Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine.
I disgust myself sometimes. Today I watched two boys gang up on one boy without his wand. I sat by and did nothing while they hung him upside down and stripped him of both his trousers and his dignity. It shouldn't have mattered to me that the bullies are my friends, or that the victim was a Slytherin, but it did. I hate myself for being too scared to stop my friends. I hate myself for failing my duty as a prefect. Most of all, I hate myself for ogling him as they stripped him. It shouldn't matter to me that his arse is beautiful, or that he has a birthmark on his back. It shouldn't matter to me because I shouldn't know. But I know, and he'll never forgive me for the way I found out. I won't forgive myself, either. My cowardice and my willful blindness are unforgivable.