Sometimes in the silence I watch you over my books as you count out cards and play chess. Your façade is easy enough to uncover; fun and cheerful. But I've known a little of what you really are, and in the silence I can make it out clearly; hurt and worried. It's easy to pick out your emotions when you're not grinning, just concentrating on living minute by minute…
Sometimes in the din I join in the laughter. It's much more difficult to figure how you feel; you're so far away and your eyes are so dark. But I can tell by the way you stand behind Fred. Only a little, almost unnoticeable, but always behind. You feel inferior—You always have.
Sometimes at dawn on the pitch, I barely notice you. It's easy to forget that you're there; I know that's what you want. We ignore you, until a loud hit by your bat demands respect. But to me, that's not all it conveys. I know that every ounce of your anger flows into that bat. I know that while you're beating, you're only half there; partially gone to your rage.
Sometimes in the shadowy hallways, you are all I see. When you whisper in my ear, you don't demand respect or happiness. You aren't like everyone else. You just want an affirmation that you are still alive. That I am still alive. I know that you lie, though. Every murmured sentiment is only a semi-truth. I know that you don't even believe them yourself.
Sometimes by the fire I pretend to read The Daily Prophet so I don't have to watch as you take her hand and lead her laughingly across the dim common room. I don't hate you for it, because I know that it's your only escape. I know that you just want to forget about being second-best and about everything. I say nothing as you flirt with her friend.
Sometimes late at night as we both sit by the fire, I think about talking about it. I know that you don't like to, though. You'd rather that we both forgot. I know that you need to be put in your place, but I don't want to lose you. I know, that in a strange way, you need me, too.
Always in the darkness I wish that you were only mine. But I know that I ask too much of you; I know this will never be true.
