::sigh:: I hate doing this. DISCLAIMER: I do not own harry potter and co. they all belong to the ingenious j.k. rowling. ::sniff::
rating: PG
*WARNING* Very mild implied slash; it's so insignificant that you barely notice it, but it's there.
One More Chance
I look into your emerald eyes and all I see is irritation...disgust...annoyance...and hate. I know that they reflect what you seen in my eyes. But are they there just to cover up for what you really feel? Or do you really despise me? I'm so confused...I don't know what I feel anymore. I...I just wanted to impress you, that day we met. I wanted to be your friend. But when you rejected me…It hurt. Do you know that, Harry? It hurt a lot. And it still hurts. Do you know how it felt? Like an icy, unforgiving fist, clawing, squeezing, at my heart, making it bleed, making it cry out in pain. Oh yes, I covered it up. No one would expect any less from a Deatheater's son. You learn to hid your emotions at a very early age.
But still…when you come near me, I feel giddy…disoriented…happiness…pain…a whirlwind of emotions that make me feel elated. But I take that raw emotion, and I transform it into anger. I have no choice, Harry, but to use it to make my scorn, my insults believable. So when I look into your painfully beautiful, and trusting, and clear eyes, I feel empty of anything but anger and hate. Afterwards, I always feel…something missing. Drained. Devoid of feeling. And each time, I tell myself, that's the last time. Next time, I will tell you how I feel. But I never do. I'm afraid of being rejected again. So I continue my façade. I'm not strong like you, Harry. I'm not brave like you. I…I can't do this now. But someday I will. I will be strong. And I will tell you. When that day comes…please. Give me a chance Harry. Just one more chance…