Star Cross'd

xxx

Delusions, nightmares,
An obsessive mind,
A morbid romantic,
Struggling between fantasy and reality

-Obsession by DaMoyre

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I always seem to do this to myself. I work myself up over something I know will never happen but I keep trying and always seem to expect a different outcome. Isn't that the definition of madness; to do something again and again, expecting a different result each time? Does that make me insane? No, I couldn't be. I've seen insane people and I'm nothing like any of them. Like that Lovegood man. Ha! To say I'm anything like him is to say that Dumbledore is a muggle.

I remember the first time I met him. I had spent years imagining what it would be like to meet him, only to have it happen… and crush my dreams. I had taken his hand in mine and shook it with a bright smile. He only stared at me perplexed and with more than a little fear. Then that horrible woman had snatched him away from me, demanding harshly how he knew me. I should have taken him away then and there. I had watched them walk away, the horse-like woman turning to look back at me occasionally with scathing glares.

I remember when I went home, I was absolutely crushed. The stars that night were very dim indeed.

The next time I met him held a lot more promise for me. I had been having a particularly day at the ministry; my job was on the line. I wasn't "fulfilling my duties adequately enough," they had said. I had been sulking at a table alone when there was a commotion in the pub. I had reluctantly looked up only to see him come in the door with Hagrid. My heart had filled with something I hadn't felt for many years; hope. I went with the rest to shake his hand, hoping against all possibility that he would notice me. I almost pissed my pants in delight when he said he remembered me, and I shook his hand again when I could get through. Soon he was gone but the feeling of elation did not subside for several months. I got my life back on track and regained the respect of my colleagues after months of drunken depression.

Albus Dumbledore and I have been friends and members of the Order of the Phoenix for many years, so when he asked me to accompany a party to retrieve him, I was thrilled. It had been several years since I had seen him; predictably, I was very excited. Minerva, of course, had a jolly (or not so jolly, this is Minerva we're talking about here) good time criticizing me but even she could not deflate my balloon. For weeks I fantasized our meeting; would he still remember me? In my mind, nothing could have gone badly that time. Oh how wrong I was.

He hardly acknowledged me. Utterly miserable, he was. Everyone felt it, no matter how much Nymphadora and Remus tried to ignore it, or how much Alastor didn't care. I couldn't believe it. How could this be the same little boy I had met so long ago? He was still quite small, but his face, or rather, his eyes showed immense frustration. What was happening? Why was he like this? I was determined to find out. I didn't even bother becoming depressed over his total indifference towards me. I would make his life as good as I could, even if I wasn't a part of it.

xxx

Now I sit here, surveying the house he lived in only during summers. I had volunteered to watch over him a lot this summer. I am huddled near a bush underneath an invisibility cloak, mapping his and his family's patterns. I use the twins' ingenious inventions to eavesdrop on their conversations, of which Harry doesn't seem to have a lot do to with. I don't blame him, these muggles are absolutely horrid, especially the son.

I plan to do it tonight. The family, minus Harry of course, is going out to dinner soon and that's when I'll do it. I have it mapped in my mind, how each of them will go, Deatheater style. I'm not about to risk myself, if I can help it, even if it is to help him.

The woman, Petunia, I think with disgust - how can such a despicable woman be named after such a beautiful flower - I'm going to transfigure her into a rat and I'm going to feed it to a magical snake at the Magical Menagerie. Won't it be ironic, being killed by something of magic, the thing she loathes most? The man, Vernon - he doesn't even deserve a name – I'm going to torture him before I kill him. I'm going to stuff his body in the cupboard under the stairs. I can't stop a small chuckle from escaping my lips, thankful my replacement hasn't arrived yet.

The boy, I plan on transfiguring him into a pig and letting him loose in the Forbidden Forest. Not before I obliviate him though, can't have him pointing me out if he happens to survive.

Suddenly, there is a crack, informing me of my replacement's arrival. Just on time for the family to leave for their dinner arrangements. Wait! Only the woman and son were leaving. Where was the man? The mother and son drove away. Damn bastard! he cursed. After a few minutes of cold calculation, I decide I will kill his wife and son tonight and leave him to suffer with their deaths.

I stand and apparate away to where Petunia and Dudley will meet their deaths.

xxx

I'm not entirely sure where this idea sprang from.

I only remember it was first intended to be humourous, but I can't seem to write humour.

Hope you all like it.