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I'm sprinting down the hall and almost make it to Gryffindor tower, before I hear you calling my name. Merlin, if you knew what that voice does to me...
I stop and turn around, and you're yelling at me. I can't hear what you say. All I can see is your mouth, moving quickly with anger. Oh, what those lips could be doing if I were in control of them.
You pause and look at me, realizing that I haven't heard a word you said. It seems like you're almost going to ask what's wrong with me, and a glimmer of hope surges through me.
Suddenly I'm on the ground, reeling from your shove, and I see you stalking off down the hall. I suppose it will always be this way. You could never see me as anything more than the media projected shell of myself. If only you'd be willing to dig a little deeper.
