I hate him.
I hate his smile.
I hate his hair.
I hate his eyes.
Why I hate all that about him?
I hate it because I can never have him.
He won't ever smile at me; I'm a mudblood.
I want to run my hands through his platinum-blond hair, but he'll hex me before that ever happens.
His eyes make me melt, but whenever I look into those eyes, I see nothing but hatred, hatred for mudbloods, and hatred for me.
I hate myself, because I want him to smile at me, I want to run my hands through his hair, and I want to stare into his eyes and see love for me, the same love I feel for him.
I hate myself because I want all that in the first place.
I hate myself because I love him and I can never have him.
I shouldn't want all that. I shouldn't even be thinking about him.
I'm a Gryffindor and he's a Slytherin. Things will never work out.
…Or so I thought.