Notice

I hate the fact that she notices all my flaws.

I hate that she notices when I play with my hair, or my quill, or my parchment; that she notices how much of a fidgety mess I am around her.

It's not fair that she notices when I don't hand my homework in, or when I hand a homework in that is surprisingly identical to Remus's work. Does she have to pick up on the fact that I’m not as diligent as she is?

I like the way she notices my intelligence- nay, my genius - and cleverness. I hate the way she turns these good qualities into bad ones, chastising me for wasting my brain and talents on pranks. I hate the way she notices that I'm not living up to my full potential, and probably never will.

I don't like when she notices that my friends are being prats, or, worse, when she notices that I'm being one, too (and probably influencing the others to act even worse). I hate the fact that she notices whenever Sirius picks a fight with Snape, or whenever I take my anger out on a piece of furniture or a professor. I hate how her presence (her infuriatingly perfect presence) makes it even harder for me to control my temper.

I hate that she notices my confidence- my so-called ‘arrogance,’ as she calls it. I can't help it if I'm good at many things and proud of my talents. And is it a crime to make others aware of my many achievements? Really, I’m performing a public service, but of course she doesn’t recognize that.

It's not fair that she does recognize the fact that many of these talents are natural, and claims that I've been ''blessed' with many things. It's not fair that whenever she notices my good grades or my flawless wandwork, she delivers a diatribe about how I never have to work for anything, how everything always comes so easily to me. I hate the way she notices that all of it- the wit, the intelligence, the athletic skills -is luck, pure and simple.

But most of all, I hate the way I notice my flaws, because she notices them. Because she points them out to me constantly, and I can't do anything I used to do: ruffle my hair without feeling embarrassed; relax without feeling lazy; play a prank without feeling guilty; lose my temper without feeling ashamed; smile about a good Quidditch match without feeling conceited; glow over a good exam without feeling lucky. I hate how she's forced me to notice all the bad qualities about myself, and how she's forced me to want to change them. I hate how she's made me notice all the ways in which I'm not good enough for her.

I hate how I can't even concentrate on my chess game right now, and how Remus is looking at me with confusion and worry, because apparently I didn't notice that he called my name 8 times in the last minute.

"You okay, James?" he asks, concern evident in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine....no, no, I'm not fine," I amend, "I'm....immature and lazy and arrogant and overall inferior to her, and does she have to notice? Does she?"

Remus knows who 'she' is- there's only one 'she,' and there has been for years. He smiles. Smiles?! "You're missing the point, Prongs," he starts.

"The point is that she always notices when I trip Snape in the halls or when Sirius and I slip Firewhiskey in the first years' pumpkin juice or when I cover the entire Herbology class in manure and no one gets mad at me or when I prematurely declare a Gryffindor Quidditch victory or ANYTIME I do something wrong. I can't adjust my glasses without her noticing and criticizing me for it, and are you still smiling? Do you want to make it to your next Prefect meeting?" I'm angry now, angry at Remus for his smiling and at her for her observations and at myself for just being me- stupid, obnoxious, rude me - and at her for once again making me realize just how stupid, obnoxious, and rude I am.

"You're missing the point, Prongs," Remus repeats. "The point isn't that she notices all of your misdeeds and missteps. The point is that she notices, and that's not something she used to do a lot in the past."

I look at him, and then quickly at the window, where I know she and her friends are sitting. Sure enough, she's looking at me, and when she notices me looking back, she blushes for a second before glaring at me and turning back to her friends. I realize that this has happened many times in the past few months- I'll turn to glance at her and find her looking at me, and she always glares at me or says something scathing before turning away, but the point is, like Remus said, that she's looking at me, voluntarily, and repeatedly.

I love the fact that she notices all my flaws.