Beauty

Beauty

Harry wondered how she could be so beautiful in his eyes when all his friends said she was ugly. He really didn't understand it. Both Ron and Hermione said she looked like a pug. Once, he had agreed with them, but he couldn't see it any longer. He hadn't since that day.

It had been a day at the end of his 6th year--more precisely, the anniversary of the day Sirius died. Ron and Hermione had, well, maybe not forgotten, but they hadn't thought too much about it. All other days, Harry had been fine with this--they didn't ask questions when they only thought about each other. But...that day was special.

So he had got mad. Of course he had. Couldn't they for once think about someone besides each other? Like Sirius?

"Now, Harry," Hermione had said slowly, "I understand you are sad. Sirius was a good friend of yours, but...Harry, it was a year ago! Don't you think tha..." That was all he heard before he stormed out of the Gryffindor tower, blind with anger.

While he walked through Hogwarts, he actually hoped that Voldemort or some Death Eater would come so he could get his anger out. Yes, he would actually have been happy if Draco Malfoy had been there. Then he could get his anger out by beating him up.

But no one came, and Harry ended up in a dusty, empty tower. He wasn't sure which one it was, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore.

He sat on the windowsill and looked out over the Forbidden Forest, which stood dark against the sunlight.

He cried. Cried over Sirius, over his parents, over Cedric, over all Voldemort's victims, and over himself. Yes, he even cried over Peter Pettigrew, the Slytherins, the Death Eaters, and Voldemort. He remembered the past, his own and others'. Deep inside, he knew each and every soul, each and every victim of Voldemort. Even Sirius' little brother, Regulus. Little king.

"How did you feel when your brother died?" Harry asked the growing shadows. "Did you cry, Sirius? Or didn't you care?"

"Does it matter, Potter?" a voice asked, and Harry turned around quickly, ready for an attack. Someone was standing in the darkness. He could see the outline of a girl, but he couldn't see who it was. Long shadows hid her face and body. Then she took a step forward, and Harry stared into her deep blue eyes. Eyes he knew but at the same time
didn't know. Pansy Parkinson. Tears were falling down her cheek.

"Does it matter if he cried?" she asked again. "It wouldn't change anything, anyway. So why cry?" She walked over and stared up at him from under long eyelashes. And he knew he couldn't lie to those eyes, not when they were full of tears. He wondered why she had asked that question when she was crying herself.

"Because...Because then you show that you are sad, that you miss him or her. Because they're gone. Because..."

"Because what?" she asked again. "Because you can show others that you are sad? But does it matter, Potter? Does it matter that others can see you're sad? He won't come back, anyway. So why cry?"

"Because...I..." He looked down. "I don't know, OK?" The anger was rising inside him. Why did she ask these questions? She didn't have the right to come and ask him questions! He looked up, angry, ready to speak his mind.

And stopped.

Her eyes were so sad, so much like his own. He looked down again, biting his lip.

"You don't know?" she asked. "There aren't many things you know, are there, Potter?" She touched his cheek, slow and friendly. "Look at me, Potter. Look at me."

And he did. He looked at her, slowly, fearfully. She had a little smile on her lips, a little sad and a bit cynical, but nonetheless a smile. Her tears wet her cheeks.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, slowly.

"I'm scared," she whispered. "I cry because I'm scared."

Harry nodded. He understood her. He didn't know how, but he did. "I'm scared too," he whispered.

"I know," she said, and then she kissed him. "Maybe we should be scared together." Harry just nodded. He couldn't say anything. There was nothing to say. "Please hold me," she whispered in his ear, and he wrapped his arms around her. Slowly she began to kiss him, and he kissed her back.

And on the floor of some unknown tower, they had both lost their innocence. He didn't know how she felt about it or why she had given something as beautiful as that to him. But she had, right there in the tower, surrounded by darkness.

When he woke up the next morning, she was gone. He hadn't talked with her since. Every time he tried to talk to her, she ignored him.

But sometimes, when she thought he wasn't noticing her, he saw her stare at him. He didn't understand why or what was going on. She had been right when she said he didn't know much.

But he did know that she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.