Nope. Practiced it. Trying to look like my father. And, y'know, when you're a Slytherin you're not supposed to have weaknesses; it's dangerous. You become a walking target if you have weaknesses.
And I was SO not cute. Unless you mean in the way you were cute, as a kid. Too skinny, all hair sticking out every which way and these huge eyes made bigger by the glasses. You looked like an unkempt owl.
I hated you. And nothing you could have done would have made me hate you less. But I wanted you to like me. I always wanted you to like me. And it infuriated me that you didn't.
Well you weren't exactly likeable, you know. I wanted to like you. And I might have done, if it wasn't for the superior attitude, and the tendency to insult everyone I cared about.
My dad did that, and everyone kowtowed to him. I did that, and everyone I knew up to that point kowtowed to me. I was under the impression, when I was 11, that this was just "the way to be
( ... )
I just needed to know you were all right. Not just because you were The Savior Of The Whole Blah Blah Blah. But because you were at the heart of the resistance, you were the soul of the war effort, and as long as you were still alive, things made some kind of sense.
Argh, it's late, I'm not even sure I'm making sense anymore.
Well, that's not me. I'm not that great. I'm not the knight in shining armor you make me sound. I'm not strong, I'm not interesting, I'm not humourous, I'm not gentle, I'm not warm and caring. I'm kindof a jerk.
You are strong and interesting and humorous and gentle and warm and caring TO ME.
You might have been "jerk" enough to get mad at me for not checking up on you while you were sick. But what did you do while you were busy being mad at me? YOU BAKED ME A FRUITCAKE. Two, in fact.
Who you are to the rest of the world, I don't know. But I know the person you have been, the way you have acted, to ME. And that person is indeed a special person. Not a knight in shining armor - armor is cold and hard and impermeable. Just a person. Just a Harry. But a great Harry.
So stop arguing, lest I spank you.
You seem to feel more comfortable believing that the person I love is a symbol, an image, a falsehood. But that's not true. I love you. And you're just going to have to learn to deal with that.
I was rude. I forced myself on you when you wanted to be left alone. I've treated you badly, and more than once. I've been impatient when you needed patience, and a right bastard when you needed someone to look after you. In short, I am none of the things you think I am.
You've made mistakes. But you came and cleaned out my fridge and CLEANED UP MY VOMIT when I asked you to, even though I'd been rude and unkind to you earlier, even though you were mad at me. Not at all the actions of a right bastard! You're not perfect; I wouldn't want you to be, because then I'd have to be, and I wouldn't want that sort of pressure. But you're a good, warm, caring, loving person. Mistakes and all.
And I'm glad you forced yourself on me. And I'm glad you've made me accept you as you are, and thus led me to accept more of myself and my past than I could have before.
And I'm glad you're my friend. Warts and all. And I love you.
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And you had me mostly fooled. I thought that you just felt naturally superior and worldly.
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And I was SO not cute. Unless you mean in the way you were cute, as a kid. Too skinny, all hair sticking out every which way and these huge eyes made bigger by the glasses. You looked like an unkempt owl.
I hated you. And nothing you could have done would have made me hate you less. But I wanted you to like me. I always wanted you to like me. And it infuriated me that you didn't.
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Argh, it's late, I'm not even sure I'm making sense anymore.
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You might have been "jerk" enough to get mad at me for not checking up on you while you were sick. But what did you do while you were busy being mad at me? YOU BAKED ME A FRUITCAKE. Two, in fact.
Who you are to the rest of the world, I don't know. But I know the person you have been, the way you have acted, to ME. And that person is indeed a special person. Not a knight in shining armor - armor is cold and hard and impermeable. Just a person. Just a Harry. But a great Harry.
So stop arguing, lest I spank you.
You seem to feel more comfortable believing that the person I love is a symbol, an image, a falsehood. But that's not true. I love you. And you're just going to have to learn to deal with that.
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And I'm glad you forced yourself on me. And I'm glad you've made me accept you as you are, and thus led me to accept more of myself and my past than I could have before.
And I'm glad you're my friend. Warts and all. And I love you.
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