Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Watching You
I felt her eyes in me again. As always, Parkinson had her eyes trained on my back. I hate to admit it, but I admire the girl. She just wouldn't quit! No matter how many times I try to push her away, tell her to keep her eyes to herself, and just leave me alone, she wouldn't. I sighed and blew a strand of silvery hair away from my face. I was sitting near the lake again, and I know Parkinson's up in the Astronomy tower, watching over me. Again. Ever since first year, she'd look after me, watching me every move, as if afraid I might burst into tears or something. Psh. As if. Malfoys never cry. Well, uhm, except for one time, when I totally lost it in the common room and fate picked that time to ruin my life, coz Pansy picked that time, that one bloody time, to walk in on me. Man, did I hate myself.
I remembered the first time I saw her---not exactly a pretty sight. But then again, I was used to statuesque, blond, beauties, and not plain girls. She was friendly enough, but then I noticed pity in her eyes. That's why after she offered me a seat, thanks was all I ever said.
But then she just HAD to follow me around, now did she. I felt like I had a STALKER for crying out loud. But you know, I actually didn't mind. Sure, she wasn't the usual, pretty girls who gawked, trailed after me and worshiped the ground I walked on, but I had to admit, it was nice to know someone cares enough to look after me. I never had that before. I was taught that love and care were things that made you weak, things Malfoys have no use for and will never need. But I think I do. And I'm a Malfoy. What's up with that? Father dearest, WRONG about something??? Whoa. I was brought up in a dark, cold, huge, manor, big enough to get lost in even after living there your entire life. And certainly big enough that my parents never found their way to my quarters. I was used to it though. But then this!!! The attention! The girls following me around! The guys who want to be me! This one girl constantly watching me! This, for sure, I am not used to. So naturally I push them away. Push her away. Tell her to leave me alone. Spat insults in her face. But she didn't know that it hurt me whenever I do. She didn't know I never meant them. She'll never know. Just like I told her that night, or rather, morning in the common room, I didn't deserve love. Not from my family. Not from my friends. Not from her.
Love is for good people. Like Dumbledore and Potter. For I am NOT a good person. Definitely not. Even though I tried to erase all my faults and all the evil I've done by stopping after fifth year, I'll never escape the Death Eaters, my father, or Voldemort. I'd rather die than serve them. As if my father would let me though. Psh.
Pansy Parkinson is a stupid, blind, foolish girl. She's not supposed to take care of me; she's not supposed to watch over me, she's not supposed to love me. And I'm not supposed to love her in return. But I can't help but do so. She's the only one who ever understood me, who cared for me, who loved me enough to make sure I'm alright. She may not be pretty, but she was beautiful. I saw it when I looked into her eyes that night in the common room, her eyes boring into mine, reflecting all she felt inside. And I saw it. I saw her love, her selflessness, and her beautiful soul. That's how I fell for Pansy Parkinson. That's when I knew I returned her love. That was also when I realized we can never be, it'll never work, that I'll only hurt her and I can't bear to do that. It's best I didn't tell her. But is it? I ask myself this a million times, when I sit outside late at night, like I am now. Is it best to let her suffer, to let her wonder forever, to act as if I didn't love her? Is it truly best to pretend I didn't care, when I do, SO MUCH? Is it best that she didn't know she changed me, that I'm only happy whenever she's near? I don't really know.
I saw her wrists one time. I remembered blinking back tears when I saw those red, angry cuts. They were all because of me. All because of me. I didn't want her to get hurt, or hurt herself. I hated myself for being alive, for being the object of her affections, for being the cause of her sorrow. For not telling her I loved her too. But no. I'm not going to keep it inside forever. I want to tell her now. Right now. At this moment. I stood up suddenly, love bursting from inside my heart. I ran to the castle doors, up the Astronomy tower to where I knew she was perched, watching me just a minute ago. I reached the spot and stopped in my tracks.
Pansy lay there, swimming in her own blood. A knife plunged deep in her chest, her hair spread out around her face, and for a moment I spaced out and thought of how much she resembled an angel. But then it sank in. Pansy's dead. She killed herself because of me. She's never coming back. She'll never know I cared. She'll never know I loved her too. I sank down to the floor and squeezed her hand so tightly, if she was still alive, I would've cut her blood circulation. I knew my face was blank. Why can't I cry? I love her, didn't I? And now she'd gone. Because of me. Cry, Malfoy, dammit! Now is actually a reasonable time to cry! I blinked and blinked. Not one tear fell. Then I noticed a crumpled piece of parchment lying on the floor next to her hand. It was written with strange colored ink. No. Wait. It's blood. Her blood. Forming the words:
"DM, even when I cease to breathe, I'll still be watching over you. I'll never stop caring. I'll never let you go. PP."
I watched fascinated, as tears blurred the words. Malfoys never cry. Well, so much for that.
