09/08/11
But why did he feel so miserable? He remembered a moment in time when he thought it would make him happy. Oh, and it had, for a time. Truly… right? Why wasn't he so sure anymore? It wasn't fair. Things had been so simple before. Was there a moment when everything had changed? Or had it been slowly happening, all this time? He couldn't retrace his steps back far enough to figure out what exactly had led him here. Where had the wrong turn first been? And he could see Lavender's mischievous eyes when he closed his own. He wanted to shut out what he'd done, but dreams only led him closer to the truth all over again. He'd sit up late and remember when it had been Hermione's side he'd been sitting by, her eyes he'd gazed into, the excuse of concentration on her intelligent words keeping his secrets hidden beneath the surface. Like always. But distance between his days and words spoken from a tongue he held captive made it harder to imagine that he'd find his thigh pressed to hers ever again, heads bent over Hogwarts, A History. Was it all his fault? Had he thrown something away that he hadn't even known he'd possessed? Or had she always been this distant, really? If he could have looked into her heart, would he have ever found what he used to let himself hope for? But he'd been thinking about this all wrong, hadn't he? It didn't matter if her heel rested against his shin because she was distractedly absorbed in her latest Arithmancy paper… or because she loved him. Either way, it was her… next to him. And he needed it that way. Always. Well, he had a lot of work to do. So many backwards steps, until maybe, eventually, he could find a sign, one that showed him, clearly, the mistakes he'd once made. Somewhere. But for now, his alarm buzzed midnight, his body hidden behind four walls of crimson cloth. He let out a sad chuckle. He'd almost forgotten. Almost…
Happy birthday, Ron.