A Merry Little Elf

Look at me I'm twenty three

Beautiful a sight to see

Tonight

If I had known he'd be expecting me, I wouldn't have come at all. I have a lot of trouble managing being near him. It's impossible for me to think about him without being tempted to slit his throat with my fingernails. He strikes me as the kind of person who can't deal with his own life (and he can't) but wants to control everyone else's; sick bastard, that one.

I don't know what the hell he's doing here. This is a ball. It's not as if he enjoys dancing or the sight of it. No, he's here because of me. I do know what the hell he's doing here. That awful git wants to see me. He has no shame at all, and now he smiles. Idiot.

A little dress to draw the press

And I'll be leaving

All the rest behind

"You look astounding," he had said. As if I ever cared about his compliments! I never have. I don't care what you say. I have never cared for him at all. Don't give me that look. I used him. The same way he has been using me. You don't know our history, for we do have one--had one. He's a complete jerk; an utterly insane, spoiled, conceited rascal. I don't know what I ever saw in him.

"My dear," calls Dumbledore, "I am so glad to see you came."

I smile at him. Thank goodness he's stopped my ranting. I do not wish to press the matter even further. That shameless, dim-witted, awful man doesn't deserve to be thought of. Oh! How could I have ever lowered my guard as such? Why did I slip into his arms? He's not handsome; he never has been. He's not!

"Is there something on your mind?" asks Dumbledore.

"No, no, I was just thinking about the gorgeous decorations! You really pulled it off, Albus," I say, trying hard to forget about that idiotic git. He smiles at me and states his gratitude. I nod my head politely and he goes away.

The crowd parts as I walk by. It isn't that unusual to see me in a dress. They gawk and smile stupidly at me. They know. I'm certain they do. I can hear them murmuring behind my back. They pity me. I pity them. He hasn't hurt me. He hasn't broken my heart. He never had it to begin with. It was all a game. A lousy game in which no one won; well, maybe he did. Love, what is love, really? It is this merry little elf who dances a jig, then turns on you with a machine gun. Ah, I can feel those bullet wounds gaping...

How could I have trusted him? He is a liar, a very good one, too. He had me fooled until the end--until I realised what a scumbag he really is. Now that everything is over, I couldn't be better off.

Oh, whom am I kidding?

Aren't I lovely?

And do you want me? 'Cause

I am hungry for something that will make me real

Can you see me?

And do you love me? 'cause

I am desperately searching for something

Real

"I love you," the scoundrel had said. "I've spent days thinking about different ways to tell you. So far I have twenty-five phrases to let you know how I feel."

"Oh, do I get to hear the rest?" I'd asked. My eyes had been twinkling at his as he'd tightened his embrace.

"I say 'I love you' and you wonder about the rest of the phrases?"

"Well, of course! You've spent days thinking about them, why shouldn't I wonder?"

"You don't have anything else to say, then?" His eyes had looked downcast. I'd given him a kiss on the lips.

"I love you, silly," I'd assured him. He'd smiled, inching nearer to me.

"You're still not going to hear them," he'd whispered in my ear. "I didn't spend days thinking about them to tell them all at once."

Moron.

He made me feel. I felt for him what I hadn't felt in years! He played his part, and I was just another one. I was only another mission, another girl who happened to walk into his life. And now as I walk past him, I can't help myself to look into his eyes. He's staring at me too, but I can't decipher his look. Is he sad? Ashamed? Is he, perhaps, amused? I bite my tongue in order to keep myself from smiling. He is not intimidating - not any more. I look away from him.

The couples are dancing smoothly. Minerva and Dumbledore seem particularly overjoyed. Minerva laughs as a school girl and Albus can't keep his eyes off her. I beam, feeling somewhat pleased about my suspicions. They make the loveliest couple; unlike myself and that heartless git.

I numb the ache and decorate

My emptiness

Stand naked in the light

He's walking towards me. Please go away, go away, you senseless imbecile!

What?

Well, aren't they a bloody ray of sunshine? Perfect timing, I'd say! He's now being distracted by Rita Skeeter and Professor Flitwick, a rather strange match, I might add. I conduct myself to the bar and order Butterbeer as I sit on a stool. I sip my drink, quietly, as he tries to get away from his companions. I watch as a tall brunette takes him by his arm; he seems surprised, but relieved altogether. They start to chat, gleefully. I can feel my stomach twisting in anger. He laughs, probably at one of her jokes. She touches his arm and I stand up from the chair. I narrow my eyes as I get my hand ready to fetch my wand.

"I'll have what she's having," says a voice beside me. "I wonder, however, what exactly is it that you're having?"

I turn to Remus. "Butterbeer," I answer. He smiles smugly at me and I wish he would leave. I like sulking on my own. I sigh heavily and sit down next to him, as I know he isn't intending to run off any time soon.

"That's not what I asked," he says rather matter-of-factly. The female bartender frowns.

"You don't want your Butterbeer anymore, sir?" she asks. I chuckle lightly as Remus blushes and accepts his drink.

Well be pleased world

If this is what you wanted

This young girl is everything that you made

What will she say?

"Are you planning on telling me?" asks he, blatantly. "Or should I guess?" His eyes flash that mischievous spark Sirius once told me about. It doesn't impress me.

"Remus," I say. He looks eagerly at me. I continue, "If I throw a stick, will you go away?"

I laugh softly. He looks a little taken aback, though. He must have become angry, for he takes his drink and leaves. I will apologise to him, later.

I look at my wristwatch. They have been talking for almost an hour now, but I don't care. Better be her than me, I repeat for the fifth time. I have to swallow a scream as Mundungus steps on my feet. He apologises heartily, and I excuse him. He continues to tell me about the time when he tricked the Minister and won fifty Galleons, legally, Mundungus repeats. He spins me and frees my hand. I would have fallen to the floor if he hadn't caught me.

The world goes home

The lights go down

My lipstick fades

Away

I am in his arms, yet again. I free myself immediately, even though I don't want to. I watch his countenance as he watches mine. He extends his hand and asks me to dance. I stand there in silence. My heartbeat increases. It wants me to agree and dance away my pain, but my brain makes me remember what a cold-hearted son of a bitch he is. He steps closer, making me blink. He caresses my face and I lose myself in his touch. I feel his breath on my face. We are inches away. His other arm has wrapped itself around my waist. I have both of my arms around his neck; he seems pleased with it.

"Don't do this, Severus," I beg.

"Don't do what?" he asks. He leans forward and kisses me on the lips. "Marry me, Nymphadora Tonks," he whispers as we pull apart.

The End