A Second Chance

A Second Chance

I sit here at the window of my third-floor flat like I always do, at this time of the day, watching happy couples go by. Do they know how lucky they are to have each other? Every day I feel like running down there and stopping them to tell them how they should be thankful to be together and have each other. Because I never had that chance. I let Hermione slip through my fingers, never once stopping to think that she wouldn't come back to me. I was such an idiot.

I guess I'm somewhat famous now in the wizarding community. Reserve Seeker for the Chudley Cannons. So, basically, I only get to play at practices, rarely in games, because the main Seeker's that good. Ron likes it, though. He can get cheap tickets through me.

Ron. Every time I hear that name, something happens to me. It's not hate. I couldn't hate Ron. He's my best friend. He didn't know what he was doing. I don't know why I never told him. I never told anybody. How I wish that I had told someone now! But would that have changed anything? Maybe, maybe not. I'll never know.

I wish a lot of things. I wish that Hermione still had her Time-Turner so I could go back seven years, to our fifth year at Hogwarts. That's when it happened. Or, I suppose I should say, didn't happen. I knew I loved her, but I never told her. I suppose I just assumed she would be able to tell. Or maybe I was just afraid of getting hurt.

Oh, Hermione. How I wish I could hate her for what she's done to me, but she's got no clue. It's so hard to stay mad at her for too long. She looks at me with her eyes, the color of golden topaz, and asks me what's the matter. She's so eager to make amends about anything she might have done to me, and it breaks my heart. But I can't really tell her what's wrong. So I say, "Oh, nothing," and just continue on treating her the way I always have.

I love her, more than anything in the world. But I can never tell her. It would break her heart, and Ron's heart. Although I suspect Ron already knows. He can tell, the way I look at her. But he loves her too, and he knows me He knows that I would never say anything. It's kind of a closed subject between us.

Hermione hasn't got a clue. She's too busy staring at her fiancée to notice anything about me. Yes, fiancée. I can clearly remember the night they told me, almost as clear as the night they told me they had become a couple.

I should have known something was up when they invited me out to some five-star restaurant ( I can't remember the name, it's not that important. I just remember that that prices were through the roof and I didn't know what the heck half of the things on the menu were) six months ago. As the waiter led me through the restaurant, I could see them talking and laughing. 'Mione suddenly noticed me and jumped up, giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. If Ron was jealous, he sure covered it up well. But Ron had no reason to be jealous. She loved him more than anything in the world, and he knew it.

I sat down uneasily, waiting for what I could tell was coming. The moment I saw that glance that they exchanged I knew what was coming. Hermione enthusiastically jumped into it. "Guess what, Harry?" she had exclaimed. "Ron proposed, and I said yes! Isn't it wonderful! And we've decided to wait a year, sthat we can have a June wedding, just like I've always wanted! Isn't it fabulous, Harry!"

And, at that moment, it was like a little part of me was dying. But I couldn't be dying. I had already died, that night that they finally revealed that they had become a couple. But here I was, dying again, like an extra-concentrated ghost. I don't know why. I had known that that was coming. But it was as if this was it. I had no chance with Hermione after this. I felt terrible. But I plastered a smile on my face and congratulated both of them.

I guess I'm somewhat of a good actor. I'd have to be, after having to cover up my feelings for Hermione. Ginny always said that I'd be great on the stage. Ginny. My confidante. We've lived in the same apartment building for about two and a half years now, and she's been my lifesaver. I've been able to tell her all of the things that have been going on that I couldn't tell Ron and Hermione. She's been so sympathetic throughout all of this. But her advice always comes down to one statement. "You need to forget her. Get your mind off of her, go out with some other girls." But every time I do I find myself comparing them to Hermione.

I just can't get my mind off of her. I'm always thinking about her, every minute of every day. I just sit here, thinking about what life would be like if we could be together. But we can't. Be together, that is. I don't want to hurt Ron. And it's not like I'm trying to point him out to be the bad guy in all of this. Because he really isn't. He's just in love, feeling the same way that I am right now. I find myself selfishly hoping that maybe they'll break up soon. But they never do.

