The Crying Game

The Crying Game

One day I'm going to tell the moon about the crying game...

Today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, the day I would finally find some peace in the arms of the man that promised to do everything in his power to give me a life without war, a life without pain, a life without killings...

He's sleeping now, probably dreaming with the only thing he was able to beat Harry in, by the smile in his face.

I'm happy for him, I really am, it's wonderful to see him finally smile after all these years; I only wish I had a reason to smile too.

I should be occupying my place in the bed next to him; after all, this is the first time we would be sleeping together as husband and wife but instead of that, I'm here, looking at the landscape of the National Park of Simen, once described by a writer as the place where the ancient Gods used to play chess with the silk trees that surround this entire mountainous area.

It's raining heavily, but I don't mind; I love the rain, I truly believe that the cold water that falls from the sky and covers my naked body is the only instrument I have in this world to clean my dirty soul.

I tried, God knows I tried to be the perfect girl my parents, my teachers and my friends wanted me to be; as the best student in Hogwarts and as one of the survivors of the last war against Voldemort, I had a brilliant future ahead of me.

I was, according to the Minister of Magic, the prototype of what a good wizard should be.

If he knew, if my parents knew the kind of woman I became, I'm sure they would be extremely disgusted with me.

What I'm doing to Ron, what I did to Harry, is something a good person wouldn't do even to his worst enemy.

While Harry was in the hospital fighting for his life, trying to forget his diabolical battle with Voldemort, I heard his voice calling for me numerous times during one of my visits and that simple gesture broke my heart; he didn't call for Cho, his first girlfriend, he didn't call for Ginny, his true love, he just chose to call for Hermione.

If I had known sooner what he really felt for me, none of us would be on this tragic situation; yes, it's a tragic situation, because we will never have a moment of peace until the day of our death, not even Ron, who prefers to ignore this whole affair.

I also tried to ignore the entire subject, I tried to convince myself that in the state he was he didn't know what he was doing, but then what I feared most happened; I didn't realize at the time what I did but then it hit me that I had destroyed the little will he had to continue with his life by showing him that my heart already had an owner.

I saw Harry's look when he defeated Voldemort; it was full of anger, hate and madness, a look so inhuman that it made me cry of despair, despair by the fear that my best friend in the last seven years, may had vanished along with Voldemort.

I saw that look one more time, in the day he saw me kissing Ron while he was doing exercises in the gym of St. Mungo's.

I cried all night long, cursing myself for ignoring what was so obvious during the years we spent together.

I was his confidant, a shoulder where he could cry whenever he wanted to, his source of comfort when he thought he couldn't bare the burden that was put on him since the day of his birth...

My God, how could I have done this heinous act to him? He was the last person in the world to deserve such pain, especially from a person that was his source of hope for a better future.

Only a horrible person would destroy the dreams of a broken man.

I wanted to talk to him, I wanted to explain my actions, my behaviour in front of him, but he refused to listen; I was no longer his confident, for him I was just the person that shattered his soul without any kind of mercy.

I was the person who killed Harry James Potter...

My heart hurts, since that time, for being with Ron; I know that he truly loves me, I always knew that and I'm deeply sorry for no longer feeling the same way.

Like Mlle de Lespinasse said, I love you like a person should love, in despair; it was because of my despair that I fell for Harry.

I already can feel a powerful wave of pain storming threw my body as I say this, but I don't think Harry is the right person for me.

The last time I saw him was the day before my marriage to Ron; he was so devastated by the news that he cried in front of him, begging me to not destroy both our lives.

I didn't comfort him, I was suffering as much as him, so I did the only thing I could do to calm him down; I made love to him.

I was going to get married the next morning with Ron and I had sex with another man...

When he fell asleep, tears started to flow to my cheeks; I cried not because of sorrow for what I had done, but because of the expression Harry had in his face, an expression of happiness that I knew would dissolve with hate when the rain stopped falling from the sky.

Let me rest for a while, everything will be alright, said Werther to Charlotte after she decided to marry Albert.

What he really meant by that was that soon she would be without him; he would commit suicide because of what she did to him.

In that instant, I chose a comfortable life over love; he saved my life numerous times and I decided to leave him, knowing that decision might lead to his ultimate destruction.

The man that I grew with, the man that I fought with, the man that I love is...is...

Why did I enter that compartment in the train in our first year? What was destiny's purpose when it put us together? If we weren't meant to be together, why did I meet him?

I couldn't bare look at Harry one more second, so I left without saying goodbye; I didn't deserve his love but he deserved mine and I couldn't give that to him...

The rain had stopped falling; I could see now the moon from the place we were, pale as death.

The wind was gently running threw my hair, hiding my swelled eyes from all the crying I did in this miserable night.

Neville told me that on his way to the wedding, he had seen Harry at the Leaky Cauldron drinking everything he could put his hands on, shouting weird things about Voldemort's ultimate victory in the war and that in the end Tom had to take him home after he collapsed on the floor completely unable to move a muscle.

I let a tear slip to my cheeks when I heard that but that was all I did to show my compassion towards Harry...

In my hands was a letter sent by an anonymous person shortly after Ron and I arrived here.

The strangest thing about it, according to the person who gave it to me, was that the letter hadn't been delivered by an owl but by a phoenix, something he had never seen in his entire life.

A letter from the grave....

Written on the paper was a single sentence:

To the person that wakes up from his dreams, I hope she finds peace in death

Freud once said that a man who doubts of his own love can, or better yet, should doubt of everything that is less important; that means that I don't care about anything.

Harry was right, Voldemort was the true winner of the last war; he wasn't able to destroy us, but he was able to destroy our dreams and with them any hope we used to have for a better future.

I expect that one day Harry, you'll find the love you once had to forgive me for my weakness.

Don't give up on life so easily like I did; you are too important to the world but I... I'm expendable.

That's all you need to know about me.