"Expect the unexpected."
It's good advice. The unexpected is what is beyond the next corner, you can't really predict it, not even real Seers are that talented. It's not only your choices that change the future, but the choices of those around you. Everybody effects everyone else. That doesn't mean you can't use it to the best of your advantage. I mean, some people are so easy to taker over, to push in the right direction, and just when you think you have it, you get hit with a bludger from out of no where.
Control is something I have been taught to strive for, along with power. It runs through my veins, in my blood. The need for it is inbred, as is the cold manner in which I do things. Why should I? The world is my stage, is it not?
But then again the unexpected is hiding, waiting for the right moment. And Bam! It's not pleasant, being thrown off your path like that.
It started in potions class two weeks ago, or at least that's when I noticed it. I have only just found that I am able to put this down in words.
Well it's another exciting day in potions class. Granger's hand is straight up in the air. Surprise, surprise. If all of I took the time and memorized the texts I would be smarter than everyone else too, but I have my own life. She's sitting with those pathetic friends of hers, Potter, the famous Boy Who Lived. Like he's so special. And Weasley. What a joke that boy is. At least the other two have done something, he's just another in a long line of muggle loving red heads.
Can you tell I'm excited to be here?
Draco's taking his wand out. I don't know why, we don't need it for today's class.
Oh! He's just made it so Potter and Weasley's shared cauldron bubble over. They have no idea what has just happened. It's quite amusing actually. They're looking at one another with confusion. Then Weasley's eyes turn Draco's way, he has turned bright red and he is throwing daggers with his eyes. If nothing else that boy has a temper, and while it's exciting, his heart is on his sleeve. He's weak like that.
"Potter, Weasley!" Ooh, Snape's got them now.
They look up at him and they both visibly gulp. Snape would honestly make anyone squirm, especially when he looks at people like that. I find it exciting you know, not when it's towards me, of course, but directed towards others, it's a beautiful thing.
"What the hell were you thinking?"
"Well it's obvious you were not thinking at all," Snape snapped at them quickly, still looking at them with disgust and distaste, "adding the wolfsbane before you should have."
Weasley's gaze returns to the table, where the wolfsbane is clearly sitting in front of him, chopped up finely as instructed. I watch his eyes change, and can tell he's decided to take a chance. Is he really that stupid? anyone would know that a Gryffindor trying to tell Snape that he's wrong is asking for death. "But Professor--"
Apparently he is that stupid.
"But nothing," Professor Snape's voice is harsh once again as he cuts off the redheaded twit, "15 points from Gryffindor for incompetence. Even Neville is doing better than you two today."
I snicker, along with the rest of my housemates, as Potter, Weasley and the rest of the Gryffindor's scowl back at us. Another usual day in potions. Draco manages to collect points for Slytherin, but there has yet to be a potions lesson in which he doesn't.
"You are all dismissed. Potter, Weasley! Another disparaging performance in class like the one today will lose you thirty points and earn you a detention with me."
"Bloody git," I hear Weasley mutter as he heads for the door.
"Ron!" Why must Granger open her mouth? She only ever comes out as whiny and insufferable. I really do not understand how a single Gryffindor stands it. Then again, they are Gryffindors.
"What Hermione?" he snaps at her, clearly exasperated. "We didn't add the wolfsbane yet. We were set up." He's focused his gaze on Draco, and is giving him a Gryffindor's impression of a death stare, not bad, but a bit too much emotion.
I saunter over to where Draco is standing by the doorway and rest my arm on his shoulder . "What are you looking at Weasley?" I ask him with a sneer, "reacquainting yourself with what real purebloods look like?"
His gaze slides to me for a second and then back to Draco. "Remembering who I never want to become."
Draco moves away from me and gets into Weasley's face. "Between your mudblood friend and your betraying sister and a best friend that means death, you're in a lot of trouble Weasel."
Weasley's face flushes bright red with anger again. "You--" he manages in a strangled voice before taking off and lunging.
Potter and Granger grab Weasley before he can do anything. "Come off it Ron. He's not worth this."
"Snape is right inside," Granger whispers, the teacher's pet as always. "Do you want to lose more points?"
