Disclaimer: I don't own... Rowling does.
It's late at night. Very late.
I've ingested great amounts of coffee and a sleepless potion earlier tonight in order to study some more but, for maybe the very first time in a long time, I can't get myself to do just that.
My mind is spinning with thoughts, my heart confused with feelings and, at this unholy hour of the night, I can't even go to bed and sleep the hurt off due to the aforementioned coffee and potion I poured down my throat. So I find myself sitting here with no purpose and for that, I have you to thank.
See, I've always took pride in being a rational girl who listens more to her mind than ever to her heart. Feelings are treacherous little things we can't trust and the heart is weak and changing. The rational thought, on the other hand, is a reliable constant. I think and rationalize and the beat of my heart never wavers. And if my heart and mind were ever to become enemies, the latter would always be the victor…
…Until, you happened.
Now, Sir Cupid, I must ask: who gave you permission to point that faulty arrow of yours towards my person? You made me fall from my pedestal of knowledge. And I fell hard.
Not that I'd complain about your choice for the person you made me fall for; Ron has always been one of my best friends and though he is a bit too goofy, slightly oblivious, a great deal irresponsible and has no respect for rules nor studies, he still is a great person. Charming when he likes to be, good looking, loyal and brave and funny… and he has a promise in his smile.
Up to this point, I reckon it's all good and well…
…Except it's not.
'Cause if I fall, if I fall hard for an idiotic mess of a friend with eyes too blue, then he ought to fall for me too. That's the way it's supposed to go unless you don't do your homework. I'm sorry, Sir, but unrequited love is not a job well done.
And since you took liberty casting your love spell on me, then the logical course of action would have obviously been to take your next arrow and send it in my redhead's general direction. That simple, you'd have fulfilled the purpose of your existence. How do I know of said existence, you ask? Well, I read all about you in "Magical creatures: an encyclopedia", but that's beside the point. The point is, I'm losing sleep and, worst, valuable studying time over this and that just will not do.
I mean here I am, sitting in the common room, sleepless and restless, and it's so late it's actually early in the morning and yet, yet Ron is still not back from his nightly escapade.
And if, Sir Cupid, you're a blind creature with crap aim, don't think me blind as well. Nor stupid.
'Cause I see and I know what you did…I see the looks and the half smiles and Draco Malfoy? Seriously?
They don't even really fight anymore. As if to pretend, half jabs, almost insults and glares that are slightly leering.
All your fault.
And I saw it. I swear I did, the moment your invisible arrow planted itself into the slytherin's ass and he stopped mid curse, eyes wide. He blushed and spluttered in his words, all very uncharacteristic of a Malfoy. But then, this time around, you didn't forget to aim your next arrow on Ron, and next thing I know, his ears are red for something different from anger, eyes glazing and… and here he is, finally back, and it's daylight all ready and he has hickeys all over his neck and his lips are red and swollen and I hate him, I do but no, no, 'cause I love him. But you know that already, don't you? You made sure of it.
Well, Sir Cupid, rest assured; as soon as I'm finished with the S.P.E.W, I will start operation C.M.D.P: Cupid must die. Painfully.
And I will hunt you down and, once I catch you, shove that evil little bow of yours so far up your…Oh well, no need for vulgarity, just consider yourself warned.