Disclaimer: JK Rowling's, not mine.
Author's Notes: Colin Creevey point of view.
Feedback: Makes the world go round - girl_germs@hotmail.com
I remember her smile mostly.
The way her lips curved slightly upwards, hair hanging down around her face as my breath misted on the glass, the camera standing in front of me while I looked at her. My own reality.
A stream of ready models to lie upon my bed and pose, immortal in this mundane invention that had become as much a part of me as my heart, my brain was. I see the world through a lens. I don't see myself as different or maladjusted, just it's safer to always be behind the lens rather than in front of it and in the open.
I never really wanted to be like Harry Potter. I mean, I respected him and adored him and whatever. Followed him I suppose... probably laughed about me later, like I was an unwanted shadow. But, I'd hear the other first years when I got here always saying they wanted to solve a mystery, break rules, vanquish dark wizards, be a hero. No thanks you can keep that for yourself, I'd think, and run my fingers over the shutter of my camera, knowing that it'd seen it all too. I just wanted to be a little near someone who'd done all that. I'm not a coward but I just don't want to be so open, exposed. People turn against you so easily, you know, it's like one second you can be all golden and loved and the next, people think you're the heir of Slytherin. Always disappointed me, that all these people are never loyal enough to Harry. I'm loyal, I'd never do anything to hurt him. Never. But sometimes he just doesn't know what's best for him.
I lose track of what I'm saying. Oh. Yes.
Pansy Parkinson.
That's where it started. Her smile. Slytherins never held much fascination for me, I mean, why should they? It was always Harry. Quidditch. I had dreams about his eyes. Just, his eyes, they're so intense, you know? It wasn't in a gay way or anything, just, his eyes, I could never just look into them. I had to have the camera there, between us, like, if I put it down his stare would kill me. I can laugh thinking about it now but then it was almost a ritual â€" [Harry, camera, click.click.click.] Of course I bothered him but he was always too polite to tell me to fuck off, he just let me scurry around bowing and scraping and snapping away like the common little muggle I was.
I used to watch Harry and Draco fight. Snotty git. [click] Calling after Harry or staring at him like he wanted to infest him, eat his way out from his pale skin. [click.] You ever read Lord of the Flies? I did once. Muggle book of course but there's this thing when Ralph the hero realises he has this connection with his enemy, and they'll always be linked. I'm not saying it was love or anything, or even attraction, just, a connection that I could almost see. I hoped one time I'd get the picture developed and would actually see the connection, god knows what it would be - a line between them, an umbilical cord? But, just one time I wanted it to be there, for all to see and I could say 'look at that, that right there, I took it' and everyone would see it and stare at it, not at me, never at me, just at.it.
Slytherins were never part of my agenda. I'd take pictures and send some of them home with captions like 'Harry Potter dives for the snitch and wins the game, again!' or 'Harry Potter after falling from his broomstick but still catching the snitch!' Always with exclamation marks after, my excitement showing in my shaky handwriting as I watched each photo and marvelled at how I'd captured him just.right. Yeah, his eyes will haunt me til I die probably, or, have I said that already? Doesn't matter.
I got a reputation for going everywhere with a camera slung around my neck. Kids would point sometimes, and occasionally I'd get requests for photos. You know, just people asking if I had any pictures of the Quidditch team, any of some pretty girl everyone fancied, any action shots of Quidditch practice. Normal stuff. Hers was the strangest. She wanted me to photograph her properly, she said, artistic of course but she'd heard that I did that sort of thing and as I was sort of sexless in her book she didn't care that I'd see her... undone.
I suppose it was a sort of turn on for her. Illicit pleasure. Taunting me really with long smooth limbs and graceful poses. Never quite beautiful, Pansy, never quite perfect but in the right lighting I could make her anything I wanted. She wanted Malfoy so much, she positively stank of it. She'd talk to me sometimes, as I told her to change position, to tilt her head just a little more. I don't think she really even knew what she was saying, she just wanted someone to tell, someone to... well trust with her thoughts. She knew I'd never say anything. She'd tell me what she wanted to do to him, how she wanted to do it and I'd just sit and [click] and never react only asking her to look more relaxed or whatever. It was so strange. The way we'd talk not quite talk to each other. I'd address my suggestions to the air to the left of her head, she would speak hers straight to the camera lens.
"I want to make him come. I, god, he's so untouchable, I just want to make him crack and [click] I just want to know what he looks like, no mask any longer, just him laying crumpled in my bed [click] I mean 'move a little to the left, please, yes hand on top of the other' it's not as if I'm repulsive..." Then she'd laugh and run her hands down her legs and ask me what I thought: "Am I repulsive Colin? Am I?' I hated it when she said that, when she said my name, or worse when she mentioned the pictures I had on my walls. "Slight Harry obsession? Little crush? Oh but he does have the most beautiful eyes..." and there it would be. A little snippet of understanding we both shared. She knew, quite well, why I took the pictures for her. Yes, thank you, I understand the concept of 'something I can never have'. I've had time to get used to it. She understood me, you see, for all her faults. Of course she lived in denial, or maybe she was right, maybe Draco will be hers one day.
I remember her smile. Yes. And his eyes. Harry's eyes. Did I tell you they haunt me? So difficult to remember things these days. I prefer to have proof of things done, not live out a fantasy world. No. Denial has never been for me. I know perfectly well how other people see me. Or how they do not see me.
I remember her smile. I remember his eyes. They do not remember mine, for they saw neither.
