Say Anything

I always assumed that if some strange shift in reality caused me to come close to kissing Harry, it would be meaningless, accidental, or maybe even both. Never had the thought that it would be voluntary, and more importantly, desired, ever crossed my mind. I mean, he was Harry. Harry. In other words -- there are no words to describe it, really. How am I supposed to explain the bond we share -- the friendship that is so strong, while absolutely platonic? Or how big of a celebrity Harry really is, whether he realizes it or not? There were so many reasons that should have prevented me from ever feeling anything, and for the longest time, it did. But somewhere along the line, something inexplicable, something incredible and terrifying happened: I think I fell in love with him.

The truth stands, however, that I never actually wanted to fall in love with him. I mean...he was Harry. That's the only excuse I can offer now, but the extent of that single reason is unfathomable. There are just too many things that have happened in the past, so many possibilities of the future...that love between us hadn't ever been considered. By us, anyway. To be honest, I think the real thing that brought us closer was everyone else in the wizarding world.

Ever since Rita Skeeter printed her first article about him, mentioning that I was his 'steady girlfriend,' people began envisioning us as some sort of golden couple or something. We were constantly in the spotlight, incessantly teased and bothered, and pushed by those who knew that we really weren't together. So many people just adored the idea of us as boyfriend and girlfriend and kept forcing it upon us that one day our resistance waned. We were plain tired of trying to explain our friendship, since it was clearly to no avail. We gave into their beliefs until it was almost twisted into reality.

I remember that first night that we both decided to confront each other on our situation. We had gone nearly two years without ever even once mentioning the strange effects people's thoughts had really had on us. It hadn't ever made anything awkward -- no, we were too careful about that -- but it definitely introduced a new vibe that was a little discomfiting. I know it had bothered me for ages, and later, I learned that he had grown to despise it also. We wanted desperately to fix it and have everything return entirely to normal.

Ron hadn't been with us that night; after a violent brawl with Malfoy in the middle of Potions class, Snape had sentenced him to a week's worth of detention down in his smelly dungeon. That night had been his seventh and final punishment, and Harry and I realized it would be one of the few times we could actually communicate without his interference. The clock said that it would be midnight soon, meaning Ron should be back anytime. Now was the perfect time, if there was ever any. It was funny that we had been thinking completely along the same lines. And yet, neither of us knew how to bring it up.

We started off horribly. At the same time, Harry said some uninteresting remark about Quidditch, and I blurted a useless fact about the N.E.W.T.s. We sort of looked up at each other's eyes, realizing that those comments had not been what we had wanted to say at all, and we laughed. The awkwardness remained, however. I realized that I would have to take initiative and be the first to break the barrier that had built up between us.

"Harry," I said hesitantly, my voice faint, "we've been avoiding this subject for years, but I really would like something to be cleared up..."

"What?" he said, releasing a shaky breath.

"Um," I said unsurely. "Us."

He looked perplexed. "Us?"

"Yes," I replied, willing him to understand the obvious hint I was dropping. I repeated the word again, this time emphasizing it more and staring into his eyes, waiting for it to click. "Us."

"Er...what about us?" Harry asked slowly, removing his glasses, wiping them deliberately slowly on the hem of his sweater, and returning them to his eyes, pushing them up the bridge of his nose. Oh, he knew what I meant.

"Maybe it's just me, but haven't things been a little..." With all my knowledge, my extensive vocabulary, I was sitting here, empty-headed and blank as I attempted to search for an appropriate word.

"Different?" he volunteered weakly.

"I suppose," I said with a shrug, figuring it would suffice. "And I wanted to know...why."

"So do I," he whispered.

I paused, trying to collect my thoughts that were simply a giant, jumbled mass in my brain. "When you said different," I said finally, voicing what was currently on my mind, though not what I had planned to say, "did you mean that in a good or bad way?"

"I don't know," he said truthfully. "It's just...different."

"I think it's good," I said in the quietest voice. "Sort of."

"I guess." He shoved his hands into his pockets. There were a few moments of pure silence, until his head snapped up. "Where are we going with this conversation, really?"

"I don't know either," I laughed nervously, twisting my fingers. "Nowhere, I think."

He grinned too, for a second, before the fear took over once more. "We aren't, are we? Bugger it, Hermione, I think I'll just get this out in the open: I think...that my perception of you, my feelings for you have changed."

"As well as mine," I responded, looking anywhere but at him.

"And," he went on, tugging on his too-long sleeves to occupy his trembling hands, "you've become more than a friend to me. But what you've become, I'm not too sure about. Hermione...don't take this the wrong way, but at first you were just that bossy know-it-all girl. In a sense, you still are, but you've lightened up a great deal. What I mean is...I never thought I would befriend a bossy know-it-all. But I did. And I realized that you were so much more. When you became my friend, I figured that was the end of it. Sure, you were a best friend, but I could never eye you as a potential girlfriend or something. Once again, my thoughts were wrong."

