Unshuttered

Unshuttered

This is him.

His nails are all bitten, that's funny because you never actually see him bite them, that would be a sign of insecurity or something ridiculous, and we can't have that, can we, not in the teenage hero of the wizarding world, so you never catch him doing it but he must be doing it at some point, the little bastard.

This is him, the girls are all talking about his hair and his eyes and it's stupid really because he doesn't look hot at all, he looks like a geek, his hair looks like there isn't a day in his life in which he didn't sleep under a bridge and even now he doesn't get decent glasses, he still has those stupid thick ones with the crooked bridge and hasn't he ever heard of contacts? His hair isn't sexy, it's just a mess, and okay, his eyes are green, big fucking deal. He's finally growing but that doesn't make it better, he has that pinched look about his face and those horrid clothes are still oversized. You have a vague notion that people like to construct the fact that you notice this into a concession of sorts, they think you pity him for that, think about buying him pretty things, but you don't, you hope he stumbles over the cuffs of those overlarge trousers and breaks his scrawny neck.

He's not that much the innocent these days, no more the sweet orphan grateful for friendly words like a puppy. He yells a lot, and his friends have that cautious look quite often, their voices go into that soothing, kind of anxious tone as they try to direct his anger elsewhere. He yells at teachers as always, he doesn't care about house points or detentions anymore, oh no, not someone who's Been Through So Much and Done Great Deeds. That makes him dangerous in various ways, and sometimes when you see people giving him that cautious look and say something in a low, soothing voice you want to shake them, or you want to laugh in disgust, it's all quite funny because they call you a brat? They crowd around him but already they start to fear him and you can't help grinning because it's just too amusing, the way this is going wrong.

He's as easy to goad as ever, these days the surest way to set him off is to make a comment about that useless godfather of his, it needn't even be a particularly nasty one, anything will set him off like a rocket, which is nice because you can time it just so he will attack you when Snape comes in and he's still so reliable in not getting out of the blame. He'll explode at anything these days and that's funny too because that way he gives you control (and wouldn't he hate that). He's still so stupid about charging into things, he's blind and rash and such an idiot, can they not see how he will, must turn into a disappointment? Not that you give a bleeding fuck.

This is him, he still stares challenges at you, he's still rash and stupid and without his little minions he'd be lost, he's a spoilt brat and kicks out at anyone but he's still everyone's darling, and you hate him so much it feels like acid in your guts, because that is your whole purpose, isn't it. Somewhere there is a stupid hat that implores the Houses to join and set aside enmities, and isn't that a howl. You're the Slimy Bastard and he's the golden boy no matter how many times he fucks up, so why bother? He landed your father in prison and you trip him up in all the small, mean ways you can think of, yes you are slimy, and a coward, but at least you know this, at least you are under no pretty illusions. They are blinded, and you don't get it, all he did was survive, how does that make him a hero. He's no hero, he's as much a brat as you are, but apparently you are the only one who sees this. Yes you are jealous but not because he's the hero, just because he gets the attention and because oh fuck, never mind. It is all rather pointless. You'd get out if you could, but that's the laugh, isn't it? No one can, not even him.

This is him, he plays against the rules, he doesn't quite fit his mould anymore. You still fit yours, hallelujah, you're still the nasty slimeball. Somewhere you know there are people who reconjure you both, recreate and reshape and reinvent you, who complexify and embellish and angstify and glorify and lovingly give you a depth you don't have. It makes you want to puke - his skin is not creamy, it's pallid and white and if you could, you would flay it inch by inch from his flesh, or rather would have someone else do it because that's more your style. You don't want to kiss him, you are not secretly fantasizing about sexual power games. You think gays are disgusting and if you had him naked somewhere private, you would make a nasty joke about the size of his dick and make him parade around the Quidditch pitch in full view of everyone, that's all. You don't want him, you just want him dead. You are not deep and he is not sweet, you are not mysterious, not complex, not tragic, not secretly appealing, you know this and you hate him more for it. You are not crushing on him and he is not secretly watching you in Potions. Nothing goes on in Astronomy Tower or in the corridors after dark, and if you ever had to put a hand on his arse you would cut it off after. You sense, vaguely, an audience somewhere, who tries to make you into something you're not and you would laugh in their faces if you could, because they are so off-track it is really amusing. You do not desire him, you simply desire him to suffer. There is no attraction, there is no melancholy wistfulness, there is no hot and lustful anger, there are no energies funnelled into different tracks. There is no scenario conceivable in which you would willingly touch him in any way not painful to him, there is no way you would not hurt him if you had the power (which of course you don't). There is no hidden sweetness or redeemable features, you don't need to be redeemed and all he needs is to die a painful and ridiculous death, but you already know if anyone is likely to get one it's you, because that's your fate. You have no dimensions, you are cardboard, and you hate him for that too, because that's what you were made to do, that's all you were cut out to be. There is no tragedy in that and if anyone dares to make one of it, you will do something petty and hurtful to them, because that's all that you do. You are nasty and he is getting there, and that is the end of it.

This is him, and this is how you would always turn it into something about you, and this is how it would never work, and this is how you do not care about how many that hurts.