My life is brilliant.

Honestly, it really is. I mean, come on, I'm Viktor Krum. I’m the Seeker on Bulgaria’s national team, I have girls swooning over me wherever I go, and Quidditch lovers and non-lovers alike treat me like royalty, practically kissing the very ground I tread on.

But I didn’t want all that—I would give it all up, for her. If only I could have her.

I closed my eyes and let the emotion wash over me, sweeping through from the tips of my hair follicles to the very edges of my toes. All around me people rushed around, in a hurry, trying to get somewhere. Although I suppose that is to be expected in a subway station.

My love is pure. I saw an angel, of that I’m sure.

But then I lost her. Being the complete idiot that I am, I let her go. There’s no one to blame, really. I suppose it never would have really worked out anyway. We were too different. Social rank wasn’t the issue; she is famous now, in her own right, and I suppose rightfully so too. She deserves it a lot more than I deserve my fame. All I did to gain my current position was simply to do what I loved—play Quidditch. She…she risked everything, and helped save the world.

She’s caring, kind, intelligent, thoughtful, sensitive, perceptive… while I—I am merely an athlete.

I opened my eyes, drinking in the bustling sights anew. After the War, I changed, somehow.

I gasped, suddenly catching sight of someone unmistakably familiar. She turned, and our eyes met, across a sea of strangers.

She smiled at me on the subway.

And then she turned and was swallowed up by the crowd again. My heart stopped for a second, my breath catching in my throat. It was her. Wasn’t it? Her image, smiling at me, was burned into my retinas.

Yes, she caught my eye, as we walked on by.

She had changed since I last saw her. What was it? Six, seven years ago? Had it really been that long? Her hair was smoother now, more sleek and lustrous, and curled gently into swaying waves.

She was with another man.

I frowned. Only after precious seconds had passed did this thought really begin to register in my mind. She was with another man. Kind of tall, red-haired. And then it hit me. Ron Weasley. He had risen to be a household name along with her, after helping Harry Potter save the wizarding world.

Panic rose up in me, fighting with my conscious mind, fighting with common sense. I took a step forward, preparing to go after her. An impulse decision. A young child ran by, and we nearly collided. I took a deep breath, but that was all that was needed to clear my mind. This wasn’t my place to try and come back into the picture.

I smiled sadly, gently shaking my head a bit.

I don’t think that I’ll see her again, but we shared a moment that will last to the end.

My memories, however, wouldn’t—couldn’t—ever be taken away from me. And we had shared some beautiful times together, way back when. Times which I would never forget. After all, her charisma, understanding, and ability to treat me like a regular guy had really helped to shape who I am today. She really is a beautiful person, through and through.

You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful, it’s true. I saw your face, in a crowded place, and I don’t know what to do, ‘cause I’ll never be with you.

It was time to accept that and move on. Finally seeing her again, all these years later, gave me some closure. I felt something move in my heart, and felt free—wonderfully free, after all these years spent prisoner under her spell. With one glance, one smile, she had managed to release me.

There must be an angel with a smile on her face, when she thought up that I should be with you. But it’s time to face the truth:

With a grim smile, I spared on last look in the direction in which she had disappeared. Then, slowly, I turned and walked away.

I will never be with you.