a/n: It doesn't completely follow the book because it'd make no sense if it was word-for-word. Anyways, this One-Shot contains spoilers for Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince, by, who else? J.K Rowling! Duh.

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GRAVITY

I don't even know why I do this. Sit up straight and act like nothings wrong, that is. He betrayed us. Betrayed us all.

In First Year, I stood up for Him, confident in the trust Dumbledore had set upon Him, for I knew that He was a greasy git, but He would still fight Voldemort, because He was his own man and served no one.

I guess I was wrong.

In Second Year, I can't say I did that much… Defend Him, I mean. For starters, I was petrified for basically the whole year. But I think I can safely say that had I not been, (petrified, that is), I would've stood up to Harry and Ron and defended Him once more, believing in His lies that He was a good-guy and worked for us, solely us, and that His heart was in the right place… Excuse me, did I say "in the right place"?

What I meant to say was that I trusted that He had a heart to begin with.

Third Year wasn't all that bad. He didn't come up in an everyday subject, unless, of course, we discussed Potions and whatnot. The only real trouble He gave us was the Harry incident with the pensive.

Fourth Year, He actually helped a bit, and I think that made even Harry and Ron begin to trust him. He seemed… caring, if possible, when He went to fetch the Veritaserum. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but I could've sworn that when He fed Crouch's son the Truth Serum, and all was revealed, that His onyx eyes held some kind of pity for Harry and all he had been through. When Harry came whirling in with the Portkey, Cedric's body in haul, He actually was the first one to rush to The-Boy-Who-Lived's side.

I know. I shouldn't've known what had gone on in Dumbledore's office, but I just couldn't resist the book of Charms sitting on Flitwick's desk… Besides, it gave me a wicked invisibility charm, and Dumbledore was probably the only one who had seen through it.

Fifth Year was amazing. I began to place my full trust in Him, the one person besides Dumbledore I truly respected. I admired Him for his bravery, cunningness, and sly sneaky ways. I admired His true Slytherin personality. He was willing to risk so much and put his life on the line for witches, wizards, goblins, warlocks and hags, all sorts of magical maladies and misters, that He didn't even know personally. Then Sirius fell behind the veil, and Voldemort rose once again to full-power. The war had begun.

Sixth Year. Sixth Year was the year my illusion of reality crashed upon me like gravitated glass. Sixth Year was the year our beloved Headmaster died. At the hands of a man I dare not name.

The Half-Blood Prince.

I cannot fathom why He turned His back on us. I cannot even begin to imagine what had been running through His mind as He murdered his mentor, the father He never had, in cold blood. And I'm not sure I want to. Here I stand, writing this, because I know that I'll die sooner or later, inevitably, in the war. At His hands, perhaps, but most likely in the battle, killed by some Death Eater with a lucky aim.

In the end, Ron was right.

He was a Death Eater, through and through. And... Part of me blames myself. Because I fell for it.

And fall, I did.

And I didn't defy gravity, obviously; because I landed.

Oh, yes, I definately landed.

Hard.

Finished... R&R