Summary: Looking away, you sink into the chair, the irony of the situation too sharp to admit. ― 200 word drabble.
Author's note: ...doesn't really have a point, but I liked its wording... err, it was written with Harry and Draco in mind, but it doesn't really identify either of the characters, so.
Disclaimer: Oh, come on...
Irony
"Do you believe in magic?"
Eyes glittering, he laughs. You're unable to stop a smile from forming; even though so much has happened, even though so much has changed―even though he has changed―his laugh is the same. It's rough but soothing, niave and contagious.
Even though he's insane.
"You don't look like one to believe in fairy tales," he says.
You smile again, only this time, it's twisted―dry, unamused and painful.
"I didn't."
He smiles again.
"Until?"
You lift one shoulder slightly, shrugging, silently saying the word you won't―can't―say outloud.
You.
Looking away, you sink into the chair, the irony of the situation too sharp to admit. He's the reason you believe in magic―the sort of magic that transforms―the reason you believe in 'fairy tales,' as he says... and yet, you're the reason he's without his. You're the reason he can't remember, and every day you come here―every day you look into his eyes and have to remind him of who you are... you wish, with all of your might―with all of that magic―that your positions were reversed.
To you, he deserves to remember.
You don't.
And this irony... it almost convinces you that maybe, just maybe, he is the sane one.