He brushed past me, and I felt something odd. It made no sense whatsoever. It was like a jolt of magic ripping through me. That could not be possible. Not from a Weasley. Yes he's a pureblood, and granted as far as my father is concerned that's better than anything else, but many people on his side, Lucius Malfoy especially, see the Weasley's as dirty because of their father's job.
That was the first time. It has happened again, but as I've said, it's impossible.
I am Pansy Parkinson. There are things my family expects of me. My father is a Death Eater, right behind Lucius Malfoy, who I am beginning to think is his hero of some sort, after the Dark Lord that is. Not to mention that I have been betrothed to Draco since birth.
Keeping the bloodlines pure. And evil I suppose. Not that I used to mind. Draco is gorgeous, it only takes a glance to see that. He's brilliant as well. His mind is always a few steps ahead of his opponent, and he knows how to get away with whatever it is he does. And for years I have believed myself to be in love with him.
I'm not. Lusting after someone is not love. And I want to be in love.
Merlin, I wrote it! My parents better never find this journal. I don't know what they would do with it if they did. See, my father no longer thinks marriage is about love. He did once. My mother was a Ravenclaw not a Slytherin. She was in love with my father, and as the story goes, he with her. Now it's just a way to advance his position in the world. I think that's the only reason my mother is still there.
The problem with Draco was that I had to be a two sickle whore. Dumb, tricked, out and all over him to get any attention. He likes to be the smartest, the slyest, the aloof one, and the pretty one. In essence the best; which I have noticed is a family trait.
I can picture myself now, becoming a shadow of a woman much like Narcissa Malfoy. She was smart once too, or so they say. Mum said she was nearly bright enough to be in Ravenclaw, but she had the right amount of cunning to put her in Slytherin. Narcissa could have made something of herself, but instead she married for power. Load of good it did her.
Then again, what choice to I have. Betrothal is a serious thing among wizarding families, or at least certain ones. Some believe in love, and others believe in power. My father has come to believe in power.
Anyway, back to the main subject. Ronald Weasley. It is an ordinary name, but then again, so's mine. At least it isn't anything stupid such as Hermione. What would possess a parent to name their child something so horrendous?
I'm off track again. I just don't want to write all of this out, because that's nearly like speaking it out loud. That would make it real, and I am not ready for this to be real.
So lunch about a week ago, things happen again.
The house elves did well, lunch looks better than it has in weeks. And they have lamb, which is a favorite of mine. Where did they put that mint sauce?
"Look at them," Draco hissed softly. "We're going to squash the Gryffindor team today at quidditch."
I looked, so did most of the table mind you, but still I looked. My gaze focuses on Weasley and seems unable to deviate from him. He is gesticulating madly, and his face is a bit pinker than usual, with excitement one might guess. I do believe he's discussing strategies with Potter.
"I don't even know why they let Weasel on the team," Draco scoffs, continuing to watch them, much as I do, "maybe it's for charity. Showing that Gryffindors are aware of the needs of the poor. I bet you he rides a Cleansweep 3."
I continue to watch, seemingly helpless. He takes a large bite out of a dinner roll before continuing with whatever it was he was saying. "They seem to be doing well though. Some of the Ravenclaws were saying he's nearly better than Wood was." What ever possessed me to let those words out of my mouth? I understand the statement t o be true, but still to say it aloud.
"That's only because they have the Famous Harry Potter. Besides, Wood wasn't that talented Pansy." He sneers my name, though I should have expected that. He thinks me a moron as always. It would be nice for Draco Malfoy to wake up and see me for what I am, just once.
"Hmm," is all I say. No need to incriminate myself further.
Their entire team stands up and heads out of the hall together. I must say Ron…did I just think his first name…never mind…anyway, he looks quite impressive. Why am I even thinking about this?
Why not? I'm not allowed to notice a hot body every once and awhile. Gryffindor's may be fools and idiots all, but that doesn't mean they don't look good half the time. He looks better than Potter at least, all filled out and muscular at his height, instead of scrawny. His blue eyes are piercing as he throws a glare our way.
There's electricity behind those eyes, and it is impressive. I am unable to repress a shudder.
"You can't possibly be cold," Draco drawls with obvious disdain, "the Great Hall is not that drafty."
