A sort of song fic. Lyrics from the songs Below My Feet, White Blank Page, and I Gave You All. All of which are by Mumford and Sons.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the rights to these lyrics.
Weak
Keep the earth below my feet. For all my sweat, my blood runs weak.
She hates to see him go. She hates to see him, staggering away from her, not taking a second look back. She hates that she can't do anything for him, or that he doesn't let her do anything for him, because he hates her.
But that doesn't mean she hates him.
She has doubts that he truly, truly hates her. Why would you visit someone you hate for comfort? It makes no sense.
You desired my attention, but denied my affections.
To be honest, she likes it when he visits. She doesn't like seeing those little tears prick at his eyes or a bruise on his cheek from his father, but she likes his company.
But she doesn't like how he never lets her help. He cries and rants but accepts nothing. He doesn't pay attention to her words because he thinks he's still worth more than her.
She wonders when he'll get it through his skull that everybody's made equal.
Rip the earth in two with your mind... I never meant you any harm, but your tears feel warm as they fall on my forearm.
She relishes in the warmth from his tears. She hates seeing him this way, but when you're stuck in a cellar with nothing but yourself for warmth, you need all you can get.
She relishes in the warmth, but she doesn't accept it. She lets his tears cool onto her skin, like the water droplets running down her arm after a shower(when she wasn't trapped).
Close my eyes for a while; force from the world, a patient smile.
After he's done crying and ranting, sometimes, he'll ask her why she's still nurturing him, why she even cares. And she'll smile. It hurts to smile, really, because of how his aunt tortures her so, but she smiles for him and says nothing.
But he notices that her smiles are far less innocent than those warm years in Hogwarts. He notices that her face doesn't contract in the same way, that her eyes don't sparkle with the belief in nargles and wrackspurts anymore.
And he says nothing.