A/N To whoever reading this, thanks. 1st person through Harry's eyes. Hope you like...
Necks crane as far as they can just to try and see me , their loud whispers reach my ears, almost feeling like they are speaking right into my ear drums. Their fingers pointing at my profile, it feels like I'm in a zoo, except I'm the animal in the cage.
My hands try to flatten my fringe over my scar- the same scar I used to like about myself- the scar that now haunts me. Ron and Hermione continue to bicker by my sides, so caught up in their own world, they fail to notice the gawking students and the sadness in my posture and eyes.
Hermione's questionning awakes me from my depressing thoughts and my mask comes on. A smile forms on my face and my voice sounds false and unconvincing in my ears when I tell her that I'm just tired.
Would she believe my half lie? I wonder. I almost don't want her to. I almost want her to demand what's going on with me, to force me to tell her what's wrong. But she doesn't. Instead she gives me a smile and continues her never ending argument with Ron.
A part of me is relieved. Relieved, that my best friends can't read me, that they don't understand me. That way I don't have to explain why I'm broken. That I'm exhausted of being Harry Potter. That I'm so tired of it all. The fame, the pestering, the news articles...
But a part of me, a part that remains unacknowledged, wants my best friends or anyone to see the sadness that eats me alive every second. But no-one notices the shouting boy behind the mask.
And a bitter part of me resents that.
R&R ?