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There's not much I wanted with my life. As a dumb, naïve child, I dreamed of being a professional Quidditch player, and to soar over hoards of adoring fans seemed to be the most appealing aspect of my future. As I grew, I learned to understand and appreciate the fine art of potion making. the subtle changes, and minute differences were enticing. Now I am left to wonder whether I was enthralled with the actual process, or the clumsy disaster I watched throughout the lessons.
The clumsy disaster I just mentioned is currently yelling at me again. Bastard.
"Do you think I ever wanted to be the world's poster boy? No one should be a puppet! Never!"
Oh the irony. I had lived and breathed at the hands of a manipulative fool for my entire life. At least he hadn't grown up relying on the hand that abused him.
"You seem to forget I was a fucking puppet. No. You always forget that it wasn't just you that suffered. Oh poor little light side, with their perfect golden boy and his nightmares. It isn't just your fucking problem! Even after all the shit we went through both alone and together, you can't seem to understand that you weren't the only one who lived through years of manipulative bullcrap!"
He was silent for a moment, and then he spoke.
"I never wanted to change the world."
My heart broke a little bit. He had everything I had every wanted, and he didn't jold an ounce of desire for it himself.
"You never wanted it... Irony is such a bitch. You took my social chances, you took my redemption, you took anything and everything I managed to clasp in my hands, and now you throw it away because you didn't like the way it turned out? I wanted to change the world! You can dare to go back in time to tell four-year-old me that no, you cant play Quidditch, and no, you'll never make it anywhere. I would've killed to have just one of the opportunities you were presented with! I would kill to take your place, but all I'm left with now is this fucking hideous tattoo and a broken mind to prove it."
"Fucking bitter asshole. I knew I could never love you."
And that was that.
No more good-morning-I-missed-you-even-though-we-share-a-bed kisses. No more regularity and routine. There was no way to recover from this train-wreck.
I suppose he was right. I am bitter. Why shouldn't I be? I deserve to hate the world; it certainly hated me enough. Fate and karma seem to want to repeatedly bugger me over. My world... My Harry was gone, faded into the sweet nothings of teary moonlight all because I hurt as much as he did.
I don't know what was worse. The fact that I still seem to be head over heels in love with him a decade later, or the fact that it only took him a week to get down on one fucking knee for Ginny Weasley.
The wedding was the worst part. I arrived, looked at him, and disapperated before I could even cry.
Even though they got divorced three years later and he invited me out on a date, I never replied to his owl. It still visits me each day, and seems to understand my tears.
It's strange how only his bird could ever understand me. It makes sense:
I'm too fucking bitter for people anyway.