Oh, Hermione, I tried to forget you. I tried, really I did. But everything makes me think of you. When I do a Wronski Feint in Quidditch practice, I think of you and the way you used to say Wonky-Faints. Whenever the traveling house-elf comes to clean every Saturday, I think of you and S.P.E.W. Just seeing a girl, and it makes me think of you. I tried to forget you a million times. But I still have this dream that, someday, you'll be mine.

I hear a sudden knock on the door that rouses me from my thoughts. "Now who could that be?" I ask myself. I am shocked at what I find when I open the door- 'Mione, a wreck, and sobbing. She flings herself into me and I hug her against my chest.

"Oh, Harry!" she blubbers. "It's all off!" I feel torn between giddiness for myself and concern for my two best friends. I lead her over to the couch and sit her down.

In my best concerned-best-friend voice I say, "All right, 'Mione, calm down. What happened? Tell me everything." Inside, I am jumping around. They finally broke up! I have my chance now! To tell her how I really feel! Thank you! Thank you for giving me a second chance!

"Oh, Harry, we were discussing the wedding and I was talking about having a big wedding but he wanted a small wedding so I said 'If it's about the money, well, my parents have offered to pay for everything.' And he took it as a big insult, like I was implying that his family couldn't afford a big wedding and he blew up and kicked me out of the flat. It's all off, everything!" And, for some reason, the giddiness that I feel inside comes to an abrupt stop.

I am trying. I am trying to do it. I can say it, right now. Hermione has finally given up on her relationship with Ron. This is the time for the speech I have been practicing to use when they broke up. This is the exact scenario, too. Things would be called off, and Hermione would come to me for comfort. And I'm going to comfort her and confess the love that I have been hiding inside my heart for all those years. But, for some reason, I can't.

I can't be happy, not now. Knowing that the one I love is in pain. Knowing that what I am about to say will only give me comfort, and then hurt all of my dearest friends. I know that, even if Hermione and I would get together. I can't bring myself to say those words. Why can't I say those words? Why?

Because I know it would be the wrong thing to do. Because I know I can't hurt my best friend. Because I know I can't be selfish. I have to do the right thing. I have to step aside, not get involved, even though it's the hardest thing I'll ever do.

"Now, Hermione, be reasonable. You and Ron have had fights like this before. And you've made up after every single one of them."

"You weren't there! You didn't hear the things he said to me. He actually tossed all of my clothes out into the hall!" She was practically hysterical. I take a deep breath, and try to find the courage to give it all up. I open my mouth, and simultaneously ruin all of my hopes and dreams.

"'Mione, calm down, all right. You love Ron and he loves you. That's all there is to it. Believe me. I know what it's like to be in love with someone and not have the chance to tell them how I feel. Believe me. But that's not what we're talking about right now. Right now we're talking about you and Ron. The love you have can withstand any fight. You just can't let a silly spat like this ruin a wonderful relationship. You'll regret it later. I know what it feels like to have a broken heart, and I don't want you to have to go through that. Just try to work things out. Try, for me. Please."

I suddenly realize what I've done. I can't believe what I've done. I finally have a second chance, and I blow it. But I look at Hermione and feel ten times better.

Because the smile I know so well, and have felt so nice under for so many years, finally returns. I've made her happy, and I'm glad. She is still sobbing, crying happy tears. She throws her arms around my neck.

"Oh, Harry! You always know just the right things to say! I've got to go to Ron, right away!" She kisses my cheek, and runs out the door, to make amends. I stand there, stunned, for a moment, and then I run after her, to the door, and gaze at her, waiting for the lift. She's stopped crying, and is just standing there, jiggling her foot, waiting to go back to her love. She looks over at me, and smiles again.

As the lift finally reaches our floor, she looks back at me one more time. "Thanks again, Harry." She doesn't know. She'll never know. She just thinks that I helped my best out in her time of need. She'll never realize the pain and agony I had to go through just to help her.

As the doors close, the tears finally spill. All of the tears I've been holding inside of me for all of those years. I close the door behind me, sink down on the ground, and cry. I cry for every person who has ever had to make a decision that would bring great pain to them but great joy to everyone else. I cry for the love I've never had and never will receive. I cry for me. I am alone.

I can't let you see

What you mean to me

When my hands are tied

And my heart's not free

We're not meant to be

It's the hardest thing

I'll ever have to do

To turn around and walk away

Pretending I don't love you

-from "The Hardest Thing," by 98 Degrees