Disclaimer: I don't own HP or any of these characters. That belongs to JKR, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers, etc. This is just something to pass the time while waiting for the next book.
She was laughing again.
It was puzzling and yet irritating that he could always hear her laughter so clearly. She wasn't the type to laugh loudly like some of the girls always did. No—her laughter was light and sweet and should not have carried across the room.
He always heard her anyways.
He liked the sound of her laughter. She sounded how lady should sound when a lady laughed. He wished the girls of his House would laugh like her. They always sounded harsh and cruel, even when they were tinkling with mirth. They never sounded like her. Her laughter always sounded real, backed by genuine amusement and affection instead of from any sort of spite.
He liked that.
He did not like, however, the two boys she was always around. He despised them. He hated them with a vengeance. They always said that he was prejudiced against others for their birth. To his view, the hero and his sidekick were the same. The sidekick had outright smirked at his name, assuming that because his father was a Death Eater that he would love to be the same. The hero was little better. He knew that he had not made a good impression on the hero when they were both being fitted for their robes before their first year. Yet he didn't believe that one episode of surliness on his part could be used to justify endless enmity on the hero's part. He didn't see how he could be judged to be the source of all evil at Hogwarts for such a small infraction. He knew that they wouldn't agree. He knew that those two stupid boys would inevitably start pointing out to all the fouls he had committed in various Quidditch matches.
He couldn't see how mere fouls in a popular sport, no matter how flagrant they might be, could be used to prove that someone would be a Death Eater.
He knew that they couldn't be expected to follow such logic, especially the sidekick. He knew she could. She could put her emotions aside to work it out, like she always put them aside when she walked away from him. That was one way she was not like a traditional lady. She was more logical than emotional. That was not to say that she didn't have feelings—he had learned that first-hand during their third year when he had pushed her too far. He took care never to do that again. He might not have much choice in the road his life would take but while he could, he would not make a permanent enemy of her. He would not say the same for her two friends. They did not deserve such consideration. He didn't think they deserved her. She was wasted on them. She was too good for them.
She wasn't good enough for him.
He hated that but it was true. It did not matter that she was the best in all their classes, that she would almost certainly be picked for Head Girl. The truth was that she wasn't good enough for him and never would be. That wasn't her fault, yet a fault it still was. It was her only sin and she could do nothing about that.
He hated her for that.
He hated her blood of mud that was too common to mix with his. He hated her plain brown hair and plain brown eyes—hair and eyes of mud, if you asked him. He hated how she would never fit into his world, how she could never gain acceptance amongst his kind. He hated how she didn't care about that, how she didn't even want to associate with the likes of him. He hated how he had to insult her and how he had no choice but to hate her. He hated how she would toss her head and act like she didn't care what he thought of her. He hated her.
That was what he told himself, at least.
Yet the truth is not something that anyone can change, no matter how vehemently they may deny it. The truth was he longed to run his fingers through her chestnut hair while her luminous eyes gazed lovingly at him. He never wanted to make her cry. He wished he could make her understand that he didn't mean all the insults that he threw at her. He wanted to be the one always by her side, the one who could always make her smile whenever she felt blue. He wanted to hear her laugh because of something that he had said.
He loved her.
Author's note—This was just a small D/Hr drabble that was begging
to be written. I would love to know what you think about it.
Please leave a review. Thanks!