What's Done Is Done

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

A/N: Thank you to my beta, Lisa. If you read then please review.

What's Done Is Done

by BetweenTheLines

I'm watching them from across the common room, and my insides are burning with suppressed rage. It confounds me just how at ease everyone seems to be with him. A few months ago, there would have been riots if he had been caught invading our territory. I can't really blame them, though. Harry Potter says he can be trusted now, and everyone trusts Harry. Everyone except me, that is.

It has been exactly four months and six days since I lost Harry--since I lost my best friend. I replay that awful day in my head almost every day; it haunts me. Even though it happened months ago, it still stings like a fresh wound. I can still remember, with perfect clarity, him standing in front of me and begging me to understand. He was not only verbally begging me; his eyes--those magnificent pools of green--pleaded with me, too. They're the most expressive eyes I have ever seen. But I could not even begin to understand. So, I locked my gaze on his, and I gave him an ultimatum. I told him he could have me, his best friend, or that slimy, Slytherin bastard, Draco Malfoy. But he could never have both of us. I swear I heard his heart break. For a moment, I wanted to take it back and tell him it was okay, that it was all okay. But it would have been a lie, and you don't lie to your best friend. I'm uncertain of how well I masked my horror when he chose him instead of me. His stare became hard and cold, and he told me in a low, dangerous whisper that "Draco" would never make him choose and that he would never forgive me. And just like that he was out of my life.

They are sitting by the fire, pressed close together. Their intimacy makes me feel sick. Harry is running his hands through Malfoy's white-blond hair with a gentleness I didn't know he possessed. All of his usual clumsiness seems to have disappeared. That is not what startles me; what really gets me is the look of complete adoration on his face. I have never seen Harry look at anyone in that way before. I am tortured by the fact that he has chosen to bestow that look on Draco Malfoy, of all people. It only gets worse when the Slytherin looks up at Harry and smiles--a real, breathtaking smile. Who knew Malfoy even knew how to smile? The expression fades from his pale, angular face, and the pair share an intense look. It is unmistakably a look of love.

Hermione walks past me, pausing for a moment to give my arm a gentle squeeze. When I look up at her, my stomach clenches guiltily. She looks terrible. Her face is almost grey, her hair is in more disarray than usual, and the dark purple circles under her eyes let every one know that she, like me, has not had a proper night's sleep in approximately four months and six days. She has taken Harry and my falling out hard. She's stuck between both of us, and I know she blames me even though she's too kind to say it. She's right to blame me, though. If she was able to accept Harry, then why couldn't I? He was my best friend. I should have been there for him, but it's too late for should haves and could haves now. What's done is done.

I go back to watching the unlikely pair, and suddenly, before I am able to tear away my gaze, Harry looks up at me. My heart leaps so high, I wouldn't be surprised if it landed in my mouth. I should turn away from him, but I can't do it. Perhaps my mind is playing tricks on me, but I think he is begging me with his eyes again--begging me to accept him. I want to, Merlin, I want to more than anything, but I can't, and it is ripping me apart.

I know then that I do not hate Harry or even Malfoy. I hate myself for destroying the best thing that I ever had: my friendship with Harry Potter.