Sweet Chili

This is my story.

Cause- that's all it is. A story. I don't think I ever existed, as a person. I'm nothing but lies and deceit, I've made up so many stories that I've forgotten which ones are true. I live as a lie, and the things people think is me are simply silly decisions and assumptions.

Like pie. Oh God, how much do I despise the sadist who invented PIE. But, silly me I decided that since I have red hair it would suit me fine to be a warm person. And pie sounds like a thing warm people like. So every Friday in the great hall I suffer through a slice of pie and put on a happy face, but I always deny the next one. "I gotta watch my figure" I say, and laugh. Heartily. Because that sounds like a thing a warm person would do. Laugh heartily. And charms. A warm person like "me" should be good at charms. I'm good at potions. So I spend hours practising and preparing for charms. And then I chatter away in potions, and try to look so surprised when the potion's ruined.

And Harry Potter.

A sensible, nice and warm girl would certainly not find Pansy Parkinson attractive. She would go out with nice boys of her own house, and have an eternal crush on The Boy Who Lived.

So I smile at him shyly, because I must be shy, mustn't I? And I still sleep with a teddybear and stay in bed long after I've woken up - because I like sleeping in. I decided that a long time ago.

And I barely ever look at her. I want to look at her so much it's killing me. But I never do.

Well. Almost never. I sneak a glance, now and then. I never daydream while staring across the great hall or anything like that. No, I keep myself in line. I sneak a glance, and sometimes I glare. Badly. Because a nice person would certainly never be any good at glaring.

I still know her. I see the same look in her eyes as mine. Playing the part everyone expects her to be. But she, like me, chose it herself. It's our own special hell. Sometimes, when no-one I know is around I smile at her. And if no-one she knows is around either, she smiles back.

I touched her once.

It was outside the charms classroom, and I was waiting to get inside, and Luna was chattering about the good looks of my brother. And then she came along, and I didn't hear a word. I couldn't see anybody but her, but I looked the other way immediately. Because I am a Good Gryffindor Girl (because a nice person would certainly ask to be put in Gryffindor) and I do not, ever, under any circumstances, look at Slytherins. If I am harassed by one of them I must either scream or look at the ground until a nice Gryffindor boy (Preferably one who is either related or likes me) comes and rescues me.

I decided that in these circumstances it would be best to focus on Luna. That strange hat she had on her head. That was a good thing. And then I felt a hand on my back. A girls hand with long nails brush against the small of my bach, then up to my shoulder, linger ther for just a little while and disappear. And then I was suddenly looking into her eyes. Blue. Gorgeous. And as I was hypnotized by those eyes I felt a note slip into my hand. And then she was gone.

It was an offer, and an invitation to a meeting in the Astronomy Tower at midnight.

But good girls don't sneak out at nights, do they?

-fin- -

AN: Please Review. If not I will force-feed you iron pie. Dressed as Professor Moody.