They say there's a thin line between love and hate. I say that's bullshit.

Most of the time there is no line.

Hate and Love. Two of the strongest emotions a human being can feel, or any being really, and most of time they're mixed together, blurred into each other that it becomes difficult for a person to tell which one they're feeling.

People rarely read between the lines, so when they see me looking at her all they see is my hatred, and they think nothing of it. They never see my love for her, just the mask that I wear because they don't want to see anything else. Because if they see the love that I give her, they'll be scared. They don't want to see my love for her because it will be different and wrong and weird, it wouldn't be right.

So they never look beyond the mask.

And the hate that they see is fake and untrue, that's just hatred for what she is not who she is. But the hatred for who she is is very much alive and very much real.

But my friends know, the very few I can call friends, they realise it. But they ignore it and hope that in time it will go. My feelings will change and they will act as if it never happened.

And those few friends would ever guess that I hate her, they would say that all they can see in my eyes when I look at her is complete and utter adoration.

And most of the time they're right. I can't remember a time I looked at her with any other emotion in my eyes, but just because they can't see it doesn't mean that I can't feel it.

That writhing, burning hatred right at the heart of me. Hate is a strong word but I know that it is hate that I feel, pure undiluted hatred.

I hate her.

I hate her hair.

I hate her body.

I hate her kindness.

I hate her purity.

I hate her laugh.

I hate her eyes.

I hate her.

But at the same time, I know that I am completely and utterly in love with her. I know that a part of me will never stop, and I know that there is nothing I can do to change that.

I hate her.

I hate that she smiles at everyone but me.

I hate that she never says my first name.

I hate that for someone so clever she can't see what's in front of her.

I hate that she won't talk to me.

I hate that I am never the one to make her laugh.

I hate that she never looks beyond the mask.

Falling in love with her was the easiest and hardest thing to do in the world. Easy because I had no control over it, every time she so much as looked at me I felt my stomach flip and every time she laughed I felt my lips twitch upwards at the sound. Hard because it couldn't be a normal relationship. I couldn't go over to her and flirt with her and tease her and then ask her out.

It was difficult because I couldn't stop it. I didn't want to fall for her, but I couldn't stop falling. And she didn't catch me. I fell and landed with a huge crack in my heart because her arms had caught me.

I hate her.

I hate that she's too stubborn and loyal for her own good.

I hate that she's a muggle born and not a pure blood.

I hate that she had to be in Gryffindor and not Slytherin.

I hate that when she sits and daydreams I can't help but wonder if she thinks of me.

I hate it how I sometimes see her looking at me with curiosity and something else alight in her eyes.

I hate that one day she might die at my hand.

I hate that she doesn't see the effect she has on me.

I hate that she's the cause of the ache in my heart.

I hate that she has the whole of my heart and I know that I will never get it back.

I hate that her beauty radiates off her.

But the thing that I hate her for more than anything. The thing that makes me so angry at her for having caused. The thing that makes me want to grab her and shake her harder than anything. The one thing that I will never forgive her for is...

I hate her for making me cry.