Chapter 1 : Last Kiss
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Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize from the Potterverse is mine. I do own the plot, ask nicely and I’ll let you use it!
A/N: Ah, one of my rare strokes of brilliance. I’m quite proud of this if I do say so myself. Go on, read it and tell me what you think!
A voice called her name out. She turned, her fiery hair whipping through the air. She knew before she saw his face, she knew who was calling her. Because no one quite said her name like he did.
His black hair shone in the harsh sunlight, his eyes twinkled and he jogged to catch up to her. They had been friends for so long, she thought. She was happy. But she wanted more.
But he didn’t, she could see. He smiled, “Hey.” He said.
“Hi.” She grinned, and they were off, walking to class together, like they always did. People shot them knowing glances from the corners of their eyes, because everyone knew that the two were meant to be.
“So, what’re you doing tonight? I thought we could watch a moovy on your fellytision.” He said, “The one in your dorm, speaking about that, how the heck did you hook it up? Electricity doesn’t work here. Anyway, how bout one of those old funny moovys?”
She sighed. “I cant.”
“Why not?” He frowned.
“Because I’m meeting someone for a date. He’s cool. Said he’ll take me to Hogsmeade.” He asked whom, she told him- “Your best friend.”
His world came crashing down. The bastard. Guaranteed the fool didn’t know that his best friend liked her, but he should have asked, it was common courtesy, manners, unwritten rules.
“Do you mind?” She quietly asked.
“No.” He said, lying through his teeth, because he was in love with this girl and always would be. “But if he tries anything?”
“I’ll kick his arse.” She replied, eyes madly twinkling. She caught his gaze and sighed, “And yes, I’ll tell you too. You can help me.”
“Cool.” He said. They walked into the classroom and sat down next to each other. Before the teacher began class, he knew he had to know. “You like him?” He asked quietly.
“Meh.” She replied with a sound. He tried to stop the uncontrollable grin spreading over his face. “He’s hot though.” And the grin died.
“Everyone says we look a lot alike. So am I hot too?” He said quickly, immediately regretting it.
“Yes you are.” She grinned, her heart thumping. His heart strained against his ribs. Ask her, his mind told him, ask her. But he didn’t and his heart fell back. He didn’t and her heart sunk to her ankles.
“Attention class.” The class had begun.
The months sped by. He watched as she changed, just for the boy he called a best friend. She was more outgoing, a little less proper, and he wondered why. He was almost exactly just like the boyfriend, why hadn’t he been able to change her?
“Because friends don’t change each other, they accept.” She told him. He listened to her gushing about the brilliance of the arse. He nodded, and kept up a good act.
One day, the couple was walking to class. He called out to her. She didn’t turn. She always turned. There was a lot of noise. She always heard. Her boyfriend smiled and swooped down to kiss her cheek and then he left. And she still didn’t turn.
Squelching the pain in his heart he ran to catch up with her. She was glowing in a way he had never seen before, looking so vibrant, he stared at her beauty and wanted to seize her lips. “Hey.” He said.
“Hey.” She replied.
“How’re things in paradise?” He asked, hoping she didn’t pick up on his bitterness.
“Brilliant.” She replied. And he wished he could die.
“So how bout that long overdue moovy?” He asked, hurt that they hadn’t gotten the chance since that day so long ago.
“Can’t.” She mumbled, and he tried not to show that he had known what her answer would be. He looked at her, wondering what the reason was this time. “I’m going on a date.”
“Okay.” He said, trying to hide his disappointment, “So can I watch one alone in your room?”
She looked regretting, “When I said on a date, I meant we’re watching a movie. My roommates have been kind enough to give us the evening alone.”
“Alone?” He laughed nervously, hiding his anxiety, and trying to make his voice less squeaky. “Why? I thought they’d want to watch the movie with you guys. Surely they don’t object to a little snogging?”
She froze and a little nervously, “They don’t but I asked them to.”
“Why would you do that?” He interrupted, not sure he wanted to hear why.
“Because I think we might do it tonight.” She mumbled.
Only extreme fear could have prompted her to say it. “Do what?” He asked in genuine confusion.
“It.” She put emphasis on the word. He looked at her, not understanding what she was saying, “Sex.” She mumbled.
