I think I’ve always loved him.

Even from the very first time I saw him, when all I knew about him was, oh, he’s Harry Potter, you know—the boy-who-lived.

He has green eyes. That’s what I said to myself. Harry Potter has gorgeous, green eyes, and I wondered if any anything could be more beautiful.

That was back then.

Now, I’ve known him forever. I think.

I know that talking about Sirius will upset him, but on other days he’ll be eager to talk about that one day. I know that when he purses his lips and his glasses fall lower on his nose, he’s thinking, he’s thinking about something serious, and I probably shouldn’t bother him.

I know that when he smiles at me, he doesn’t quite love me the way I’d like him to.

In fact, I know him so well, sometimes I wish I didn’t.

You can call me crazy if you want, but sometimes, knowing someone too well can hurt you in places you can’t describe.

Then there’s the war. And Harry Potter, in the middle of it again.

I wish that he wasn’t.

I’ve seen him cry one or two times, but I’ve never cried with him.

Never.

I would just hug him, because that’s what best friends are supposed to do, and would tell him soothingly, consolingly that everything would work out, that Ron and I would always be there for him.

He’s beautiful when he cries.

Our friendship is a safe one. One everyone envies. He’s there for me, and I’m there for him.

Safe.

But don’t you think it’s a bit sad that he doesn’t love me? That all he will ever say to me is, “ I care for you, Hermione, because you’re my best friend.”

He told that there would come a time when he would have to leave Ron and I. He told me that just yesterday, by the lake. The sun was going down, and he always loved sunsets.

And…yes, he was crying again, just a little.

He told me not to be scared, to never ever lose hope, that he would come back and we could be a trio again and be the people everyone wishes they were.

And then he choked up and I could tell he couldn’t talk anymore. I could tell this was hard for him, and he was scared, even through all that Gryffindor bravery.

I thought this was goodbye.

I thought that maybe, he would look at me that special way I had fantasized of, and he would tell me that he loved me.

“ Just promise me something.” I looked at him, and something began to hurt inside from looking at his too-green eyes.

“ Anything.” I answered loyally. He hesitated, pushing up his glasses.

“ Promise me you’ll be my friend forever.” He looked so naïve and lost, and I felt so naïve and lost, feeling somehow shattered.

He just wanted one last promise from his friend.

The sun’s last rays peeked over the horizon.

“ I will always be here.”

He smiled at me. Long after darkness fell, he stood up and left, and it really was goodbye, in a way.

I could tell, because for the first time in my life, I cried for and about him.

My best friend.

Because I promised.

I think I’ve always loved him.

I think I’ll always love him.