Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Breathe	By : ravenclawannie Category: Harry Potter > FemSlash - Female/Female Views: 6910 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters. I do not make any money off of this story whatsoever.

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Hi all! This is my first fan fiction that I have written in about 8 years or so, so I would love reviews! I will keep the chapters coming!

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            She was tired. So very tired. Perfection was hard, it was an art form. One that she tried to perfect day in and day out. At three o’clock in the morning she would collapse on the bed and her eyes would slam closed.

            Her restless sleep was filled with endless hallways. She would sprint down toward the end, not knowing what was there, whether she was running toward it or running away from whatever was at the other end.

            She knew that she wasn’t good enough for her to conquer what she had taken on, but had no one to admit it to. She was beautiful, popular, insanely intelligent, sweet, charming, charismatic, and tired. Only she knew that she was an imposter, that in reality she was none of these things, simply a terrific actress.

            And she couldn’t help but hating them all for believing the lies.

            She awoke at six in the morning, no alarm, no waking spell, no birds chirping at the window. Just the knowledge inside her that she had no other choice but to arise. It was time to begin her morning beauty routine, so that no one would be able to see her without her face. She slunk down to the bathroom and ran the water steaming hot from the shower taps. Her delicate skin would turn red from the heat, but there was no other way to become clean. It still wasn’t good enough.

            After the water soaked her jet black hair, after her perfect body was scrubbed raw, she emerged from the shower and performed a quick drying spell. No time for the luxury of waiting in her world, only rush in everything she did.

            Madame Alexandria’s Art Kit turned her face from ordinary to beautiful. The riches in her family allowed her to be perfect, which was good because they expected no less. Her almond eyes lined in black, her lids painted smoky in order to try and portray a sultry wisdom in which she knew that none existed. Her lips were the perfect pink of innocence that would shine all day.

            She bolted to the Great Hall so that she could ingest just the right amount of food. She knew that every bite would be scrutinized, that all the girls of the Ravenclaw tower would look to her for guidance in this matter, so they would know what was expected of them in the morning. Her meal was complete, and she carefully blotted her lips before glancing at her watch.

She only had thirty minutes until her next lesson, and she knew that her protection charms were nowhere near the level that they needed to be at. She hustled to the Charms corridor, being sure to dole out plenty of smiles, winks, and hugs to her closest friends along the way. Her brain briefly paused on the word friends. Did friends truly exist in her world? Sure, there was Marietta, the only person she dared to allow near to her, and that was simply due to the girl’s simple brain. She was smart enough, sure, when it came to her classes, but there was no depth to her at all. And of course, there was Harry. After Cedric’s death she was drawn to him.   But he only knew what he wanted to know, and she only showed what she wanted to show, with the exception of that horrible afternoon before Christmas, when her mask began to melt and he began to see. She gulped at the thought and forced herself to cleanse her brain. There was no time for this. She had to study.

Charms had been awful. Her throat had filled with bile at the thought of her performance. Sure, Flitwick had gushed at her spells, proclaiming her the best in the class, but it simply was not good enough. She rushed out of the class before anyone could grab her, knowing that she did not have the strength to talk.

There, in the hallway, ready to start her next class was Hermione Granger. The one person she couldn’t stand to see above all others at that moment. The one person she envied above all others. The person to which it came so naturally, and the one person who could not see it. A brain that knew everything, that absorbed knowledge like a sponge, and craved it, too. A pure heart that did not hold malice, that was able to see others with such clarity and truth, and know the good in them. And the love that surrounded her like a halo, the ginger haired boy who was captivated by her every move, the bespeckled boy her knew her inside and out, who loved her dearly, and whose friendship was unrelenting.

She was going to be sick.

Her feet carried her to the second floor, where she knew she would find an abandoned corridor and a little solitude. She just needed to gain a little composure, she told herself. Regain herself. She sank to the floor, her bag crashing beside her, threatening to break with the responsibilities contained within it.

She fought back the tears that she did not allow to exist in her, but that would not leave her alone. She was tired, exhausted, and knew that she would never be good enough. She eyes closed while the visions of failure swam beneath them. And sleep captured her, and she could not put up much of a fight.
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