Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, do you think I'd still be asking myself how I can get tickets to the next première?

Just a very quick one-shot before I leave for Italy (home, sweet, boring, holiday home).For SCarol and DerangedxandxSarcastic!
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Faking It

I pretend to be happy.

I give hugs, I laugh, I entertain, but it's all fake.
Fake enthusiasm. Fake cheer. Fake happiness.

What I'd give to hear myself laugh again. A proper laugh, a real laugh, one from the stomach, one from the heart.

What I'd give to have a heart.

What I'd give to have a soul.

I don't feel. I'm numb. I remember, once, loving. It's a vague sliver of a memory, en echo of a feeling, but it's there. I just can't remember how to do it.

No, I tell a lie. I do feel. A whole range of things. Indifference. Deadness. Anger. Hate.

I hold onto that last one. It's my lifeline, you see, because hate is passion, and passion can go either way. I could be my last chance to feel.
I want to feel, I need to feel. And if making myself hate is the only way to, so be it.

I haven't spoken to Hermione about it. I don't even let Ron approach the subject.

I see them whispering, at breakfast, in the halls, in the Common Room. They wonder what's happened to me, why I'm slowly pushing them away, why there are dark circles under my eyes, why I'm silent all the time, why I don't sleep, why I stay away from everyone unless they come to me.

They wouldn't understand that I'm trying to protect them.
Protect them from me. Because one of these days I might explode, and I don't want them to be near me if it happens. When it happens. I know it will.
So I wait for that time to come and I subtly turn them all against me, hoping they'll forgive me in time.

I used to wonder which will get me first, Voldemort or the deadness of my soul. No Dementor's kiss could be effective, it's not possible. I'm already just the shell of the boy, man, I once was, how could that be ay worse?

Malfoy's been looking at me strangely. I suspect he knows something, but that doesn't
change anything.

I've had enough with pretending to be happy. Enough with the life I've been faking. Enough with life.

So goodbye, cruel world, and good luck.