“Do you think you’re the only one? Trust me, none of us just want to survive.”
His voice was bitter and despite wanting to, Ron wasn’t sure whether he was actually capable of speaking in any way nicer at that very moment. Other than Gladion, most people didn’t have the chance to pretend to be on You-Know-Who’s side and be safe. Someone like Ron and his family and his friends and anyone who wasn’t a Slytherin was in so much danger for simply existing – which, if you asked him, was even less than surviving.
“Listen, mate, I’m sure it sucks a lot being a Slytherin who isn’t a Death Eater and doesn’t want to be one, but at least you can pretend and nobody’s gonna question it. Yeah, it’s horrible, but other than most people, you’re not on the list of potential victims.”
There were dark eye bags under his eyes, threatening to swallow him up whole from sleepless nights, the charm to hide them having long ago worn off. There was a flash of anger in his chest at the bitter tone. He already knew he was in a better position then most. From his blood all the way to his green tie he was privileged. As long as he kept up the act he would live, but that wasn't truly living in his eyes. Nor did it stop the need to lash out, having found that as the year progressed he grew easier to anger.
"Yes because knowing that i'm pretending makes me feel so much fucking better!" The curse sounded strange in Gladion posh accent, it would have been funny if Gladion didn't look so frazzled.
"I loooove the fact that the few friends from other houses I have especially the muggle-born ones flinch when they see me. Love having the rest of the school look down on me with poorly hidden disgust or fear or the fact that I have to spout out how much I can't wait to graduate so I can murder said friends and their whole families! Really makes the bond between us stronger doesn't it?" His last words were spat out, dripped heavily in sarcasm, lips curled in a nasty sneer.
