The Hundred Things: Friends
Theme 021
Disclaimer: Hum, still don't own it.
I like to think that we're friends.
I like to think that when she laughs, it's with me, not at me. That she's laughing because our latest prank is funny, not cruel, not heartless. That my quip was cleverly humorous, maybe not even clever. Just humorous.
I like to think that when she smacks my arm away from her pile of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, she's hiding a smile behind that thick red hair. That the smack is playful, not one that will leave a blushy handprint. That her sharp retort means nothing but silliness, and that she'll let me take the flavors she makes a face at.
I like to think that when she rolls her eyes or sighs one of those sighs, it's out of some familiar, unbreakable habit. That she's just doing it because she has accepted me and my antics, my off-topic comments, my jokes, (and of course, my ever so debonair nature). That she's not about to blow up and tell me off.
I like to think that when she agrees to one of my ideas, it's because she really does see that I'm trying my best to be all that being Head Boy demands. That my idea is genuinely interesting and appealing, and not because it's a submission, a surrender.
I like to think that she writes back the notes I toss her way because she wants to pass notes with me. That she wants to whine with me about how boring History of Magic really is, and not because she feels like she has no other choice but to write.
I like to think that she sits by me at meals because it's something friends do. That she is voluntarily choosing to eat with me, and not because there's an endless amount of Head business to discuss.
But as much as I like to think we're friends…
I want to know that we are.
Finis
A/N: Blah. That felt weird, and totally unintelligible. I can't seem to get my ideas across, or down on the paper (or onto the screen). Wahoo for drabbles that don't make sense! Any critique? I'd love.
.mische.