Here I sit at Hogsmeade station, waiting for you, hoping. I have convinced myself that you will not come.
Then, I see her across the way, fingers fidgeting with her buttons, the nervous way she bites her lower lip. She has not seen me, but I am convinced that we are both waiting for the same person.
You have been freed from your alleged crimes, but presently I fear you may find yourself trapped again, between us. Now that I see her here also, I wonder, can two people both be wrong?
I have convinced myself that you will come.
The train pulls into the station, steam billowing beneath cold steel. I see the doors slide open into darkness.
I watch, holding my breath expectantly, catching it suddenly as one black boot slowly begins descending the stairs. I can see the hem of your robes now, swirling around your ankles as my eyes slowly rise to meet your face.
You do not see me; your gaze sweeps past me. Do I dare step out of the shadows and risk rejection, or do I let you see her first and never know?
I take one tentative step forward into the light.
Our eyes lock, and we slowly walk towards each other. I reach out, placing my hands upon your chest, to feel you. It has not been so long that I do not remember. I long for a kiss to prove that you are really here.
My hands are crushed between us as you pull me forcefully into you. Our lips meet. I cannot breathe, it seems that you are breathing for me.
I know she is watching. I can feel her hot stare boring into my back. She and I both have tears in our eyes, but for different reasons.