He'll cause you to start asking yourself questions. You'll be sitting in the middle of Potions class, listening to Professor Slughorn ramble about hellebore and its many uses when suddenly, the first question will push its way to the front of your mind.

It's unexpected, startling you with an unpleasant jolt down the base of your spine, and you won't understand because it's never happened before. You can't decide whether or not you've been repressing the thought and it's always been there or if it's completely new.

But it will be there – that first question, the simple, annoying repeating question.

Why?

And then it will form into something more.

Why now? Why is he doing this? Why can't I concentrate? Why me? Why am I wasting my time obsessing over something like this?

However, you won't be wasting your time. Even though you'll insist that all of it is useless, stupid, and just too much to handle, it's still not a waste of time.

But you'll refuse to see that, for you're Head Girl and you're supposed to be confident, sure, and ready to handle whatever comes your way. You won't understand why something as trivial as this has got your knees shaking and your palms sweaty.

You never hesitate but for him, you will. You'll stop and freeze, stumbling on simple words you once knew so well. You'll forget how to breathe – what it is to take in a slow breath and relieve that dull ache in your chest. You'll notice that internal clock, ticking away, counting down the very seconds until you see him again.

You'll keep it a secret. When your friends start asking those questions you know so well, you'll lie. You'll deny it so flawlessly that they will believe you and, after they leave, an anxious breath will escape your lips but that ache only gets stronger.

And, for once in your life, you will have no answers. You won't know what to do anymore, what to say or even think, because those answers – the one you searched for all of those late nights in the library – they don't exist.

But that won't stop you. You'll try to search for those answers anyway, waiting patiently and pretending as if nothing is wrong when everything around you is falling apart. The only way out is to run.

You will try and you won't get very far. You'll barely take your first step before you falter and then turn to face your problem – your question. After insisting that he has all of the answers, you stand in front of him and wait for one answer – just one, you only needed one – that will allow you to breathe.

But you forget – he's only the question. Even though you expect an answer, he doesn't have one to give.

Introduction to Literary Analysis is very boring. This is the product of that boredom.

I rather like it. How about you?