Disclaimer: These characters belong to the lovely and talented J.K. Rowling. I do not own them.
Oh the things I would do if I did own Draco Malfoy...

Reviews are greatly appreciated! I may doa follow up on this one from Parvati's point of view, but I haven't decided yet.

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Pretty Little Parvati Patil.
You sicken me.
With your Gryffindor bravery, your typical teenage girl mentality, your stupid girlish habits, and the fact that you choose to be friends with muggle-borns. Especially that damned Granger, who is one of those obnoxious bitches who knows everything about everything, and knows that she knows everything about everything.
I have to tell myself these things about you. I have to make myself hate you. Slytherins aren't supposed to love Gryffindors.
I'm not supposed to care about you. I know this is how the world works.

So I hate you instead. I say cruel things to you, things that make you angry, things that make you hate me and go cry to your best friend, Lavender Brown. I think maybe you do hate me sometimes.
Because maybe, maybe if you hated me, it would be easier for me to get rid of these feelings for you. Maybe if I pretended to hate you, then I'd start believing it. Maybe I would forget how I feel whenever I'm around you and how I just want to kiss you midsentence and undo all this not-doing in one small gesture.
It is doubtful, but maybe, just maybe, I can pretend. You know, it isn't so hard for me to pretend anymore.
I pretend that things aren't this way. I pretend that my father isn't a Death Eater. I pretend that I won't follow in his footsteps. I pretend that we aren't on opposing sides when it comes to these matters. I pretend that I fell in love with you when I first saw you. I pretend that when I fuck Pansy, it's you, and instead of just raw fucking with Pansy, you and I are making love.

You silly girl, you have no idea what you do to me.
You are constantly in my thoughts and I cannot concentrate in Potions because you sit right in front of me. So close that I could reach out and touch you.
I actually took Divinations this year. Not because I wanted to be in the class, but rather, to be in there with you.
You have almost a passion for that class, and you're incredibly bright when it comes to this apparent "inner eye"
I'm pathetic. Not just in terms of my Divination grade, but because I took the class to be closer to you.
I want to scream in your face sometimes. I know exactly what I'd say if I did.

The truth is, I don't hate you, you stupid, stupid girl.
I don't hate you at all.
It's easier for me to feel that way about myself.
The truth is, I think you're beautiful.

I watch you. You've caught me staring every now and then, but you probably didn't think much of it.
I know that you almost always sit with Lavender when we eat in the Great Hall. If it isn't Lavender, then you sit with Dean or Seamus. I know that you despise Pansy Parkinson. (and in a way, I'm starting to as well) I know that you always roll your uniform skirt up, but when McGonagall walks by, you roll it back down. I know that you have a butterfly hairclip, as well as many others, that McGonagall refuses to let you wear to her class. I know that you wear them anyway. I know that you went to the Yule Ball in third year with Harry Potter. I know that I hate Harry Potter, and I have never hated him more than when he walked into the Great Hall with you on his arm that night. I know that I hated him even more when he wouldn't dance with you,
but sat there making eyes at Cho Chang instead. I know that I wanted to ask you to dance more than anything that night, but Pansy would not leave my side. I know that you left with a Beauxbatons boy at the end of the night, and I desperately wanted it to be me instead.
I know a lot about you, Miss Patil, and I notice more things than you'd think.

I wonder why I always think this way.
Love is a stupid, useless emotion, but if such an idiotic thing were to exist, maybe this would be it. Then I realize that I am lying to myself because my feelings are not returned by you. It becomes less of this apparent "love" feeling, and more of an obsession.
Well, yes. I suppose I am obsessed with you, Parvati Patil.

I'm tired of lying to myself about this.
I'm not sure if I can tell you the truth.
I need more options.
I'm lying to you in so many actions, and I don't know what the fuck is going on.
I've done this so often that it is hard to draw the line between what is the truth and what isn't.
It's like one of our inside jokes, only it isn't funny.
It would be funny, if it wasn't my heart.