Watching you 2 – HP

I hated you. Truly and from the bottom of my heart. In my childishness I even wished you harm. I'm not proud of this, but I was young and didn't understand why you hated and tortured me. It seemed it wasn't even my fault, you hated me before I spoke my first word to you – granted, my first sentence was 'I don't know', but still. I saw your hate, how you reveled in the power to harm me, but through the years I also saw you in the corners and almost out of sight more than once. At first I thought you just wanted to catch me breaking rules. But you were always near when a true danger reared its head. And over the years, while the detentions, and minus point didn't decrease, and your scowl stayed firm on your face, I saw something change.

I couldn't tell what it was, and I didn't really care, but it kept gnawing at me. Even if a negative, but you were a permanent part of my life, and that permanence broke. You changed. In my fourth year was, when I first noticed it, but I just had neither the energy, nor the time to investigate, and I was heavily denying that I even cared.

In my fifth year though, it almost came handy when I couldn't stand it anymore and I had to take my mind off my life sometimes. So I started watching you, from the corner of my eye. I started analyzing you, from head to toe. How you walked, how you held yourself, your body language, your mimicry, your words and actions. I couldn't pinpoint the change while I was searching the surface, but once I looked into your eyes, I saw everything. I saw hurt, apology, determination, and care. And in that instant, my hurt from all the things you've done changed to hurt for what you had to do.

I didn't even realize myself how my opinion changed. It wasn't that I wanted to be friends or anything, but I felt you were kin. You had to go through so much, but while I did so before everyone's eyes, you covered anything that happened to you.

I kept watching, when I could, when you were near, and when I could, I watched your eyes. But I couldn't risk getting caught; you had your reasons to hide, so I pretended not to know anything, not to care. And nobody caught me. Not even you, I saw the same apology there every time, the one you thought you couldn't show or tell me.

In sixth year I felt myself longing to talk to you, to tell you I knew, to show you that you weren't alone. While I had little time with all my responsibilities and with my fascination with the Prince, I still saw the way your teaching changed with your new subject. I saw that, while still strict and sarcastic, even acidic to the students, you were more relaxed. When I thought back, it could be because we couldn't melt our cauldrons and limbs, we couldn't blow ourselves up, or poison ourselves. Yes, the danger was still present, with inattentive kids and their reckless wand waving, but we had more experience with that. I also saw that your confidence in this was just as great, which wasn't that much of a surprise, since you saved me countless times already. But you were surlier. You were a walking black cloud practically. I could almost see the tons of weight they placed on your shoulders, and you, squaring yourself, carrying on and looking for most as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

The end of the year and Dumbledore's death shocked me, tore me apart, and I reacted instinctively, blaming you even if later I realized, that wasn't your choice. I saw the signs even then, but I had to calm down to analyze and understand them. Your actions, determination and situation gave me the strength to concentrate on my mission.

The next year was long, full of frustration, anger, helplessness, and grim determination. We knew we had to finish the hunt, there was no other way. But the thing that left me with the greatest impression was seeing you in the Shack at the final Battle. Only saving you by luck. It shocked me bad, that were we to not have a bezoar or would Hermione not learned some basic healing for us, you would've died.

Seeing your memories made me want to cry, and scream and thrash like a little kid, not wanting to go to bed early. But I went, only I went to confront my death.

I was never more grateful for having Neville as a friend. He made Voldemort's demise possible – so maybe it wasn't really all my work, as the prophecy claimed – and sheer luck made me succeed. Still, the damage was extensive. So many dear to me were dead. I saw everyone seeking out their family, licking their wounds, crying for those we lost. I saw the Weasleys together, Hermione in the midst of them, hugging Ron. I was happy for them, but I didn't feel like I belonged there. I had to go back, and retrieve you. Yes, you wouldn't die in a few hours or minutes, but you still needed medical attention and I was confident that if I was the one who brought you back, you'll have what you need.

With all the evidence you didn't even have to stop teaching – I didn't know if I was amused by this or relieved. Compared to all my previous years, eighth was peaceful even boring. I was still watching you, slowly shedding your masks, if not all, at least a few. Becoming more mellow, – not that others caught on – more fair. And on my nightly wanderings, I saw you on the grounds, just walking around, slowly breathing the fresh air, feeling the nature around you. I realized that with all your duties you were forced to stay in the dungeons all the time, and now feeling the freedom, the peace, you savoured it. I was amazed, mesmerized and made me watch you more. I accompanied you countless times on the ground, reevaluating my views on you.

The lines on your face decreased, making you years younger, more your actual age. Your hair was more manageable without the continuous brewing, not shiny or silky, but I saw the improvement. Your shoulders were no longer tense due to the war, but only slightly because of the idiots you taught. Your posture straighter, head not defiantly held high, but looking forward, seeing what, I still don't know.

After years of watching I felt close to you, confident that I know you, but my astonishment couldn't be avoided when I first saw you without your teaching robes at our nightly escapade. It hammered home that you were a human, a man. And fuelled my desire to get to know you.

When I saw you smile at me on graduation day, it was a moment's instinctual move that I'll never regret. Just one second and I was standing before you, softly kissing you.

It was the best brainless thing I've ever done.

A/N: I hope you like this little thing. Feel free to review, criticize, or anything.