Despite the Fact

Despite the fact that there are no true Empaths anymore, everyone knows exactly who you are. You're a fifth-year Slytherin, the daughter of Death Eaters, the latest in a long line of purebloods, the simpering little bitch whose sole function in life is to decorate Draco Malfoy's arm.

Despite the fact that nobody believes in Divination anymore, everybody knows your future. You'll graduate from Hogwarts with marks that are decent but not exceptional, marry Draco, and spend the rest of your life as the lady of Malfoy Manor, Draco's ornamental brood mare. Isn't that a lovely story?

Despite the fact that you're a natural Slytherin, born with more than your fair share of driving ambition, you've never learned how to use it because you know that you have no prospects beyond being the perfect Malfoy Bride, pristine and demure. All your strength has become so twisted, you can never be strong in of yourself. You were born to breed an heir for the Malfoys, and to pretend that all your other strengths - on those rare days when someone has the temerity to suggest that you have strengths besides being a simpering decoration - never even existed. Not even the strongest Erasing Charm can wipe your strengths away, so all that's left is to try the next best thing: Ignore them, and maybe they'll go away.

Yet despite all those facts, you know a few things that nobody else does.

Despite the fact that you failed your last Arithmancy assignment, you know the equations of true beauty. You know how clothing and makeup can never quite hide the inner decay; where one person simply looks pudgy, another looks bloated and diseased. You know how neglect can show as clearly in shuttered eyes as a knife shows on scarred wrists. And you know how wisdom can sometimes feed beauty's fire until it burns.

Despite the fact that you were raised in a world that does not recognize caring, you know what it is to love someone so much it scares you, yet hate him for being the one you've known that you would marry ever since you were six years old. You know all about contradictions; about wanting to slap him and hug him and scream at him and whisper all the comforting words that he was supposed to have heard from his parents but never did. And you know that despite what all the romance novels say, these things are never, ever easy.

Despite the fact that it's easier to accept people as they present themselves to be, you can't help but know that everyone is more tangled inside than the average spider web. You know that Draco is most sure of himself when he says nothing, and most unsure when he acts arrogant. You know that even though Blaise prides herself in being a grown woman at the age of fifteen, she still sleeps with a stuffed bear sometimes. You know that Crabbe sucks his thumb when he thinks nobody is watching, and you once saw Goyle cry when he stubbed his toe. You know that Mil Bulstrode, the least attractive person you've ever met, is also the wisest person you've ever met. And you know that somewhere, in the razor-edged line between fantasy and reality, the true self lurks.

You know what it is to be scared and lost and alone, and you know what it is to be so absolutely certain you leave all doubts behind. You know how much jelly you can put on a sandwich before it oozes over the sides. You know that the meaning of life has long since stormed off in a huff, but that somehow life goes on. You know about the time Hannah Abbot accidentally Transfigured her ears into trumpets. You know that time is a spiral that never breaks out of its pattern no matter how much you beg. And you know that you'll survive. Despite the fact that you were bred to be vulnerable and more than a little silly, you know that you'll survive.