Stronger Chapter Two

Stronger

By: Provocative Envy

OOO

CHAPTER TWO

I watched as she threw her head back and laughed, the throaty chuckle carrying all the way over to my table. Her friends were clutching their sides, gasping for air as they attempted to go on with their meal.

I hated that they could be so effortlessly happy; I hated that they could waltz around and pretend they didn’t know they were envied; I hated the way they walked, the way they talked.

But mostly, I hated their perfection.

It was as if I was the classic, stereotypical bully, destined to be the fulfiller of tragedies while they sailed into the sunset, giggling and triumphant. They came out victorious in literally everything they did: Weasley was the glorious sidekick, his antics providing the comic relief and ensuring his survival; Granger was the genius, adept at being smarter than everyone else and being unafraid to flaunt it; and Potter was the nauseatingly brave, emotionally scarred hero, his stupid glasses and his penchant for stultifying spontaneity earning him the reverence of an entire society.

They were classic models of the various stages of adolescent maturity, their normalcy doing nothing but enhance their sickly sweet images.

Pansy had never fully understood the extent of my detestation; she disliked the three of them, but in the cold, impersonal way that the average Slytherin hates the average Gryffindor. She resented the publicity they were rewarded with, but only out of dispassionate envy.

My abhorrence went beyond mere formalities.

It consumed me, tore apart any semblance of sanity I may have possessed; it was into the realm of unhealthy extremities, far past the voracious jealousy that had spurred it to begin with. I wanted each and every one of them to know the humility that had been heaped upon me, to feel with every fiber of their being the degradation I’d endured. I wanted them to torture themselves with unattainable goals, tease themselves with impossible revenge.

I wanted them, for just a second, to be me; I was in love and unsatisfied. I woke up every morning to real life, and nothing was more painful.

Or more beautiful.

My nights were spent in a curious sort of Hell, the pleasure of it all coming up short against the pure agony that was her silence; my days were spent choking back my rage, forcing down the wild abandon that I wanted to succumb to.

I had no release for the frenzy of unpleasantness that I was trapped in. I had no one to save me from myself, no one to pick me up after the fall.

But they, they, had everyone and anyone. They weren’t stuck in an irreversible web of treachery they couldn’t untangle themselves from.

They weren’t too weak to bother trying.

I turned my attention to Pansy, allowing her senseless chatter to permeate my thoughts with its impervious neutrality.

“I’m going to get my Charms book, alright?” I finally interjected, waving to Crabbe and Goyle that I would be fine by myself. I sighed as I crossed the Great Hall, plastering a mask of pinched superiority across my face. When I reached the corridor, I noticed with distaste that the three people who plagued me incessantly were standing in a circle and continuing their witty banter.

“No, so she looks at me, with those massive eyes, and sort of blinks – oh, come off it, you know what I mean, that whole creepy ‘Stare of the Seer’ thing – and then she says the best one yet,” Potter was practically gushing, his own laughter inaudible next to that of this companions.

“Well isn’t this a heartwarming picture,” I drawled, crossing my arms over my chest and smirking.

“How odd,” Granger mused. “I could have sworn I’d heard something. Must’ve just been a nightmare.”

“What’s a nightmare is that they’ve allowed people like you to stay in this school,” I said shortly, aching to pick a fight.

“Oh, you mean those of us who actually know what we’re doing?” she asked lightly, her jaw set angrily.

“No. I mean those of you who don’t belong here,” I responded, reaching into my robes for my wand as Potter and Weasley glared menacingly and did the same.

“Harry, don’t be stupid,” I heard her plead with the raven-haired superman.

“He’s going to pay for every little thing he’s ever said to you,” he told her, taking a step forward.

“We’re not doing this again, are we?” I inquired, feigning boredom.

“No, this time we’re going to finish it,” Potter answered harshly, pointing his wand at my chest.

Wordlessly, I backed up, taking a dueling stance and waiting for him to make a move. Instantaneously, a flash of light was shot at me; I swerved out of the way just in time. Furiously, I muttered a curse under my breath and aimed it at Potter.

As if in slow motion, I saw him duck, saw the horrorstricken expression on Granger’s face as she realized too late what was about to happen. Her shriek of surprise was cut off by the force of the spell that hit her: she flew backwards, her body slamming against the wall behind her with a crunch that made us all wince.

There was abrupt silence in the narrow hallway, broken only by the sound of my laughter.

“Potter,” I gasped, wiping tears of mirth from my eyes, “that was classic. The irony kills me. You took up a duel to fight for her honor and probably got her slaughtered in the process. Must say you’re really very excellent at protecting people.”

Much to my consternation, the two boys were ignoring me; they had immediately raced to the girl’s side, looking worried. Weasley scooped her up in his arms and mumbled something to Potter; a second later, the redhead was racing in the opposite direction, undoubtedly headed for the hospital wing.

Potter didn’t follow for a moment, allowing his gaze to wander over to me, that shrewd grimace taking in my amusement. With a snort of contempt, he turned on his heel and ran after Weasley.

I traipsed contentedly to my dormitory, collecting my book and thinking I’d find Pansy and tell her about my accidental prevalence. On my way back to the Great Hall, a weak shout drew my attention to a small figure slumped on the floor, moaning.

Curious, I approached the boy and flipped him over, noticing the dark purple bruises littered across his cheeks and the sorry state of his robes. Clearly, someone had beaten him to within an inch of his life.

“Do you need some help?” I questioned him cruelly, perversely enjoying my brief few minutes of power.

He groaned, opening his swollen eyes and regarding me unsteadily. With some effort, he nodded and fell back down.

“How unfortunate that I’m the one to find you, then,” I replied, dropping him and kicking him to the side.

I whistled all the way back to lunch.

OOO