I'm tired of being what you want me to be

She looks at him across the Great Hall. She can see the tension in his shoulders, and when he looks at her she can see the pain in his silver eyes. She knows that it’s her fault he is in pain. It's her fault that he acts the way he does. Granted he was the one who started it. He was the one who approached her, but it's her fault it fell apart.

It had started three months ago. He came to her when she was at her weakest; never expecting her to take him up on his offer. The look on his face had been priceless, but nothing compared to the look when she entered his rooms that night. She had lost something that night, and she blamed him for it. She never realized that she had gained something, too.

She blamed him for everything that went wrong. When her brother was attacked she blamed him, when Colin was taken she blamed him, when Mad-Eye Moody was killed she blamed him. She never took the time to find out that her brother survived because of him, that Colin escaped because of him, that he was the reason more of the Order didn’t die that night. No, she had to have him as the bad guy.

She even blamed him for not telling her. Never mind that she didn’t want to know about him or his life. No she only wanted one thing from him. She wanted, needed, him to be the bad guy. She needed him to be the one taking advantage of the situation.

She recalls the last conversation they had. Her yelling at him for not telling her. Him telling her that he wanted to, but knew she wouldn’t hear it. She remembers slapping him then telling him that he was the evil one in this relationship and not to try and push it on to her. She can still hear his words, “I’m tired of being what you want me to be, Gin. Don’t come back.” Then he had kissed her and left the room. She never saw the tears in his eyes (and even if she did she would have blamed him for being so weak).

She blames him now too. She blames him for the pain she feels, even though she knows the fault lies with her. She wants to go to him, but she won’t. She’ll blame that on him too, as soon as she can figure out how. She knows she needs him; he’s the only one that can set her free.

She looks at him from across the Great Hall and sighs. She knows, somewhere in her mind, that it’s her fault. It’s easier to blame him though so she does.

A/N: A challenge I found at Mynuet's livejournal. I don't own anyone mentioned above, and the line at the top is from Linkin Park's Numb. That's not mine either. The only thing I will claim are the mistakes...
The End.
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