A/N: This partly to make up for the fact that I haven't updated Mark Of Montague for awhile, and partly because it's been running around in my mind and won't go away! Hopefully now that it's gone my muse shall be back and so shall the next chapter of M.O.M.

As always none of these characters belong to me.

Anyway here it is, enjoy!

I Hate You Because I Love You

Ihate you because I love you. Do you know this? Do you suspect?

I'm a fool, I know this. Oh, how I know this. I was stupid to think that things would be different between us, different between you and me because it was me that you were seeing, not some other silly girl.

It sounds self involved doesn't it? The idea that because I thought you genuinely cared for me, that we wouldn't turn out like the others.

You hurt me.

We both know this. We both know that you hurt me a little more with each deception, with each new scandal that you were involved in…

But what's laughable is the fact that I would give you a way out each time that I asked you a question I know that you would be unable to answer.

'Why are you late?' I'd ask. 'Where were you late night?' I'd ask. Then you'd pause, not knowing what to say, and then I, like the silly infatuated girl I am with you would give you a way out. I'd give you the answer, and all you needed do is agree.

'Quidditch practice run late?' I suggest giving you an excuse. You'd agree, and apologize, say something like 'I don't know where the time went.' You'd kiss me, and I'd tell you not to worry, it wasn't your fault.

It was easier to do this, because I could fool myself a little longer. Allow myself to believe those lie's we both just said. I could pretend that that was the real reason why you were late. Not because you'd been fucking in the broom closet, or bullying my friends and the other students, or that you'd simply forgotten about me, side tracked by something you deemed as more important.

It hurt's that you put me through this, and when I have the strength to leave, you decide that you need me. You beg me to stay, that you don't want to be alone, that she didn't mean anything to you, that you'd never meant to hurt me. You'd say anything to make me stay, and with each word, each look I could feel my wall's crumbling, and I'd stay because I wanted to believe you. I stayed because I'm stupid enough to believe that I can make a difference. I fooled myself into thinking that you need someone to talk too, someone that wants you for simply being you.

And things would be ok for a while. We'd talk and have fun and do the dozen's of things all young lover's do.

But before long it would all go back to how it was before. Me ignoring the smell of perfume on your robes and the looks various girls would throw your way, the rumor's that would fly through the hallways faster than your Nimbus 2001. And you'd become more preoccupied with keeping up with the lad's. The cycle would begin again, never broken, just paused.

But each time you hurt me it cut a little deeper, and it would take longer and longer for each wound to heal.

Ironic isn't it? That I hate the things about you that initially attracted me to you. I hate the things that I love about you. Pathetic isn't it. Even now I can't hate you properly.

I was first attracted to you because of that 'quidditch bad boy' charm in you. The way that you had the teacher's wrapped around your little finger, the way that girls would swoon over you if you even as much as looked at them. How you could run rings around the other boy's. It was the dark good looks, and that intense gleam in your eyes that always appear whenever we play quidditch. It was the devil may care attitude that you exude at ever turn.

You lie, cheat and steal. I know that. I knew that before I got involved with you. But I didn't think it would hurt so much when you do that to me. Why am I surprised that you'd do these things to me when I've seem the results of your past dalliances. So why is it such a shock to me that you treat me the same way as the others. If not worse?

I hate the things you do. I hate them. But I cannot hate you because these faults make you 'you', and I love you, even your faults.

It doesn't make sense does it? I hate you because I love you, and no matter what you do that love won't go away because the things that make me hate you make me love you too.

You're my addiction, my one weakness. But like all bad habit's they must be broken. My addiction of you must end before it and you break me.

I used to get angry, frustrated with the girls who would always go back for more. Why go back to something that's bad for you? That will hurt you? I still don't understand, and I am now one of those girls. Maybe it something to do with hope. The hope that this time things will change.

You don't deserve me you know. You don't deserve these feelings that I have for you. You're not worth these emotions of mine. I know this yet they won't go away. My head and my heart are at war. These feelings mean everything to me and nothing to you.

I hate this love I have for you. It's nothing more than a curse. Why you ask? Because it has brought me nothing but pain, heartache and loneliness.

I don't want these feelings anymore. I've been offered more you see. Something real, not a dream which is all you and me are. I can have more than secret meetings and stolen kisses, and then the hurtful words, betrayal, lies and the punishing arguments which inevitably follow.

