What I wanted to tell you
The man´s voice fitted the fierce expression on his face.
"You are always so incredibly sure of yourself, so unbearably arrogant that sometimes I just want to slap you."
Even more furious he stared at the other person. "Your decisions, your wishes, your opinion is apparently everything that counts. To be friends with you is real torture."
His dark eyes blazing he added with a harsh mocking voice: "It´s not all bad being friends with you, being tolerated in your surroundings… even I take a profit from that. Although I never consciously take advantage of the benefits your existence has to offer.
The darkhaired raised his voice: "I never wanted your damn money, I never wanted you to spend money like water when you think you need to get back at me. A Thank you, however, would have been much more appreciated. But that is probably something you will never be able to say."
He stared at his friend with the long blond hair and sighed: "You arrogant prick". He wiped his face before he continued: "In your immense stupidity you are confused by facts. There are people around who easily jinx you from behind to see you dead and gone.
But you loathe the ones who tell you the truth and want to get the better out of you. You loathe them and probably also me. No,…" he hesitated, then he continued calmly "not only MAYBE, but most certainly you detest me."
His whisper softened. "I would kill for you, but you wouldn´t do the same for me, but for those who pretend to like you. Don´t deny it, for you I am just someone who you happen to know long enough to be tolerated in your vicinity. Any other poor devil like me would not be accepted. I don´t fit in your snobby little world. I don´t fit in your influential society circles with your friends or those who pretend to be your friends.
None of them would tell you that sometimes you do make a fool of yourself… as if this world would only keep turning for your own pleasure. This world is for ALL, also for those you detest. But you only see what you want to see. And me…", his voice faded with anger, "…I am just a marginal phenomen. I hate you for that."
The darkhaired man pressed his fingernails in his own palms, making a fist and his knuckles turned white. His voice turned to stone when he spoke with despair.
"For God´s sake, if you don´t wake from your coma now, which was initiated by that bloody curse, I myself will stick a wooden stick up your ass, Lucius!"
A slim pale hand latched onto the bedcover, as if the waking man feared to find himself on a wavering ship.
His greyblue eyes are looking around and meet the dark eyes.
His voice was hoarse when he said: "I must have fallen asleep. Did you say something, Severus?"
Headshaking. "No, Lucius. It´s good to have you back."