There it was: angry voice, threats, rising temper. Anyone else might make a joke about her size, but he knew better than to push her... or he thought he did. He couldn't just not response, because no response meant he agreed, and then taking the time to tell her how he felt (some of how he felt, at least) would have been for nothing.
"If you want honesty, fine." He took a deep, exasperated breath, determined to show her just how pointless he thought this was even if he wouldn't vocalize it any further. "So," he started, taking a step backward to match—a safety precaution at this point. "When I went into third year, I was sad, alright? I was sad because you and everyone else were second years, and I was going into my OWL courses alone." That was before he'd been particularly close to Ned, and there wasn't even a question with Selwyn. "I didn't many other friends in third year, so I blindly picked all of my classes and I ended up hating most of them." Care of Magical Creatures was the exception, but it would be a lie to say he excelled in the class considering the amount of papers they'd written.
"So," he started again. "When all of you came to third year, I was... happy. I wanted you all in my classes, because, for one, I was awful at them, and being awful meant I was lonely in class. Just a bit." Merlin he could feel the heat rising up his neck. He couldn't bear to look at her; his eyes dropped to her shoulder. "And when you didn't want to take the same classes as me, I thought it meant that, Merlin—I don't know—that you didn't want to spend time with... me." He had to cringe—so pathetic.
"But of course I know that's not true now," he rushed, trying to recover whatever of his ego remained. She obviously hadn't wanted to spend time with him her third year, anyways, so unless she took that moment as a chance to dip on their friendship, he assumed they would have been close as ever that year. "We were on the same quidditch team and in the same house. We could have spent time together whenever. I realize, in hindsight, that I got the opposite of what I wanted by being an arse." And now she hated him, or would hate him if she didn't already.
He watched helplessly as she wiped tears from her cheek. She'd said he was heartbroken—what did that even mean? Was he supposed to pick up a cue from that? He felt something of a sob catch in his throat, but managed to stop it before he became the Most Pathetic Guy Sloane had ever met. Why couldn't he get this right?
"Think of you want of me for it." Whether that meant laughing at him or whatever. "Just tell me you'll accept it because it's the truth, whether you hate me now or not."
"If you want honesty, fine." He took a deep, exasperated breath, determined to show her just how pointless he thought this was even if he wouldn't vocalize it any further. "So," he started, taking a step backward to match—a safety precaution at this point. "When I went into third year, I was sad, alright? I was sad because you and everyone else were second years, and I was going into my OWL courses alone." That was before he'd been particularly close to Ned, and there wasn't even a question with Selwyn. "I didn't many other friends in third year, so I blindly picked all of my classes and I ended up hating most of them." Care of Magical Creatures was the exception, but it would be a lie to say he excelled in the class considering the amount of papers they'd written.
"So," he started again. "When all of you came to third year, I was... happy. I wanted you all in my classes, because, for one, I was awful at them, and being awful meant I was lonely in class. Just a bit." Merlin he could feel the heat rising up his neck. He couldn't bear to look at her; his eyes dropped to her shoulder. "And when you didn't want to take the same classes as me, I thought it meant that, Merlin—I don't know—that you didn't want to spend time with... me." He had to cringe—so pathetic.
"But of course I know that's not true now," he rushed, trying to recover whatever of his ego remained. She obviously hadn't wanted to spend time with him her third year, anyways, so unless she took that moment as a chance to dip on their friendship, he assumed they would have been close as ever that year. "We were on the same quidditch team and in the same house. We could have spent time together whenever. I realize, in hindsight, that I got the opposite of what I wanted by being an arse." And now she hated him, or would hate him if she didn't already.
He watched helplessly as she wiped tears from her cheek. She'd said he was heartbroken—what did that even mean? Was he supposed to pick up a cue from that? He felt something of a sob catch in his throat, but managed to stop it before he became the Most Pathetic Guy Sloane had ever met. Why couldn't he get this right?
"Think of you want of me for it." Whether that meant laughing at him or whatever. "Just tell me you'll accept it because it's the truth, whether you hate me now or not."
