Bubble Tears

We are sitting on a leather sofa, in the Room of Requirement. Actually I'm sitting, while he is sleeping, his head on my lap. He was so tired after the last Quidditch practice but he insisted into meeting. He is really a sweet and caring person. I run my hand through his hair, in the most delicate caress, careful not to wake him up.

I'm just waiting for him to break up with me.

Because it will happen, you see.

One day he will wake up, look at me and think "what the hell am I doing with her?"

And he will be right.

Because I'm not the right person for him to be with.

I do not deserve him.

This is not false modesty or anything of this genre, don't misunderstand me. I believe it's called "knowing your limits".

I simply am not the kind of girl that could make him happy.

Well, maybe I could. If I tried really hard, and kept trying endlessly I could build a charade so perfect, something plasmed upon him, to his image and appearance, something so perfectly plausible that he'll think he's happy. He would believe it. Mine wouldn't be such a complicated job, as he wants to believe in happiness.

Who wouldn't?

However, illusions don't last.

Like a soap bubble, he would marvel at its colour, he would admire its reflections, but then the bubble would -so lightly- hit against something (reality?) and dissolve in nothing more that a couple of sticky drops.

Bubble tears.

Nonetheless, I'm trying. I'm keeping up the best façade I can, to let him live this illusion in the best way possible. Maybe, if I'm good, if I try really hard, maybe he will hold a memory of this illusion (delusion?) in his mind.

Not in his heart, no. I can't set, I cannot let myself set my hopes so high.

His heart needs all the space possible for the persons he holds dear.

And I'm not one of them. I'm not complaining, I'm just accepting reality. I haven't done anything for him to hold me... dear... in his heart...

What could I do for him?

What use would I be?

All I can do is my best, to give him the possibility to live an illusion and to temporarily forget his pain.

And he will never know. I do love him, I don't fake this. I couldn't, even if I tried. I just realized that my love isn't enough. Whoever said the contrary had an utopistic life. I am trying to be enough for him until he realizes that he needs something else. This didn't make much sense, did it? I mean that someday he will grow up; he will change, because the circumstances will make him so. When he will grow, he will thus realize that what he needs (what he wants) is not what he needed and wanted before.

Until then I will smile and I will laugh; I will keep quiet and I won't ask him questions. I will comfort him when he lets me; I will be the girl on the background, the one that knows that he's the hero, and that heroes are never understood. Not even by his best friends.

Because he's the true hero. Heroes are solitaires; they shine like stars upon us. And you cannot touch stars. You can live in their beam and dream thinking of them. You can try and lift your hand, trying to catch a ray of their light. But you never succeed.

When I said that I was not the right person for him to be with, I believed in what I was saying.

As I have already said, a hero is a solitaire; whatever may he think about this. I do not know the details of what worries him, but I am aware that his best friends don't know too. He acts, fakes and pretends. He says that everything is okay, or when he wants to assure himself that he's sincere he claims that everything is under control. And this is his version for "I won't break down now".

I know he won't.

He's the hero.

Still, he stays with me. And until he realizes the truth I want him to feel the happiest I can. That's why we fly so often. When we fly, or we pretend to be playing Quidditch, he doesn't have to talk. He can simply stay quiet and concentrate on the wind, on his broomstick, on the only thing in the world that makes him serene.

He's a hero, that's true.

But he's just a boy.