You are viewing a story from harrypotterfanfiction.com
Little Rotten Heart by MagicalInk
Chapter 1: Shape Shift
[Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]
Once upon a time, I fell.
That is, literally speaking of course.
I've never been a person of metaphors.
There was actually only one person in the world that I ever met whom I considered to be worthy of a bath in sweet, sticky metaphors; the same person that lifted me up that day. The flower to my... rain. A spring-y, nice kind of rain.
Except that day was a winter one.
That only marked my luck of course, when the lake was freezing cold. And, I didn't know how to swim; lanky boy drowning, sharp breaths freezing his insides. And his thoughts.
I was a Gryffindor at heart. A big, nice heart. The whole lion appearance would've been too much ask for. Ungrateful me, lanky, unable-to-swim boy. Good looks never come with brains, except in her case of course. And that was majorly the reason why I picked the friends I had, to pull me up with their royal appearance.
They walked their heads high, laughing and smirking at the world, and I just went with the flow. Actually, it didn't flow all that greatly, me being the subject of their laughters. But it was fine, it was worth it, she was worth it. Thankfully, there was still Snivelus after all, far more lanky to mock.
It hurt sometimes, to think I actually had it all just to gain some more respect. But my flower was definitely worth it. And she had been there to pick me up when I really needed it. Again, literally speaking, if she hadn't been there I'd have drowned. But wasn't she the reason of my drowning?
Funny though, I should've been the one picking up the flowers.
It made me think back to the roots of all the madness. She had protected Snivelus, and he and I weren't that different really, picked on all the time because of the bookworming. She was a Gryffindor for her heart too, I could tell.
And so I just wanted to be with her since. But I couldn't let myself be picked on anymore for being a bookworm, even if it meant lying to her, hiding our similarities. It was all a survival thing really, and I couldn't get to meet her and marry her someday if I was dead. Even though I had recently learned of the existence of ghosts. I guess I just didn't consider it in the "living" definition.
So it seemed simple enough, fake not being that smart, hiding my brains. So I got my friends, who accepted a slow guy, not such fast thinkers themselves at the time.
It all went from there, the nice big hearted guy, being stupid and secretly asking for help from the nice big hearted smart girl to keep up with his classes' level. I knew she'd find it cute, and I'd just have time to admire her while she talked. I didn't actually need to listen to her after all. And all I needed was time, then I could be true.
I needed for her to like me, and just how many times I wanted to throw rocks at her window, for her to look down at me as she always did with her heart warming smile as I borrowed some metaphors from a fellow British dead mate. I should've borrowed my friend's brooms and just done it, fly up that tower and onto the skies, and just kiss her.
I actually secretly tried once, but sports were just not my thing. And then again, I fell.
I just needed time, for her to like the lanky frog and kiss me to become prince. Or taking the other version of my tale, reject him, only for him to show her his true colors and have our real happy ending. I wasn't all that happy with the whole "her throwing me at a wall" part of the story, but as long as we lived happily ever after all was well.
The only problem had been the secrecy of it all. I hid my bookworming so reading those romances became harder and harder, and I didn't know the value of the time I needed. Authors ramble so much about time, and they just waste yours. I shouldn't have lied, shouldn't have hidden it, should've simply told my friends we were made for each other, and not talk wonders of her.
Because while I hid my brains, my friends got some, probably just to compensate my 'lack thereof'. And they noticed her too. The flower of the winter.
So I just hurried, I needed to get her, I knew her best and they didn't know her at all. She couldn't swoon to them, she knew to look beyond the lion appearance and into the big nice hearts. But she didn't reject me, nor did she kiss me, she just smiled as I fell and got me out of the blood-freezing water.
I was her friend, her brother.
In the end and with time, she ended up liking James.
I remained frog. And with my nice big heart, I just helped my friends because they were all I had, and my shame was impossibly smaller with them than with Lily. I couldn't stand blushing by her side, I didn't want my cheeks to distract from her hair. I wished our reds would have melted together, in love and heart shapes, Gryffindor pride. But in addition to faking stupid, I was stupid.
I couldn't become prince, but I sticked to what I had, no brains whatsoever.
I remembered where it had all started, why I hadn't been true and why I hadn't gotten the flower of victory. What had made me choose that path where there was no turning back.
I woke up to reality and realized that in the current war for survival, I was in the wrong side.
And when the frog finally got to shape shift, I became a rat, little rotten heart.