The boy that sat in front of her in Charms intrigued her. She had watched him for years. He was a Gryffindor, but had always seemed as if he didn't quite belong there. He was a curious boy, awkward, forgetful and clumsy, yet he excelled in Herbology, her favourite subject. There was a determined look in his eyes that hinted he wasn't as useless as others made out. He had secrets, she could tell.
She got to know him better in the D.A., saw how quickly he improved. She wished she could do the same. He grew taller, more confident...he even seemed to fear Malfoy less. He had fought Death Eaters and survived. She wished she shared his bravery.
She hadn't wanted to come back to Hogwarts after her mother's death. She didn't have a clue what she was going to do with her future, but she knew that she couldn't leave her remaining family. With them around, home seemed like the safest place to be, or at least as safe a place as anywhere. Then the letter came, the letter that said she had no choice, the letter that said she must return. So, with tears in her eyes she boarded the train, not with the excitement she had always felt before but instead with sheer dread. She sat with Ernie, Justin and Susan as she had always done, but it was like they were in separate compartments. She had nothing to talk about, so sat in silence, encompassed in grief, surrounded by the sense of loss.
Things didn't get better at Hogwarts. The term developed as horrifically as she had imagined it might, with the Carrows spoiling any slight chance of happiness she may have had. Soon the D.A. became her only reason for living, the only thing that made anything seem worthwhile. She had to apply some reason to being there and find some sense of purpose; supporting Harry's cause seemed as good a reason as any. If they could fight, if they could win, she might be able to believe that they hadn't died in vain.
He stopped her one day, as she was leaving the Room of Requirement, and asked her if she was okay. She wasn't. Hot, salty tears flooded her face, so he put his arm around her and told her about his own parents. It only made her cry harder.
She understood now why he was a Gryffindor. He was no longer awkward; instead he had transformed into a bold leader, fired by the need to survive. He was their hope and inspiration, their motivation. He was the one that made her want to carry on. She sometimes hoped he would hold her again, but he didn't. He was too busy plotting, too busy resisting.
She noticed a subtle change in him when Luna failed to return, then Ginny, but still he soldiered on. She wanted to be his comfort, as he had been hers, but he was surrounded by people now, was more popular than he had ever been. Instead she kept quiet, spoke only when spoken to and tried to hold herself together.
On the night of the battle she was terrified. Her mind was flooded with sheer panic, her wand hand shook and as she tried to walk, she felt her legs buckle. His arms caught her, set her back upright. They shared a look. They would fight, they would suffer, they would have losses, but they would win. They had to win. She hoped they would both survive.
After that day, he became a hero. Not just their hero, but everyone's, second only to Harry. Surrounded by the rubble in the Great Hall, he introduced her to his grandmother. Later, he told her how his grandmother was finally proud of him, that he had finally shown himself to be worthy of his father. He hoped that he didn't do anything else to mess it up. The words made her feel sad. He was exceptional, didn't he realise that?
She returned to Hogwarts again the following year. Her father said she would do much better in life if she was well qualified. She didn't want to disappoint him. Like many others, she tried to be happy, for the battle was won, but Hogwarts failed to heal them. It had too many scars of its own, contained too many memories. The remaining D.A. members clung together, still haunted by what they had witnessed, left hollow by the thought of those that could no longer joined them.
As the train pulled away for the final time, she felt nothing but relief. In time she would look back with fonder memories, but for now she was glad to leave. She wanted a fresh start and took comfort in the simplicity of life at the Leaky Cauldron. New first years came to Diagon Alley, skipping with excitement. The recognition that their experience would be very different to her own made her feel warm inside.
The next time she saw him, his eyes were sad, like they had been in those final weeks before the battle. She hadn't expected that. He was an Auror now, continuing his role of hero.
She pulled him aside. He had killed a man. The man had been a Death Eater, cruelly mocking those who had been lost and the spell had been cast in self defence, but that hadn't mattered, he was still dead. He didn't want to be a murderer. He thought that the battle was the end but it seemed the horrors would never quite be over. He needed some way to separate himself from them but was yet to find one.
At the end of her shift, she took him home and made him soup, then watched him cry.
Now he comes around regularly for dinner. They take comfort, knowing that each one still feels slightly broken, yet realising there is still plenty of time to heal. They speak of happier memories alongside the sad ones and force themselves to go out and do normal things, like meet with friends. He isn't sure he wants to be an Auror, but she tells him that is okay. He is brave and good and a hero. He deserves any life he chooses.
Sometimes she catches him looking at her, when he thinks she isn't looking. It makes her feel warm inside, like the broken parts of her are finally fusing back together. Occasionally their skin will touch, sending tingles of excitement through her whole body. The way he stammers and blushes afterwards lets her know he feels it too.
She is still intrigued by him, still finds him curious, but it no longer bothers her. She hopes she will be able to spend the rest of her life figuring him out.
Disclaimer: I am not the owner of magical worlds, merely someone procrastinating and avoiding real life