Fandom: Harry Potter
Word Count: 481
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I'm making no money off of this.
A/N: for fanfic100 prompt 001; beginnings. stream-of-consciousness and second person. hints of remus/sirius. i hate that i named this after a killers lyric now, but what can you do.
mostly, they don’t know why you’re really upset. mostly, they think you’re a lovesick child, with your mousy hair and your visible pain. but you’re guilty and you’re grieving and you’re jealous, that’s the big one, and yeah, you may be a lovesick child but at least there’s a reason for it.
no one understands – not really. and you’re not just being whiny in saying that, because no one knew about them. because being – you wince – like that in the wizarding world, it’s just not accepted. it should be okay, but it isn’t. maybe more than in the muggle world, though you know their prejudices run deep, too.
you also know it’s unfair, and that you’re partly like that, and that the fact your cousin was a man and his lover also male isn’t what bothers you, considering how you were brought up. it’s that, well, it’s the combination of everything at once.
it’s the worst kind of triangle, you think, one in which one of you is dead (wincing again). you can’t help but make a scene, in front of everyone no less, because it’s all building up in you and no one knows, no one knows why you’re taking it so hard, you’re only twenty-three, there will be others.
(it’s like everyone has to be straight all of a sudden, you realize. it’s almost sinister. it’s bill-and-fleur and harry-and-ginny and ron-and-hermione – even if they’re not together yet, they will be and everyone knows it – and you-and-remus. it’s almost like some damn plot to make everyone affirm their heterosexuality. then you think about how stupid that sounds and shrug it off and when did you become so bitter, anyway? or maybe a better question would be when did you become so serious. but that kind of pun isn’t funny, not now and maybe not ever.)
when ginny comes to you, resigned, and tells you that harry broke it off and can we talk, please, because you’re older, because you know about these things, you almost feel relieved. like things don’t have to be this way forever. like nothing is set in stone.
your newly-pink-again bangs fall into your eyes as you lean over to ginny, head in hand, saying of course we can talk, are you okay, the very picture of concern even as silently you’re celebrating. and when she says it doesn’t bother me, not really, i knew it wouldn’t work for good and i fancy the pants off of someone else anyway, you catch her eye and the air in the room shifts. and you know. that everything isn’t clean-cut, that the older generations aren’t the only ones with secrets, that you don’t need to give up hope for something better, something more.
you lean forward to touch her face and nod imperceptibly. sometimes things don’t need to be said.