Watch, but never touch…?
What do you do if you love someone more than anyone else in the world... but you can never have them?
Is it truly possible to fall in love… with someone who never even acknowledged your presence? Is it possible to feel like you've known the person your whole life and in truth you knew nothing about the person except for the fact that he hates you and he revels in the pain of those around him. Is it possible?
Possible to feel like I do about this enemy. This man…this blank? Yet, when I look at him my heart flutters and my insides clinch. I feel the age ancient pain that many have felt before me… the pain of unrequited love.
The mist rose off the Quidditch field, swirled into the air, curling like foggy snakes. Through these tendrils that danced in the air, a single person raced around the field. His blonde hair ruffled and his face tinged pink from the wind, but still he practiced his deep swerves and sharp slopes.
Hermione, hidden in the stands, clutching to her chest her diary in which she had been furiously scribbling when he walked confidently onto the field carrying his broom. His aura had made her pause, made her look up. It had strangely been him who she had been writing so feverishly about.
She watched him, the dull ache she had been writing about, apparent in her chest. Why was it that he wouldn't look at her the way she looked at him? With that wanting, that look that told you the person wanted you and only you for the rest of their life.
Was the only reason he wouldn't acknowledge her because of his family? The disgrace he would bring to the name if he ever considered her as a girlfriend?
Her love for him reminded her as some tragic love story. She was like some peasant who wished upon every falling star that the Prince would glance at her. Just glance. Glance.
As soon as she though the simple word, he turned to her. His stormy grey eyes looking out from behind a fall of blond hair, they met her eyes. Froze her.
They stared at each other, the Prince finally catching the peasant in her act of worship. He watched her and then he scoffed. He scoffed at the poor girl, lowering to the ground and climbing off his broom. Without a parting glance he walked off of the field, the silver of the curling snake on the back of his training uniform glinting menacingly. Glinting maliciously.
How could she ever think he would return her love? She flipped open her diary and picked up her quill prepared to write the rest of her entry.
I was foolish. I am nothing to him. Nothing. To think that I though he could ever love me. I am like most who deserve love, deserve one who will hold them in the dark of the night and yet I never find that true love whom will lay with me under the frozen stars. How tragic. For me, for them.
I, just like them, will be forced forever to watch. To watch but never touch.
Disclaimer and note: Harry Potter does not belong to me. I do not own Hermione and I do not own Draco. That is who she is fantasizing about. Lol. Of course, I would fantasize about him too if he were real. ; )