You Won't See Any Tears from Me


Damn the bloody Boy-Who-Lived.

Damn that bloody, sodding, too-noble-for-his-own-good Boy-Who-Lived.

Damn him.

I know he left me 'for my own good.' That doesn't make it any easier though.

And it hurts. It hurts so bad, especially when I remember those times by the lake, the breeze ruffling his adorably messy hair, his beautiful green eyes devoid of the usual stress, worry, and hidden pain, being able to enjoy each other's company, not to mention a few good snogs.

But you won't see this girl cry. You won't hear me crying my eyes out in the bathroom stall between classes, or through any curtain or bedroom wall. You won't see me cast a Concealing Charm on my blotchy face or puffy eyes, because I won't have to. I refuse to be one of those pathetic, wimpy girls that cry buckets every time the love of their life dumps them. Like Lavender, for instance.

Those girls don't know what real love is anyway.

So you won't see me cry. In fact, you may not even know that I miss him at all, because I'm good at pushing feelings back. Hell, I've hid my feelings for him for the past two, almost three years, and I can certainly hide them again until he returns.

So I won't pretend that that's Harry and me up there at the altar, instead of my poor scarred-up brother and his Phlegm. You won't see tears pricking the corners of my eyes when I think about Harry, Ron, and Hermione going off to save the world.

I love him with all of my heart.

But you won't see any tears from me.