AN: hello people, this is just a little one-shot I wrote about five or six years ago….
Enjoy
ALONE
I wonder the world alone.
I walk the path of solitude.
My mind dark,
Notions of hope,
Happiness and joy long since gone.
I am all that I have,
And all that I will have.
I wonder the world alone.
I stood alone, the ink black water of the lake lapping gently at the stony shore. The reflected moonlight shimmered off the symmetrical surface; a perfect doppelganger.
I will always be alone.
I sighed deeply, my breath clouding around my face and in front of my eyes like some noxious gas. Autumn was nearing to a close after all, and it would be almost pointless to say that the days weren't getting any warmer.
I will always be alone.
I wish I was more forthcoming about my emotions; In the end, my exterior remoteness was what banished me to this dank abyss of self loathing and sheer misery. It was quite ironic when I thought about it; I became this creature I despised, someone impassive: impervious to the feelings of others and ignoring my own, no matter how much it tore me apart, in an attempt to protect those close to me and all I manage to do was hurt them more and push them away. I hated myself and always will. At least that's one of the only things that the others and I share in common now, I laughed bitterly.
I will always be alone.
My heart has resigned itself to this fact. I could care less, I don't care about anything any more. I bent down to the shore, took my hands out of the folds of my black robe, they screamed in protest as the were exposed to the chill, and picking up a solitary stone, I turned it over in my hands, feeling the weather-worn smoothness. I stood motionless and let my mind wonder, a deep feeling of nostalgia washing over my being.
I will always be alone.
.:FLASHBACK:.
I remember a pair of angry brown eyes glaring at me, not an altogether convincing image considering the tearstained cheeks.
"Harry, why won't you let me love you? It's like every time that I try to get closer to you, you just push me further away."
I held my tongue, and somehow managed to retain a vacant gaze on the far wall of the Griffindoor common room.
"What happened to us, Harry?" Hermione shot out, only angered further by my reticence, "What did I do to deserve this rejection?" She came to stand in front of me and yanked my chin so that I was looking into her blazing brown pools of defiance.
A solitary tear rolled down her cheek, and I resisted the urge to brush it away.
"Nothing." I mumbled, barely audible.
"Nothing, what?" she retorted.
I breathed deeply and removed her fist from my chin, ignoring her sharp intake of breath at the force I was applying. "Nothing." I stated again, tightening my grip on her wrist, "There was nothing in our relationship beforehand, I mean, as far as I knew it was practically nonexistent." This wasn't true, it's just as well that I'm a plausible liar, or she would've seen through my mask of false apathy and the regret hidden deeply in my eyes.
There was a resounding slap as Hermoine's open palm connected with my cheek; I was so stunned that I suddenly let her go and raised my own hand to my throbbing cheek.
"What's this, then?" Ron, who was leaning against the archway entrance, had, or I presumed had, just arrived.
I resumed my stony visage as Hermione burst into tears, every chest-racking sob seemed to gnash at my soul.
When Ron couldn't get an answer out of either of us, he approached Hermione and pulled her into a fierce embrace. He looked towards me, his glare full of accusations, "What did you do to her?" I was shocked; it was incredible how quickly the mind was capable of casting aspersions when presented with a particular situation. "Well?" He prompted me.
Hermione twisted out of Ron's arms and ran weeping to the girls' dormitory.
Ron, still staring at me, gave me one long hate-ridden glance and muttered under his breath, "You've changed, Harry.
.: END FLASHBACK:.
Too much hope rested on my shoulders; people made me out like I was some Messiah, when all I was, was human. I was nothing.My eyes roved to my wrists, I pushed up my sleeves and traced patchwork of white scars absently with my finger.
