I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand and the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep and there are no words for that. - Brian Andreas, StoryPeople __________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________

In the perfect world, I would forever hold your hand with mine, never letting go. Even if we were in public, you would always be at my side. This hope keeps me going. I don’t know what I would do without you.

I take that back. I know exactly what I would do. I would withdraw from the world and go mad. Simply become a lunatic.

Needless to say, I prefer to be sane, thank you very much.

These are crazy times, my dear, and even just a glance of you walking by brightens my day. You’re just so vibrant and full of life. But, eventually, as all things do, this grows old. I start to need more of you; a glance just isn’t enough to keep me going.

I’m a bit selfish, aren’t I?

But you like me that way; I dare say you even love me that way.

I hope you love me. I hope you know how much I love you, even though the words are never said aloud. For if we say those three words aloud, what we are doing becomes real. We are both smart enough to realize that our relationship would have very few supporters. Still, we keep meeting, again and again.

I suppose that you don’t worry as much as I do. You have a loving family, and they take up more than enough of your time. As for me, I have hours of sitting and thinking everyday. I just sit in a small little office, slowly but surely planning the day I’ll ask you the long overdue question that maybe, just maybe, you’ll say yes to. I have hope.

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Today’s the day. I know it. Today’s the day I’ll walk right up to her and grab her hand and walk with her without worrying about being caught. It’ll be just me and her, walking along; a little slice of perfect.

As of now I’m walking slightly behind her, at an angle, just so that I can just see her profile and back.

I start to move, ever so slightly, as to not startle her…

I’m so close; my hand is reaching down, a breath away…

And suddenly he is there, giving her a huge hug, and she is smiling away like Christmas came early. Just like that, my moment is gone.

She didn’t even notice.

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Coincidence. It must be.

How else would he have ended up at our spot?

This is our place, and he’s defiling it. And yet, she’s so overjoyed to see him. It’s the brightest I’ve seen her in a while.

She’s been distant for a while now, what is she thinking about, why won’t she tell me? It can’t be about me, could it? I just wanted some time with her. The more I love her, the more she washes away from me. And that’s the only way I can phrase it, she’s like a favorite sweater that the color just continuously washes away until it’s so bland that you can’t remember what it looked like in the first place.

She’s not vibrant anymore.

It kills me that she’s drifting away. We used to tell each other everything.

She’s my everything, but am I still hers?

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He knows: I’m sure of it. He knows just how much I care. That day in the park, his return so well planned, I just know that he is out to steal her away from me. Maybe he already has. I never thought that I would lose my love to Neville Longbottom.

Yet, every time I see them together, I know that I have done just that. It was always just a fling for her. I always knew she didn’t care the way I did.

So I’ve decided to leave. In fact, I’ve decided to leave eight times in the last three months. I throw everything into my suitcase and ask Potter what field needs me most in the melee, and I leave, without even glancing back.

Or, at least, I reach for the door; I hold the doorknob in my hand even. And I stand there, staring at the door ahead of me. I even started to turn the doorknob once; I felt the lock give and went to pull it open. Potter just stands, watching me. And I sigh, and turn around.

“Maybe next time.” He says, and watches me climb the stairs back to my room. He knows why I can’t leave and he knows what it means to be just a fling to Ginevra Weasley. He’s been there before. I’m not alone in this, at least.

Maybe that’s the reason he and I get along so well now. We both know how hard it is to leave her. Maybe that’s why he looks at me so sadly.

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It should have been me. That’s all I can think when I see the news.

I’m wrong, of course. He’s the only one she’s ever thought of as more than a fling.

He means more to her than I ever did.

And so I left, finally. I walked out two days ago. I didn’t even take my belongings with me.

I wonder what they think of me, walking out in the middle of the meeting. I can’t watch that last little piece of my perfect world slip away from me.

So, I really don’t care what they think, not one bit.

All I truly care about is the ring on her finger and the smile on her face. That conniving little devil stole her away from me. And I know that he didn’t. I never even had her. I didn’t even have a chance.

It should have been me. I should be the one making her happy.

And she doesn’t even realize it. We could have been great. We were great.

Once.

It should have been me.

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Author notes: Review please.

The End.
sarfisushi is the author of 3 other stories.
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