Gasping sobs escaped my lips as I cried over Pansy. I couldn't take it. I couldn't think straight. She's gone. She's gone. She's gone. The only person who ever loved me is gone. The only reason I'm living is gone. So then what use have I on this earth if my reason's lost and gone?
I took the knife from her heart, kissed her tear-stained face, whispered "Goodbye...I'll meet you there", and thrust the blade into my own heart. Now I can tell you I care. Now I can tell you I love you. And now I'll never let you go. Because now, we can be together.
I remembered the first time I saw her---not exactly a pretty sight. But then again, I was used to statuesque, blond, beauties, and not plain girls. She was friendly enough, but then I noticed pity in her eyes. That's why after she offered me a seat, thanks was all I ever said.
But then she just HAD to follow me around, now did she. I felt like I had a STALKER for crying out loud. But you know, I actually didn't mind. Sure, she wasn't the usual, pretty girls who gawked, trailed after me and worshiped the ground I walked on, but I had to admit, it was nice to know someone cares enough to look after me. I never had that before. I was taught that love and care were things that made you weak, things Malfoys have no use for and will never need. But I think I do. And I'm a Malfoy. What's up with that? Father dearest, WRONG about something??? Whoa. I was brought up in a dark, cold, huge, manor, big enough to get lost in even after living there your entire life. And certainly big enough that my parents never found their way to my quarters. I was used to it though. But then this!!! The attention! The girls following me around! The guys who want to be me! This one girl constantly watching me! This, for sure, I am not used to. So naturally I push them away. Push her away. Tell her to leave me alone. Spat insults in her face. But she didn't know that it hurt me whenever I do. She didn't know I never meant them. She'll never know. Just like I told her that night, or rather, morning in the common room, I didn't deserve love. Not from my family. Not from my friends. Not from her.
Love is for good people. Like Dumbledore and Potter. For I am NOT a good person. Definitely not. Even though I tried to erase all my faults and all the evil I've done by stopping after fifth year, I'll never escape the Death Eaters, my father, or Voldemort. I'd rather die than serve them. As if my father would let me though. Psh.
Pansy Parkinson is a stupid, blind, foolish girl. She's not supposed to take care of me; she's not supposed to watch over me, she's not supposed to love me. And I'm not supposed to love her in return. But I can't help but do so. She's the only one who ever understood me, who cared for me, who loved me enough to make sure I'm alright. She may not be pretty, but she was beautiful. I saw it when I looked into her eyes that night in the common room, her eyes boring into mine, reflecting all she felt inside. And I saw it. I saw her love, her selflessness, and her beautiful soul. That's how I fell for Pansy Parkinson. That's when I knew I returned her love. That was also when I realized we can never be, it'll never work, that I'll only hurt her and I can't bear to do that. It's best I didn't tell her. But is it? I ask myself this a million times, when I sit outside late at night, like I am now. Is it best to let her suffer, to let her wonder forever, to act as if I didn't love her? Is it truly best to pretend I didn't care, when I do, SO MUCH? Is it best that she didn't know she changed me, that I'm only happy whenever she's near? I don't really know.
I saw her wrists one time. I remembered blinking back tears when I saw those red, angry cuts. They were all because of me. All because of me. I didn't want her to get hurt, or hurt herself. I hated myself for being alive, for being the object of her affections, for being the cause of her sorrow. For not telling her I loved her too. But no. I'm not going to keep it inside forever. I want to tell her now. Right now. At this moment. I stood up suddenly, love bursting from inside my heart. I ran to the castle doors, up the Astronomy tower to where I knew she was perched, watching me just a minute ago. I reached the spot and stopped in my tracks.
Pansy lay there, swimming in her own blood. A knife plunged deep in her chest, her hair spread out around her face, and for a moment I spaced out and thought of how much she resembled an angel. But then it sank in. Pansy's dead. She killed herself because of me. She's never coming back. She'll never know I cared. She'll never know I loved her too. I sank down to the floor and squeezed her hand so tightly, if she was still alive, I would've cut her blood circulation. I knew my face was blank. Why can't I cry? I love her, didn't I? And now she'd gone. Because of me. Cry, Malfoy, dammit! Now is actually a reasonable time to cry! I blinked and blinked. Not one tear fell. Then I noticed a crumpled piece of parchment lying on the floor next to her hand. It was written with strange colored ink. No. Wait. It's blood. Her blood. Forming the words:
"DM, even when I cease to breathe, I'll still be watching over you. I'll never stop caring. I'll never let you go. PP."
I watched fascinated, as tears blurred the words. Malfoys never cry. Well, so much for that.
Gasping sobs escaped my lips as I cried over Pansy. I couldn't take it. I couldn't think straight. She's gone. She's gone. She's gone. The only person who ever loved me is gone. The only reason I'm living is gone. So then what use have I on this earth if my reason's lost and gone?
I took the knife from her heart, kissed her tear-stained face, whispered "Goodbye...I'll meet you there", and thrust the blade into my own heart. Now I can tell you I care. Now I can tell you I love you. And now I'll never let you go. Because now, we can be together.
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