#ladyvaderwrites

He squints at you and you surprise yourself by closing your arms about him and burying your face in his neck. You’re the only one who matters, you mumble against his skin and feel him sigh. His arms tighten about you and you feel his lips on your hair. He murmurs Friends? And you tremble with longing. You can’t risk losing him because he finally decided he wants you. You can’t be one of those students you see about the school, heart in their eyes, broken, as he walks past. If friendship is the only way you can keep him with you always then friendship is all you’ll take from him. Always, you whisper.

I thought we were friends, you say, trying to stop the blood welling in your chest from pouring past your lips. We are, he says, horrified when you shake your head. I’m supposed to be your ‘best’ friend and you didn’t even tell me you were gay. The ice in your tone gives you relief, you feel less likely to ball yourself into his arms and beg him, plead with him, cry until he explains how he can love boys but not you.

Harry is kissing someone in your dorm, kissing someone on his bed, the bed only a foot or so away from yours and all of this is bad but not soul-destroying. What stops you in your tracks is who he’s kissing. Harry Potter is kissing a boy. And that boy is not you.