IF I COULD TURN BACK TIME ━━ ❝ harry has a secret - he's always had a secret crush on professor snape. when he begins to feel that it is his fault he died and that he wished he would have known his true feelings for him, hermione steps in and tries...
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As Harry sat and pondered all of these deeps thoughts and emotions, a small tear formed in his eye and slid slowly down his face, making small patterns on his sweater Mrs. Weasley had knitted him.
Just as he was about to let the tears come and overflow with so much raw emotion, the door opened and in walked Hermione.
Wiping away his tears quickly and readjusting his glasses, he watched as she came towards him and sat in the opposing chair across from him.
"Harry?" She started, trying to read his expression. But she couldn't. Harry was one person she found hard to read nowadays.
He sniffed and cleared his throat, sitting up straighter in his chair. Not once did he look at her. His gaze stayed transfixed on the fire before him. Nothing could change the past. Nothing could change his feelings towards him either.
"Harry," Hermione tried again, "I know something's bothering you. Would you just please open up to me?" Her expression was worried. Her best friend, had shadowed himself further and further away. Every time she tried to reach out to him, it was like a ghost. She reached over and placed a hand in his shoulder, feeling him flinch at her touch.
He abruptly shrugged her hand off of him and stood up. "Harry," she started.
"No! You don't understand." He said, beginning to pace in front of the fireplace. She frowned.
"What don't I understand? Harry, if you would just open up to me, maybe I can help." She said, firmly. "Harry-"
"I messed up Hermione!" He said, throwing his glass of butterbeer into the fireplace, where it shattered to pieces and made the flames hiss. He leaned against the fireplace wall and let it all out - the tears he had been holding in for what seemed to be eternity.
"Oh Harry. . ." She soothed, standing up and pulling him into an embrace. He welcomed it and cried into her shoulder, his glasses contorted against her sweater. "You know I'm here for you. . . You can tell me anything." She said, burying her head into his neck as he did the same to her.
"I just. . . We lost so many good people and I feel as of I never got to say what I really wanted to say to them." He said, pulling away and wiping at his eyes. Hermione pulled him over to the couch and they both sat down. She pushed his estranged hair out of his eyes and smiled softly, as if inviting him to continue on.
"I never got to tell Fred how much of a brother he felt to me. I never got to tell Tonks how I was proud of her and Remus, and how I looked to her as if she were an aunt. I never got to tell Remus how much he meant to me, and how much I appreciated him. I never got to tell Sirius how much he made my little life I had feel more complete. And I never got to. . ." He stopped, beginning to choke up over his words. "And I never. . ." He let out a rigid sigh and continued. If he were to tell someone, Hermione was the most trusted. "I never got to tell Professor Snape that I appreciated all he did for me - for us - and that I. . . Loved him." He said, hanging his head down low.
It was completely silent. Not a single word was said for a really long time. Nothing but Harry's sniffles filled the air as he tried to collect himself, but with every breath he took, he felt as if he were falling apart.
"I- Harry. . . I don't know what to say." She started, unsure as how to react to what she just heard. This was certainly news to her. Had she just found out that her best friend may have been gay all along? She had suspected Draco having been a crush of Harry's, but he was very good at hiding it with dating Ginny and chasing Cho, but Professor Snape? She felt as if she needed to hear him reassure her of what he just said.
"I mean, were you sure of your feelings? I don't want this to be like hero's guilt, Harry. Did you really have feelings for him?"
"Yes, Hermione. Yes I did." He said, looking up at her. She searched his eyes for any sign of uncertainty, but she found none.
"When did you first sort out your feelings? Was this during school or after. . ." She said, her voice trailing off. He looked down and gave a small, sad smile.
"During school, back in our fifth year." She felt as of she didn't understand. What kind of love did he mean?
