walls, drowned my sorrows in it's rooms. It had concealed my secret pain for years. It also happened to be the castle where the reunion was taking place. As I walked past Hermione in the great hall, I reached into my pocket and felt the smooth ice metal against my skin. I sat down next to her and Seamus. I was only sitting near Harry because he was with Hermione, the only person who I wanted to spend my last hours with. I could barely stand it, being mere feet away from him, but I knew that she would not part from him, not for anyone, especially not someone as insignificant as me.
Dumbledore stood up and made a short speech. Of course, he involved Harry's defeat of Voldemort in our class's triumphs. Dumbledore sat down and the food arrived. That, I decided, was my moment. This was my big chance. I stood up. I didn't regret this at all. I had the chance to hurt all the people who hurt me so much. The only person who I still showed some sympathy for was Ginny, my little sister, the only person who ever really understood me. She didn't deserve all this pain, but neither did I. I didn't deserve to have to live my life out as a lie.
The memories of Harry and Hermione's wedding flashed through my brain.
"Harry Potter, do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife in sickness and in health until death do us part?" said the vicar.
"I do," replied Harry.
"Do you, Hermione Granger to take this man to be your lawful wedded husband in sickness and in health until death do us part?"
"I do," she said, a smile playing at her lips. The one that I loved, where she knew she was doing something she probably shouldn't. The caught up in the moment smile. For the first time it didn't also bring a smile to my face. It just deepened the scratch on my already wounded heart.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife. The rings please."
That was the worst bit. I gave them the rings to exchange, knowing that I was a part of it, that I helped them. I hid their relationship when they were in seventh year and I tried, I really, honestly tried to overlook the resentment that was bubbling inside me, ready to erupt over the surface at any moment.
When the vicar finally asked if anyone had any reason for these two not to wed I held my tongue. It took all my self-control not to say something. I thought that maybe no one would get hurt if I kept quiet. What I didn't realise was that I'd just be hurting myself. I even half expected her to admit her undying love for me. That was when I realised that I shouldn't have agreed to be Harry's best man. No matter how hard I tried to be happy for him, I couldn't. I couldn't let him take away the one thing I had left.
At a later date, I think, I realised that using me as his best man had been his way of testing me. Seeing where my loyalties lay. Of course I had to play along; I convinced myself that I didn't deserve her, not even her company, as a friend. I told myself that these feelings were wrong. Worst of all, I believed the one thing that I knew was wrong from the beginning: "If I just ignore it, perhaps it will go away." I told myself every night as I began to loose consciousness and drift into my subconscious and memories. And every single one of those memories involved her. They begin at the Yule Ball, with her face, the look of nervousness, waiting for approval. A few years later she told us that she only went out with Krum to try to make Harry jealous. And to think, I thought at the time that there may have been some way that hidden deep at the back of her mind, so far behind all the entwining of fact that she had wanted to make me jealous, without realising. Then the memories completely submerged into unrelated, often nonsensical thoughts. I had memories that had never happened, yet I remembered them so vividly, I could describe them in every detail, from what she was wearing, to what smile she wore, to the glint in her eye, to ever soft touch however fleeting. I recalled each moment. There was one where Harry, Hermione and I were sitting by the lake with Ginny. But, not how we would in harsh reality; we were happy. My left arm was wrapped around Her waist and I was pulling her closer. Ginny's head was resting on Harry's shoulder and she had a quite look of contentment resting on her visage. I could while away hours of depression just sitting and imagining this alternative universe, my alternative life. Sometimes I didn't want to come out. Why would I? Not when reality was so full of problems and heartbreak. And that heart wrenching pain every time I glanced her.
Finally I would reach the climax, my favourite unreal memory, the one where we were alone together. It was at the beginning of the summer holidays, when she first arrived at the Burrow. The vision would start with us sitting on my bed, talking. But, it wasn't my bed as such. No, it was more elegant. The sheets were a red silk that seemed to run over her pale skin like water and the walls were transformed to pure white. It all happened rather suddenly in my mind. I was shocked at my own imagination when I first heard it. I just blurted out, "I love you, you know." And instead of slapping me or looking shocked, she looked resigned, as if she had foreseen it before even I had. And then suddenly, she lunged in to meet my lips. Mine did not protest and proceeded to fill the gap of air between our faces. All of a sudden we were caught up in a moment so forbidden, so painful, but yet that's what made it so pleasurable. Part of me loved her because I knew I couldn't have her. This burning passion finally ignited and it felt like all of my cares, of which there were few that did not involve Hermione, floated away in the smoke.
I looked over to Ginny in her bridesmaid's dress with a similar look of desire as mine in her eyes. Her face was so full of desperate longing. I knew how much this marriage had upset her. It had been killing her slowly from the inside since she first heard about it. Harry had, truth be told, accidentally, broken her heart. I had been there to pick up the pieces. However obvious I found Ginny, Hermione was perfectly oblivious to her feelings toward Harry. That's where our differences were. Hermione didn't know Ginny's feelings. Harry understood mine perfectly.
My mind restored it self back to the present. I pulled the gun out of my pocket. The few in the room who were muggle born let out a gasp out of pure routine. Dad had told me how much muggles feared them. I slowly lifted the gun to my head, it's weight resting in my palm. As it touched my head, I felt a sharp surge of ice cold electricity surge through my body, but it was not physical, mechanical electricity, no, it was pure spun emotion, thin as a thread and volatile as to break at any moment. My life was resting on a tiny button, protected only by the grasp of my index finger. I decided to make a short speech. People would feel guiltier if I directly told them that they had driven me to do this. After all that was the main reason I was doing this; I wanted to hurt the man who had destroyed me.
"Harry," I began with, "The person who has caused me the most pain of all. You have stolen so much from me. I was always in your shadow. I lived in it. You stole my family from me. My parents loved you more than they loved me. You took Ginny from me, only to break her heart and go off with the only person I ever loved. You married Hermione when you knew that I was in love with her. I resent you for that. You engulfed all glory, while I was left with nothing, not even my dignity."
I moved on to Hermione. "When we left Hogwarts, I felt that you stopped caring about me. Before we had common interest to bind us together, teacher dislikes," I glared across the room at Snape, "homework, friends and Hagrid. We just didn't have enough to stay together in the real world. The bond of unity which ran once so strongly through all three of us was gone forever, vanished in the summer breeze. I stayed in touch with Harry only so I could spend short lived moments with you, or glances across the dinner table. I realise that I was the one who stopped all contact after the wedding. I guess I just couldn't bear the pain of seeing you everyday without touching you. I think that I was just too used to playing the loyal friend to Harry to betray him this far down the line. But, somehow I thought that you might try to get in touch with me. Before then I thought you loved me too, even as just a friend. I thought you cared about me or at least Ginny. How could I have been so wrong? As for the rest of my old classmates, although you may have not been directly involved, you never showed any interest in me. I was always just Harry Potter's stupid best friend. Now I'm not even that, I'm no one."
I pulled the trigger. The last thing I ever heard was Hermione's scream. The woman I loved did care about me. And I'd just committed suicide. Isn't that ironic.