AN: A line seperates different POV

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Harry Potter or get any profits from it.


Love and Hate

Chapter Two - The Fine Line


Head, resting, lolling against the cool ceramic, an empty martini glass held loosely in her out stretched fingers, scarlet nails, chipped and dodgy, bringing sharp attention from her small pale hands. Mouth a curved bow, wrinkles even her sleep, half open to the peeling, crusted ceiling, plaster falling in tiny flakes.

Knees pressed together, calves spread with a crimson heel half off her twisted ankle, the deep red contrasted with the green tiles. Pretty red dress, frills and lace, stained with coffee and vomit, wrecked beyond repair, silk straps hanging off narrow shoulders.

THUMP

The sound of a fist hitting a heavy door.

Almost as if waking up from a bad dream, she blinks and opens her eyes, framed by streaked mascara and faded green eye shadow.

She's awake now, living a nightmare.


Floor is vibrating, I muse, placing a flat palm on the quivering surface, it was clammy the tiles. It's cold but the, so am I.

Cold and Green.

Maybe he loves me? My eyes open wide at this thought. But... Our relationship? Well I thought, that this was temporarily, just like the taste of ice cream kisses. We aren't meant to be, he knows that, I know that. It's so bloody obvious, that even that thick headed Weasel knows.

Love, I don't love him, it's simply not possible. How could I love someone like him? It was just a fling... I couldn't believe that he sees more that just sex.

Everything feels so horrible inside, someone is twisting my stomach, lights are flashing and all I can hear is this dull roar.

Choking back a sob, I press a cool hand, shakingly, to my waist, "I'm not feeling so good," the tears escape my eyes as I stare blankly at the wall, like it's some foreign beast.

I've always been so stupid, we've been meant to hate each other, and at some point I know I did and he did also. How could we not loathe each other? He was the Gryffindor Golden Boy, beloved by all. Inside I feel my insides revolt. And I? I was the simpering Slytherin girlfriend of his worst enemy, cracking jokes about his dimwitted best friend and his bushy haired, bookworm. He thought me ugly, I thought him beneath my notice.

So... We were never friends... And now...

I'm not sure what we are.

We aren't really lovers, I didn't feel the love only the raw desire and his ability to make me feel. I suppose it was like a secret affair except we had no other, only his fame in the Wizarding World. Which he certainly wanted to lose... Like one loses an old coat.

Then there were his friends. They despised me, and I made little effort to be pleasant around them, they couldn't see any reason why we would be together and... Neither could I.

We weren't meant to be, but someone how fell in love with me, maybe confusing desire with emotion. And I, I hover that fine line between hate and love Feeling not one or the other, stuck in the limbo of emotions.

Should I love him? He deserves someone to love him, to care...But somehow I can't be bothered.