What would you do if I were to tell you the truth? Would you look at me in disgust? Would you run away from me? Would you pity me? Would you laugh and think I was playing a particularly cruel joke on you? Would you…
Sometimes I play the scene out in my mind, in those quiet moments when I lie in my lonely bed and feel that sleep is not far off. You come back into my classroom and ask me a question about an upcoming test or essay or something like that. That would be so very like you. I would stand up and walk over to you, take you in my arms and kiss you deeply. And then…and then…and then…
My body shudders. The images are so real…too real…
You can't imagine how it is for someone like me. Every time I see you, I want to feel your body against mine. Every time I hear your voice, I imagine what it would be like to hear you call my name…my real name…. Every time I watch you write, I look at those beautiful hands and wonder what it would be like to feel them against my face. I am lost. I have resigned myself to this lonely perdition. Mine is a lost cause and I know it well.
Looking around my dark and empty classroom, I remember the first time I saw you. I remember your wavy brown hair, your warm eyes and that confident lilt to your voice. Even then, I knew that you were different from the countless others who came through my classroom. Even then, I knew that I had fallen in love with you and, for the longest time, I cursed you for it. To feel my body react to your presence made me angry…furious…
Now, I am simply resigned and I force myself to do something I have become so dismally good at…hide my true feelings. I do not hide them for fear of what others would say. I really have never cared that much for that. I hide them so that I can keep my illusions and my fantasies. As long as I do not tell you, do not show you then you cannot reject me and I can continue in this delightful madness from which there is no escape. I am yours forever and yet I know I never will be.
The others do not suspect anything although I have caught Dumbledore eyeing me with pity once at dinner. It doesn't matter. Dumbledore trusts me to do the honourable thing and not lead her astray. I often wish he were less accurate in his assessment of me. The others can scarcely believe the heart inside my chest actually beats.
When I think of her, it does not beat, it pounds.
One day, when she has graduated, I will tell her. In fact, I have written her a letter in case anything happens to me…in case Voldemort realizes where my true loyalties lie. I hope she will not think the worst of me. I hope she will not think me perverse or lewd or anything like that. I hope she will smile and realize that my love for her was and is true.
For now, I must continue in this deception. I must continue being dishonest with her. I hope she will forgive me.
Who can be knocking on my door at this hour of the night? I walk over to the door and open it cautiously, almost expecting Peeves to pelt me with a bucket of ice-cold water. What I see instead is…
"What are you doing here?" I ask with a parched throat.
You look nervous and you bite your lip in a way that is so endearing.
"I…I came to ask you about the assignment," she looks up at me with an expression that almost makes me hold my breath.
Perhaps, tonight, the deception will end.
Perhaps, tonight, we will no longer be dishonest.
And maybe, just maybe, Dumbledore will be wrong for once.