That Don't Impress Me Much
A DRAMIONEPERFECTED FANFIC
Ok, ok, ok, ok, ok! Yup, it's a drabble…. Of which the plot I own but the characters I do not… I don't own the song, either… just enjoy it. I'm on a HP high!
Summary: It's said actions speak louder than words, but just sometimes, it's the words that do the talking. Past!Fic, Lily Evans Monologue
You were always a jackass. How you are to be loved by anyone, Lord only knows. I see through your charming smile, your false promises. In your stupid little head, you expect me to melt, to believe you when you told me you would change. I think of Severus, of blood trickling down his lip, dishevelled from his fall, sprawled on the grass, the pain in his eyes as you all stood laughing down at him, the pain you had put there, the pain you had promised you would never deliver again. I had tried to assure him before that you could be trusted, that you had promised me. Not only did you lie, you made me a liar, too.
I almost feel sorry for him before I remember his words - that one word, to be exact. Why would he want to hurt me? Why would he want to bring me, his only friend, to tears? Another one of your flaws, Potter. You make people turn against people, isolate themselves while you feed on their misery, like the schoolboy dementor you are. That's what you are doing to me right now, draining me of my emotions, turning me into a shell of a girl. The stupid jibes, the pathetic flirting, every single word that escapes your lips, cuts into my soul, makes another little bit of me die inside.
You think you've got it sussed - frankly, you are clueless. You think you look cool, with hair like a scrubbing brush and the way you float around school on that broom like you're God's gift to women. Well, I have news for you, Potter. Shiny shoes and Lennon glasses are not a good look for a rebel - you're a poindexter if ever I saw one.
If you barely know yourself, how can I expect you to know me? Like the fact I've been obsessed with Paul McCartney since I was six, and that I cried like a baby when The Beatles broke up. Like the fact I will only eat ice-cream if it's melted, or that I hate the smell of lilies, so giving me bunches of them anonymously is not going to make me like you more. Like the fact I sometimes lie awake at night, wishing I wasn't witch, so I didn't have to come here… so I wouldn't have met you.
If there's one think I know, Potter, it's this - all your sick mind games, all your ludicrous attempts to flirt with me, impress me, are far from successful. You don't impress me. You sicken me. If there's one thing for sure, Potter, it's all in vain. I will never fall in love with you. NEVER.
Ok, we all know Lily's last comment wasn't true, but hey, R&R, right? A big ol' Paul McCartney hug to anyone who does.