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There he is. Quite simply he is just there. Gazing off to the endless sky as if it held all the answers. Answers to what, I can’t possibly imagine him asking. What, the meaning of life? No, he is probably standing there just to be there. Like every other day I follow him here to this hidden spot off grounds. Looking out into forever, into unknown territory. And I am transfixed by this. Transfixed by him and his slight movements. The blinking of eyes, the hesitant clench of his hands and the stiff posture that is suddenly there when he notices that he isn’t alone. That I am there, always. If only he would acknowledge that. If only he would notice that he isn’t alone in this unpredictable abyss entwining both of us together. If only... he would know that I am as confused as he is. But he doesn’t. That frustrates and comforts me like you have no idea. After all if he knew, what would he do? Continue gazing at the dreaded gray sky? Just catch a quick glimpse of me from the corner of his eye and later ignore me? As if it didn’t matter that he held my heart in those callous hands of his and that each clench he makes pain me as much as him. Would I be able to stand that inevitable rejection? A rejection that every second my belief gets stronger on that particular outcome? Being rejected of his acceptance to a possible us? The problem is that I don’t know. I just cannot reach a conclusion on how I would react. And that bloody scares me. Even more than getting a bad mark or getting expelled. Because if I threw out my feelings and confessed to holding some hope of us... and if he would shy away... I would lose him. And that... is my biggest fear. __________________________ She’s there. I know because she always comes out after two minutes of my usual gazing. She always brushes off some lingering leaves that have blown over to this dark corner from the vicious Whomping Willow. Then after stalling, she stares. I don’t know if I should feel unnerved by this. After all, why should I? I have handled hordes of crowds staring at me with disgust, admiration, indifference, stony silence, you name it, before. But with her... I feel uncomfortable. Again, I can’t place why. I have always sought comfort in her embrace, in her mother hen ways. But now everytime she comes for the usual hug of luck, before a Quidditch Match, I can’t help but feel awkward and shudder at contact. I can’t help but feel awkward around her. When this began is questionable. At first I thought that this uneasiness was the cause of my dismal childhood. And I actually accepted that for some time. But the years have passed and I have settled with a grin to Mrs. Weasley’s crushing bear hug, or even Ginny’s, but hers... I can never get used to. I’ve tried to, believe me, I have tried with all my might. But it just doesn’t work. Sometimes I wish to wrap my arms tighter around her slim waist. And other instances I wish to run as far from her as I can. And I hate it. I hate with all my might. Because I want to act normal, I want things to be the way they were before my emotions took control and warped my opinion on her. When did this happen? Was it when she came running to me with the melting snow in her hair? Or when she followed me to the end, to an inescapable death? Since when have things changed so drastically in my confider, my best friend? Since when have I felt so scared around her? _________________________ There they are. Just the both of them, staring at one another from the corner of their eyes. Green to Brown. Brown to Green. As if they are ashamed at looking at their... I don’t know what they are to each other anymore. Whatever previous labels they placed on one another -- best friend -- are gone. Because things have changed, and they both know it. I know it. And I should have known before. I should have prepared myself for this change, this turn-point, because it involved me, whether I wanted to or not. Maybe I already knew. I think I did, it -- this -- was too obvious, even for me. Perhaps I was under deep denial. I couldn’t bear to accept this distance. Even if it is unavoidable. But even that does not alleviate this pain burning deep inside my chest, everytime I see them at it. It doesn’t prevent the stinging tears from tainting my cheeks. It doesn’t stop me from feeling betrayed, even if this was inevitable, written in the bloody stars. Because I know that I can never be part of whatever it is that they have now. Some bond that was always there, even when she came and asked for a toad. A bond that first formed when she glanced at him and took in a shaky breath before launching into a rant. A bond that keeps growing stronger and more vibrant in each of these meetings, each second. These still moments in which all of us are confused and don’t know how to approach this awful tension... At least that is one thing we share still. One thing we are still a trio over. Even if that thread that holds our friendship together is unwinding at my end and getting tangled in theirs. Even if we are Harry, Hermione and Ron, we can maybe reminisce over the old times. Times in which I didn’t feel like a third wheel. Times in which I wasn’t just there, but belonged. __________________________ A/N: I felt like writing something, make my day somewhat productive, and this came out. It is short but I like it. If you have not already guess the first segment was Hermione, then Harry and finally Ron. I kind of feel sorry for him.

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