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Harry is sitting in the window of the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory, stroking Hedwig’s back. I love you, he thinks. Harry is eleven years old, and even though Hedwig isn’t a person, he loves her more than he can remember having loved anyone or anything else. He knows he had parents, and he thinks he must have loved them, but they’re gone. And Hedwig is here. For the first time in his short life, Harry isn’t alone. He has a friend. He might even be able to say he has friends. Harry looks out the window, thinking about how different his life is. He’s scared and a bit confused. But he has Hedwig, and he loves her.
--
Harry is standing in Lupin’s office, watching him pack away his things. Harry’s chest hurts, and he feels angry and sad and desperate and miserable all at once. He’s just gotten Sirius back and then lost him again all in one night, and now Remus is leaving too. You can’t go, Harry thinks. I love you. Lupin whispers, “Mischief managed,” and the Marauder’s Map closes. He gives the map back to Harry. Harry is thirteen, and he feels lost. He’s found someone who knew and loved his parents, and now he’s leaving. Harry can feel the tears forming in his eyes when he hugs Lupin. I love you, and I’ll miss you.
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Harry is scrambling through the water, kicking his legs as hard as he can to get to Ron. There’s water in his mouth and not enough air in his lungs. The lake is dark, cold, and murky. Harry knows he isn’t a very good swimmer – he’d never been taught – but he can be good enough to save Ron. He has to be. When he reaches Ron, he thinks I love you. Ron was his first real friend. Harry is fourteen and he’s finally found a family that cares about him. He looks at Ron and thinks of the Weasleys. I love you, he thinks again. You are my family – you’re my home.
--
Harry is sitting on his bed in the boys’ dormitory, clutching the broken piece of the mirror. Sirius isn’t coming back. He fell through the Veil, and he can’t come back through. And Nearly Headless Nick had told him that Sirius wouldn’t be coming back as a ghost, either. Harry thinks of Sirius and is reminded of his offer to live with him. I loved you, he thinks. Sirius was the closest person he had to a parent. He has the Weasleys, of course, but they have their own children. They care about Harry, but it‘s different. Harry is crying. He misses Sirius, and he doesn’t want to accept what he knows to be true: Sirius is dead, and he isn’t coming back. Harry is fifteen, and the weight of his grief and pain feels bigger than his heart. Dumbledore says love is what saved him – his mother’s love gave him life – but it feels like it will destroy him. If this is what love is, Harry doesn’t know that he wants to feel it anymore.
--
Harry is sitting on the bed in the tent. They’re in a forest somewhere in England. He looks up and sees Hermione. She’s sitting on the steps leading to another room in the tent and listening to the radio. He walks over to her and pulls her up. Harry is angry at Ron for leaving, especially when he sees how upset Hermione is, but he has to make her feel better. He holds her the way McGonagall taught them before the Yule Ball and starts to sway. His dancing isn’t quite right, and he’s sure he looks more than a little funny, but he doesn’t care. He dances more and more ridiculously until Hermione has a smile on her face. Harry is seventeen, and the fate of the entire wizarding world rests with him. But tonight, he doesn’t care about that. All he cares about right now is making Hermione feel better. Because I love you, he thinks. Hermione is brilliant and kind and caring and brave and amazing. She’s one of the best friends he could have asked for. He knows he wouldn’t have made it this far without her, and he loves her.
--
Harry is standing in the forest, staring at his mother and father and everyone else he’d ever cared about surrounding him. He doesn’t know how long the Resurrection Stone will work – how long they will stay with him – but he is going to take whatever time he can get. Harry looks at his mother. She’s beautiful. His father looks brave and proud. His heart aches. I love you, he thinks. I wish I’d had more time with you. Harry can feel the tears forming in his eyes. He thinks if he is going to die, at least it will not be alone. Harry is seventeen, and love cannot save him this time. His mother and father promise to stay with him, and he's almost glad that he's about to die if that means he gets to see his parents again. He must give up his life for the entire world, and love cannot save him. But at least it can comfort him.
--
Harry looks across the Great Hall. Malfoy is sitting at the Slytherin table, laughing at a joke as he sips his tea. He’s happier this year, and it’s a good look on him. Harry’s nightmares are getting worse, and it shows. When the nightmares are so bad Harry couldn’t sleep for more than ten minutes without waking up in a cold sweat, Harry wanders down to the Eighth-Year common room where he can always find Malfoy with a book. Harry’s done this many times in the past few weeks. They’ve talked about their nightmares and their fears and their regrets. They’ve struck up an awkward sort of friendship. But, Harry thinks, I think I love you. He was afraid to tell Malfoy; he didn’t want to ruin their friendship, but he really did love him. Harry is eighteen, and for the first time in his too-young life, he doesn’t have to fight. He’s fallen for Malfoy, and he doesn’t quite know how it happened, but he knows it’s the truth.
--
Two weeks later, on their way to Transfiguration, Harry can’t keep his feelings to himself any longer. He’s terrified, and he’s certain Draco will hate him. “I love you,” Harry whispers in the deserted corridor, his voice cracking with the weight of the words he’s never said out loud before. Draco falters, and Harry immediately puts his walls back up. He closes his eyes to keep from crying. He’s sure that he’s ruined everything. Harry stops walking, and time slows down. Harry can feel his chest constricting. He’s so scared, and he knows that it won’t be much longer until tears start to fall. Until he feels a gentle hand lift up his chin. He opens his eyes. Draco is standing there, dangerously close to Harry. Draco’s eyes are full of surprise, and he drops his books. He grabs Harry’s robes in his hands and pushes him against the cold stone wall. He closes the distance between them and pulls Harry in with a desperate kiss. “I love you too,” he says. Harry is eighteen, and he’s never known love like this before. Not with Cho or Ginny or anyone else. His knees are weak, and he thinks that if Draco wasn’t holding him against the wall, he would collapse.
--
Harry is sitting with Draco in their flat halfway between Muggle and Wizarding London. They’re eating takeaway and playing Scrabble, a game Draco fell in love with. Draco is winning by more points than Harry is willing to admit. Draco is laughing and his face is lit up by his smile. Harry is smiling back at him. He’s so happy, and he’s so in love. He’s certain his smile is more like a goofy grin. Draco looks at Harry and cocks his head to the side, a smile still stretched across his face. “What are you grinning at?” he asks, laughing. Harry shakes his head, still grinning like a loon. “Nothing,” he answers. I love you, is all. Harry is twenty, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever know love like this. He would go to the ends of the earth for Draco. He would shoulder the weight of the heavens for him. He would do absolutely anything for him.
Harry doesn’t love often, but when he does, he loves with his whole heart.