Torture

A pit seemed to have formed in my stomach, sending everything that was seemingly important to me pummeling down into oblivion. She was always right- even in her pessimistic behavior toward me; she was always on the mark. I silently cursed her, only to suppress my words, lodging them in the confinements of my throat.

I watched the deteriorating embers in the stone fireplace and was aware of the irony for Poe's poem. I still thought about today, and why this pang of shame mixed with a sense of pain still taunted the irresolute heart now pounding unevenly with brief surges of anguish.

Snape always had disapproved of my viewpoints towards her. Many still wandered the halls, ever knowing, yet not reaching out to aide me. I had the right mind to curse them all in the hallways as they elapsed by, sniggering, just to let them feel a sliver of the endless torture my young mind was going through. How could I feel this way? She was put into Gryffindor, I in Slytherin. Damn the age-old house contention. If only they could see the magnitude of how much I needed her- how complete she seemed to make me. I pleaded with an unknown force that I could somehow charm her; not see the worthless git I had been thought of by my father's reputation.

Thoughts still drifted in and out of my empty mind. Suddenly, I could take it no longer. The temptation was consuming my will and knowing she was still so close to me...

I rushed to my dormitory. Aware that it was deep hours into the night, I silently grabbed my invisibility cloak, unknowing to my peers. Like many times I had done previously, I resolved to watch her sleep, peacefully, as I gazed... hoping to be there adjacent her one day. I missed the step that creaked. No one moved. Nobody seemed to even be living anymore; Like myself. I felt like a futile shell, only existing on my all but uplifting hopes.

Through the concealed passage I discovered in my fourth year, I was easily able to enter the Gryffindor common room. My feet needed no control, being on autopilot from the countless midnight fantasy walks. It was it; I approached the door, unbolting it with ease and feeling fulfilled for the first time in what seemed like eternity. But I didn't come to find the alluring scene I hoped was waiting for me.

She was there, oh yes, as marvelous as ever, her hair shimmering in the translucent moonlight. Oh, the familiar scent of cinnamon filled my nostrils traveling gracefully through my body. The pristine sight unfolding before me abruptly unhinged my ecstasy.

She was there, but with... Weasley? I almost cried out. I beseeched my knees not to give way. She was sleeping and he was where I had intended to be. Anger surged. Jealousy throbbed and I could feel tears welling before me. Oh god, why me? How could his untidy red hair compare to my unique blonde? Oh, sickness grasped me, unexpected, and I couldn't have been more reassured I wasn't sick on the spot. I wanted her- he couldn't have her.

Yet I still realized I was unseen to them. Invisible- just like I was to her. I stopped my anger from unleashing on the stupid redhead, realizing I could have ruined my chances of ever coming back to see her.

The sight was perfect as moonlight from a nearby window flowed over the two beings. Both smiling, they grasped each other's hands, fingers entwining. I subdued a sob. Ron bowed down to kiss her forehead; Hermione just wordlessly giggled. I knew she had been ill with a cold, but now Weasley was taking my place as her caregiver. If I were by her side, she would have felt the same way to me... the one who deserved it.

I couldn't let it happen; yet everything I handled seemed to wilt and die within my grip. I couldn't tarnish something so pure and perfect. I wasn't even worthy of being a witness. Mind winning the battle of my torn heart, I walked back to my room.

And I lay in my bed for what seemed like a thousand lifetimes. I pleaded for someone to help me. I could have even accepted the courage of that damned Potter in my moment of weakness. I felt desperate... my world was broken. I willed myself to feel happy, for her sake, but the uncontrollable aching of my heart and soul was torture. The only happiness in my cursed and belittled life was gone. What was I to do?

And I still am here, lying on a tear soaked pillow and torture filling my being.