Him

I walk this lonely road,

The only one that I will ever know.

I don't know where it goes,

But it's only me

and I walk alone.

Boulevard of Broken Dreams- Green Day

Him

Wherever he goes, I watch him. I have made a hobby out of it. I could tell you what he eats for breakfast, how often he shines his shoes, the frequency with which he goes out to practice Quidditch on the pitch when he wants to be alone.

Sometimes I feel that I know him better than I do myself. I feel that I understand him, or at least why he does the things he does.

I wish I understood as much about myself. I wish I could understand why I spend so much time watching him, why every little unthinking action affects me so much, why a tiny crush slowly grew into such an obsession.

But all I know is that I notice everything. I know that he is my first thought each morning, and the last one before I fall asleep and dream of him, see his face, over and over.

Whenever he graces someone with a smile, I pretend that he is smiling at me, and it lights up my day, my life. For one moment, just one, everything in my world is perfect.

And then he turns to me with that patented smirk, and it's all gone, and I want to cry. But I can't. Because if I cry, I know that he will just hate me more.

If he hated me any more, I know that I would die.

In my dreams he comes to me, telling me how he never meant to hurt me, that now we can just run away and be together. And it would be like heaven, our private heaven.

But if he came to me and really told me something like that, I would never believe him. Because he hates me. Draco Malfoy hates me. And he always will.

And it never mattered to me before.

But now... now, every time he sneers at me I shrivel inside. Every insult that he hurls hurts in a way that I never thought it could.

Sometimes it hurts too much...

I know I should give up. I mean, it's not like I couldn't replace him, couldn't find someone that would love me for who I am, and stop all of this pain.

I know that that someone would be nothing like him, and that they would probably make me happier than he ever could.

Maybe somewhere out there is someone that could make him happy too.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. All this uncertainty.

I should talk to him, really. Tell him all of this, tell him how I feel. And maybe he would agree, say yes, maybe we might find our own little private heaven far from here.

In my life, I cannot allow for 'maybe'. I need firmness, some safe ground to stand on in the uncertainty that my very foundations are built on.

The certainty is that Draco Malfoy is out of reach.

The certainty is that I am Harry Potter, and I will always be alone.