That is it, enough is enough you know. I turn to him, my eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "I was just thinking of the howler we'll all have to sit through if you don't catch the snitch today," I say, my voice perfectly cold and in control. I haven't spoken like this to Draco ever. Better after seven years than never at all I suppose.
He looks taken aback, as if he didn't see that one coming. I know for a fact that he didn't. "We all better play our best Pansy. We can't afford to lose."
We did lose, in case you were wondering. We win every game but those against Gryffindor. Weasley was excellent this year, better than Blaise at least. Everyone knows that unless Potter was blinded, or severely injured and unable to fly, Draco would never catch the snitch first. By the way, Draco did get that howler, it was a doozy.
I spent quite a bit of the game focused on Ron. He is much more athletic then he appears to be when you look at him in his robes. He made excellent dives and blocks, he only let two passes by, both of which were mine. There is a bit of pride on my part there, that it was me and only me that got past him. It bothered him too. I enjoyed that.
I wonder if I unnerved him in any other way than by being the only person that he had no defense against. It was a good feeling. Given, it isn't difficult to get under Ron's skin. He was definitely a Gryffindor, he never would have made a talented Slytherin.
I cannot believe what is beginning to happen. It's not fair, and horribly wrong. And no I am not overreacting.
What is it you ask? What could possibly be this horrendous.
Lately I, Ronald Weasley, have had feelings towards a Slytherin.
There, I said it. It's a horrendous thing to have to say. I can't believe it. I mean this girl she's a Slytherin, they're dirty and evil and they work for You Know Who. They don't like muggles, wizards from non-wizarding families, and people like my father who are fascinated with muggles. They are favoured by Snape, which should tell you something about their demeanor. They are sly and sneaky and I bet you they would sell out their brother to get where they wanted go.
I don't like them, I think that if anyone belongs in Azkaban it's the Slytherin house. And yet…I have feelings for one. It goes beyond lusting after one, and even that can be hard with creatures like Millicent Bulestrode around.
I might as well cut to the chase. It's Pansy, Pansy Parkinson.
Merlin only knows why. She hangs over Malfoy as if he were Slytherin himself, because I'm sure that is what she is looking for. Around Malfoy she looks like such a dip. I have seen her away from him once or twice, and honestly, she looks much more competent then the brainless away from him. You can see the signature cunning of a Slytherin behind her eyes then.
She's grown into her face as well. That pug nose of hers actually looks really cute. Cute. I used the word cute to describe Pansy Parkinson. Well not her, but her nose. But it's true. The way it turns up just a bit like that.
When I am done with this journal I am burning it. No, no. I might actually want to read of my insanity yet again. I think that I'm going to increase the charms on this thing that leave the pages blank to the eyes of others. There must be a voice recognition charm…
That's not the point. I hadn't even realized I fancied her this summer when I saw her a few times in Diagon Alley. I mean I even watched as her father dragged her down Knockturn Alley. All I saw was a death eater in training. It wasn't until I saw her eyes glazed over as she practically laid across Draco during lunch one day that I thought about it.
I remembered watching her show interest in some of those really thick books that Hermione always likes to look through. If it were on the Cannons, then I might actually read a book that long, but until then, no sorry. Maybe on wizard chess, but that is a big maybe.
I also remembered that, while she did indeed show interest in Knockturn Alley (what Slytherin wouldn't) that she didn't look at all pleased to be with her father. I mean, not that Slytherins ever look pleased, and not that Pansy really ever gives emotion away (yes I have been looking!), but there was just something about her.
People think I am dense, and yes it does happen (not that I will ever admit that anywhere but here), but when you look for things, you can see them. And yes once again I have been looking. I don't know why, I just can't seem to help myself.
That sounds dirty.
I have been trying to tell myself that I was interested in her from a pure critical and investigative view. I have quickly realized that that is not so. Take potions class two weeks ago.
I hate potions. Snape hates me, and all of the Gryffindors. But he really despises me because I am friends with Harry and Hermione. You see, because he despises them, and probably because he despises my brothers, Fred and George especially, he'll stick it to me when he gets the chance. At least Mum accepts Snape as an appropriate excuse for detention.
