Isn't it Ironic

The first thing I see when I wake up every morning is a whole lot of stinkin’ red. Red masses of puffy, curly hair (on good days it resembles a mop).

It really only succeeds in making my skin look frecklier (is that a word?) and paler than it would if I was a brunette. (I’m sure.)

Or better yet, a blonde.

A blonde with blue-green eyes and Slytherin robes in particular.

God, some days, I wake up and I close my eyes as tight as a I can and I just wish I could look in the mirror and see long, straight blonde hair and perfect eyebrows and porcelain skin. I wouldn’t be a bitch about it, the way that she is--strutting around campus like she owns every person on it.

Well, really, who knows what I would be like if I were attached to his arm the way she always is…Really, he’s got the most “holier than thou” attitude of anyone I’ve ever met. Sometimes it grates on my last nerve, it really does, seeing him flying around the quidditch field with that sneer plastered on his face, his pale hair falling into his eyes just the slightest bit, his toned body at its athletic best…Well all I can say is that it’s pretty obvious he bought his way onto the team.

Really.

It is.

And I can’t stand the way he can have whoever he wants and he chooses that little, snotty leech to drag around by the arm all day. No, I take that back--he couldn’t have whoever he wanted. He does get whatever he wants, materialistically speaking of course, but person-wise? No…the majority of the school sees him as a stuck up little rich boy with misplaced morals.

I don’t see him in quite the same way.

God, if only I had just an hour to talk to him without the pre-set hatred that goes on between our families.

If I could just be her for one day…To have him look at me without disgust in his eyes and without me automatically reaching for my hair in some vain attempt to pat it down and make me look a good foot shorter.

Am I rambling? Ah--I always seem to ramble when I know exactly what I want to say.

What would I say to him if I had an hour?

Maybe something like, I love the way you don’t express any emotion with your face, like when you’re mad you just sneer (but you do that when you’re happy too, I think) but your eyes, they cloud over, or they sparkle, and it seems like I know exactly what you’re thinking.

Well really, it seems like I know you so much better than I actually do.

I can’t even imagine you ever finding this and reading it--Bloody hell, maybe I should just stop now and burn this…the thought itself is giving me goose bumps. What names would you call me if you only knew?

I’d like to think that deep down you’re a real person. That even with that mysterious, dark-side vibe you’re always giving off, you like to have fun sometimes too. That life isn’t all about being better than everyone else and trying to impress your family. I know you want your father to think that you’re something special--I’ve seen the way you look when he says something negative to you.

I think you’re something special.

Here’s the thing…I know we are so different, and we can never be together (first because I think you only know my last name, second because you do know my last name. Does that make sense?)

The truth of the matter is, you’ll always be on a different level that me. A whole different ball game. (What?)

I know that, and I accept it.

I do.

But I can’t help but have this feeling deep down in the back of my redheaded brain that keeps telling me if I just got to know you, I could really get to care for you. I want you to look at me the way you look at those older Slytherin girls. I want you to look at me, period.

Why is it that I am repulsed by that dark mark on your arm, but at the same time I feel like if I touched it, I could make it go away?

You seem changeable.

Like you’re life isn’t something you always wanted it to be. I don’t know.

But I care.

I do.

And I just want to get a chance to care about you and a chance to hope that you are caring about me.

Maybe someday when Hogwarts is just a memory for me, after we’ve both graduated and I’ve gotten a job in the Ministry and you’re lurking around, blackmailing people or making sneaky deals…maybe I’ll get that chance.

For now, I can only hope that the next time you pass me in the halls you maybe glance towards me, please. I promise I wont start stalking you or trying to turn you into a good little gryffindor.

Give me a chance--really, maybe you could even learn to love me.

I know it seems completely crazy and out of character for me…but I have to confess something. Sometimes, only a few days of the year, when I’m feeling really stressed mostly, but not very often at all…Actually maybe only once or twice ever…I’ve wished that I had a certain scar on my forehead. That bloody Potter gets everything he’s ever wanted and hasn’t deserved while I stand back and watch.

And I deserve it.

I do.

I haven’t associated with anyone of muggle descent, I haven’t been contaminated by being near a Weasley. Although just last week I did have a close call, passing the girl in the hallway. I don’t know her name; they honestly have far too many kids for me to be expected to keep track of them. She isn’t even my year.

But god, she has all this bloody red hair. It’s everywhere! It’s the only thing a person notices when they look at her, I’m sure…it’s hard to be distracted by a sprinkling of freckles or a petite frame when all that hair is yelling at you, blinking like a neon road-sign…But I’m getting ahead of myself. The only reason Weasleys are worth having around is to deal with muggles, and therefore keep them far away from my family and the like.

So there are the Weasleys to keep muggles away; what are there to keep Weasleys away? I don’t think she should be allowed to walk in the same hallways as me.

Honestly, shes so open about everything and open to everyone. I bet, if I gave her the chance, she’d even be nice to me.

No, I take that back.

The gryffindors hate me(they’re just jealous) and always will.

Not that it bothers me.

The little redhead with the flaming attitude…why should I care if she doesn’t look at me the way she looks at Potter? Pouting her lips and going all glassy eyed…not that I’ve noticed.

But Potter, really, he has this affect on the girls at Hogwarts and I cant for the life of me figure out why…I’m richer, better looking, smarter…and I’m not saying I don’t have my own little fan club (because I do, and it definitely doesn’t include any Weasleys) but mine isn’t quite up to par with Potter’s (and believe me, it hurts to admit that.)

But I don’t care.

I don’t really care about one bloody girl and what she thinks of me. What could she possibly think of me? I’m sure she’s grown up despising my family name. So why is it that she seems to look at me with….I don’t know, admiration? At times, it seems like she does.

Or is it fear?

She should fear me. She would fear me, I think, if she knew what I truly was. Or would she? The same girl that doesn’t fear the half giant, that’s actually faced the dark lord and survived without permanent mental damage (I think).

Is she really scared of anything?

The truth is, I’m scared of something. I’m scared of the fact that in the great hall, I search the crowd for a glimpse of red. I’m scared because I cant explain why, in the halls, I glance at each girls face looking for green eyes and a splash of freckles.

I’m bloody terrified every time I wake up, and look in the mirror, and feel disappointment at seeing the lack of scar on my way-too-ghostly-pale forehead.

I’m literally scared to death that the Weasley girl will notice the way I look at her, and equally petrified that she won’t.