TITLE: Soliloquy: Wrong
AUTHOR: Eledhwen
PAIRING: SS/HP
RATING: PG-13
FEEDBACK: angel_eledhwen@hotmail.com
DISCLAIMER: JKR's, not mine.
SUMMARY: What he wishes he could say.
WARNING: Angst, excessive incoherence.
NOTES: *AU* to my 'Sins of the Mother' arc. This is *not* the sequel, I just wanted to find out what would happen if they never reconciled. A little piece that follows 'Out of Bounds', and will probably make very little sense unless you've read that.
BETA: Godless Harlot
ARCHIVE: Anyone who wants it, just ask.
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I can't help dreaming of you, did you know that? (Would you care, if you knew? Do you care about me? Even a little. A little would be enough. More than enough.)

Dream of you touching me, holding me, loving me. (Hold me touch me soothe me love me.) Dream of you denying, lying, crying. (Lie to me. Don't lie to me. Where is the lie? Do you cry?)

I try, god only knows how hard I try, yet you won't leave me alone, even when you're nowhere nearby. But anyway you're always there. You're everywhere, the thought of you haunts me. Your image lives behind my eyelids like a lightning strike, your just-kissed face (I kissed you) the most memorable thing I've ever seen. Why won't you leave me alone?

I think I could find you anywhere. The slide of shadow against a wall, I'm sure, is concealing your presence. The prickle on the back of my neck is your eyes on me. (Your eyes like wounds when you tear away.) Last year it was. Now, I don't know. Is it? (I want it. Want you.)

And in this school (island, isolated) it's impossible to avoid you, even if I wanted to. Do I want to? You don't seem to be going out of your way to avoid me either, and you could so easily. Do you really have that little conscience, that knowing that you hurt me (hurt me so much), you don't care? I don't think you do, but maybe I'm lying to myself. Maybe I've been lying to myself all along. (It's all lies, anyway. Love, lie, the words are so close. Too close to me.) Or maybe you want to see me. (Want you to.) Maybe you're allowing yourself a little of something that pleases you? Something that suddenly you find you can't do without. (Do without me.)

No.

I'm being stupid, I know it. You don't love me, (don't even care) you made that so very clear. You loved her, and if I let you, you might just consent to use me as a replacement. I could be a replacement for my own fucking mother. (Swear, it's the only way to express my sheer frustration, anger, pain). But I don't want that. Not at all, not in any way, not even if that's the only possible way I could have you. I just want you to love me. Love me? Would you love me if I begged?

I'm in love with the man who was my mother's lover. It's… sick. (Sick, perfect, same difference in the end. Insane.) It would be easier to be insane.

I can't believe that I dared to hit you. You're a teacher (my teacher, you taught me), so much older. You were my friend (I didn't know for long), I thought, but I was just so enraged. I walked out, I managed to do that (walk away from you, keep me sane). The day after, there was no mark on your face or, it seemed, your soul, you locked me out completely though. I didn't feel anything. (Could I feel anything from you, for you?) That was enough answer. I hope I hurt you. I hope I hate you. (Can I hate you?)

I was right to hate you. I hated you for so long.

No I didn't. I told you that, and it was the truth. Did you believe me? (Can you believe me?) No matter. Whatever you believed, you had no compunction about hurting me anyway. I didn't understand you at first, then I thought I did. (I did.) I think I never truly understood you at all. I never knew you, not even with the bond. I was stupid, to think that I could love you. I knew it would never turn out well. (Never knew, dared to dream. Don't dare to dream.)

Do you have any idea how much it hurt me? My first real kiss – I kissed the man I love (I love you I love you, say it so hard so often you believe it true) – and then you call me by my mother's name. Which was the lie? That you're not still in love with her, or that you still think of her? Think of her so much, so hard that you call me by her name. Or maybe that you don't love me?

No. I can't let myself believe that. I will not allow you that victory. (Would it be a victory for you?)

It's not 'simply' a crush, (nothing simple about you and me) I know that for sure. You wouldn't believe that though. (Believe me.) Self-deprecation or stubbornness or something else? Why do I love you? (Do I love you?)

You're not beautiful at all, (so wonderful) not even the slightest bit handsome. (Not even love can make you handsome.) By all rights you should be ugly, repulsive even. But you're not. Not at all. (I wish you were, you never make anything easy on me. Bastard.) You're… compelling. Magnetic. Unique. (Curse you, praise you, worship my dark cult of you.)

So damn perfect in your imperfection, in your pretended viciousness and all too real cruelty. (Cruel to me.)

You're cruel. (Cruel to be kind?)

You're a great actor. You fool Voldemort, (god, I hope you do manage that – I couldn't deal with it if he was just pretending to be fooled, if he knew and if he plans something so bad for you) I'm certain you could fool me. But I won't delude myself by allowing myself to believe that. I shouldn't hope. But I do. (Always hope, it's what I am.)

Were you lying when you said that? (Hope.) Were you searching for the one thing that would drive me away? (Dream.) Would you tell me the truth if I asked? (Do you still know how to tell the truth? Do you know what the word means?)

This is truth. (I love you.) My truth. (Deluded, true).

Were you trying to protect me? Are you still? Is that why you won't… can't… love me? (Would you like to love me, if you could dare to let yourself, if you could give up so much control?)

Is that the reason why you didn't even seem concerned when I left?

I know what I felt, in that instant. I felt you. (Only you, always you.) For that moment, you know, (you know it know me) I was grateful to her, for giving us that so I could know you that way. (The only way that matters). The contact or the feelings or something, it made us – us, not just you and me (I remember when you made that distinction, so long ago it seems) – so special for that second. And you broke it, without even trying. (Or were you trying?) We could have kept that forever, content, or taken it even further. (What am I stepping around? You don't want me, not me. Her. Can I hate her, my mother?) You didn't even want to try. Why?

Am I still lying to myself? Do I really love you? Is it possible to love – to be in love with – someone who you couldn't stand for five years, who you've only just begun to know? (Love you.) Someone who's barely even a friend.

I thought you were my friend.

Maybe I was wrong. (Was I wrong?) So unbelievably wrong.

Walk away, forget this (forget you), build my life. (I can do that. Can I do that?)

I'm wrong. You're wrong. We're wrong.

(Right).