The Nights

By: orokid

Author's Note: Hiya! I know it's been a while since I wrote something, and I know that I probably should continue my other chapter stories that I've just begun, but I'm having major writer's blockage right now. The fact that I started to write anything at all made me delirious. Lol. So… yeah… Here ya go! Lol.

Rating: T

Genre: Angst/Romance

Warnings: Uber angst! And a hint of romance… My best recipe. ((Grins)) PS- the rating might go up. If I feel like it that is. I'm not that good to write lemons yet, but it's always worth a try once, right? Lol.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters that can and will be in this fanfiction.

CHAPTER ONE

Confrontation

Harry didn't know what to do as he looked at her, but his initial reaction had been to leave his mouth hanging open. Probably not his best action, but it was all that he could truly think of doing without making even more of a fool out of himself. Truthfully, he was doing a very good job at that on his own, so he shouldn't really add onto it, right?

Bloody Hell, he was probably the most nervous soul upon the planet right then, and he was about ready to shake apart under the pressure of everything around him. And these were merely examples of certain moments in his life:

One moment, he could be waiting her, watching every piece of her sway with the morning breeze. He could watching how the sun could compliment her features in a way that could make a man fall to his knees and plea with God to make her his. He could be seeing her do the most obnoxious thing, or even the most usual thing she'd ever done in her life.

The next moment, he would find her beautiful, would want her soul to intertwine with his in every meaning there was to him. He would see her as a different person, bringing life to the dreary world that surrounded the normal man. His eyes would see a woman blessed by what gods there might be and mother earth herself.

After that…

He'd feel his entire body quake at her eyes as she would smile at him, or as she would wake and say 'hello' to a passing friend. His words would be lost, stuck in his throat where all the other things he wished to tell her remained locked inside of him. His heart would pound so fiercely, that he had often worried that she might've been able to hear it. He'd worry whether or not he had brushed his teeth that morning, and even if he had tried to comb his unruly hair as well. His mind would race in all directions- usually not the ones that made the inside of him calm and collected- and he'd be in between saying 'hello' and 'just got here', only to make it come out as 'jello'.

Right now, it seemed to be only yet another example in his years of experienced mutterings, of the days after nights he couldn't stop wishing he could watch her as she lay in her own dreams.

But also, at the moment, he had gotten himself to think the things he would usually tell himself-

It didn't matter much whether his actions told the world his biggest secret, all because it wasn't him that she was doing this for. It didn't matter whether his heart would burn, as well as beat as quickly as a bullet could fly, every time she would look at him with that same look she always gave him, with that same friendly sparkle inside of them. It didn't matter how his heart seemed to shatter into millions of pieces every time she would find a suitable excuse to go and be with him, the male he hadn't a trouble with until recently, rather than the one who had done just about kill himself for her safety.

What did matter was that every person, other than himself, got just what they wanted- whether it be how good his other two friends looked together or how he and his best mate's little sister looked even better. What mattered was that his pleas were always left unanswered, leaving him alone most nights wondering where his childhood had gone, and wondering why he couldn't get something good back for all that he had to witness and reverse.

And so on and so forth… Obviously, since the day Harry had been born into this world, he hadn't thought much of himself. But, to tell the truth, there were always good reasons as to why.

One: He had been orphaned when he had been very small. The boy had witnessed a murder when he had been granted his first birthday, thus somehow messing with his mind at an early age, showing him that his life was flexible and that it was short. Although he didn't quite remember the events exactly, he knew enough of it, since he had been shown their screaming forms by lifeless forms one, in his community, called Death Eaters.

Two: He had been raised by a couple who had a son the same age as him, and had constantly shown love to the one while ignoring the other- and, to tell the truth, he had been raised knowing himself to be that 'other'. Many nights, he had gone to bed without a meal in his stomach, or even a bruise in places he'd rather not name, all because he couldn't remember any of the names. All he knew was that, over the first decade he had lived his life, every inch of him had had a welt or bruise upon it.

Three: After being granted knowledge of his heritage, he had gone to a wizarding school- only to be told that his life would be in danger for the rest of his years. He had been told, at the age of eleven, that his parents had been murdered, rather than having died in a car crash as his aunt had told him time and time again. He knew, as a boy reaching adolescence, that there was an evil man searching for him, only to give him the fate that had befitted his mother and father.

Well, there were more reasons, but, truly, he couldn't think of any right then. His mind had stopped momentarily, like it always had while he was watching her so closely, it seemed almost as though he was a stalker. Sometimes, he thought it would be a better outcome than the outcome he was sure to have now. The reason-

The girl he had been watching for all this time, who had been sitting at that seat at that desk, was his closest, most trusted friend. That gave more trouble to him than anything else he had conquered over his past years.

And another problem was this: Harry was in love with her, his best mate, but she was in love with his other good friend, yet he was in love with a girl that he used to tease constantly, but that girl seemed to love him despite his attitude towards her. Quite Shakespearean, don't you think?

Anyway, while he fought through the battles his mind was giving him, like always, he still had no clue as to what to say to her. Of course, there were those words that begged to break down that locked room in his throat and take that leap of faith, but they wouldn't budge, and the door wouldn't break. Not when he saw her like this…

One might think that 'this' could be something like wearing clothes that could make one's eyes pop out from their sockets, or even wearing make-up, like those muggle girls do. No, no… To tell the truth, 'this' was actually just her dressed in her usual pajamas, her hair awry and her eyes carrying the burden of sleepless nights. 'This' was the look she gave her paper when she didn't quite know what to write, or how she was currently turning to look at him as he stood transfixed in the stairway. 'This' was the smile she was giving him, recognizing his presence, patting down the seat beside her in a friendly way so he would join her.

In all aspects, 'this' was Hell to Harry Potter.

He, of course, gave that smile he always did, as if he were saying 'as you wish', and bowed his head a little so to hide from her the blush that was creeping onto his cheeks. He knew that he had to get rid of it soon, since his feet were fast approaching her, despite whether he wanted to right then or not.

Although, instead of finishing the act she wished him to do, the young man shook his head 'no' silently. He hoped that she would not take offence to his action now, as he turned back around, taking his first step back up the stairs. Sighing to himself, he tried to make it seemed like he was irritated with himself- especially when he could see the form of the other boy sitting up in his bed with his arms crossed, mad about something or another.

Maybe, when he was older, he could learn to overcome himself and tell her the secret he did not wish to share with anyone as of yet. For now, it wasn't that time, and he doubted that it ever would be in this year.

The other boy in the room, although pretending in the darkness and silence to be asleep, obviously had other plans for his friend, who had just slipped back under the covers of his four-post bed. It didn't matter to him whether or not Harry would be happy with the arrangements, and that was all because he knew it was for the young man's own good.

"Night, Ron", the dark haired teen said to the silent room, turning onto his side- away from his friend, as if he had something to hide.

To tell the truth, the other boy didn't seem to mind that his awake status had been noticed forced up- in the happiest voice he could muster- a smile and the words to reciprocate what had been said to him. "Night, Harry."

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Author's Note: So what did you think? To tell the truth, I just sat down in front of a computer and used some of what I had written before. There had been parts I had written, but I'm thinking of adding them in the next chapter. Heh heh… ((Grins))

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