“What about it?” He asked, feigning confusion. He felt shock bubbling in him, denial too.
She glared at him, mockingly, “I think we’re going to have sex tonight.”
And he had never felt so angry in his life before. The anger clawed at his insides and clouded his vision. He wanted to find the traitor he called a best friend and rip him to pieces for even contemplating the soling of this goddess. “Really?” He asked, emotionlessly.
“Yeah.” She mumbled. She caught his eye and said quickly, “No, he’s not forcing me. I want to.”
“You said you’d wait till marriage.” He said, trying ever so hard to keep the accusation from his voice. “We discussed it.”
“Yeah.” She agreed again, “But that was when I thought I’d never find anyone. Besides,” Her voice fell to an embarrassed whisper, “I think I might marry him.” She giggled nervously.
He faked a laugh, “Really?”
“Yeah.” She repeated, “I love him.” It was confident, sure, and so cutting. He felt like she had taken a knife and plunged it deeply in his back. Those words were supposed to refer to him. Not that bum. Him.
“Cool.” He said, trying desperately to keep the anger, hurt, helplessness and above all- the tiredness from his voice.
“What do you think?” She asked covertly, “Think he might love me too?”
Now was his chance. All he had to say was that it was a fling and she would burst into tears and fall into his arms. But her face was so trusting, she looked so happy that he couldn’t crush her, shatter her dreams. “Yeah.” He mumbled, hating himself for loving her so much that he was willing to get used to the knife lodged comfortably in his back now. “Yeah. He does. He says it all the time.”
She looked so radiant. So brilliant. For a moment he forgot all the hurt she had caused him and then they arrived at the classroom. She reached up and pecked his cheek. “Thanks. For all the reassuring.” She whispered before leading him into the classroom. “Look!” She squealed. “He saved us places!”
And indeed he had. She rushed over to him, taking the seat to his left. The boyfriend reached down and whispered something to her, while the friend miserably trudged to the seat on the right side of his best friend.
That was all he was. The friend. The boyfriend’s right hand man. Just the friend. He turned his head away from the nauseating scene of the lovebirds whispering in each other’s ears.
He paced the Common Room. He wanted to die. Right now, the woman he loved was up in her room watching a moovy with the man she loved, who incidentally wasn’t him. He kicked out at a couch as he passed.
Everyone was sleeping. But he could hear sounds coming from the Seventh Year’s Girls’ Dormitory. Yes, the voices were real and not in his head. He looked around trying to blot the image out of his mind. He knew exactly what they were doing.
They would be watching the moovy, the boyfriend’s arm would be around the back of the transfigured chair, around her shoulders. There would be a blanket draped over their legs. She would be curled slightly, nearly on her side, one arm tucked behind her body, the other nestled under his jacket, resting on his chest.
She would yawn slightly, though still be intrigued by the moovy. And while she was yawning, a lock of her hair would fall into her eyes. And the arm that was around her shoulder would reach down and push her hair behind her ear.
She would smile out of shock, because she didn’t really think she was that beautiful, and then she would turn and smile up at him. And he would grin back down at her and lean down to kiss her.
It would start out gentle and slow, as a sign of love, before heating up. And then before anyone could do anything, the moovy would be forgotten, and he would be easing her back on the chair, kissing her still. His hand would sneak up her shirt, and she would moan…
The friend didn’t realise that he had frozen the stairs and was pounding up the stairs to the Dormitory. He didn’t register the fact that he was banging on the door, knocking ferociously.
Moments later the door swung open to reveal her, dishevelled, in disarray. She looked disorientated, and it took her a moment to bring him in focus. “Hey.” He mumbled, not sure now, why he had come here.
“Hey.” She said, glancing behind her. She stepped out of the doorway and shut the door softly behind her. “What’re you doing here?” She asked, trying desperately, he could tell, to keep the impatience out of her voice.
She wanted him to go away so she could go back to her boyfriend. He looked down at her. She was in jeans, and a loose shirt. The contrast between the black jeans and white shirt were brilliant on her and coupled with her red hair, she couldn’t blame him for what he did next.
He leant down and seized her face with his hands and then… then he kissed her. Kissing her was like coming home after a long, long holiday. Kissing her was like cool rain and he loved it, he welcomed it, because it was familiar.
His hands travelled to her waist, where they wrapped themselves around her waist. It was then that he realized that she wasn’t kissing him back. It put a damper on his mood. He began to lean away, regretting what he was doing.
It was then that she leaned in to his kiss and then his passion was back. He kissed her good and proper again. She was kissing him back, pretty vigorously, but he noticed, even through his haze of lust, that her arms were by her side, not around him.
He broke away, panting. She was looking at him wistfully. She was on her tiptoes- almost off the ground, her midriff and waist pulled against his, but the rest of her body arching away. She licked her lips and said, “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“Yeah?” He asked, raggedly.
“Yeah.” She agreed. “I always did want to do that.” And he knew that she didn’t want to anymore. She shot him a sad look, “Once I would give anything for that. I loved you.” She said simply and softly. The words took his breath away. “For such a long time, it was a way of life.”
“I love you-” He tried.
She interrupted him with a look, “But then I met him.” She said, gesturing to the door. “And everything was so much better because he liked me back and wasn’t afraid to tell me. And now-” She said softly, “Now I love him and can’t imagine life without him. For all his bullying ways and everything.”
“So it’s no.” He said, let down, referring to the fact that he still wanted her.
“It’s a no.” She firmly said. “I’m sorry. I hope we can still be friends.”
“Of course we can still be friends.” He said. “Sorry bout this.” He mumbled, hands leaving her waist and waving his hand in a general direction. She nodded understandingly, and he was leaning in for a kiss. She shook her head, jerking it towards the door. “No last kiss?” He asked, a little pathetically.
“No last kiss.” She said, agreeing.
“I’ll come back for it someday.” He said, “Wait for it.”
Things went back to normal. She pretended that he had never declared himself to her. And he pretended like he hadn’t as well, just so that he could still be friends with her could still be trusted by her, to see her laugh and smile and everything else. She stuck with the boyfriend, and he dated other meaningless girls.
Then one day, he stood there, dressed in all his finery. He was in a suit, a black one, that complemented his hair beautifully. He stood by her. She looked beautiful. Her red hair was splayed all over her creamy shoulders- bare due to her dress.
It was white a beautifully elegant. It was an off shoulder gown, and hence- her bare skin. She looked beautiful and so nervous, his heart went out to her. “I can’t believe I’m getting married.” She mumbled.
And he knew what they were all saying- “I can’t believe she’s not getting married to you.”
He just smiled and grinned at her, “I cant believe you’re getting married either.” He smiled. It still hadn’t sunk in. the fact that after this day she would never be his, could never be his.
“To him.” She mumbled, “Can you believe it?”
“Yeah.” He lied, “You’re perfect for each other.” No, they weren’t. But he had to lie, to pacify her, because if she didn’t go through with it today, she would never forgive herself or him.
“Thanks.” She mumbled.
“You know,” He smiled, “I never got my last kiss.”
She grinned conspiratorially, and leaned in. And still, after all these years, his heart thumped, there was a hitch in his breathing. She whispered, “And now you never will.”
He laughed, trying to pretend like it was nothing. She bought it. He changed the topic, “I’m serving a dual purpose today, aren’t you glad you kept me around?”
“Absolutely.” She grinned, “You’re giving me away and are best man.” She paused, “I don’t suppose I can thank you enough?”
Before he could say anything the tune started up and it was time. Gliding down the aisle with her was a magical experience. He heard the whispers about what a handsome couple they made, and only wished that it could last.
Soon he was standing, with her on his arm, both of them looking at the man at the altar, who looked so much like him. She was smiling was radiant, as was the boyfriend- no fiancé- and the friend was grimacing inside.
“Who gives this woman to this man?” The priest intoned. The fool had loved her enough to give her a muggle wedding.
And it was his turn. He had to say it. She was waiting. She was looking. He couldn’t let her down, not after all these years. “I do.” He said quietly, only wishing he was saying it in a different context.
And he took his place as best man, things sped up after that for him. “I now pronounce thee man and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The priest was saying, after what seemed like seconds.
And he turned his head away so that he wouldn’t have to see them kissing. In no time at all he was making a speech about the brilliance of the bride and groom. The latter was amazing, honestly, but not when he was with her, the wrong woman for him.