--end
Author's Notes: Colin Creevey point of view.
Feedback: Makes the world go round - girl_germs@hotmail.com
I remember her smile mostly.
The way her lips curved slightly upwards, hair hanging down around her face as my breath misted on the glass, the camera standing in front of me while I looked at her. My own reality.
A stream of ready models to lie upon my bed and pose, immortal in this mundane invention that had become as much a part of me as my heart, my brain was. I see the world through a lens. I don't see myself as different or maladjusted, just it's safer to always be behind the lens rather than in front of it and in the open.
I never really wanted to be like Harry Potter. I mean, I respected him and adored him and whatever. Followed him I suppose... probably laughed about me later, like I was an unwanted shadow. But, I'd hear the other first years when I got here always saying they wanted to solve a mystery, break rules, vanquish dark wizards, be a hero. No thanks you can keep that for yourself, I'd think, and run my fingers over the shutter of my camera, knowing that it'd seen it all too. I just wanted to be a little near someone who'd done all that. I'm not a coward but I just don't want to be so open, exposed. People turn against you so easily, you know, it's like one second you can be all golden and loved and the next, people think you're the heir of Slytherin. Always disappointed me, that all these people are never loyal enough to Harry. I'm loyal, I'd never do anything to hurt him. Never. But sometimes he just doesn't know what's best for him.
I lose track of what I'm saying. Oh. Yes.
Pansy Parkinson.
That's where it started. Her smile. Slytherins never held much fascination for me, I mean, why should they? It was always Harry. Quidditch. I had dreams about his eyes. Just, his eyes, they're so intense, you know? It wasn't in a gay way or anything, just, his eyes, I could never just look into them. I had to have the camera there, between us, like, if I put it down his stare would kill me. I can laugh thinking about it now but then it was almost a ritual â€" [Harry, camera, click.click.click.] Of course I bothered him but he was always too polite to tell me to fuck off, he just let me scurry around bowing and scraping and snapping away like the common little muggle I was.
I used to watch Harry and Draco fight. Snotty git. [click] Calling after Harry or staring at him like he wanted to infest him, eat his way out from his pale skin. [click.] You ever read Lord of the Flies? I did once. Muggle book of course but there's this thing when Ralph the hero realises he has this connection with his enemy, and they'll always be linked. I'm not saying it was love or anything, or even attraction, just, a connection that I could almost see. I hoped one time I'd get the picture developed and would actually see the connection, god knows what it would be - a line between them, an umbilical cord? But, just one time I wanted it to be there, for all to see and I could say 'look at that, that right there, I took it' and everyone would see it and stare at it, not at me, never at me, just at.it.
Slytherins were never part of my agenda. I'd take pictures and send some of them home with captions like 'Harry Potter dives for the snitch and wins the game, again!' or 'Harry Potter after falling from his broomstick but still catching the snitch!' Always with exclamation marks after, my excitement showing in my shaky handwriting as I watched each photo and marvelled at how I'd captured him just.right. Yeah, his eyes will haunt me til I die probably, or, have I said that already? Doesn't matter.
I got a reputation for going everywhere with a camera slung around my neck. Kids would point sometimes, and occasionally I'd get requests for photos. You know, just people asking if I had any pictures of the Quidditch team, any of some pretty girl everyone fancied, any action shots of Quidditch practice. Normal stuff. Hers was the strangest. She wanted me to photograph her properly, she said, artistic of course but she'd heard that I did that sort of thing and as I was sort of sexless in her book she didn't care that I'd see her... undone.
I suppose it was a sort of turn on for her. Illicit pleasure. Taunting me really with long smooth limbs and graceful poses. Never quite beautiful, Pansy, never quite perfect but in the right lighting I could make her anything I wanted. She wanted Malfoy so much, she positively stank of it. She'd talk to me sometimes, as I told her to change position, to tilt her head just a little more. I don't think she really even knew what she was saying, she just wanted someone to tell, someone to... well trust with her thoughts. She knew I'd never say anything. She'd tell me what she wanted to do to him, how she wanted to do it and I'd just sit and [click] and never react only asking her to look more relaxed or whatever. It was so strange. The way we'd talk not quite talk to each other. I'd address my suggestions to the air to the left of her head, she would speak hers straight to the camera lens.
"I want to make him come. I, god, he's so untouchable, I just want to make him crack and [click] I just want to know what he looks like, no mask any longer, just him laying crumpled in my bed [click] I mean 'move a little to the left, please, yes hand on top of the other' it's not as if I'm repulsive..." Then she'd laugh and run her hands down her legs and ask me what I thought: "Am I repulsive Colin? Am I?' I hated it when she said that, when she said my name, or worse when she mentioned the pictures I had on my walls. "Slight Harry obsession? Little crush? Oh but he does have the most beautiful eyes..." and there it would be. A little snippet of understanding we both shared. She knew, quite well, why I took the pictures for her. Yes, thank you, I understand the concept of 'something I can never have'. I've had time to get used to it. She understood me, you see, for all her faults. Of course she lived in denial, or maybe she was right, maybe Draco will be hers one day.
I remember her smile. Yes. And his eyes. Harry's eyes. Did I tell you they haunt me? So difficult to remember things these days. I prefer to have proof of things done, not live out a fantasy world. No. Denial has never been for me. I know perfectly well how other people see me. Or how they do not see me.
I remember her smile. I remember his eyes. They do not remember mine, for they saw neither.
--end