Fan Fiction ❯ If Only ❯ If Only ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I Do Not Own.

 

A/N: This is centered on lesbianism, so if you don't like don't read. And if you don't read, don't flame, okay? You've been fairly warned.

 

A/N2: is my first angst OneShot, so please bear with me. I'm trying out different styles of writing and I had this idea for this short OneShot and thought that I'd give it a try. I hope that all of you out there reading this will like it.

 

 

----------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------

 

 

I watch her as she smiles with him, laughing at something he and the idiot he calls his best friend are telling her. For the first time I hate him, which is quite odd, since some time ago I had thought that I loved him. Yet, we'd broken up because of her, because at the time I'd believed that I was jealous of their relationship because he might like her. Yet, now as I look back, I realize that it was quite the opposite. I was jealous because I liked her, I just hadn't figured it out yet, hadn't figured myself out yet. Now I have. Now I know what I feel for her, and what she feels for me. She dislikes me. The only consolation that I have is that she hates Fleur more than she hates me.

It really is ironic, love, and how I found out my feelings all too late. I remember the first day I finally realized what it was. I had already been following her secretly for some weeks, trying to figure out why I couldn't help but search her out in the crowds, why I was constantly thinking of her, comparing her to other girls and finding them lacking, ugly, or just plain boring. For a while I would just speak of her with my friends, belittling her, laughing about her looks and feeling guilty as hell when my friends would laugh along with me. This used to make me feel better, yet all it made me feel now was dirty and a liar. I was lying to her, lying to my friends, and worse of all, I was lying to myself.

Things got to the point that I was sure that she'd hexed me out of spite. I even went to the Hospital Wing and had Madam Pomfrey check me out. I'd been dumfounded when she'd told me that I was in perfect health and that there wasn't any hex or curse upon me. I then began telling her about everything, insisting that there was a hex on me and she just wasn't looking for it hard enough. Instead of getting insulted at that she just smiled at me, rather sympathetic, and told me that I did have a problem, yet that it didn't have anything to do with curses. I was my own problem, and that I better search inside of me and come to terms with myself before I went crazy.

So, with the fear of going crazy on my head, I began `searching inside of me', began asking questions that I had been avoiding for some time. I began looking at her, began admitting the feelings that ran down to my stomach whenever she looked in my direction. I nearly coughed on my pumpkin juice one day when I caught her staring at me. At least, I believed that she was staring at me. Maybe she wasn't. I'll never know, because she looked away right away and continued talking to that idiot once more, ignoring me, denying that I was even alive.

That day I realized that I was jealous. I was jealous of all of those who could be her friends while I couldn't. Still, I continued to deny the deeper feelings. I was just going through an odd time in my life where everything was mixed up, including my sexuality. It was just a phase that I'd go through and then I'd be back to normal. Also, I'd heard of women who found other women attractive and weren't lesbians. I wasn't one of them…or so I continued to tell myself.

It was after a Quidditch game where I beat him to the Snitch, winning the game, that I finally admitted the truth to myself. Ravenclaw was wild, and everyone was congratulating me. Everyone wanted to be around me, everyone wanted to be me. Yet, there she was, hugging him, holding him close, and giving him a tender kiss on his cheek as he held onto her as if she were his own property. She consoled him, and they walked away, mingling amongst the rest of the Gryffindors. Yes, that was when I realize that I was in love with her, and I was miserable because I knew that I'd never have the guts to tell her and that she'd never be mine even if I did.

No one could understand why I was so miserable at such a happy moment like that. I didn't feel like celebrating the victory, I went up to my room and placed a silencing spell around my bed before crying myself to sleep. That night I dreamt about the Quidditch game, yet I dreamt that she came and kissed me, she congratulated me, and she walked away with me. When I awoke, I cried afresh, cursing myself for allowing this to go on.

My nights are torturous, filled with dreams of touching her skin and running my fingers through that wild mess of hair. Some find that hair ugly, bushy, unappealing, and normally I would agree with them. Yet, I've never been as attracted to anything or anyone as I am that hair. I want to grab fistfuls of it, to pull on it and make her lips come up to mine. I want to plunder those soft lips. Many nights I lay awake, looking up at the ceiling, wondering what she'll taste like.

I remember the day when she tripped and I caught her. She'd dropped all of her books and our bodies were pressed together, I could feel her perfect body against mine, and everything was heaven…for two seconds. On the third she pushed away, thanked me in a clipped voice, picked up her things, and left me alone, standing in the library, watching her leaves. Things had gone worse for me after that, for now I knew what it felt like to have her against me, I knew the smell of her hair, knew that she liked mango shampoo, and that her curls were soft, no matter how wild they looked.

Blinking back to the present, I get up when she does, and I try to make it seem coincidental, as I tell my best friend that it's stuffy up in here and that I need air. She doesn't find it odd, since I've been acting weird these last couple of months. It's just the new me, and she accepts it. I wonder if she'll accept me if she knew the reason why I am acting weird. I wonder if she would still be my best friend if the whole school knew I was in love with Hermione, a female.

But I mustn't get distracted; I must see where she is going. She's been acting just as weird as I have lately, she's been caught daydreaming in class—or so I've heard—and I'm frightened that maybe something grave had happened to her. Maybe she is ill, for that is the only thing that I can come up with that would make Hermione daydream in class. From what I heard, Snape was so shocked to find that she hadn't been listening to his every word and answering his every question that he didn't even think to give her detention or at least take away points from Gryffindor.

