Daydream of Her

Disclaimer: No, I don\'t own the characters. In fact, I don\'t own much of anything at all.

Author\'s Note: Yes, I am a sick and twisted individual to come up with this. Hasn\'t been beta-read. Don\'t like dealing with them. *shrug*

Daydream of Her
I can\'t seem to stop thinking of her, with her busy hair, her bossy manner. I don\'t know how she did it, how she wriggled her way under my skin. It isn\'t enough that I have to deal with her in classes; I have to dream about her when no one else is around. I have to look into her warm brown eyes and continue this lie. This mock hatred of her.
I lay back and stare at the black ceiling above me. I know that she could never love; never want me. I\'m ugly and old. I know a sweet, innocent could never want something as cruel and as dark as me. Especially not with the way I\'ve always treated her. I can hardly forgive myself for all the cruel things I\'ve done to her. The insults, the insinuations at her lack of beauty—but how I could hardly stand her when I first met her. She was an insufferable know-it-all. She and her two best friends taunted me with their innocence, and their shining example of what children should and could be like. I was jealous of the three of them to begin with: jealous of their arrogance, their unflinching ability to cause and get into trouble.
They were so like the four I had gone to school with. I was jealous then too.
Eventually my jealousy shifted. I was no longer jealous of the girl, but of the boys and for different reasons. They got to spend time with her. They got to see her outside of class. They were able to treat her as an equal.
I was as surprised as anyone was when she showed up at the Christmas ball looking sleek and sophisticated. Gone was the child and in her place was a young woman of astonishing beauty. Of course, her mind was always the mind of a young woman—instead of that of a child. Gone was that atrocious bushy hair and long front teeth. Her teeth were my fault.
I had allowed a student from my own house curse her so her teeth grew monstrously long. I said that I didn\'t notice a difference. In truth, my heart was breaking. She was devastated by my actions. I hated seeing her tears as she dashed to the infirmary.
After I began Harry\'s ooculmancy lessons I learned another startling truth. It was Hermione who had stolen the boomslang from my personal ingredients cabinet. I couldn\'t give her a detention. I couldn\'t get her in trouble.
\"Why can\'t I stop thinking about her?\" I asked my dark ceiling. It had no answer. My rounds were finished, the halls empty as even the most persistent of students were in bed. It is two in the morning and I—as usual—can\'t sleep.
I\'m worried about Voldemort discovering my double agent status. He will kill me once he learns; and it gets harder and harder to hide each time I face him. It gets harder and harder to lie.
A knock on the door startled me out of my daydream. Who the hell could it be this time in the morning? I get up to answer it pissed that my un-rest has been disturbed.