Our 'affair' is a lie. A scandal that would break me and immortalize you. The Slytherin that seduced a Gryffindor.

I won't do this anymore. I won't let myself cry over you anymore. I can remember a line that I read somewhere once. 'The only man worth your tears will not make you cry.' You've made me cry, do you understand? This mockery of love, of a relationship has made me cry.

It hurts more than I'd ever thought possible to see you flirt with Adeline Avery, to watch you whisper sinful confession's in her ear while you slide your hand up her leg and under her skirt. Have you whispered the same words in my ear? Have you fed me the same lines as your other lover's?

Am I the same as every other girl that you've shagged?

Are you are aware of the fact that I can see your seduction of her? Do you want me to see it even? Or am I the last thing on your mind? Do you realize I'm sitting in the Great Hall eating breakfast sitting nearly opposite you?

George has asked me to Hogsmeade today. What would you say if I told you? I said I wasn't going of course. I said that I had 'work to do,' and 'maybe next time.'

I'm supposed to be meeting you remember? But you don't remember. I can see that clearly as I watch you and Avery slip out of the Great Hall that you've forgotten all about me.

I deliberately turn away from the embarrassing scene of watching you, my 'lover' leave with your newest toy, something that's not done very subtly either. It makes me wonder once again if you know I'm sitting here, can you feel me watching you? Are you deliberately rubbing it in my face because you know that I can't do anything? Because for me to do something would be for me to reveal everything. Does it make you feel powerful, to make me feel this way? Is that why you're still with me? Or are so eager to be with her that you don't care? What do they have that I don't?

George should be around here somewhere. Dear, sweet George. I do love him. I'm not using him like you use me. I'm not playing with his feelings as you play with mine. I do love him, not like I love you because believe it or not my feelings for you are real. But at the moment , the desire to be loved and safe, content and desired over-rides a love that will never be realized, that is nothing more than a fantasy, a dream of some silly school girl.

George is safe, and that increases my love for him. I love you both but in different way's.

"George!" I call out, catching him before he leaves with the others. "Do you mind if I change my mind, and come with you after all?" I ask.

His face light's up, and I feel a brief surge of shame because I don't love him like he loves me. But I do love him. I love him because he loves me.

It's not the same I know, but its something. Who knows with you out of the picture it could turn into something more.

"Sure." He answer's, with a forced casualness. "But I thought you had work to do?" he comments.

"I do." I reply. "But I'd rather spend today with you."

Not on my own where I can stew over you and Avery.

He smiles at me, slinging a friendly arm across my shoulders and ushering me out so that we can catch up with the other's. What would you do if you could see me now? A Weasley stating a claim on what you think is yours? We've had arguments over that in the past do you remember? You accused me of cheating on you.

You must remember that. You flew into such a rage. I remember the next time we made up you were so rough with me. But it was thrilling in a way. There was a desperation in your kiss and in your hands. Or was it maybe just jealous anger, and wishful thinking on my part?

You left marks on me. Fingerprints where you'd held me tight. Bite marks where you'd nipped too hard. Love-bites for all to see. You lay there for the longest time; holding me in your arms, staring at those marks, your fingers skimming over them occasionally.

There's a rightness with George as we catch-up with our fellow Gryffindor's. Nothing like the adrenaline rush and adventure with you, but there's a warm relaxed feeling with George, a sense of calmness. And I need that if I want to end what I have with you.

No longer shall I watch from the shadow's and wait in empty room's while you're out gallivanting with your mates and playing with your newest toy.

So I shall go to Hogsmeade today with George. And this time I shall not wait for you to arrive, if you arrive late I shall not be there, if you arrive early, or on time I shall not be there. Even if you don't turn up, I won't be there waiting. I shall not torture myself any longer.

This time you shall see what it is like to wait and wonder.

This time I shall return your letter's unopened. I shall return everything that you've ever given me as a token of your affection. I shall reject all your advances, and I shall not rise to any bait that you throw my way. I should like for you to return my heart, but I know that you will not, for you keep everything that you take.

I've been offered something better you see. Something worth crying for. But I shall not be made to cry for it. I shall not cry because of it.

But you have to understand, that as much as I hate you, I hate myself more. Because I don't have the strength to walk away from you, my addiction. The fact that because I love you, I cannot hate you, and only what you do. I still cannot stop loving you despite these despicable deeds and for only that can I hate you.