Not That You Asked

He stayed hidden in his shelter for most of the night.

He figured they had to have gone to bed by this point.

He knew he couldn't hide from them forever.

He knew he shouldn't hide from them forever.

He had trapped himself in a world of his own creation.

So she didn't love him back.

He wasn't obliged to like it.

But he did have to accept it.

He had told them both to move on.

He had told them to forget about the letter.

He told them to forget everything he had said.

Like it never happened.

It wouldn't be that difficult for either of them.

They hadn't noticed anything to begin with.

She obviously never thought her hold on him held any consequence.

She clearly never thought he would have feelings for her.

She apparently remembered what he had said last year.

He had told his mother she wasn't his girlfriend.

Everyone seemed to accept it as a truth.

Noone even bothered to question it.

Not even a little.

He hadn't bothered to think much of it at the time.

He had something more pressing on his mind at the time.

But not more important.

He remembered the last feast of the year.

Looking across the hall to see the tears falling down her face.

Tears for her boyfriend who would never be coming home.

Her boyfriend that he had gotten killed.

What he felt after the task was bad enough.

Seeing that made him feel even worse.

He couldn't ever put anyone through that.

He couldn't put her through that.

He steeled his resolve.

He wouldn't hate her.

He wouldn't dislike her.

He wouldn't avoid her.

He would go back to the way things were.

Or at least he would get himself as close as he could stomach.

Noone was so strong they wouldn't feel anything.

Of course he'd still feel the heartache.

And the sadness and the revulsion and the pain.

Of course he would still cherish that one perfect memory.

And savor it as often as he could.

So she had run to him after he had poured his heart out to both of them.

He couldn't blame her.

He had told her he understood why.

Though he had hoped he was wrong.

He had prayed he was wrong.

He had prayed she would run into his arms and tell him she loved him.

But he knew his prayers were in vain.

He knew they would go unanswered.

So their lives would be happy.

So his wouldn't be.

Life was imperfect.

His life was incredibly imperfect to begin with.

He supposed it had to happen to someone.

For now it just happened to be him.

He had to stifle the urge to scream out.

He had already shed all the tears he was going to shed.

There wasn't any point in shedding anymore.

They wouldn't change anything.

Or serve any purpose.

He let loose a heartfelt sigh and stood up.

He dusted off his robes and slowly made his way back through the castle.

He felt his stomach rumble with hunger, but he resisted the urge to eat anything.

He didn't feel the desire to lay in his bed all night pondering things he could never change.

He didn't feel like thinking about things he shouldn't have ever tried to change.

So they were together.

He had made a go of things and made things worse instead of better.

What had he really thought would happen?

Did he really truly think she would leave him?

Did he really think he would let her go without a fight?

Could he really hurt either one of them for falling in love?

He silently wondered if his parents had gone through any of this.

He wondered if things would have been different if they were still alive.

He figured they probably would have.

So he had won her heart.

He had won her love.

It wasn't like she didn't love both of them.

He was sure she did.

She just loved him more.

She loved him privately.

He paused as he walked through the hallways.

This is my home.

And it's suffocating me more then ever before.

He trudged through the hallways and made his way back to the common room.

The room was deserted, the fire almost gone.

He threw another log on the fire to rekindle it.

If things were only so easy as throwing a log in the fireplace.

Maybe that's what I should have done.

Given her a log inscribed "This is my heart, you can set it on fire, or smother it."

He shook his head and slowly made his way up the stairs.

As he reached the door to his dorm, he saw the lights were out.

He quietly opened the door and made his way to his bed.

He quickly got into bed and pulled the drapes closed.

As he rolled into bed, he felt himself brush up against something.

He felt himself brush up against someone.

Her head materialized out of nowhere.

Her head materialized out of his cloak.

She pressed her fingers to his lips.

Her eyes begged him to keep quiet.

She started to speak.

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry."