Chapter 1 : Wake up.
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I know that this is consuming me slowly from the inside, that it's unhealthy and that I should stop this obsession about something that, I'm sure, is bound to never happen. This fake illusion about him ever caring about me more than as a simple friend is a lie, but a lie that I like to believe again and again, as I try to, heal with non-existent promises, my heart that breaks in a thousand pieces every time he acts indifferent. But it is also what keeps me alive, what makes me go on and what keeps me straight when the thing I wish the most is to hide somewhere where nobody can find me ever, where pain doesn't exists and happiness is all that is known. But I can't do it, because he's got me trapped to this place and I can't move.
He is the man that I love, there is no way to deny it. It's him who feeds my dreams and hopes. The one who has the arms where I feel more safe and protected than ever; in which my fears disappear and they have no sense anymore. Those are the arms that can also give the most empty hugs and that can make me want to die because of their coldness, even if they are as warm as the sun. When I'm with him I feel more alone than ever. Thinking about him hurts deep in my heart and my head is tired of spinning around the doubt that has become essential in my life: Is he ever going to see me in another light?
It's almost sickening the way we depend on each other, but I depend on him even more than he would ever imagine. The fact that I love him that way and that he sees me as his sister is even more sickening, but I don't really care. I stopped caring a long time ago. Knowing that somehow I have helped him to have a more stable life and with more sense, forces a smile to appear on my face every morning, especially when he smiles at me, letting me know that everything is okay and that he feels perfectly fine. He has become my whole life and this one wouldn't make any sense without him. That's why, that night, I stepped between himself and the curse.
The cigarette's smoke escaped his lips to the darkness of the night, like a ghost's wail that begs for mercy and a better life than the one that they condemned themselves. The street was quiet and still, with the exception of the occasional car that passed by at this early hour of the morning. A rough hand, full with scars, slid through the raven hair that stood in every direction on the man's head. His face showed the fatigue of sleep deprivation and an accidentally broken heart, while his facial hair was already darker and his pale face had purple around his eyes.
A whole week was already gone and there weren't many changes, if there were any changes at all. Doctors seemed more hesitant now when they told him that there was still a chance that she would wake up; it was almost like they didn't want to cause anymore damage or give the poor guy that stood in front of them any hope that, in the end, would crush him. But they didn't know that he was already resigned to many things and this was not one of the exceptions. Hope seemed to fade quickly in his heart and he was starting to fall into the deepest abyss that the man knew: Oblivion.
Still, denial had come to stay in the man's heart and mind. All those years together, those moments that he cherished so much, the ones that he had spent with her could not just disappear so suddenly. He couldn't let her die without fighting; he had never done that, so why start now? It hurt so deeply to think that it was possible that he would never see her smile, that he would never hear her voice saying his name. That they would never have their morning coffee together or listen to the radio while they danced around the living room, and, most of all, it hurt that he would never have the chance to tell her how much she meant to him, how his life made no sense when he was without her, how fear of rejection had been stronger than his love.
Harry Potter stubbed out his cigarette on the floor, feeling thick drops of rain pouring down his face as if they invited him to cry along with the sky; but he refused the invitation and instead, entered the labyrinthine of St. Mungo's. His feet dragged him automatically to where she was, something now natural for his body. Some way or another, he ended up sitting on the chair that lay next to her bed and took the hand of his loved one. He had hardly abandoned that position since she had been at the hospital, with the hope that she would wake up to his presence, even if that sounded like a foolish thought of a man in love.
"Wake up," he murmured as he kissed her forehead.
He removed her brown curls until her face was completely uncovered. She looked so tranquil, so peaceful, that Harry wished with all his being to be with her, in whichever world she was in at that moment. In fact, he wanted to be with her all the time. Hear what she heard, see what she saw, feel what she felt.
"Wake up, please," he begged her again. His voice was only a whisper, as if he was scared that if he spoke too loudly, she would break and disappear in a second. In a risky move, Harry kissed her lips softly, thinking that it might wake her up, but he wasn't lucky. His eyes filled with unshed tears again "Wake up, Hermione."