Note: Hello! :D Okay, so this is a little one-shot that shot into my brain earlier today and I wrote it! It's my first try at a long-ish one-shot in the second person point of view so please forgive me if it sucked! :P I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter! :(

-.-

Walls

You peek at him over your book.

She's sitting there, cuddling to his side. You remember a time when that exact scene did not bother you, and you divert your eyes. It isn't worth this pain, you tell yourself, over and over again. But somehow, that only makes the pain worse.

She's kissing him now, and calls a goodnight to you, before she skips towards the stairs, her long, red hair fluttering behind her.

You look back at your book. Somehow, you sense his sadness and his discomfort. You do not understand why he is sad, but you know better than to force it out of him. When he is ready, he will tell you. Just like every time…

You have accepted a long time ago that you will forever be the best friend. You know it will be fruitless to try and move on, and you do not want to string a third person in your own emotional pain. So you continue to love him from afar and try and be the best friend that he needs and erect the walls that keeps you safe from breaking completely.

"I'll go to bed, too, Hermione," he whispers.

You look up, smile, "Good night, Harry."

"Night," he responds, and moves over to kiss your temple.

When you're sure he's up his dorm, asleep in his bed, you let your tears fall.

-.-

It isn't until two weeks later that you hear it. You startle out of your daydream and look over towards the fighting couple.

"Why? Tell me why, Harry Potter!" Ginny Weasley demands, her brown eyes a storm.

Harry Potter keeps his cool. "Ginny, we both know that this isn't working out. When was the last time we sat down and just talked?"

You tune them out. You have witnessed this scene far too many times. They'll break up, and the next day, they'll be back to snogging. It was routine by now and you don't bother listening to the rest of the conversation. You stand up, shoulder your pack bag, and leave the Common Room unnoticed.

You make your way to the library—the only place you know you won't be disturbed. You take your usual place, and open the tome you were reading. In a matter of minutes, you are no longer in this world.

You guess it's a solid hour before you're jolted back to the world by Harry sitting down beside you. He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair.

You look at him questioningly.

"Hey…" he trails off.

"Hello."

He pauses. "I broke up with her."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "Oh? Why?"

"Things have been a bit—rocky, lately. I am not sure. She's very persistent and very demanding, and she wants me to—" he pauses, sighs, and shakes his head.

You pat his hand. "It'll be okay, Harry. It always does."

He offers you a small smile. "Yeah. You're right. I can never replace you, Hermione. You're the best friend anyone could ask for."

You go back to your tome, willing the burn in your eyes to ebb away. You have heard this so many times before. Tomorrow, it'll be like nothing happened. Tomorrow, you'll relive your pain. Tomorrow, he'll forget you again and go back to her.

Why the bloody hell do you do this to yourself?!

-.-

"Hermione, I love you."

You stare.

For the past couple of weeks, you have been astonished when you found out that they actually broke up. They didn't get together again the next day. Actually, Ginny avoids him at all costs—it makes you wonder what you have missed when you decided to leave them in the Common Room that day.

And now, here he is, confessing to you, something you have dreamed off since third year.

You should be overjoyed. You should be ecstatic. You should be jumping up and down. You should be smiling and answering him back.

Instead, you stare and you feel your walls building up around you again.

"Excuse me?" it comes out as a whisper.

"I love you," he repeats, and you can see the anxiety in his eyes.

Your mind doesn't know what to do. On the one hand, half of your mind is rejoicing. He has noticed you. He is really here. He really does mean it!

On the other hand, half of your mind is cautious. He loves you? When? How could he? He has never shown interest! Why would he say it? He can't mean it. He was always interested in the others—Cho Chang, Ginny Weasley. Never you. He has never shown it, never acted upon it, never—

"Hermione, please, say something." He pleads, his eyes anxious and wide and hopeful and so, so green.

You blink. "You love me?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

Your walls thicken and you take a deep breath, "I am sorry, Harry."

You see his face falling, and your heart twists. But you can't say it. You have been hurt too many times. Too many. And you can't take that risk again. You can't let him in, only for this to turn into one big, sick joke, and he'll leave you to relive your pain—only this time, it'll be worse. Much, much worse.

"W-why?" he whispers, looking at you, desperate for something to understand.

