Everything I'm supposed to hate • Harry J. Potter •

24

"You never, erm, you never answered my question."

You risked another glance up at Harry's face. He was in a plain white t-shirt now that complimented his lean, muscular arms.

"What?"

"I asked if you were, er...alright?"

You didn't know whether to think his question was dumb or sweet.

"Does it look like I'm alright to you?"

Harry looked a bit taken aback. "No--not really, I just meant--"

You sighed and held your head in your hands. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's fine."

Another long silence filled the air between you two.

"Do you want to, I don't know, talk about it or something?"

You squinted up at Harry, thoroughly puzzled by his behavior.

Harry shrugged. "I don't think we could ever be friends."

Ouch, that one stung a bit more than you'd expected.

"But maybe it'll be easier to talk to someone you don't like. Get a new perspective... or something like that."

God...if only he knew...

You looked back down at the floor thinking about nothing and everything all at the same time. Suddenly, you felt a presence next to you and glanced over to see Harry sitting against the wall beside you. One of his legs was bent, the other straightened in front of him. He rested one of his arms on top of his bent knee casually, leaning his head against the cool stone wall.

It was so casual, so simple, and yet so beautiful. The full moon shone through the tall windows along the corridor--the only reason you were able to see Harry at all. A streak of silver light ran from his shoulder up the side of his neck, highlighting his strong jaw and cheekbones, and through his untamable mop of raven hair. The light passed perfectly over one of his irises, giving the green hue an almost ethereal glow.

He was so beautiful it hurt. It hurt because you knew you could never have him. You knew you would have to continue admiring him from afar, daydreaming about "what-ifs" and could have been's.

"I can't talk to you about it, Harry," you whispered, beginning to feel more tears pool in the corners of your eyes.

Harry frowned and turned his head to look at you. "Why not?"

You pursed your lips and shook your head, turning back to stare the ground. "You wouldn't understand."

"I'm not dumb, you know."

You laughed humorlessly. "It's got nothing to do with your IQ."

"Then what, Y/n?"

He'd never said your name with such... such warmth. The way he said it felt like the way his jacket was wrapped around your shoulders. It made you feel safe, warm, protected. Like Theo had made you feel but... but less forced. More real, more emotional.

Maybe you'd been wrong when you thought of Harry as the "dangerous" choice. Maybe he was just as comforting as Theo had been. But this time the feeling of warmth in your chest was genuine.

Or maybe you had no idea what you were talking about and everything you were thinking made no sense at all. You felt like you'd contradicted yourself about a million times tonight trying to figure out why you felt so pulled to Harry when Theo was right there. Maybe there was no logic behind emotions, behind... behind what you felt for Harry. There wasn't a way to explain or rationalize how you felt. You just did.