Places Among the Stars

My hands are freezing, I can't feel my feet anymore, and my thoughts have started wondering when the cold became painful. It's a strange sensation to stand here, facing the cold, almost sure that I can see ice in my eyelashes and smiling at this thought, thinking how strange it is, that such odd things amuse me in such an odd situation.

Nothing has obliged me to stay here. I could have walked away, but now I'm not sure if I am able to. My body may not respond to any command of my brain.

You must be thinking that I am so stupid. Why do that to myself? But the answer is simple: Harry is a few feet away, lost in thoughts. And I have come here with him, therefore I'm not leaving alone. I have this feeling that he may look back and see me here, and he'll feel pleased that I stayed. He'll see I'm a friend, and I'm reliable.

Don't rush into judgments. I am a girl, and all girls are like that. Romantic. Dreamy. Even if they deny it, some hidden part of their hearts wish for someone who will see what no one else sees, and save them from their dull existence. Like in those fairytales, where the prince comes and saves the princess from her squib stepmother, who had put her to sleep because she was were jealous of her beauty and her magic.

Remember that old saying, "be careful of what you wish for"? When I was young, I couldn't understand it, because if everything we wished came true, it would be very good for us, right? I finally began understanding that wishes are not that great in my first year, when I wished so hard that Harry would save me from the worst year of my life. Guess what, he did save me, but it was not exactly how I wanted him to, and the circumstances were definitely not what I expected them to be. He didn't wake me with a kiss, nor saved me because he loved me. He saved me because that's something he does. It's like a hobby to him - except he sees it as a natural duty. So I saw that day that wishes must come true in a very specific manner to be good. And I promised I'd never wish anything in my life again.

That's why I'm not wishing for him to look back and see me. And that's why I hadn't wished anything from him since my first year.

I didn't even wish for him to ask me to the Yule Ball. I didn't. When Neville came and asked me to be his date, I was genuinely happy, because I thought I wouldn't be able to go otherwise. Yes, my heart was broken when I had to refuse going with Harry, but I had given Neville my word, and - remember - I wasn't expecting anything from Harry anymore.

I wasn't. Not even during the ball, when I endured Neville stepping on my feet during our dance. I couldn't help but notice that Parvati was so beautiful that night. So it felt like I had lost a piece of my heart when I realised there was no chance in hell that Harry would even notice I was there.

That night was a torture, until Michael saved me. He came with his lovely words, and careful gestures. He was a good dancer, too. He didn't step on my feet even once, and he made me feel like I was floating through the Great Hall. And we talked, and he listened to what I had to say. He really listened. And he recalled everything I told him a few days later, when he came to invite me for a walk along the lake.

So that was the fairytale contamination determining my moves again. But Michael was there, and I thought - not wished, mind you - that with him I could forget Harry.

How much it hurt me you will never know. He was lovely, he was gentle - he was there. But he wasn't who I wanted him to be. He was Michael, and that would be good enough for many girls - but not for me.

So I was impressed with his patience. He knew something was not quite right; he knew that when we were together, my mind was elsewhere. But he pretended he never noticed, and we kept this going for a while.

The problem was that there was nothing more that he could save me from. The days were now good; I had friends that made my time at Hogwarts very pleasant; there was no terrible situation for him to make better. And he never quite managed to take Harry out of my mind, so I began wondering what the point in all that pretending was.

He got tired of that as well. I could see that with time he wasn't as gentle anymore; he wasn't as patient, and he didn't seem entranced by my mere presence. Now his mind was elsewhere, and I couldn't blame him. How could I? The truth of what I had done had finally hit me. I had used Michael, and I had done it just because I could. Because I needed that feeling that somebody wanted me and appreciated me for what I am.

After realising it, just being beside him would make me cry. I felt so cruel, and so undeserving of his attention. That was when we both knew that that pretending had to end.