"You think I could be your girlfriend?" I gasped.

Harry laughed awkwardly and ran his fingers through his untidy, jet-black hair. "Er, yes...or...I don't know what I'm trying to say here, Hermione. I only know that you're not just the bossy know-it-all friend of mine anymore."

"And you're more to me too," I answered finally. "Harry...I don't know how, I don't know why, or when, or anything at all. It just happened...and now I'm forced to deal with it. And I sincerely hope we can cope with it. Because I don't want this to alter or affect what we have in any way. I know it will, though, and I'm scared. I'm scared of changing what we have, because in the end, it could quite possibly ruin it."

"Yeah..."

We ran out of things to say then. Actually, our brains were crammed full of things to say. But we weren't sure how to say it. If we should say it. We went through a few minutes of pure silence, looking anywhere but each other, until Harry summoned up his bravery and tried to catch my glance. When I adamantly refused, too occupied in staring at the carpet, he extended a shaky hand towards me. The feeling of his palm on my cheek was enough alone to make my knees wobble. He lifted my face to look into his. It was strange that Harry was much taller than me now; before, we used to be eye-to-eye level. Now, he was several inches above me. I still felt scared to look up into his eyes, and he knew it. So he bent and rested his forehead on mine, and I had no choice. Finally, I gathered my courage and my hand found his other hand down by his side. I entwined my fingers through and felt both our hands quivering. Now that we were within such close proximity of each other, there really was no need for words. Just waiting...waiting until one of us decided we couldn't wait any longer, and then closed the tiny gap between both our lips.

Just as I noticed Harry start to inch forward, I panicked suddenly. I don't know why, but I did. It just felt like a giant mistake to be doing this. I was unable to convince myself that this was what I wanted, what he wanted, and what we both finally deserved after waiting for years for our feelings to come out in the open. And stupidly, I pushed him away.

He nearly fell back, that's how much of a surprise it was to him. He looked somewhat dazed. Definitely confused. And hurt. Incredibly hurt. That's what tugged at my heart. I've never, ever wanted to hurt Harry. Even through all our countless arguments through the six years we've known each other, I always felt guilty for adding more stress and making his already difficult life even worse. Now I think I had just hurt him in the harshest way possible.

Harry gave a dry laugh that was obviously unenthusiastic. He was trying to seem nonchalant, to shrug it off. That was the last thing he wanted to do. His voice was croaky like he might actually cry, like he had some gigantic lump was stuck in his throat. He said one final thing to me, before whipping around and heading up the staircase to the boys' dormitories, leaving me there alone.

"For a while, I thought we were never meant to be. Nothing ever seemed to work out the way we wanted. Today, we had gotten our chance without any interruption. And I guess...I guess you didn't want it...you didn't want me. But Hermione, if you really do love me, then your chance to say so is now. Because if you don't, I don't know if I'll be able to face you again."

He was walking off, and I could only stand there, motionless, speechless. I knew what I wanted to say, of course. But I couldn't say it. And I did want to, badly. I wanted to say something, anything, to make him come back. I would call him back, tell him that I was sorry, and I really did want to kiss him -- hell, I'd probably kiss him right then. I'd explain that I was just scared we'd ruin our friendship.

What's the point now? I think I just did. And ironically, right then, I realized that not only did my feelings for Harry extend past friendship; they were more than a simple crush, or even just 'like.' It was love, for sure. I was probably in love with him.

But I couldn't say it. My throat was dry; my jaw was clamped together tightly. All I could do was watch him, watch as he slowly ascended the spiral staircase. It seemed he was holding back. Maybe he wanted -- no, expected me to say something. But once he reached the landing and I still hadn't spoken up, he gave a tremendous sigh, which showed in the way his shoulders went up and then sagged. Heartbroken, he trudged down the hallway.

"Harry," I finally managed to say in the faintest of whispers. But he was gone.

The portrait hole suddenly opened, and somebody popped in. With all my luck, it was Ron. He was clearly exhausted, dirty, and pissed off, but he grinned at me, unaware that anything was wrong.

"Hey, Hermione," he said obliviously. "Where's Harry?"

I suppose the moral of my story is: if you genuinely love somebody, you have to let them know. Because chances are, you'll end up regretting it. Don't be afraid of risking your current relationship, because if you don't say a word, you could still lose everything.

I know my case is an especially pathetic one. But I couldn't help it. I froze and went numb. Even though I had an extra few minutes. Precious minutes that could have turned it all around. Which I didn't take advantage of. And now Harry will never know how I feel.

Ron was still looking at me curiously, waiting for my answer. "What happened to Harry?"

"I broke his heart," I whispered, and I burst into tears.