Cherie. A Harry Potter Romance.

Chapter Eight.

I thought I wanted someone perfect as could be, what I needed was the one who was perfect for me.

Even though it used to seem so wrong, I've taken you for granted far too long. I'm falling right into the denouement, and now I'm breaking ground.

The tree was overly sturdy, surprisingly since it had probably been there since Anita was really born (not the birth date that her new certificate had), dying. It stretched about fifty yards across the canyon. Dangerous, sure, it must've been to walk upon. Especially since when Anita dropped a cornflower, she couldn't see it for about fifty feet and when she dropped a log, she never heard it hit the ground below her, or a splash, or anything.

A woman's a fright! A terrible sight! A man goes out, get's high as a kite. Love is something you just can't fight. When love goes wrong, nothing goes right.

A step, a tiny skip in three-inch heels, a light giggle, and a shout. "Anita, get back here!" Harry cried, waving his hands at her. "You're going to fall! What the hell are you thinking? And why do you look like that?" She beamed at him, with pinky lips instead of her brown ones. No wonder she seemed slightly shorter and... lighter! Blonde! Pale! Blue-eyed! She turned back to who she was supposed to be, giggling so at the shock on Harry's face and the tickling sensation in her's.

"Harry! Come out here with me! I want to show you something! Please?" He contemplated the decision and finally agreed to, but was overall leary about it.

What is she was a Polyjuice user? No... those under the influence of Polyjuice Potion do not have the special abilities that the organism that they're impersonating does. Thanks, Hermione. He tiptoes across the log, weary and honestly a little bit nervous. What if there were crocodiles with knives down there? No, no, he reassured himself. His parents were killed by Voldemort. The car accident death was a lie that his lying aunt and lying uncle lied to him about and so was it that a crocodile with a pocketknife gave him his infamous scar...

"Anita..." he chastised, taking her outreached hand once he was close enough.

She still hadn't realised that she is Whatherface.

"Harry," she cooed jokingly. "We'll be okay. And since when are you afraid of a few feet of heights?"

"I'm afraid that YOU might fall down a couple hundred feet of heights. It's not safe, Ni," he sighed, knowing although that there was no way that he could get Anita to ever think differently. She needed to realise that she's not invincible! But, then again, maybe he did, too...

"Don't be such a wussy. Sit," she demanded, taking back her spot where she had her little bouquet of flowers, including a lively, exotic, red one in her dark hair.

She took a headlong shot at placing a red one behind his ear. "Now, we have matching flowers!" He smiled, staring at her.

He only now noticed that she was just a child, and not always the strutting sex goddess that literally everybody thought of her as (except for Ron. He's stupid, Harry concluded.) Even Ginny would've kissed Anita if she had the chance, for sure! Anybody would've. Maybe, she was special because he liked her. But, she really was fucking insanely gorgeous. What about now? Sure, she was outstandingly pretty but 'supermegafoxyawesomehot' seemed to be too much of an adult words to describe the little girl that she looked like, with her happiness taken into six petals and sunshine.

She took a quick glance at Harry, but turned back to him not a millisecond later. "Is there something on my face?" she cried, putting two dark hands to two dark cheeks and letting go of her flower. "O no!" she leaned over to peek at the petals, nothing but a white speck now.

She reached out for it at an impulse, as if she could get it back, and slipped a little bit. The slip, though alone was harmless, got her crinoline caught on a twig that stuck out. She tugged her leg and twisted her small heels around the branch to try to get it out. Her leg, being double-jointed, placed the wrong way and cause her back to arch over, sending her down to a point where Harry could hold on to her waist, since she was only toppled over the fallen tree. She gave a loud squeal and shut her eyes for a long second.

"O my God, Ni. Just... hold on, I guess," he ordered, whispering comforting words to her. She was terrified, only gripping onto the log with the curavture of her forearms and elbows that Harry was grasping and the rest of her body, hips down, wasn't touching anything.

"O-Okay," she stuttered, her vocals shaking and fingers turning white from trying to support herself by her fragile arms. "O my God! This is like the scene from the Lion King!" Anita pointed out. "Yes!" agreed Harry, keeping a good grip on her.

"But, there's no epic music. WE NEED EPIC MUSIC. ... Does it hurt?"

"No. But, Harry, I'm scared. Please don't let go." Harry nodded in agreement and got the idea to use his wand to make a heroic save,. But, how would he get it from his pocket when he had to hold onto Anita?

Twenty minutes had passed since Anita had slipped and she had only gained about an inch's worth of safety. Harry's arms had paled to a blue-white, like the coleur of skim milk. Anita's were sure to have marks from where the dead bark had bitten and molded into her skin.

Harry could feel Anita's arms abandon their spot from beneath his.

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Hey, babes! Sorry that it was so short. It took me three hours to upload this. Three. Fucking. Hours. That's how much I love you, dolls. I don't have my computer because I MAY have dropped it from a three-foot-high heater and, uh... spilled some delicious tea on it. Uh... oopsies? Expect this chapter and the next to be the only ones between (sassy airline bitch lip voice) "two to three weeks". The chick in The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo is hot. Just sayin'. And Christopher Plummer, omg. He. Was. SO. Hot in the Sound of Music.

Again, just sayin'.

All my love,

Ruby.