A/N: The song is Can We Still Be Friends, from the album Hermit of Mink Hollow, by Todd Rundgren. Written and produced by Todd Rundgren. Released 1978 by Bearsville. I make no profit from this story.
Can We Still Be Friends
"Harry? Can I talk to you?"
We can't play this game anymore, but
Can we still be friends?
"What's up, Gin?" Harry's emerald eyes shone with…contentment as he looked at her. If she was honest with herself, she felt content with him, as well. But she wanted more. She deserved more. She deserved the all-consuming passion and fire of a love that would span time; that would reach to the ends of the universe. And so did he.
"I…I can't do this anymore," she said quietly.
Things just can't go on like before, but
Can we still be friends?
"Um, do what?" He started shifting nervously, a habit he had that irritated her to no end. It was like watching a child that had to use the restroom desperately, and it took all she had not to snarl at him.
"This," she snapped, waving her hand between the two of them. As with every other time she tried to initiate a serious conversation about their relationship, his face closed off, and he started mumbling something about paperwork in the den. Not this time, she thought as she reached for his arm. He won't get away with it this time. "No, Harry. This time you will stay and listen. I love you, but I can't be with you anymore." Harry's face fell, and his eyes filled with tears.
"W..why?"
We had something to learn
Now it's time for the wheel to turn
Things are said one by one
And before you know it's all gone
"I…I want passion and fire and romance and desire. And you can't give me that." Harry opened his mouth to protest, tears spilling from his eyes, but she spoke again before he could interrupt. "I know you love me, but I don't inflame you. I don't ignite you. I don't excite you. But I know who does. He's inspired your passions since first year. And I've seen the way you look at him; when we're at Ministry functions and you see him across the room; when we're in Diagon Alley, and you spot him going into the Quidditch shop or the apothecary, or the bookstore. Tell me honestly, Harry, whose skin do you imagine when you look at me? Whose eyes do you envision in the dark, when I'm beside you? When we're…intimate, I never hear you scream my name. But I hear you whisper his in your dreams. When was the last time you truly saw me when you came?" Harry flushed crimson, guilt heavy on his face. He couldn't meet her eyes, and he started shifting from foot to foot again.
"Stop that!" Ginny finally snapped, at the end of her rope. The raven stilled instantly, hurt in his emerald eyes. "I'm…I'm sorry. Ever since the end of the war, you've avoided all kinds of confrontations. You blow off anything too serious. We have problems, and I can't even talk to you about them. Three years, Harry," she said softly. "Three years of you dodging my concerns; of you pretending that this is actually working. It's not." She heaved a heavy sigh at the hurt in the raven's face, and reached for his hand. Tugging lightly, she pulled him to the sofa, coaxing him to sit. She settled in next to him and took a fortifying breath.
Let's admit we made a mistake, but
Can we still be friends?
"I love you, Harry," she began quietly. "I always will. But I'm not in love with you. I don't think I've felt that way for you since my third year. I don't believe you're in love with me, either. Tell me the truth." Emerald eyes skated away from her face, tear tracks still visible on his cheeks, and he blushed, gnawing at his lower lip.
Heartbreak's never easy to take, but
Can we still be friends?
"I…I do love you, Gin. It's more like…like brotherly love. I know your family expects us to get married; I never wanted to disappoint them, so I guess that's why I kept staying with you. I'd hoped that the passion would come with time. But it never did," this last was said in an embarrassed whisper. Ginny nodded, encouraging him to continue. "I don't know when I realized that…that I fancied men. Maybe I knew it all along; I just decided to ignore it. After all, the Savior can't be queer, can he?" Harry's voice was heavy with bitterness, and Ginny winced at the harsh tone. She understood. Harry's life was never his own; everything he was, everything he did, was scrutinized and picked apart. Every tiny little flaw blared across the Daily Prophet's headlines. It was this realization, more than anything, that convinced her that Harry just wasn't meant for her.
"I know, Harry," she replied gently.
It's a strange sad affair
Sometimes seems like we just don't care
Don't waste time feeling hurt
We've been through hell together
"So, um, have…have you found someone else?" Harry's voice quavered over the question, and Ginny's blue eyes sparkled and shone with love.
"I have. It's Neville Longbottom. He's wonderful. He says he's loved me since the Department of Mysteries. He fell in love with my passion and strength and courage, but he knew that you and I were together, so he kept quiet. I ran into him last year, and we had been meeting for coffee. I...I told him about the way things were between us. He understood, and one thing led to another, and he proposed last week. We're getting married in the fall." The excitement in Ginny's voice soothed any vague hurt Harry might have felt at the rejection. He'd never seen her this passionate about anything that they were in together, and that brought home the truth of the matter. We were never really meant to be together, he thought wonderingly. Three years, punishing ourselves for others' expectations.
