You asked me a strange question once, and I didn't know how to answer you. Maybe it wasn't that strange. Maybe it was just unexpected, but I didn't say anything. I was just a teenager that had gotten a date with the girl I' liked since before I learned that fact, and you were here, best friend that was supposed to cheer for me or act like an over protective brother or anything besides asking me strange, unexpected things.
You muttered sorry after five long minutes and turned to your bed. I think I also said something, but I can't remember what. We never mentioned it again and I did went out with Hermione and one day I heard you laughing with my sister the way you used to do when we were eleven years old. I thought the question had been forgotten.
Still, sometimes I thought about it. What should I had answered, if I dared. Should I dare to think about that? You were happy - as happy as one can be knowing that life's probably ending for you, that facing your destiny has never been as true as it is for you.
Measuring year-long minutes with a tally of crushed, stained polystyrene cups during the war is not something I wish unto anyone, but I'm not a fighter as I'm a strategist, so I kept on breaking it into pieces, just like my patience. It was my job to stay back and pray for all the ones that were risking their lives that my ideas had worked. So I broke a little bit each time and it didn't matter for when everyone returned, maybe injured and maybe as crazy as I was turning, but alive.
Do you remember the question? I couldn't take it off my mind after that. After you died and Hermione almost also dies and when Ginny was a sobbing mess, clutching at her as if she had you in there. For the blood she had on her, I was certain she did.
Isn't it funny? The things you can realize when life becomes a bloody - pardon the pun - mess? When you're so shocked that you pay attention to all the little details? Ginny's necklace, the one you gave her on her sixteen birthday was missing, so were Hermione's barrettes that I had gifted her when we moved in together. Charlie was missing a leg while Tonks' hair was missing it's color.
Voldemort was missing but also you and Ginny kept saying that you were dead.
It didn't hit me until later, when I was sitting next to the bed where Hermione and Ginny were holding each other close while I took care of them, that I I never could say that yes, I did loved her even if it was different of the way that I loved you.