But it didn't end until later, maybe because we would hardly see each other. I was too busy with Quidditch practice to care for anything else. I was focusing all my energies on the Snitch and in preparing for the match against Ravenclaw, because it had the ability to make me forget everything else.

Of course it wasn't the only reason. Deep down I knew that there was someone I wanted to impress. Actually, more than impress - I wanted to save. Because I had seen Harry go through that year barely holding up, I had wanted to give him something to cheer about - something like Gryffindor winning the Cup. I believed - again, not wished - that I could make his year feel better and thereby, save him from that awful experience he was having.

Also, there was more to it. I wanted to prove myself better than Cho Chang, the girl I had envied so much, even though I knew it made no sense. I had blamed her for my shattered dreams, although I knew she had nothing to do with it.

But all my reasoning never made me stop feeling the way I felt, and it surely didn't take away the extreme happiness when I finally caught the Snitch, right from under her nose. Her face was precious! I had won - I had finally won over Cho Chang!

I couldn't contain my enthusiasm; I was smiling widely and taking all the compliments with pure delight. I exclaimed, "Did you see that? Wasn't it great?" to Michael, but his face was hard and cold and I saw in his eyes that right there in that moment, he despised me.

I was amazed that I didn't care. And I waited for Harry to come and congratulate me for what had been my best game so far.

Except he never did. He never saw that game. He never saw me triumph over Chang, and he had so much on his mind he couldn't care less about it. Hermione told me later that summer how they followed Hagrid to meet his giant half-brother, and how that took Quidditch completely out of their minds.

As you may have guessed, I lost another piece of my heart back then. And I noticed, with a great degree of shame, that I hadn't kept my promise - I had wished, and I had wished with all my heart for Harry to see me, and to be able to make him happy.

It's a mistake to think you can only be happy with your heart whole and beating as if never broken. You can be happy with only one piece of your heart - that piece where your family and your friends stay, the same piece that gets contented with chocolate or good grades.

The other piece is not unimportant, but I learned to disregard it. I learned to not stutter when around him, to act like talking to him is an ordinary event. And he never notices, because he never noticed much about me before.

However it feels like the heart mends when he smiles, even if faintly. Those moments gives one the impression that that's what happiness really is, but I learned to ignore this feeling. Just like I ignored it when he had asked, "So you're not dating Dean Thomas?" and I told him I had just wanted to annoy Ron when I had said that. I knew he had asked that out of curiosity, not interest. So my heart beat faster, but I remind myself it's just one piece of my heart, and a smile and a question won't have the power to glue it back together with the rest.

But to be honest, there are moments when this little piece aches so much it seems like it's your whole chest aching. Like now, when I am freezing and I am sure this is not the worst pain I'm feeling.

Because the whole day had been so perfect, I thought nothing could ruin it. We had shared a bottle of butterbeer, we had chatted with Ron and Hermione and then we walked together, leaving them behind, and not bothering about that. "They are fine," he had teased when I mentioned their bickering could be heard from across Hogsmeade; and we were fine, just talking and laughing and walking with no direction in mind.

Until we found ourselves facing the Shrieking Shack, and his expression changed. And I couldn't do anything else than just stand here, a few steps from him, leaving him alone with thoughts that surely were hurtful. It seemed like he didn't feel the cold and I thought I should warn him, but it didn't seem like he wanted to be interrupted either.

Sometimes we need to succumb to our pain to feel better, so I don't dare to wake him to reality. Reality - I sneer at this idea - is probably darker than his thoughts.

So I just wait. That's all I'm doing, waiting. I'm not wishing for him to turn around and see me. I'm not wishing that he will look at me differently after this proof of friendship. I am not even wishing that he sees this as a proof of friendship.

It's just that maybe when he looks around, he will want to talk. If he does, I'll be here, willing to listen, or maybe to just squeeze his hands, showing that I understand. It's just that I have this feeling that if it happens, my heart will mend for a few moments, and it will be enough to make me go through the other days. You know, the days when I'm happy with only one piece of my heart.

And I assure you, one piece is enough.