Note: Thanks to my reviewers! I've decided to tag on another chapter. I might add a third if I can get round to it!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making any profit from this piece of writing.
Invisible Part 2
I am the sort of person who is easy to miss. I blend in with the crowd, nobody sees me, the one who walks in the shadows with his hands deep in his pockets and his head bent low. It's been that way all my life and I'm resigned to it being that way. It doesn't bother me, truth be told, I never was one to be the center of attention, I'm happy to simply be me. It's true.
It used to be true.
And it's ironic, don't you think, that the one time I hope to grab somebody's attention I suddenly appear to be invisible to them?
I'm invisible to you. Sometimes I think you don't realise I even exist.
You see me to a degree, as a colleague or perhaps even a friend of sorts. I've sat next to you at every Order meeting for as long as I can remember, I made you breakfast last week when you slept in one of the spare rooms, we talk about all manner of things over cups of tea or coffee or a slice of Molly's Victoria sponge – your work at the Ministry, the Order, what to do with Sirius, what we got up to when we were at school, just what Snape puts on his hair to make it so greasy - you smile and laugh with me and yet I'm sure you have no idea what I think of you. You have no idea I really like you because you're so completely blind.
A few times I've caught myself being foolish enough to think that you might not be quite as oblivious as you first seem; when you catch me looking at you during meetings and offer me a covert smile before resuming your attempts to pretend Alastor isn't boring, or when you burst into the kitchen when I'm eating my lunch to announce that we have been paired for Guard Duty again (which is always such good luck because I only dare fix it a few times or risk somebody noticing). You half skip across the room, narrowly avoiding tripping over your feet, and your expression is so utterly delighted and enthusiastic that I think you must truly like me better than everybody else.
But then I remember that you do the same to everybody. You're just young and bubbly, I've not met anybody with quite as much zest for life as you. And the worst thing about remembering is that it only makes me adore you even more.
I don't adore you, not really. I love you. I love everything about you. I love the way your eyes crinkle at the edges when you laugh, the way your lips curve so perfectly when you smile. I love your vibrant clothes and even more vibrant hair and it is all I can do not to try and tangle my fingers in it. I love the way your bottom lip catches between your teeth when you are thoughtful, how your dark eyes glisten when you are mischievous or daring. I love the way it is so easy to talk to you.
I love your acceptance, no matter to what dizzying heights it soars. True, it is probably what has deluded me in the first place, but I'm a glutton for punishment. I know nothing more than friendship can ever come of this, but I'd rather have you as a friend than not at all.
I love the way you say my name. The way you tag wotcher on the beginning to make it sound so natural that it's bordering on domestic. And I love the way I think myself silly and downright ridiculous for even thinking such a thing, because in truth it isn't very silly. In truth it means I really am in love. Because love is a bit silly, isn't it?
It's silly that I love somebody who doesn't even notice me.
And yet I would not have it any other way, because this is the closest I can ever get. Someday you might notice that I stare at you too often, or for too long. You might guess what I feel. And when that happens I will feel both glad and despairing. I will be glad to have you know that somebody loves you as deeply and completely as I do., and if I am absurdly lucky you might just feel something similar But then I shall despair. I'm too old for you, too poor and much too dangerous. No matter what you feel about me it shall have to end the same way. I will have to be invisible once again.