Sketchers

Skechers

L.S. Song

It's funny, it is, that you really don't know how good you had it until it's all gone...

I walk into a pub in Manchester and fling myself down onto the nearest seat.

"The regular, mate?" the barman, Steve calls.

I grunt in response, and a few minutes later a large Firewhiskey bottle and a clean glass is placed in front of me.

I throw a few sickles onto the counter, and Steve immediately snatches them up and throws them into the cashier.

I pour myself the contents of the Firewhiskey bottle into the cup, and as I down a quarter of the cup in a go, I see a girl walk into the bar.

My heart beating faster, I realize she was wearing muggle sneakers.

Not daring to hope, I raise my eyes to see her face.

It was a blonde, giggling and waving to her friend in the corner.

Disappointed, I return to my drink.

I look outside at the snow-covered grounds and sigh.

It was just like the Christmas, years before.

***

It was a cold Christmas, and everyone was at the ball, dancing and having fun.

Well, everyone but me.

I stood alone outside, looking around the grounds.

I walked to the Quidditch pitch, snow falling down on me.

Sitting down, I sighed.

I must be the only person alone on this night. Harry was with Ginny, probably twirling her around just as I sit here now, I thought bitterly.

Dean was with Parvati and Lavender was with Seamus.

Even Neville found a date, asking Luna Lovegood out near the last minute.

And Hermione?

Hermione was with Justin Finch-Fletchley.

Which left me alone - or with Eloise Midgen.

I preferred the former.

So I sat alone in the stands, my eyes flickering to Hogwarts, where the light flickered merrily.

"What are you doing out here, Ron?"

I whipped around.

Standing behind me, smiling gently was Hermione.

She looked absolutely radiant that night, wearing silver dress robes, her hair decorated immaculately.

"Nothing," I said slightly coolly.

Hermione didn't seem to notice.

"Well come in then, Ron, we're missing you!" she said, giving me another smile.

I thought of Justin groping, hugging Hermione in front of my very eyes, and I offered a pained smile.

"No thanks, Hermione... too er... crowded in there."

"Well I'll stay here with you then."

My heart leapt.

"But... what about Justin?"

"Oh, I'm sure he'll find someone to talk to while I'm here. Besides, Ron, no one should be alone on Christmas."

She hugged me. I savored the feel of her silk robes on my arms, the feel of her arms around my neck and the smile on her face.

I returned her embrace, a wide smile spreading across my face.

That night, my world was complete.

***

I drink another mouthful of Firewhiskey.

Just like before, I am alone on Christmas yet again.

Sure I have friends, sure I have a family.

But they all have someone.

Ginny with Harry.

Fred with Angelina.

George with Alicia.

Percy with Penelope.

Charlie with Tonks.

Bill with Fleur.

And of course, Mum and Dad.

And I have no one, I thought bitterly.

***

"Why do you wear those shoes, Hermione?" I asked.

She was wearing those blue muggle sneakers with a pink S on them again.

"Because I like them, Ron," she said, sounding exasperated.

"But why blue and pink?" I asked curiously.

"Because that's how they were made!"

"Weird," I said. "What are they called?"

"Skechers," she said, and turned away to do her star charts.

"Skechers..." I murmured. "Sounds nice."

"They really are comfortable," she then said distractedly.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"Could you come with me for a while? I have something I need to show you."

"But we're doing Astronomy homework," she started.

"Please," I said seriously, my insides trembling.

She sighed.

"Okay."

I lead her to my dormitory; ignoring the inquisitive glances she kept on shooting me - my heart was pounding too fast, and my brain too cloudy to possibly process something intelligent to say.

Gathering up the products I had Fred and George mail me from Diagon Alley - a bouquet of roses, and a silver necklace, I took a deep breath and did the one thing that would ultimately change my life.

"Hermione?"

She shot a glance at the roses nervously, and fidgeted.

"Yes, Ron?" she asked timidly.

I closed my eyes.

"Will you go to the Ball with me?"

Opening my eyes, I found Hermione blushing.

I did not know if it was a good sign or not.

"I... Ron..."

Her eyes told me all I needed to know then.

I felt my heart break in two.

"Ron! I'm sorry! Someone asked me first..."

"Yeah okay," I said numbly, trying to walk away on legs that refused to carry me.

Curiosity got the better of me then.

"With who?"

"Colin... Colin Creevey."

I was amazed.

That little rat of a human?

That puny, putrid, disgusting little git that runs around after my other best friend, taking snapshots of him, hanging them up in his dorm, and god knows what he does with them then!

Rage and jealousy like I had never known before flared through me then.

"Fine, Hermione. Have a nice time with your stinking little... your... that cringing little rat!" I shouted, and walked away.

She was there, furious, but her eyes shone with tears.

Tears I had caused with my unprovoked injustice, my spite.

At that minute, I had been very close to walking up to her and apologizing.

But my own pride stopped me, as I saw Colin looking curiously to see what the yelling was all about, and I ignored the devastated look in Hermione's beautiful eyes.

It was my pride that doomed me that day.

When that day passed, the gap between us grew greater and greater, until no bridge could be rebuilt, and we had all but turned into fellow classmates - just another face in the wizarding world.

***

Three years had passed since graduation, and since that fight in Seventh year I have never dared think of Hermione Granger in a romantic way again - well at least that's what I had been telling myself.

Our friendship was barely mended by a tired and grim Harry, uniting in his time of need to provide him with the support he needed to get through the dark times.

But as Lord Voldemort fell, so did our truce.

She graduated, leaving England and buying a house of her own, in Scotland, Harry tells me. I never did like Scotland much.

I owled her once.

She never wrote back.

Three years I haven't seen her, and all I have left of the pieces of my heart are some photographs and memories.

Harry told me she is seeing a journalist. I never did like journalists much either. I'm surprised she would though, what with Rita Skeeter and all.

My pride damned me that day.

Shaking my head, I drain what's left of my glass and walk out into the bitter cold.

I thought back to her words on the Christmas of our sixth year.

No one should be alone on Christmas.

But I am alone.

Will you be here for me now, Hermione? Will you come and pull me out of my misery?

My thoughts were unanswered, save for the loud honking of a muggle car and the scream of children playing gleefully in the soft white snow.

I realize now, I am indeed alone. In a crowded street, on a snowy Christmas, I am truly alone.

Without you, there is no one for me. There can be no other for me.

Why Hermione? Because you're the only one, and I love you.

I whisper her name aloud, wishing that even as I speak her name now, she will hear me and come back.

The syllables of her beautiful name come out like music to my ears, but a gust of wind blows by and it carries the sweet sound away.

Hermione.

If I could have but one wish, it would be to turn back time and apologize to her that day.

Who knows?

Things could have been different.

Maybe we could've been happy together.

But I know my wish can't be granted, so I will continue down the bitter cold street of life alone, living an empty existence, my only true happiness in memories and dreams.

For it is true what they say, life is empty without love, and without her there is no love.

And so I stride along the road, my head down and my shoulders hunched, and every time I see a pair of Skechers, I raise my head and my heart beats just a little bit faster.