Winging It (Interactive Love Story)

4. If I Could Tell Him

The massive moon hanging in the night sky painted the deep forest blue, like the seafloor.

Once Harry and Ron were done playing wizard chess, it was already past nine o'clock. They decided to call it a day, given it was a school night, and changed into their nightwear. Before they headed off to bed, they looked to each other once more, and laughing, said good night. Harry assumed he would sink right to sleep, but for some reason, that relief never came.

It was nearly eleven o'clock now. The Boy Who Lived was trying to to fall asleep, but seemed to be having trouble with the "falling asleep" part. After endless rolling back and forth, he finally gave up and rose to a sitting position. The footsteps of students passing through the corridor adjacent Harry's dormitory had died out, and the only sounds from outside was a silent nighttime breeze and the distant howling of a dog.

Why won't I fall asleep? the weary boy thought while rubbing his eyes. He then remembered something his friend Luna had told him the other day. If you can't sleep, it's because someone else is dreaming about you. Harry was rather skeptical about this notion, but then again, most of Luna's theories were usually a bit far-fetched. Far-fetched, but creative all the same. Like that time she claimed the person you hate the most is actually the one you love the most. That got a chuckle out of Harry, who was amused by the prospect of being in love with a certain blonde git.

Yeah, right. What would that be like? He'd probably be just as much of an arse as he is now. Stupid Malfoy, with his stupid pretty hair and his stupid smug face... Although, hypothetically, if I was dating him, he might let me use his hair products... and he'd probably buy me lots of gifts, given his wealth. We could have study sessions in the library after school, and tell jokes no one understands except us two. It'd be pretty amaz—

Better force that thought straight out of my mind, Harry realized, then felt his face explode with heat. He was reasonably friendly with a few queer blokes, but always had his reasons to avoid spending time with them. He was afraid of crossing that line with any specific person. Harry always told himself that if he was going to do it, it had to be with someone he knew he loved. And Malfoy, well, you get the point.

But contrary to his thought process, Harry's lips curved into a small smile, and he lay back down.

Who knows?

The Golden Boy closed those beautiful jade eyes of his, and soon enough, felt the veil of sleep slowly envelop his exhausted mind.

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Evening. Meadow. Breeze. A slight chill.

We sat on the grass, side by side, talking and taking in the view. The reddish-gold setting sun melted into deep blue.

I slipped my hand into his, leaning my head onto his shoulder. We quietly observed the colours of the sky.

Eventually, I spoke up.

"I'm kind of tired. Mind if I use your legs as a pillow?"

He smiled, his silver eyes full of love, and replied, "Of course, go ahead. Good night..."

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January 30th, 1996

The entire classroom reeked with a sour-sweet fragrancy, like men's cologne.

Potions had never been Harry's favorite subject. His professor, Snape, was constantly on his back about how poorly he performed in class. He seemed to despise the boy with a fiery passion. Likewise, Harry figured, his eyes fixated on the wicked man. He was gazing around the classroom, presumably looking for his next victim. Both corners of his mouth curled upward into a grin that could not be described with any word other than devious. A chill ran up Harry's spine. He quickly took his eyes off of Snape and decided to look around. Most students were hard at work, cutting ingredients and stirring their potions carefully. The Gryffindors had Potions with the Slytherins, so it was uncommon to see the class as composed as they were today.