Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Submitted for :

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) - History of Magic, Assignment #1 - Write about any kind of family issues. Loose definition of 'family'.

*Note - Song recommendation for this piece is 'We Can Try' by Between The Trees. No lyrics were used in the storyline, but I was very inspired by that song.

"The world is full of cravens who pretended to be heroes."
― George R. R. Martin, 'A Game of Thrones'

~ A Feast of Crows ~

Love is a game. The dice spins across your life, a checkerboard of emotion.

It's in the small things. The way you determine to defeat her in class (but, never actually succeed, much to your chagrin, because you know you don't stand a chance). The way you try your level best to gain a rise from her, smirking down at her annoyed face. Or, even in the way you twist your lips and sneer at her, calling her the filthiest names imaginable – just to see her reaction.

She's a worthy opponent. The way she's lost to the world when she buries herself in her books, and doesn't seem to care an iota when you try to get her attention. The way she parries you word for word, and never backs down from an argument. The way she flashes that infuriating smile, dimples and warmth, trying its paramount to break your control and just rush over to her and snog her senseless.

But, life has a bigger plan for you. Oh, yes, it's lying in wait to kick you in the gut and trample all your principles. It pounces at you from the direction you least expect it… your family, your name, your blood. It throttles you, and demands you to do things which you never actually wanted to. It forces you to kill or be killed. Life has no pity. Kill them or they kill you. Obliterate the likes of them, or be wiped off the map yourself.

You either kill her or kiss her. Your choice, your dice.

Love is hate. Flames lick up your spine, the rage simmering just under the surface.

You see the way she smiles at the carrot-headed bastard whose every limb you want to fucking break. Or, the way she hugs that scarred, spotty, bespectacled sop who can't be killed even if you went at him with a sledgehammer. You seethe in rage, wanting to claw their eyes out for even looking at her. Oh yes, jealousy is a bitch.

Sometimes you hate her. She may be the lowest in the line; but, she handles herself like a queen. How does she do it? Of course, being friends with Harry-fucking-Potter has its advantages: an automatic free pass into the do-gooding upper circles. She's never had her father wind up in prison. She's not the one who faced the impossible task of murder. Kill or be killed.

You see the pity in her eyes. "Fuck you," you say. You don't need pity. Not from a dirty little Mudblood. And, especially if said Mudblood is her. Thinking she's everything, parading in front of you like the goddess of every fucking virtue. You can't hold a candle to her and you know it. You don't like feeling worthless. In fact, you hate it.

So, yes, it should be easy for you to hate her. She goes against the grain. She stands for everything you detest… dirty, despicable little Mudblood that she is. But… you can't. You just can't hate her. It's impossible. And, you hate yourself for your weakness. You hate her. You hate her for making you weak.

Love is war. You either win or lose.

You hear her screams of pain as your aunt carves her pretty little hand. The metallic scent of fresh blood reaches your nose, and you want to curl up and rock yourself back and forth and just tell them to stop. You see her glimmer of tears as she lies like a ragdoll on the floor. Tortured. Broken. Ripped apart.

You want to shout, you want to cry, you want to snatch her away and take her to a place no one would find her. You want to beat at the floor, you want to rage, you want to crawl over to her and beg her for forgiveness for what's being done to her.

But, you can't. You're frozen in place, your heart an ice-pick in your chest. So cold. So fucking cold. It's not your fault. You were trained that way. The only warmth that ever thawed you was her. But, you never stood a chance.

"Why?" you ask. "Just her. Please. I don't want anything else."

But, you know you can't. The ravine cuts too deep. Blood. Family. Honour. Name. Slytherin. Gryffindor. Moon. Sun.

Pureblood. Mudblood. The beginning and the end. You. Her.

So, you stand. You see your aunt looming like a Black Widow, she being the helpless little fly. The hunter and the hunted.

And, you? You are the boy who watches in silence. You are the boy who caves into the demands of the world. You are the coward.

Love is love. But, sometimes it's not enough.

Word Count: 782

Listen to that song, it's a great accompaniment. And, please share your thoughts with me and review! They make my day.