Claustrophobia of the Most Substantial Levels

Claustrophobia of the Most Substantial Levels by SnapeJuice

Clean-freak Ross has returned to Joey's apartment after prematurely terminating his date with a beautiful but messy co-worker:

Joey: So, you just left? Her place was really that bad?
Ross: You know how you throw your jacket on a chair at the end of the day?
Joey: Yeah.
Ross: Well, like that, only instead of a chair, it's a pile of garbage. And instead of a jacket, it's a pile of garbage. And instead of the end of the day, it's the end of time, and garbage is all that has survived!
from Friends

Dedicated my dear friend Isa who doesn't watch Friends but loves Harry and Hermione about as much as a root canal! This is for you, darling! I'm sure you'll recognize bits and pieces here and there. And no, I was not heavily medicated/intoxicated when I wrote this. This is from my own personal experience.

You know how there are those times in the course of the world when someone - a president, a girl, a boy, a professor, God, anyone really - cracks a joke and you laugh at the punch line whether there was one or not, whether it was funny or not, because it seemed like the appropriate thing to do in that awkward, confusing moment?

*~*

She sits alone reading a book in front of the fire, and you'll be damned if for once in her life she is tranquil.

Don't disturb her.

*~*

You know how there are those opportunities that slither down in the grass like snakes and present themselves to you when you least expect them - they appear with a belligerent Boo! - and you don't know whether to run or to hug it or to hug it while running, but you leave it be because now was not the time you wanted an opportunity - in fact, the one thing you wanted was to go home, so you shut yourself up in your room and pretended there never was anything slithering in the grass?

*~*

She stands talking to Ron and you're not quite whether this would be the appropriate time.

You have a half hour until Snape's.

Hold off. Make it perfect.

*~*

You know how there are those times when someone will come up to you and say hello, I was wondering if I could throw some trash in your bin? and you don't know whether they are secretly being condescending or are in fact the sweetest person you have ever met and you sit there, confused and contemplative, trying to figure out whether they were genuine or whether that sentence (hello, I was wondering if I could throw some trash in your bin?) held some hidden cosmic double meaning that you would never understand anyway because you were far too naïve to decipher the message anyway?

*~*

Her hair flutters in the wind like some kind of drugged up butterfly, and you know you have Quidditch practice in five minutes but you have never seen anything more beautiful.

Now is not the time to perturb her.

*~*

You know how there are those times when you get nervous or scared or overwhelmed and the one thing you want to do is owl your godfather to seek his advice but you can't because he'll give you dated advice and/or laugh at you because when he was your age he had the wisdom and the know-how and the experience to maneuver himself out of that situation successfully?

*~*

She steps lightly beside you, her shoes clanking as Ron's large feet counteract her daintiness, and you want to yell at him for being so large footed because you can't hear her, you can't touch, you can't do anything when he's around.

Not now.

*~*

You know how there are those times when there is something you've depended on for years then suddenly you look at it and she's blossomed into singularly the most beautiful thing you have ever seen - it is on par with the beautiful Rembrandts that sit in the Smithsonian and the snaps you've seen of the Alps on clear crisp days in the middle of winter - and in fact, when you sit next to her she fills you with a sense of belonging and perfection and simplicity in motion?

*~*

She has an exam tomorrow. You have an exam tomorrow, so why are you sitting here watching her like some stalker waiting to pounce?

The words aren't formed, but the feelings sure are.

Wait.

*~*

You know how there are those times when you want to stick your head in the sand like those stupid ostriches that live on some continent you'll probably never see and because you live on an island all you'll ever see are urban streets and patches of green called lawns - the result of which is claustrophobia of the most substantial levels because it's all so close and so compact?

*~*

Now. Do it now.

*~*

You know when there is this whirlwind of emotions that make no sense - and you want to laugh at the awkward joke, and cage the slithering snake, and decipher the boy, and owl your godfather, and stick your head in the sand, and tell her - her, your girl of the Alps - that she's everything you've ever wanted or needed in the world and that you'd be more than willing to read Hogwarts, A History every night if that's what made her happy?

Falling in love. It's kinda like all of that.