i got a love that keeps me waiting
He's always lived with alternate timelines in his head, whole different universes of what if.
What if his parents hadn't been killed? What if the Dursleys had wanted him? What if Hagrid hadn't come to give him his letter? What if he hadn't met Ron? What if he hadn't dismissed Malfoy? What if he hadn't remembered Hermione that first Halloween? What if he'd listened to her and hadn't gone to the Department of Mysteries? What if, what if, what if?
He's always lived with it, so he doesn't know why this should be any different, why this is the one that he wants to be real. It hits him as he's walking home one night, winding his way through Diagon Alley after he leaves her office at the Ministry.
What if they hadn't met until now, what if they hadn't clapped eyes on each other until they were adults? This afternoon, say.
He would have gone to that meeting and shaken her hand, introduced himself; he would have been amused, and a bit wistful, as she offered him tea, the Muggle way. They would have only met for an hour, but he would have wanted to know her; he would have been intrigued by the curve of her eyebrow, would have been bowled over by her laugh. He would have suggested a pint, 'it's the end of the day! We can discuss-' and she would have laughed and accepted, looking surprised.
They would have walked to the pub, work quickly abandoned as they discussed school and houses; she would have rolled her eyes at his 'Wait a - you're the bookworm Cho used to talk about?' They would have debated the benefits of Muggle London versus Magical London; they would have been in agreement that any London was better than Surrey and Surbiton.
They would have talked through the evening, would have interrupted each other and laughed and would have let their pints sit there, go flat, would have been shocked when they noticed the time, that the pub was empty except for them.
She would have agreed to meet him for lunch the next day, her cheeks pink and she would have suggested her favorite sandwich place, right across from the British Museum. He would have moaned about going out of Diagon Alley, but he would have agreed because 'anything for you.' He would have walked her home and she would have peeked out at him, as the door closed, a faint smile on her lips.
Lunches would have turned into dinner, would have turned into every moment possible spent together. He would have felt privileged to discover things about her, every thing about her, would have been amazed at the things he uncovered. She would have told him, grinning, wrapping her arms around his waist, that he was 'perfect. I mean, for me. You're perfect for me' and he would have agreed, drawing her to him and burying his face in her neck.
They would have been HarryandHermione; they would have been established fact from that moment on.
Instead. Well, instead they're best friends; they're part and parcel of each other. They're Harry (and Ginny) and Hermione (and Ron). He gets to know every expression and what all of her silences mean, but he isn't allowed to be amazed by any of it. Isn't allowed to marvel at the simple fact of her.
He's lived with wondering his entire life, has had 'what if, what if, what if' running through his head ever since he came remember. But now, at this moment, the 'what if, what if, what if' has been replaced by 'i wish, i wish, i wish.'
What if his parents hadn't been killed? What if the Dursleys had wanted him? What if Hagrid hadn't come to give him his letter? What if he hadn't met Ron? What if he hadn't dismissed Malfoy? What if he hadn't remembered Hermione that first Halloween? What if he'd listened to her and hadn't gone to the Department of Mysteries? What if, what if, what if?
He's always lived with it, so he doesn't know why this should be any different, why this is the one that he wants to be real. It hits him as he's walking home one night, winding his way through Diagon Alley after he leaves her office at the Ministry.
What if they hadn't met until now, what if they hadn't clapped eyes on each other until they were adults? This afternoon, say.
He would have gone to that meeting and shaken her hand, introduced himself; he would have been amused, and a bit wistful, as she offered him tea, the Muggle way. They would have only met for an hour, but he would have wanted to know her; he would have been intrigued by the curve of her eyebrow, would have been bowled over by her laugh. He would have suggested a pint, 'it's the end of the day! We can discuss-' and she would have laughed and accepted, looking surprised.
They would have walked to the pub, work quickly abandoned as they discussed school and houses; she would have rolled her eyes at his 'Wait a - you're the bookworm Cho used to talk about?' They would have debated the benefits of Muggle London versus Magical London; they would have been in agreement that any London was better than Surrey and Surbiton.
They would have talked through the evening, would have interrupted each other and laughed and would have let their pints sit there, go flat, would have been shocked when they noticed the time, that the pub was empty except for them.
She would have agreed to meet him for lunch the next day, her cheeks pink and she would have suggested her favorite sandwich place, right across from the British Museum. He would have moaned about going out of Diagon Alley, but he would have agreed because 'anything for you.' He would have walked her home and she would have peeked out at him, as the door closed, a faint smile on her lips.
Lunches would have turned into dinner, would have turned into every moment possible spent together. He would have felt privileged to discover things about her, every thing about her, would have been amazed at the things he uncovered. She would have told him, grinning, wrapping her arms around his waist, that he was 'perfect. I mean, for me. You're perfect for me' and he would have agreed, drawing her to him and burying his face in her neck.
They would have been HarryandHermione; they would have been established fact from that moment on.
Instead. Well, instead they're best friends; they're part and parcel of each other. They're Harry (and Ginny) and Hermione (and Ron). He gets to know every expression and what all of her silences mean, but he isn't allowed to be amazed by any of it. Isn't allowed to marvel at the simple fact of her.
He's lived with wondering his entire life, has had 'what if, what if, what if' running through his head ever since he came remember. But now, at this moment, the 'what if, what if, what if' has been replaced by 'i wish, i wish, i wish.'