He's Walking Past

Harry's approaching me down the third-floor corridor. His hair is unruly, the colour of dark chocolate, eyes glittering like two emeralds behind those bloody stupid round glasses. I've never understood why so many witches and wizards wear glasses, just like Muggles - who needs to, when vision can be corrected with a fairly simple spell? They've become Harry's trademark though, a shield between himself and the world, those who see him just as the hero Boy Who Lived and not thirteen year-old Gryffindor boy Harry who likes Quidditch and his friends. But he looks so much better without them. I should tell him that, should watch him take them off and see the beauty behind them, exposed and swelling my heart - But I won't, because he doesn't know me. He's not approaching me, he's walking past. One split-second look straight at me, his eyes piercing though his expression bland, and then he's gone. I don't dare to look back. I don't even know if he knows my name.I know him, though. So many people think they know him, but I really do. That's the way I am; I observe and I empathise. So many people think that Hufflepuff equals stupid because we're not all as smart as the Ravenclaws, as fecklessly brave as the Gryffindors or as cunning as the Slytherins, but it simply isn't true. I'm pretty intelligent, and my bravery and cunning are moderate, but above all I'm compassionate. That's what Hufflepuff is about : compassion. We recognise human nature; we know that there is good in everybody and want to care for them all. We have patience, determination, and can often understand people better than they do themselves. I know Harry because I've been watching him for years. First out of curiosity, then habit, finally compassion and what you could call a kind of love. He has more to contend with than any of us will ever truly understand - he's the chosen one and it's a burden he will bear alone. Some days he looks so grave, even though he does his best to hide behind his glasses and seem happy to everyone who observes, and I just want to wrap him in my arms and tell him that I understand what it's like to be expected to achieve so much when you never stop doubting yourself, to always be looked at and to have assumptions made about you, to look at Cho Chang and wonder if you can ever be good enough for her. Then I remember that I can't, because he doesn't know me, and maybe he never will.I've promised myself so many times that one day he'll know me the way I know him, but this promise has remained unfulfilled and I've only got one more year left at Hogwarts. All I can do is hope that soon, somehow, we'll be brought together, and maybe the Boy Who Lived will be the boy who lives for me, as trite as it sounds here, just a few more words whispered and lost in a third floor corridor, as my heart is bursting for him and he's walking past.