Steal R/H, (1/1)
Steal
- acidquill
notes: Don't know where this came from. I was up late with pre-summer session nerves and it was suddenly here.
You never know what to say. When to say it.
You trip over your words like uneven pavers, making you seem the fool when all you really want is to tell him.
It should be easy -- just three words right? Four if you count his name.
"Harry, I..."
See, there are two down already. You've gotten his attention. He looks up at you from the grass.
"Harry..."
No, no. Now you're going backwards. You'll never get it all out if you're already back-sliding.
He's waiting for you to finish what you started. Looking at you with those eyes, green like the bottom of the lake. Drowning you. Suddenly you want to slap him. You don't want to feel this way. You don't want to make a fool of yourself.
But there he is, waiting. He starts to get up --
You can't do this.
The hell with it all, you'll find yourself a nice dark hole and throw yourself in it. Pull the turf in after you and just hide. You can't, you won't look at him anymore. Not now. Maybe not ever.
So you run away.
That's right, big brave Gryffindor that you are, you run away from your best friend.
You can hear him behind you. You don't look back; the doors of Hogwarts are just ahead. Keep running. You can go to Dumbledore, tell him to switch your room assignment, kick you out of school; you don't really care. There are worse things. You can't face staying if he hates you. And you're sure that he would, he will when he knows.
But you never make it to the doors, never mind Dumbledore.
He tackles you. That's something you never expected. You know that he's strong, that he's much more than he looks. But you think of that as inner strength. Not the physical force to knock all of the now six feet of you into the dirt. He does. You should have remembered: he always gets what he wants, and he's always broken the rules.
The two of you tumble a bit in the grass and he ends up sitting on your chest. Seems he's not having you escaping just yet.
You brace yourself for a telling off. At least a swear word or two.
He surprises you again --
"I fancy you like mad Ron."
Then he kisses you.
Funny, but you don't mind that he stole your line.
- end
- acidquill
notes: Don't know where this came from. I was up late with pre-summer session nerves and it was suddenly here.
You never know what to say. When to say it.
You trip over your words like uneven pavers, making you seem the fool when all you really want is to tell him.
It should be easy -- just three words right? Four if you count his name.
"Harry, I..."
See, there are two down already. You've gotten his attention. He looks up at you from the grass.
"Harry..."
No, no. Now you're going backwards. You'll never get it all out if you're already back-sliding.
He's waiting for you to finish what you started. Looking at you with those eyes, green like the bottom of the lake. Drowning you. Suddenly you want to slap him. You don't want to feel this way. You don't want to make a fool of yourself.
But there he is, waiting. He starts to get up --
You can't do this.
The hell with it all, you'll find yourself a nice dark hole and throw yourself in it. Pull the turf in after you and just hide. You can't, you won't look at him anymore. Not now. Maybe not ever.
So you run away.
That's right, big brave Gryffindor that you are, you run away from your best friend.
You can hear him behind you. You don't look back; the doors of Hogwarts are just ahead. Keep running. You can go to Dumbledore, tell him to switch your room assignment, kick you out of school; you don't really care. There are worse things. You can't face staying if he hates you. And you're sure that he would, he will when he knows.
But you never make it to the doors, never mind Dumbledore.
He tackles you. That's something you never expected. You know that he's strong, that he's much more than he looks. But you think of that as inner strength. Not the physical force to knock all of the now six feet of you into the dirt. He does. You should have remembered: he always gets what he wants, and he's always broken the rules.
The two of you tumble a bit in the grass and he ends up sitting on your chest. Seems he's not having you escaping just yet.
You brace yourself for a telling off. At least a swear word or two.
He surprises you again --
"I fancy you like mad Ron."
Then he kisses you.
Funny, but you don't mind that he stole your line.
- end