Harry Potter x Reader Oneshots!

Brother's Best Friend - Harry Potter

So, my conclusion is, love is fucking confusing. 

When I first met Harry, after Fred, George, and Ron flew him to our house in the middle of the night, I knew we were gonna be fast friends. 

I wasn't shy like Ginny, and I wasn't afraid to talk to 'The Chosen One'. 

When he was stuck at his aunt and uncle's over the summer, I would send him letters and boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. 

He would send letters back, making fun of Dudley, or telling me dumb Muggle jokes. 

And every once and a while, I'd find myself thinking, 'Damn, I love this guy!' in the way that some friend will do from time to time. 

In the beginning, it was more of a big brother, little sister kind of love. I know most of you are thinking SWEET HOME ALABAMA...WHERE SKIES ARE SO BLUE, but shut up. I'm trying to tell the whole story in a way that will make sense, so save your incestships for later. 

In fourth year, the Triwizard Tournament came to Hogwarts. And I was so scared for Harry when his name was called. I didn't even have it in myself to be mad at him on my brother's behalf. 

Then the Yule Ball came around. And I didn't even realize that I wanted him to ask me until he asked Cho Chang. I cried into my pillow that night, so quiet that the girls in my dorm couldn't hear it. I had no idea why. 

But then, Hermione (bless her soul) told Harry that he could just ask me. Because it wouldn't mean anything to me, right? Right?? Wrong. Fucker. 

So, Harry asked me to the dance. I bought a dress that my mother would probably deem 'slutty', in her words. 

And, luckily for me, he couldn't take his eyes off my the whole night. 

The evening ended with my back up against a wall in the hallway, Harry's lips leaving little dark bruises all over my collarbones. 

We never talked about it again. He grew distant. Distracted. And then he kissed Ginny that one night, when they won the Quidditch match. And I was so mad at him. So mad for overlooking the sister, the one in the middle. Ron was mad too. Just a little bit, I think. But he moved on. And I didn't. 

I think that that was the first night I realized that I loved him. And it scared the fucking shit out of me. 

So I decided to ruin my life. 

I didn't mention this earlier, but Draco Malfoy had been hounding me my whole life, the little bitch. Always catcalling me, pinching my ass, the usual things. 

So that night, I went to the Slytherin common room. And I let Draco stick his cock in me. And it was nice, and it may or may not have happened more than once. 

But then Harry and Ron found out. And then they were the ones to call me names. Things much, much worse than anything Draco ever called me. 

Hermione understood. Thank Merlin, because if she hadn't, I would've been all alone. And I probably couldn't have handled that. 

There were so many times that I looked at Harry, that I found his eyes on me in the common room, or I would come down from the girls dorm in the morning, and he would turn to watch my from the couch. 

There were so many of those times where I wanted to tell him. There were times when I almost did. 

But then, I found out I was pregnant. With Draco's child. Yay. 

And Ron never looked at me the same. My parents practically disowned me. So I moved in with Draco. Got the Dark Mark. Gave birth. Almost died. Named my kid James, because why the fuck not. Got pregnant again. Named my kid Cissa. Because why the fuck not. 

So, now that the war is over, Draco and I live all alone. In his family's mansion. And I send Harry letters, still. Draco doesn't know. And no, you can't call it cheating. Because Harry never responds. Not even when I finally told him that I love him. 

And yes. I still love him. A part of me always will. But I'm happy with Draco. He makes me coffee in the morning. And sometimes, we read together in the afternoon. And sex is always fun. Our room looks like a sex dungeon. 

But yeah. My brother's best friend. Goddamn, I never thought I would be one of those girls. But here I am. And it is what it is. 

So. My final, true, end-of-story conclusion. Love is fucking confusing.