a.n.
URGHGYRFJASGE. i haven't posted in a couple days (NaNo's been taking up all of my time)…and i just thought i had to because, .
i feel extremely high. deathly hallows wins. epically.
no, really. it does.
…go watch it now.
bytheway, this is for tardisandafirebolt.
disclaimer: i don't own harrypotter (the most awesome book EVER), and i'm not j.k. rowling, i'm not that cool. ;D
smile like you just don't care.
You're an actress. Everyone knows that. You were destined to be one. Always one to make dresses from burgundy-colored curtains, always the one who needed to be the center of attention, because you were the star of the show, right?
Wrong.
It's not your fault you noticed him, really. He was Molly's boyfriend, after all, and who didn't notice him? With his prettypretty guitar and prettypretty songs, girls swooned and guys were jealous.
You don't know what role to play with him, because he's constantly changing, from nice innocent family-friend Lysander to sly, cunning, studded-earring Lysander, and what the fuck, why does it affect you so much anyway?
You put on a different act every time you see him, trying to figure out which he likes best so you can be that forever. And you don't know how you fell for the boy, when he's with Molly, your cousin, goddammit.
You don't know what to make of him, really. You want (sososo bad) to be with him, really with him, but instead, you settle for covert kisses in broom closets and being the other girl.
He and you both think Molly's oblivious to the fact that you're fooling around with him, and she's better off that way. But every time, every time, he leaves, and you wonder if you mean anything to him at all.
Then one day, you're waiting in the broom cupboard (the one you use regularly) and you're waiting for him in just a silky green (Slytherin, for him) robe, like you're some common slag now. And it seems he likes you best that way, so that's who you become—just for him.
He comes in, smirking, because he's always like that, and you like him that way, anyway. He touches you and kisses you fiercely and roughly, and somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, you know he only likes you for the sex. Then it's over, all too quickly, and he's going to leave the dark cupboard, leave you again, but you act like you don't care, because that's the girl you are now.
But then something overcomes you and you grab his arm, pleading for him to stay for this one night, because you need to feel like you're needed, and you need to feel like you're not just playing a part. And he reluctantly agrees, and you fall asleep in his strongstrong arms, smiling and knowing that he likes you for more than just the sex.
Then you wake up, cold, gooseflesh erupting all over your skin, and he's not there, there's no warm body pressing against yours, and there are no strong arms, or the glint of an earring in the darkness, and your heart falls to your stomach and you feel sick.
Because he doesn't love you like he loves Molly, and he always goes running back to her in the end, because they're both Slytherin and they match. And you just cry in that broom cupboard, because in the end, your act wasn't enough for him, and you were just another notch in his bedpost.
And you're not the star of this show, the one that means most to you.
(So you go back to acting, because then, you can escape.)
a.n.
please don't favorite without reviewing.