oOo

I didn't want to know this, what it feels like when you touch her. I want to cut the knowledge out of my brain with an athame so sharp it won't even bleed at first. But all I can do is lay here on my bed with the tiny ball she charmed for me in my fist while I feel your mouth on hers, your fingers on her skin.

The hurt in my chest is a dull ache I can almost ignore most of the time, but when you touch her it flares into a throb to match the one in my cock. I can't stop either pain; all I can do is wait it out, feeling your body bearing down on hers just as if you were here, lying on top of me and biting my throat and grinding yourself against me and not her at all.

I have to hide in here with the curtains closed when you're with her. I can't stand the brush of my robes against my skin with all the sensations coming from her, it's too confusing and too much and so I'm lying in the dark, naked and moaning while tears stream down my face.

I can't touch myself anymore. It doesn't make it stop, not until it stops for her, and anyway I don't need to touch myself for it to happen anymore, either. I can just lay here and feel you kissing me, touching me, making desperate sounds in my ear and sliding in and out of me until I want to cry out with the intensity of it.

Just as long as I keep my eyes shut and forget that I'm really alone.

oOo

Do you know who just sat down next to me and put his arm around me to console me? Ronald Fucking Weasley. The Weasel feels sorry for me and it's all your bloody fault. I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me, but I really don't want Weasley comforting me in "my time of need." I don't believe this is really happening.

I told everyone I was fine! I don't know what else to do. I haven't picked a fight. I haven't been crying in the girls'toilet with that insufferable Myrtle. I haven't done anything to deserve this.

Snape is the only one in the whole school being decent about all this. He asked me if I was okay and I said yes and that was it. That's how it's supposed to be. I don't need all this concern. I liked it better when I was Voldemort, Jr. and everyone wanted to hex me into oblivion. You can hide from that.

How do you hide from people who you barely know, or worse, that you hate, touching you and telling you that if you need anything they're there for you! Touching me, Potter! Hugging me! I do not want this. I do not want to be pitied. I am not pitiful, I am not hurt, I am fine and the next person who suggests otherwise is going to the hospital wing.

You are meant to be the tragic hero, carrying on in the face of adversity and I am meant to be the villain. This is all wrong. Ron practically hexed you in the hallway! If I hadn't stopped him you would have spent the night with Madame Pomfrey instead of the lovely Miss Granger.

Besides, I'm not some simpering victim on the side of right here. I told her to stay with you. I told her to make you happy, and she's buggering it all up. If you were happy, you wouldn't be looking at me like that from your table at dinner while she sits in your lap feeding you like an infant. If you were happy, you wouldn't look as broken as I feel. If you were happy, I wouldn't feel your tears on her skin at night.

But I suppose she's gotten what's coming to her. Hogwarts' own Jezebel. I think they hate her more than they ever hated me, because they want to hate you, too, but can't. So she gets it all. I tell her it isn't true, that she is the right one for you and everything will be fine, but she doesn't believe me.

Ron hates her now, even more than he hates you. He was in love with her, you know. He was in love with her and you knew it and you took her anyway. And now he has more in common with a pureblood prat like me than either of you. He needs me to hate you both, and I can't, but he needs me to be angry so he can be angry on my behalf.

But I'm not angry. And I don't want to lose whatever small part of you the talented Jezebel has left me with.

oOo

Harry, you have to believe that I didn't want this. I never, but my father, and well, it's not like I had a choice! But it doesn't mean anything. I still, that is to say, I've always…I'd never hurt you, not on purpose, and I know that I have, but I'd take it back if I could because I…

It doesn't matter now. You'll never look at me again once you see it, and I can't live with seeing betrayal in your eyes. I just wish… I wish I could tell you and you'd understand, but it's been too long since I could've said anything to you to start with this.

I…