You smile sadly. "I loved you, Harry," and I still do, but— "but I can't do this. I am sorry. I can't…"

"Why?" he demands, his voice stronger now, eyes still desperate but full of unconcealed hope that somehow, someway… "Why, Hermione? Is it something I did? Is it something about me? What made you move on?"

You shake your head. "It was never me, Harry. How can you just come up to me and tell me you love me when you have never showed it?" she took a deep breath. "It's always Cho or Ginny, never me, and I have accepted that, and I don't want to—"

He grabs your arm. "Hermione..."

Smiling sadly, you shrug his hand. "I am sorry, Harry, I can't. I loved you, but I can't…"

And you walk away, telling yourself that this is for the best. In the silence, you can almost hear two hearts shattering.

-.-

The next day you wake up to find a single, red rose lying on your pillow. You blink, startled, but you can't help but appreciate the beauty of it. You touch the petals softly, and wonder who could be thoughtful enough to—

Harry…

You shake your head. No. It couldn't be him. You know you have hurt him yesterday—just as much as you have hurt yourself. You place the rose in one of your books and go about your daily routine.

He is waiting for you in the Common Room.

"Good morning," he greets you.

"Morning," you greet back, offering a small smile.

He opens the portrait hole and allows you to go first. All throughout the rest of the day, he is near you, insisting on carrying your books, opening doors for you, guiding you through the crowded hallway, walking you to your Ancient Rune class.

You feel uncomfortable by the time dinner is eaten and the rest of the house heads up towards the dorms. You pause on your way, and, because he was guiding you with his hand on the small of your back, Harry pauses too.

"Is something wrong?" he questions.

"What are you doing?" you demand, bitter anger rising in your throat. "What are you trying to accomplish? Are you trying to prove that you love me, is that it? You are being extra attentive to me because you think I will say it back—"

"First off," Harry says, cutting you off. "I don't want you to say it back until you are sure you want to. Second, I am not trying to prove anything to you, because proving that I love you is not a logical problem—and you can't really prove it, not entirely at least. And third, I haven't been trying to accomplish anything—I was simply doing what I have been doing for the past year."

You open your mouth to retort, but you pause, your eyes growing wide. Because something in the back of your mind clicks and you realize, he's right. He has always been this attentive towards you. He has always carried your books, walked you to class, and guided you through the hallways. Always.

What the—? But—?

You were blinded by your hurt. By your insecurities. By you.

Your walls crumble and you sprint away from him, ignoring his calls.

-.-

It took you two days, but in the end, you have come to a satisfying conclusion: Even though people call you the brightest witch of your age, you're actually rather thick when it comes to your own heart. And it's okay for your walls to go down. Oh, and Harry Potter does love you.

Once you have established this conclusion, you went to look for Harry. It wasn't really hard finding him. He was in the Quidditch pitch, practicing as always. You pause at the edge of the field, looking up at him as he dives to catch the little golden ball. His hair is windswept—you have always loved it the most like that—and his moves are coordinated and controlled.

Your heart skips a beat when you realize he caught sight of you. He dismounts and jogs over to you.

"Hey," he greets, casually, as if you haven't been avoiding him for the past two days. "What brings you here?"

You look at him, and your face heats up in embarrassment, but you have to say it, "I am sorry."

He blinks. "What for?"

"For not trusting your words. For being suspicious. For, well, everything, I guess." You look down.

Harry continues to blink. "Hermione, I am not mad at you. On the contrary, I completely understand from where you're coming. I mean, I really never showed you that I care about you, except platonically, but that was only because I thought you wouldn't want me to, well, love you like that. And I understand if you have moved on and you loved me once and all that—"

"I love you." You blurt out. "I still love you. I haven't moved on. I was just…protecting myself. I didn't want to get hurt again and…"

Harry hugs you tightly and you hug him back, relishing the feeling of being in his arms. Finally.

"I am sorry," he murmurs, tightening his grip on you. "I am so sorry, love. If I had known I was hurting you—if I—"

But you cut him off, placing a single finger on his lips. "If I wasn't insecure, I would have noticed, you know."

He gives you a gentle smile, kisses your forehead, and hugs you to his chest again.

Yes, having your walls down is definitely okay.

The End! :D

-.-

Note: So, what do you think? Your opinion matters the most! Thanks for reading! :D

Till next time! :3

Take care!