We're working on some sort of sleeping draught. I'm not sure of the exact name, but I am working on the exact measurements of ingredients. The potion is currently bright green in colour, and the scent that is coming off of it is horrendous. We still have to add wolfsbane and eye of newt and dragon scales.
Bloody hell! Why is the cauldron bubbling over?
I look to Harry and he looks back. Neither of us have any idea what has just happened. It makes no sense. We followed all the directions, I don't understand…Malfoy. There he is, sitting across from us with that smarmy look upon his pale face. I can tell that my face has gone bright red, but I don't really care.
"Potter, Weasley!" Snape!
Damn. There he is, standing over us, looking more furious than usual. I hate to admit this, actually no I don't, he frightens me. I suppose a boy over the age of seventeen shouldn't admit to the fact that he is frightened of his teacher.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he growls at us.
"Well it's obvious you were not thinking at all," Snape snaps quickly, He is still looking at us with disgust and distaste, "adding the wolfsbane before you should have."
I look down at the table. The wolfsbane is still sitting right in front of me. It is finely chopped as it should have been, and has yet to be added. Snape is dangerous like this, but really. "But Professor--"
"But nothing," Professor Snape's voice is harsh once again as he cuts me off without a backwards thought, "15 points from Gryffindor for incompetence. Even Neville is doing better than you two today." That one hurts.
Harry and I are forced to clean up our desk, and I do not think it is going to be possible to s
"You are all dismissed. Potter, Weasley! Another disparaging performance in class like the one today will lose you thirty points and earn you a detention with me."
"Bloody git," I mumble under my breath as Harry, Hermione and I walk out of the classroom.
"Ron!" Hermione admonishes.
I can't stand it when she gets like this. "What Hermione?" I snap, Turing on her. "We didn't ad d the wolfsbane yet," I stop in front of Malfoy, unable to help myself, sending him a furious glare, "we were set up," I say pointedly.
Pansy saunters over to where Draco is standing by the doorway and rests her arm on his shoulder, shes gone back to 'cling on Draco' girl. Great! "What are you looking at Weasley?" She asks me with that self satisfied smirk plastered all over her face, "reacquainting yourself with what real purebloods look like?" Why is it the mean and nasty in her is making my blood hot, and in an entirely different way than Draco?
I take my eyes off of Draco to look at her dead on. Smug and self-satisfied, she is baiting me. I am not about to let that happen. I turn back to Draco, not about to speak to her while she is, in essence, speaking for him. "Remembering who I never want to become."
Draco steps up, not looking phased. "Between your mudblood friend and your betraying sister and a best friend that means death, you're in a lot of trouble Weasel," he whispers harshly, making sure that it is purely between him and me.
"You--" I lunge, I really can't help it this time. I really, really want Malfoy dead. Who does the wanker think he is?
Harry and Hermione grab me, holding me back. I know they are worried about me getting myself in more trouble then I really ought to, but should Malfoy really be saying such things.
"Come off it Ron. He's not worth this."
"Snape is right inside. Do you want to lose more points?" hisses Hermione. She's right; she's right. I know she's right. That doesn't mean I have to like it.
I storm past them, and brush against Pansy, on purpose of course. I feel a jolt run through me, not like a usual jolt that you get from a collision, but instead a magic sort of jolt as if something has changed. I would much rather pretend it away, but I cannot do that. The jolt was felt a bit too deep, meant too much.
And therein lies my problem. She is a bitch, in the major sense of the word. I mean, if Pansy Parkinson wants to get her shot off, she will. As was the "real purebloods," comment. And all the feelings for her in the world isn't going to get rid of that fact.
If she had feelings for me back, and that's a big if, would she even be nice to me, or to my friends? What kind of person is she really? I mean, she's a Slytherin; can she be trusted?
And why are we even discussing this? 1) You're my journal and 2) Pansy and I are nothing, and will never be anything. Much as Hermione and I were the couple that wasn't. She and Dean are quite happy, not that I begrudge her any happiness, but to be mad at me for not realizing that then for leaving me…I'm only slightly bitter, and she is still one of my best friends.
