The Same Shade of Red
Disclaimer: and, the last time I checked, I still didn't own any of it, which was about five minutes ago. Hold on. Checks copyright Nope, not mine.
You think that I don't know. That I can't see the pain you try to hide behind your eyes. That I don't know what you do to yourself, because you can't find another way to escape.
Don't get me wrong. It isn't that obvious. You've taken a lot of time to construct your mask, and your effort has paid off. Only those closest to you think that something may be wrong, and sometimes not even them. Not that they don't care. You're just that good.
You think I don't know the pressure you're under. How you have to be what everyone expects you to be. First in every class, in control all the time and never allowed to have any fun. You're the brainy part of the trio, that is the role you have to play. And you play it well. Perfectly in fact. You're perfect. Every part of you. You have flaws, yes, but that only adds to your perfection.
But you don't think so. To you, your flaws override any good qualities you think you may have. And there are other things. Other things that you hate about yourself. Things that you have no control over, and things that you shouldn't even care about. Like the fact that your muggle-born. You pretend that it doesn't bother you.
"Just ignore him Ron," you say. "All he wants is for you to react." And you keep walking, like the derogatory word has absolutely no effect on you. But it does. There is more to you telling Ron not to do anything than meets the eye. You don't want him to react; don't want to hear him making death threats to Malfoy. Because instead of making you feel better, it reminds you of how bad the word really is, and of how much you hate not being pure.
Even though you try to tell yourself it doesn't matter. That you're just as good as everyone else. Which you are. And better than most. Especially him. Because while he has what you can't, you have what he wants. Friends, happiness, and the ability to choose your own destiny.
But you don't see that. All you see is someone who has something that you actually think is important.
That's the funny thing about you. You find significance in things that shouldn't even matter. You do what everyone expects of you. You don't have to, you just do. You're never going to surprise anyone. But that's what makes you you. And you are perfect. From your bushy hair, to your large front teeth, even you scarred body.
You think I don't know about that. How you take out all your anger and frustration on your beautiful skin, and feel the hurt wash away, as your blood flows down the sink. The blood that you think is dirty. But how can it be, when it is the same shade of red as his? The exact same shade.