I just wanted to scream about how wonderful he
was and how much I loved him, how loving him this much was starting to make me
feel constantly sick, how being in his company made me feel so elated and
joyful and wonderful, that I hated spending any time away from him. I just
wanted to yell at him about how happy Harry made me, about how every word I’d
ever read about love, every film I’d ever seen and every song I’d ever heard
held no comparison whatsoever to the real thing. I wanted to curl up on the
floor and sob over how deeply I felt for the boy I had once, somehow, hated.
But that felt a little intense.