And then he was watching them, as they flew to their honeymoon. He stood there, glad that no one was around to see his tears.
A year later, he was at the hospital, looking down at the bundle of joy that squirmed in her arms. She was tired, exhausted, but no less radiant. The proud father stood by, gazing upon his tiny family in awe.
And he said, “You’ll be godfather right?” And how could the friend refuse? With one swift, strategic move, the friend was godfather, bound to the spawn of the man who had stolen his angel away from him.
But it was hard, he reflected, not to fall for the baby who looked so much like his dad, but he knew, would grow to look like his mum. Especially when the baby looked up at him with wide eyes, imploring him to love him.
He bent over the baby, using it as an excuse to lean over her. And as he twirled the baby’s black hair, she whispered in his ears, “Promise me you’ll watch over him?”
And he knew, when he looked into her eyes, that she knew that death was knocking on her door. Death was upon her. She was looking at him expectantly, not knowing the battle that was raging within him. “Yes.” He murmured, “Of course I’ll look after him.”
She smiled gratefully, nothing else had to be said.
And quicker still, she was stolen from him. His best friend and his best friend’s wife. She was gone, and he didn’t know what to do. He was lost without her, useless without her, incomplete without her.
It had been a quick thing. Both the men had been out, hunting down those that they thought would harm her. And swift as night, He had come, the embodiment of death and he had taken her away, leaving behind a baby, scarred for life.
If only the godfather had been around, he told himself. He would have protected her till death. But like idiots, the two hadn’t been around and she had been taken from him.
And he stood above her coffin, staring at her face, respectfully left alone, even by his best friend. He could fool himself no longer, everyone knew that he had been deep in unrequited love with her forever.
Her face was so pale, paler than he had ever seen it, and he wanted to cry. Her cheeks were supposed to be rosy. Her eyes were covered by her eyelids and would never open. He wanted to howl. Her eyes were supposed to be vibrant with life. She was lying still. He wanted to wail. She was supposed to be with him.
He leaned over her and his tears fell on her eyelids and slid downwards, till they were both crying his tears, for a love hidden and eventually lost, for a love unrequited.
He leaned so close he could have brushed her lips, and in a voice laden with regret he whispered to her unhearing ears, unseeing eyes, “You never gave me my last kiss.” And he lightly, just once, imagined kissing her again, feeling again.
And the tears fell harder as his heart twisted. They weren’t supposed to end. She was supposed to give him a last kiss. Not last, because she would die, last so that he could get over her, not matter if he didn’t want to.
And who would have thought that their first kiss would be their last.
And here he stood, over her grave, ten years gone by. Ten years during which he’d lost his entire life. He had battled hard for it, but without her, he had no reason to live, no last kiss as incentive.
The rain poured down, creating a dismal scene. He remembered times spent out in the rain with her, loved by her. He cried, the tears mingling with the rain pouring down his cheeks.
“He’s going to Hogwarts.” He told her grave. She was listening, he knew, intently. She had a thirst to know what her son had been up to. “He’s just eleven, but he’s brilliant. Just like you. He looks just like him, but he has your eyes, your beautiful eyes.”
He cried a little harder, “It’s been ten years to the date today, you know. Since you left me. Why did you leave me? I can’t live without you. Didn’t you love me? Didn’t you care that without you I’m nothing? Why did you leave me?”
And he broke down, falling to his knees beside the grave, in the slosh, angry that the rain was unrelenting. “Why?” He sobbed, “Merlin why?” And he felt it. It was a quick feeling, like she’d swooped down beside him and kissed his cheek. The tingle that her lips always left was lingering.
He looked up. She wanted him to be strong. A strong godfather for her baby boy. He would. He would take care of her baby. The son that should have been his. And he stood, and smiled sadly down at the grave, “I’ll take care of him, just like I promised. And I’ll be back soon, because-” He paused, swallowing, trying to rid his throat of the lump.
“You never gave me my last kiss.” He bent over and traced her name on the grave stone before turning and hurrying away. As he walked, he wiped his eyes of the tears that would just be replaced again.
And he pushed his glasses a little further up on his nose.
A/N: Review and tell me whether you got the ending! Did you understand it? Was it a shocker? Tell me it was brilliant! Please?
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