Curiousity Killed the Cat

We were sitting in the kitchen a couple nights later, Hermione was going on about how Ron ate too much while Harry and I just sat there, pretending not to listen. It was just like it normally was but tonight, Harry was a bit… off. He brushed it off when I asked him about it, which usually meant something was bugging him.

My guess was right when Harry jumped out of his head and left the kitchen, leaving all of us in confusion. I followed Harry out of the kitchen, running some excuse off when Ron and Hermione asked where I was going. I could care less if they knew I was lying or was thinking that we were going to go to a broom closet. Let them think what they want; it’s the truth that matters most. I followed him upstairs and into one of the bedrooms.

“Harry?” I said, my voice soft and careful, as I stared at his back, watching it rise and fall with every breath he took.

“I could lose you,” he said, his tone half-surprised, as if this was the first time that it occurred to him.

I felt my heart drop, taking a step closer to him I said, “You won’t lose me.”

“How can you be so sure?” he snapped, turning to face me. “How can you know? How can you believe that you will be alive when all of this is going on?”

I cringed when he snapped, his voice sharper than I was used to. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Have you looked around? Are you blind to what is happening out there? To those people? Those innocent people?” he said, frowning at the thought.

I couldn’t respond to that, so I let him continue. “Who’s next? Ron? Hermione? Mr. Weasley? Lupin? Me? You?”

“You won’t lose me,” I repeated, my eyes looking up at him, heartbroken at the sight of him: upset, lost, vulnerable.

“I could lose so many people I care about, because he’s out there looking for me. Do you know what it’s like to have to read about these deaths and know that it’s my fault?”

“It’s not your fault!” I cried, losing my calm and careful approach. “None of this is anyone’s fault! I am not going to stand here and listen to you say that you’re the reasons these people are dead!”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at me with those big, green eyes.

“For once in your life,” I said, my voice quieter than it was before, “don’t be a hero, Harry.”
“I love you,” he said, his voice full of so many emotions but I couldn’t tell them apart.

There was so many things I wanted to say, ranging from how much I care about him or how he manages to make me smile and feel happy but I could only respond with one sentence.

“I love you too,” I whispered, feeling my eyes begin to tear up.

“I love you too much to hurt you,” he said, his voice weak.

“Don’t you understand?” I asked, walking over to him until I was in front of him, looking into those green eyes. “I don’t need someone to fight my own battles for me. I don’t want you to leave me, Harry. I want you there, with me, everyday, for the rest of my life. I might die, I’m not saying I will, but if I do, I want to be able to say that I spent my moments with the person I love.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, breaking the silence that was killing me on the inside.

“Then don’t leave me,” I said, ever so softly.

It was at that moment that I realized how much I loved him. How much I didn’t want to die. How much I wanted us to win this war, for everyone, for us. I didn’t want to ever lose Harry, to have him die for everyone else. I wasn’t being selfish; I was being human.

I acted on an impulse, like the ones that we all knew deep down we couldn’t stop. I crashed my lips onto Harry’s, never wanting them to leave his, never wanting to lose the warmth that they carried. He kissed me back as if this was the last time we’d ever be able to kiss, our last moments together. His hands wrapped around my waist tightly, as if to tell everyone that he wasn’t going to ever let me go. My arms around his neck, never wanting to be separated from him.

There are few moments that happened in my life that I will remember for the rest of my life. Some happy, some sad. It didn’t matter, they were ones that impacted my life. Would I remembered them after death? Would Harry die before I did? Would I die before he did? So many questions, all with completely different answers, so little time.

Clothes dropping to the ground, breathing getting faster and shorter, as if we were sprinting to a finish line, running away from the rest of the world. His hands on my waist, sending waves of emotions though me. I could feel his pain, his sorrows, all of which I wanted to make him free off. Harry didn’t deserve this, give his pain to me.

We fell on the bed, forgetting that Ron and Hermione were also in the house. It didn’t matter, in our minds, it was now or never. Never being able to know what it was like to be this close to each other, to know what it was like.

His skin against mine, sending warmth though out my body. Eyes closed, as if to stay in this dream a while longer. My arms never letting go of him, his never letting go of mine, both of us not wanting to let go of each other. Who loves the other one most? The one who lets go because they love them? Or the one who holds on because they aren’t strong enough?

We didn’t speak, our bodies spoke for us. Each second that passed by seemed like a moment, each minute only a second. There wasn’t each time for us. If time could stop, placing me and Harry together for the rest of eternity. But time doesn’t stop for anyone and I’m sure we weren’t the first to beg for it to.

So many things went though me, body and mind. Pleasure, warmth, hope, sorrow, fear, desire, lust, love. I was all of those things and more many more, unable to be described, only felt and remembered. Like trying to pick out all the flavors in a primary food such as a strawberry. You know it tastes like a strawberry, but how could you describe it?

My hair in my face, sticking to my face as if it was a mask to the world, hiding me from it’s watchful eyes. Pressed up against the one I love, the one who loves me. This moment in time, is one of the ones that will be remembered, whether I was alive or not. Being here, in the present, with Harry, was more than I could ever ask for. The feeling of his body against mine, as if we were two pieces of a puzzle, put together for the first time. A perfect fit, a perfect picture.

Harry and me, connected by body and mind, one person. One screwed up, broke person. Two wrongs don’t make a right. Two wrongs make an even better wrong. We were meant to be, as common as it might seem. But no matter how perfect we were for each other, we couldn’t stop what was being thrown at us. Death, tears, sadness.

We are forced to chose what we want in life, what was wrong and what was right. But you have to ask yourself:

Which is wrong and which is right?