Cat's Eyes

You have pretty eyes, Harry. Everyone says that they are emerald, like your mother, but they are wrong. Lily had plain green eyes.

You have cat's eyes.

You know, Harry, people say that eyes are windows to the soul. I think they are right.

Your eyes darken and flame whenever you are angry. They sparkle with unshed tears at your grief, and burn with hatred when ever they look at me.

And they lighten, and seem to glow when you are happy, Harry. Oh, I've seen you happy. I'm with you all the time. I've also noticed how your eyes glow in the dark, like a cat's, until I can almost see whiskers twitching.

You are so feline, Harry, so catlike in your movements. You hiss, and spit, and when you fight you are lithe and graceful.

I've always liked you, Harry, and I like you now. Maybe someday, somehow, you will understand. For now you glare at me, resenting my every breath.

I hate you too, Harry. I hate every fibre of your being. I want to kiss you and love you and kill you all at the same time.

I'm so confused, Harry. And I know that it's only a matter of time before you look at me with those cat's eyes and whisper the words that will end my not-life.

I wish that you would, Harry. I can't live like this. Everything has changed. I want to stop, and at the same time I want to reach my goal, and be ruthless in my ways.

I need you here, Harry. I need your beautiful cat's eyes to stare at me, and taunt me lightly, sarcastically. And I will torture you, and watch those eyes roll up in pain, and your red blood to spill out. Red and Green. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Courage and Cowardice. Good and bad. Balancing the scales.

That's the difference between our eyes Harry. Red, snakelike eyes that show the madness and corruption in the soul.

And your cat's eyes, cool and green, not betraying the grief, the depression, the utter wretchedness in the soul.

We are like sun and moon, Harry. We will never be compatible. Oh, but how I wish, Harry, that we could be together. I want you so badly.

But I will never have you. You will never let me. And I will live with my choice.

My choice is to hate you, Harry. To go, and kill, and torture without those haunting green eyes ghosting across my thoughts. To set the world on its ear, to be dominant. You will never understand my choice.

And if you don't, well, I do not care. I have other things that will need to be done, other plans to launch. I never needed you, Harry, and never will.

I will now say farewell to you, my once-love. Live on, while you still can. Breathe on, while you can. And love others, and wait, for I will come, Harry.

I will come and torture you, and you will beg for life which I will not give.

So be it, Harry.

Goodbye.