*
"And you could find the fault,
In the heart that you've been handed"

-Nine Days, "If I am."
*
And so you know it, just like you know that they sky is blue, you know when people are giving you dirty looks. You know that they're intent on being rude, ignorant, imbeciles. And they ought not act like you don't see them. And they got into their little whispering groups, and you pretend you cannot hear them. But you can. And you know it.

You may not be gorgeous, but you aren't stupid either.

And so you know it, just like you know that the grass is green, you know when people are speaking of your relationship with resident Slytherin hottie, Draco Malfoy, that they think your in it just for his looks. But you aren't. And you know it. And you almost laugh, because let's face it, it's halfway hilarious.

You may not be sweet as candy, but you aren't shallow either.

And so you know it, just like you know that love hurts, you know that people can be cold. Because, that is the way of Slytherins', it is only 'natural' after all it is only normal. For in a dog eat dog world, Slytherins' come out on top. They always do. But there you are, in Slytherin, and so far near the bottom you think that you can feel the flames from underneath.

You may not be a Hufflepuff, but you aren't a true Slytherin either.

And so you know it, just like you know that candy is only good because it's bad for you, you know that harshness is a virtue. You only know this, of course, because you've got to fight back somehow, you can't be a victim anymore. And to the cold remarks in the hallways, "She could've put on some makeup, at least to look decent, we all have to look at her." And, "A loser, in Slytherin? Impossible!" But usually, you bow your head in shame, and don't talk back. It's a risk. A risk you aren't quite willing to take.

You may not be a predator, but you aren't a victim either.

And so you know it, just like you know that the world is ugly, you know that when Millicent goes off to, "talk" that she's merely talking about you and the small information you gave her about last night's date with Draco. Of course, why would she want to be friends with you unless she could get something out of it? Then she comes back and says in an energized voice, "Pansy, darling, how was kissing him?"

You may not be a gossiper, but you aren't a listener either.

And so you know it, just like you know that a pretty face can never hide too much, you know that Millicent is jealous of you. And you don't know why. How a girl such as Millicent could be jealous of you. It's almost funny, in a morbid sort of way. And so you know, that when she starts buttering you up that all she wants is to be just like you. And you always wonder why; perhaps it's the fact that you're going to the Spring Time Ball with 'the' Draco Malfoy, or perhaps it's something else. You don't know, and why would you?

You may not be naïve, but you aren't totally cynical either.

And so you know it, just like you know that it'd all be better if you were prettier, you know that you just can't carry yourself. You know that you can't walk like you've just gotten back from a model shoot in London. And if even if you had the looks, which you don't, you'd have no charm at all. They'd all laugh at your attempts, but you wouldn't laugh, and you wouldn't cry either, you'd just look at them with this blank look in your pretty gray eyes. It'd all be easier, if you were just pretty. Not a stunner, just decent. Because then, they wouldn't kick your books after they'd already fallen on the cold marble stone. And that would be nicer, than how everything was now.

You may not be kind but you aren't, 'that' cruel either.

And so you know it, just like you know that they all only like you for your money, you know that, as much as it hurts, your Dad is never going to live again. You know this, because he died two years ago, Voldemort attacked him. He'll never come back, this you know, but you've kept up a childlike faith. It's dumb, you know, but secretly you want him to give you a hug, call you "Sugar" and say that all of those who have ever made fun of you before are "Stupid." Even though you know, that they obviously aren't stupid if they're the one's sitting at the popular table.

You may not be a Daddy's Girl now, but you were.

And so you know it, just like you know that a splinter in your finger hurts, you know that sweetness will get you no where. It used to hurt you, to hear your Mummy tell you, instead of the normal bedtime story, "Sweetheart, they'll always use you. And don't think they won't." And then, she'd say, "Honey, don't cry like that-" but you'd keep crying, because you used to be helpless, and you still are. And then she'd kiss your pale, clammy forehead and say, "Maybe tomorrow, maybe tomorrow you'll see that kindness can only get you so far." Because after all, Mummy was right, you're always burned in the end. The fire will catch up to you sooner or later.

You may not like your Mum, but you know she's right.

And so you know it, just like you know that French manicures are pretty and not practical, you know that Draco can get abusive sometimes. You know, that after he's had his great deal of 'venting' that sometimes he'll turn on you, and push you around a bit. And you know, that you end up wincing, and staying tucked in a corner saying softly, "Dray, dearest, just go up to bed, you can deal with Lucius tomorrow-" but you know he'll hurt you anyways. Because you let him. And then, you'll sit near the fireside and end up crying softly to yourself, and sometimes even throwing up on the avocado green carpeting that adorns the commons. Because he didn't make you this way, you were always this way it was just hidden. And it wasn't even hidden awful well either.

You may not enjoy vomiting on the commons carpets, but you know that you can't hold it in any longer.

And so you know it, just like you know that Draco is addicting, you know that no matter how hard you run, you cannot hide. But you try. You'll always try. Because, facing the horrendous deck of cards you've been dealt is a terrible fate, and you hate it, because you can.

And as you cry yourself to sleep at night, you also know that in the room next to yours, Draco's crying himself to sleep too. And for some reason, that gives you some sort of sick comfort. So you go to him, and rub his back comfortingly until he smiles at you and says, "I'm sorry, love." And you forgive him again, because he's better than no one. It's logic. And no one wants to be alone, because no one's that stupid. And you know, the next day that the volcano will almost explode. Almost. And you'll be there again for him, because you always are, handing him a chocolate chip cookie and saying, "I love you," but you'll really be thinking, "I love you, because I have no one else left to love."
*
Fin