Cold French Window

Cold French Window

The room I resided in was dead silent. I looked outside the large window in my room. Since I'm head girl, I get my own room. The window was a beautiful French masterpiece, with flourishes here and there in the dark, mahogany wood. Strange that something so cold as winter glass could appear so beautiful. I blew on the frost covered panes to see the snow outside. He was there, playing amongst the snow with the others. They were laughing and giggling, hurling snow balls in every direction under the brilliant blue sky. How on earth could he be so happy when my heart was broken? Just an hour ago I had made my feelings known. It was very foolish of me, I know. But I had kept them under wraps for five years, and just couldn't bear to keep them a secret any longer. How could I, when I spend every moment in his company? Every moment, I help him with his homework, laugh at his jokes, and reprimand him for breaking the rules. I see his brilliant eyes look at me and wonder if there is something more behind his gaze. He is always intense, but that is to be expected. Who wouldn't be intense after everything he's been through? He had been there studying when I told him.

"We, we need to talk, Harry," I said softly. He looked up in surprise.

"What's wrong, Hermione? Is everything alright?" He asked, startled. I rolled my eyes. Stupid hero tendencies. I replied soothingly,

"Yes, of course everything's alright. We just simply need to talk, that's all." He looked at me, puzzled, but led me to a chair.

"Now what's this all about Hermione?" he asked one more time. At his soft, gentle voice, I melted. I told him all about my feelings, hoping that my unrequited love would be returned. I took a deep breath and whispered,

"I, I love you Harry. I've loved you for years. I've fought at your side, studied with you, gotten to know you better than anyone else. How could I not love you? You're my best friend, but you're also something more." Harry looked stricken and hastily began stammering out a response,

"Hermione, I'm flattered that you feel that way. But, to me, you're just my friend. I hope you'll understand, please understand, Hermione!" He gazed imploringly into my face. At clichéd words, I laughed softly. He was using lines as old as time to soften the blow for me.

"Yes of course, Harry. I understand." I walked away, still laughing softly at the expression on Harry's face.

He had been horror stricken at my words. He had not returned my feelings at all.

I laughed at the incredible irony of it all, how I was paired up with a best friend who would never see me as anything more, even after all we had gone through. I pressed a kiss to the frosty window, my lips feeling cold and bruised. Just as cold and bruised as my heart.