Hermione wouldn't accept this, my liking Pansy. I think if Pansy became my girlfriend (did I just write that?) she would have a fit. She isn't too keen on Pansy. Alright, Alright the two of them detest each other. House rivalry and general issues since first year. But then Hermione doesn't really have a say in my love life, but I like to keep the alienating friends to a minimum.
Pansy is and always will be a Slytherin and therefore there will be no relationship, but if there was, no one would accept it. My family is Gryffindor all the way down the line. All of my friends are Gryffindor as well. A relationship with a Slytherin would be wrong and would be one of the worst things I could possibly do. It would be going against my House, my friends, my family.
But that isn't the point of this, or wasn't. I care about her and I shouldn't. I mean think of who she is, what she is. Pansy is the enemy. She is! If only I could truly convince myself of that.
That wasn't the only time something like that has happened between us.
I don't understand why they let these bloody gits even play quidditch, they're not good enough for the sport. Okay so some of them are talented, but not nearly as talented as we are. Nothing amuses me more then watching Malfoy after a game. Pissing him off is a delight. The only talented one is Pansy Parkinson. She is the only one of them who ever manages to get past me, not that the others don't try. All out for themselves sometimes.
Anyway the game is going well. 60-10 in favor of Gryffandor. I've done pretty well at keeping them at bay with, as mentioned before, the exception of Pansy. She faked left and went right, bloody Slytherin. She looked awfully smug as she flew away. But then she knows she's the only member of their team who has the ability. I could have sworn she winked at me, but she wouldn't do that. She wouldn't; would she?
Anyway, Harry's gliding above us all doing a magnificent job as the Gryffandor team's star player and arguably the best seeker in Hogwarts history. Charlie makes a close second, but still, Harry has him beat. Draco's following behind him, trailing Harry like a puppy does it's master.
He's desperate to win. Not that I blame him, it is our final year, and his father wants him to be the best at everything. The entire hall usually finds out what his father thinks of him losing quid ditch matches. Occasionally, I feel bad for him, but not usually. I think Malfoy's a big enough of an arsehole to deserve it, with they way he treats people.
Dean has the quaffle, he's quite the chaser, though none of us knew it until recently, and little Denis Creevey. But I worry about Denis, being so small against the Slytherins, they could crush him, and I think he knows it.
Damn! Pansy stole the quaffle back. She's zigging and zagging across the pitch avoiding everyone and the bludgers that get sent her way. I can't take my eyes off of her, I can't. While we're up it's not a bright idea.
I can still hear Seamus's voice in the background as he commentates the match, but it's muted from what it normally is. All of a sudden, red and green stream past me, Harry and Draco, but I can't afford to watch them.
Damn she's advancing. I should attempt to cut her off at the pass. It might work.
I've done the worst thing possible and have crashed into her. Not so that we fall off our brooms. That would be pleasant, this much worse. We're tangled together. The worst thing is that I have an incredible urge to kiss her. I don't know why. I have never been particularly partial to the idea of kissing a Slythiern, and now is no different. But it's those little shockwaves that run through me when I touch her.
My head is merely inches away from her. If I lean in and kiss her I could make it seem like I was getting woozy and fell into her. I could write it off as an accident. But she's looking at me like it wouldn't be such a bad idea. Why is she looking at me like that. She doesn't like me. Damn! I'm not supposed to like her.
"Harry Potter has the snitch! Gryffandor wins210-20!" Seamus's voice breaks through
Bloody hell! She got the shot off. I just stare at her. Her eyes are pretty, and I think I see a shimmer or something. It can't be.
And then her eyes cloud over, making her look as resistant and unreachable as the rest of the Slytherins. "What are you staring at Weasel?" she snaps.
Her eyes heat up and she pushes at me. "Get off me!"
"With pleasure," I snap to struggle free.
As soon as we're separate, she flies off towards the rest of the Slytherin team.
And that was that. Merlin I'm messed up. I'm beginning to think of her as something more than just another Slytheirn girl. A Slytherin whore, Draco's whore. Why would I be interested? There is not reason, none at all. I'm not even interested, I'm not.
But I am. I know it and it's messing me up.
I don't need this. Don't need this at all. Liking someone is hard enough with someone more compatible, but with someone so outrageously different.
Why me? Why Her?