As I discreetly follow her, I wonder why she is so nervous all of a sudden. It is almost as if she has something to hide, something that she's frightened someone will discover. This interests me, maybe, if I find out, maybe, if I don't tell, maybe, maybe, she will begin trusting me. Maybe. But that thought makes me smile and I hurry, because she has slipped into the same room that she's been visiting for a month now. I've always followed her to this point and waited. She spends much time in there, sometimes half an hour, yet I wait patiently outside like a dog. My love for her has caused me to stoop this low.

Since it will be obvious that I am stalking her if I stay right outside, I move away some distance from the door and pull out a book I have no interest in, pretending that I am reading it so that the students who pass me by do not suspect anything. Some of the students wave and say hi, some of them stop to talk for a moment, but seeing that I am not interested in chatting today, they leave. I don't care that I seem rude, I just want them gone. I just want an excuse to go inside and know what's going on without looking suspicious.

I suddenly realize something. I must go. I must find out what she is doing, or I shall go insane. So I head towards the door and I look at the handle for some moments, I wait and try to be braver than I ever have, Try to make my hand move. And then, it does. I open the door and enter before I chicken out and run away. I close the door behind me and frown, noticing that there are lit candles placed on the floor. The candles are the only source of light, so I strain my eyes to try and see anything, and when I do, I wish that I hadn't come inside, wished that I'd stayed ignorant.

There, lying on the floor are my Hermione and another woman. Another woman. They kiss and fondle, entangled in each other. They don't say a word to each other; all I can hear are their heavy breaths as they quickly begin unbuttoning the other's shirt. I hear their groans, I hear their gasps, and I hear my heart breaking into a million pieces. They don't notice that I am here; they are so wrapped up in each other that I might as well don't exist.

I don't exist…I don't exist…

If I don't get out of here I'll die, and in my desperation to leave I topple over a couple of candles, which blow out on their own as if having been charmed to do so. They both know I'm here now; I can hear their gasps as they pull away from each other and begin buttoning their shirts. I turn around to watch it, to try and convince myself that this was all happening. I tell myself to hate her, to hate her for being with another woman, yet I can't. All I can do is watch brokenheartedly as she gets up to her feet and stare at me with wide eyes. She's frightened of me. She's frightened that I will tell. She thinks that I hate her. She thinks I'd tell on her gladly to ruin her reputation. If only she knew that I'd die to make sure she was happy.

“What are you doing here?” The other woman in the room demands in anger as she glares and comes towards me. She is close enough for me to recognize her now. Pansy. Pansy Parkinson, the Slytherin slut who is supposed to be all over Draco Malfoy—Hermione is with her? But why?

I'm not intimidated by her. I'm angry. I hate her. I want to hurt her, want to kill her like she's killed me.

Pansy seems ready to say something else, but she stops when Hermione places a hand on her shoulder. She looks back at Hermione and I notice how her features soften when she does. I realize that she does care for Hermione, and I only hate her more knowing that. I hate her for having the courage that I didn't have, and for taking the woman that I was too frightened to take. If Hermione could be with a pug-faced Slytherin, couldn't she have accepted me if I'd told her how I feel?

Nodding at Hermione, Pansy turns to me and growls. “Touch her, say anything to hurt her, and I'll hex you to kingdom comes.” She then walks out of the room, leaving Hermione and I alone.

“Why?” I ask, breaking the silence. I don't care that I'm crying, I don't care that I'm making a fool of myself. All I know is that time has come for me to say what I should have said a long time ago, even if it is too late now. I feel so ashamed, so worthless. I feel like such a coward, and I want to run away. I close my eyes, yet, when I feel Hermione's hand touching my cheek I open them and look down into her saddened brown ones. “Why?” In that one little word, in the three-letter word, I tell her everything that is in my heart.

There are tears in her eyes as well as she looks at me. Her fingers softly caress my cheek and I lean into the touch, lean into the contact that I have been craving for so long. Hermione then speaks for the first time, her words tearing at my soul. “Oh Cho…If only you'd told me before.” The woman I love presses her lips against mine in a loving kiss which is all too short for me. She then leaves me in this room and I fall to my knees and continue crying.

I will continue following her, watching her, dreaming of her. No matter that my heart is in a million pieces I will pick up each piece and tape them back together, because even if its broken, I want to be able to offer it wholly to her the day when she is single again. I want to be strong. I want to be brave. I want to be the one who holds her, and I want to be the one who kisses her.

One day, I will.

Until then I follow her around, and I know that she knows I do. Pansy does as well, and I can tell that it ticks her off. She's even menaced me a couple of times. I think that maybe she's intimidated by my presence, and that is all the encouragement I need to keep my resolve, not to lose heart, to continue loving Hermione with all my heart, if only from a distance.

Funny…even though I still remember the heartbreaking pain I felt the day I found her with Pansy, there's another memory that dominates my mind about that day.

She tastes like heaven.

 

 

----------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------

 

 

PLEASE GO EASY ON ME! This is my first time trying to write something like this and I'm a bit insecure about it. Yet, please review and tell me what you think.

l

l

l

l

l

l

l

l

l

l

l

l

l

v