"I'm so sorry, Gin," he said. "I never realized how much you were hurting until just now. I'm glad you've found someone that can fire you up like that. You deserve it." Ginny smiled widely, grateful and relieved that Harry understood.
"So do you, Harry. Neville's coming in a little while to help me. I'm moving in with him. I'm just glad that you're taking this so well."
"Considering we haven't really been intimate for a long time, I guess I'd always suspected something was wrong."
We awoke from our dream
Things are not always what they seem
Memories linger on
It's like a sweet sad old song
They sat around for a while longer, reminiscing about the good old days of Hogwarts, and the tap at the door startled them both. Eyes wide, Ginny bolted up from the couch, running to the door, face flushing with excitement. Wow, Harry thought as he watched her greet her fiancé. She's really beautiful when she's in love. It hit home with force that she hadn't looked at him like that for a very long time, and sorrow flooded his being. Sighing heavily, he walked to the foyer to greet Neville, green eyes widening comically as they met the silver orbs of the person who had accompanied the Gryffindor.
"Draco," Harry breathed, his heart thudding with excitement. Ginny's eyebrows rose on her forehead as she watched her now ex-boyfriend lose himself in Draco's eyes. She turned to Malfoy, and was surprised to see a blush on the blond's usually stoic face.
"H-Harry," the Slytherin stammered nervously. He shifted from foot to foot, and Ginny rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"Don't just stand there, Draco," she huffed impatiently. "Come in. I'll only be a few moments. Nev? Coming?" The honey-eyed Gryffindor nodded quickly, an amused grin on his face, and the couple bolted from the room, leaving the two ex-rivals in their wake.
"Would…would you like to have a seat? Something to drink?" Harry blushed as his nerves ratcheted up. Draco nodded mutely, too nervous to speak. "What may I get you?" The formality was horribly out of place on the Gryffindor, and Draco huffed out a sigh as he sat on the sofa.
"Relax, Harry," Malfoy said, his voice trembling only very slightly. "I'd like a brandy, if you have it." Harry rushed to get the beverage, pulling out the very finest and most expensive bottle he had. He filled the snifter, getting a firewhiskey for himself. He handed the snifter to the blond and settled into a chair to the left of the Slytherin. Draco put the glass to his nose, inhaling the bouquet to hide his nervousness, and the scent surprised a small sound from him. Sipping delicately, he hummed his pleasure as he looked at the brunet.
"This is really good," he commented, pleased. Harry nodded, blushing, and smiled before taking a small sip of his own beverage. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, before Draco made a sound of frustrated impatience. "This is ridiculous. When have we ever had trouble talking to one another?" Harry chuckled, nodding his head, and he relaxed into the chair. Smiling at the less tense Gryffindor, Draco opened the conversation with Quidditch, and by the time Ginny and Neville had returned, the chat had moved on to the politics of the day, with the boys in a friendly argument about who would make the best Minister of Magic, out of the current candidates. Smiling softly, Ginny went to Harry.
"I'm ready to leave," she said quietly, leaning over to brush a gentle kiss to the boy's forehead. Harry nodded absently, barely acknowledging the girl, his attention completely wrapped in the blond. She smirked at Malfoy, gaining another faint blush, and walked out of Harry's life and into a new one, just for her.
La la la la, la la la la
Can we still be friends?
Can we still get together sometime?
Harry vaguely heard the door close; he didn't even feel Ginny's goodbye kiss. He was completely captivated by silver eyes, platinum blonde locks, and an aristocratic face. Porcelain skin glowed in the light from the windows, and Harry shivered slightly as he stared. Draco became increasingly more nervous under the intense scrutiny, and he cleared his throat loudly, startling a violent blush from the brunet. Laughing softly, Harry lowered his eyes to his hands, fidgeting in his seat as he twirled the glass of alcohol in his hands.
"You wanna go get something to eat?" the raven suddenly burst out, looking back into the silver eyes he just couldn't get enough of. "I know this marvelous place in muggle London; it has the best wines I've ever tasted." Blonde eyebrows rode high on Draco's forehead, and he hesitated for only a moment before smiling softly.
"I'd really like that, Harry," he said, his voice vibrating pleasantly along Harry's nerves. Smiling a thousand-watt smile, making Draco catch his breath, Harry stood, holding his hand out to the Slytherin.
"Shall we?"