Chapter 6: Cogent Charade

It's that time of year again.  Mum and dad have gotten the tree up, and it's been beautifully decorated with garlands, ornaments, and lights. Snow is lightly falling outside, and already a dozen carollers have rung our doorbell and bellowed their merry tunes.

I don't know why, but somewhere along the way, Christmas has lost its magic for me. With each passing year, it has become increasingly evident that it is just a charade. At the end of the day, when the celebration finishes, we all go back to normal. When the clock strikes twelve, even the most beautiful dress becomes tattered rags, and the most elaborate carriage turns out to be but a pumpkin. The lonely still ignored, the problems still so big there's no way to patch them up. 

I sit here, on my window ledge. Looking down, looking at the neighbours, two muggle children happily playing in the snow. The sister makes a snow angel, and the brother makes a snowman. They are so happy, so ignorant, so innocent. Do they know what is happening? Will they be the Dark Lord's next victims?

I know so much, but I'd rather not know at all. I should be worrying about Harry, should be helping him figure out what Dumbledore's lessons mean, should be ignoring everything else and just playing the perfect part. I'm so sick of being the sidekick, of being the perfect one, the 'brains' of the Golden Trio. 

So many shoulds, but all I do is keep finding myself thinking about him. Malfoy. He hadn't made a single offensive comment at me for two years now.  Ever since fourth year, it's like he's become somebody else. Quieter. More serious. More...burdened. I can't help wondering, what's happened? Could Harry possibly be right? Could he really be a death eater? If only I were braver, if only I could just ask.

Sometimes, I think he catches me staring at him. Something quickly flickers in his eyes, disgust, understanding? Who am I kidding. Understanding of my need to know what is bothering him? Of my need to be a nosy know-it-all? Yeah right. But always, before I can place the emotion, it disappears. His face becomes as stony as before, and whatever expression his eyes may have betrayed disappears. His gaze becomes glassy obsidian once again. 

Sometimes, I think he wants somebody to ask him. Just so he can finally tell somebody what he's feeling. I long to be that somebody. 

But we both know that I won't. I must keep playing my part perfectly. Be the best actress. Even if I am no longer able to tell what is a lie and what is really me.

Like Christmas, I am a charade.

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Oh gosh. That was pretty depressing. And basically all over the place. It's okay, even I think so. Sorry, but I've just had a pretty horrid day, so excuse this pathetic post. By the way, I like the new layout of GU, but could somebody perhaps change some of the colours? It's a little hard to read. 

Grace