Nel cor più non mi sento
(Cue lights
Cue Music)
_Nel cor più non mi sento / *I no longer feel in my heart* / Brillar la gioventù /*The radiance of carefree youth;*_
"My god Sirius, who is she?" my eyes were drawn, once again, to the girl sitting in the corner, her beautiful…no…radiant face hidden in the book. Surely Sirius would know, he knew every girl in the school. When did I first notice her? Where did she come from? She's beautiful. Sirius, for once immune to someone's charm, shrugs.
"Don't know," here he grins, boyish and carefree in the extreme, "the poor, unsuspecting victim of our next prank?" Normally, even straight after the Full Moon, I would have laughed, even if that laugh had been in despair. Now, it is as if my youth has been swallowed up in my sudden flare of desire for this quiet, hidden girl.
_Cagion del mio tormento /*Love, cause of my cruel pain,* /
Amor, sei colpa tu / *You are to blame*_
Sirius, ever the perceptive one, narrows his eyes at the girl in question.
"Or maybe not, she's hot, she likes you. She keeps glancing up at you when she thinks no one will notice and then buries herself in that book again, face flaming a rather becoming shade of scarlet." A stab of anger on the poor girl's behalf shoots through me, making me, however appalled I am at the idea, want to punch that lewd grin off Sirius' face. Gods, What's come over me?
_Mi pizzchi, mi stuzzchi / *You pinch me, you prod me* / Mi pungichi, mi mastichi / *You sting me, you nibble me*_
I keep trying not to stare at her, and instead attempt to focus on my, almost regretfully, completed Potions Essay. Every time I look away, however, it is as if I have been stung, or pinched. My senses, still reeling from the full moon last night, are so strong I can feel her glances at me, nibbling at my self control. Oh gods, how I want to give in to all this and go over to her, fling myself at her feet and tell her I'm hers. Oh Gods, I don't even know who she is.
_Che casa è questo ahimè? / *Alas! Whatever's this?* / Pietà, pietà, pietà! / *Mercy, mercy, mercy!*_
I'm no stranger to desire, for heaven's sake. I've wanted many women before, but never enough to make me give up my self-imposed almost celibacy. Never enough to want to have anyone as my mate. Never enough to want someone forever. Why is she any different? Is it because of the apparent 'mystery' about her? Is it because I have never seen someone quite that beautiful? Oh! WHY CAN'T I STOP THINKING ABOUT HER?
_Amore è un certo che / *Love is a mysterious thing* / Che disperar mi fa /
*That drives me to despair.*_
That's it, I'm going to bed. I can't see her there. Won't have that strange desire to fling myself at her feet. Won't have that strange desire just to look at her. Won't want to know her, to have her know me. It's that last part the really frightens me. She can't know what I am, she can't now and she should never. But, Gods, how I want her.
But, Gods, I don't even know her name.
