Irony

Soft, weightless flakes of snow drifted down past the frosted window, settling onto the ground, as the cold, blue eyes followed them.

The boy stared at his bottle of Butterbeer silently, as the general hubbub of the pub surrounded him. Witches in the corner laughed loudly and obnoxiously, as did a group of girls seated near him. He didn't even throw them a condescending look. He was past that. He had passed that a long time ago, leaving aside petty house squabbles, preferring to allow the other students to deal with them. He had far more important matters on his mind. Let the other students use age-old differences introduce some superficial excitement into their mediocre lives. He would not be a part of it.

He was somewhat of an entity at school. He knew he had a reputation of sorts. But even he wasn't aware of what the students said about him.

A model student...the teachers loved him. He just happened to be in the wrong house, many thought.

"The sorting hat's only mistake."

He didn't belong in that house.

He didn't belong.

The girls would swoon themselves silly when he walked past them in the corridors. He was vaguely aware of this, but it was hardly worth even thinking about to him. Silly, pathetic, vain creatures. He wasn't presumptuous enough to assume all the girls in Hogwarts were like that, but he was definitely sharp enough to realize that most of them were.

Especially the ones who swooned.

He was charming... or he would have been, if he had socialised much.

He would have been amusing, had he shared his many witticisms and observations, as opposed to keeping them to himself.

He would have been popular...so popular, if he had bothered to acquaint himself with others.

He would have been attractive... no, not attractive, devastatingly handsome, if only he would smile.

He would have been many things, if.

But he wasn't.

Instead, he was the tall, dark, unapproachable boy who sat on his own, and made no effort with anyone. It was his persona.

He glanced up, and caught the eye of a girl. His first thought was that she was stunning, but he swiftly changed his mind.

No...not stunning...striking. He wouldn't bother wasting time thinking about stunning girls. Striking girls, yes. They managed to grab a few precious seconds of his attention. Traditionally pretty girls held no interest for him. He found them to be very aware of there blessing in the looks department, and he couldn't be doing with girls who preened.

But she wasn't stunning. She was striking. He couldn't resist taking one more glance at her.

She was still watching him. Green eyes, piercing through him, surrounded by a mass of tousled dark hair. She smiled at him, and he nodded slightly. He had had girls smile at him before. Flirty behaviour and suggestive looks were an everyday part of his school life... most girls didn't know when to give up. But he hadn't really noticed this girl before. She was definitely in his house, but he couldn't quite remember her name... that was unusual, he was good with names.

She tilted her head to one side as she leant up against the bar, and smiled again coyly, before gesturing for him to come over.

He looked away quickly, assessing the situation. She was very lovely looking. And she was in his house. He was a loner, an introvert, but he had never been quite so drawn to someone. He toyed with the idea of ignoring her... following the usual plan of action... his usual behaviour.

But at the same time, he was curious. Girls were... an unexplored concept of school life to him. He was vaguely aware that a few girls found him attractive, this was blindingly obvious from the way they would dissolve into embarrassed giggles when he walked past. But he had never really bothered.

It would be interesting to see what it was like. It would be interesting, and he couldn't have picked a better candidate to try out his new extroverted self on.

It would be interesting.

He rose from his chair in one swift, fluid movement, reminiscent of a snake, and moved around the table.

Someone brushed past him, and crossed the pub, before stopping at the exact place he had been heading for himself. The someone leant over and pressed a kiss onto the lips of the dark haired girl. The someone was very obviously her boyfriend. She had been calling him over.

Typical, really. He thought dryly to himself.

Paradoxical.

Incongruous.

Ironic.

Tom Riddle loved irony