Stolen Love

I wake up in the morning, to put on my face, the one that's gonna get me through another day, doesn't really matter what I feel inside, this life is like a game sometimes... "Naked" by Avril Lavigne

She wants him.

Oh god, she wants to feel his slender, tan fingers touch her face, his vermilion lips grace hers, to be able to run her hands through his ebony, messy hair.

Her heart pounding, she watches him with steady emerald eyes, hidden by a desk that obscures her view. She moves, wanting to watch him breathe in and out for all of eternity, yet she knows she cannot.

She trembles as he dips his quill into the ink jar quivers with sensuality as he begins to write. If only she knew what he was writing about, perhaps she would not quaver so.

And suddenly Hermione is there, her flirtatious, bustling self taking up precious space and air, and

Millicent feels sick to her stomach as she watches that little whore stick her tongue inside Harry's mouth, cherished Harry whom she has watched for so long now. Clutching her stomach, her throat has closed up and she can no longer breathe. She cannot watch him anymore, watch the daring Boy-Who-Lived snog with another girl, worst of all, that little slut who has also managed to catch Head Girl position, no she cannot stand it.

But now is his hands are going up Hermione's shirt, and she knows she is going to vomit now.

She stands suddenly, but the two take no notice. Her forest green eyes fill with tears as they begin to fumble with each other's clothing. Leaning against the wall, she wonders why she is watching her love exchange saliva with another girl, that minx. Now Hermione's shirt is going off and she begins to run.

People mutter to her, "Stop running you're inside!" But she can't hear them all she can hear is Harry's heavy breathing, Hermione's moan of delight as Harry - stop thinking about it, she chastises herself, wanting to be able to block out her vision forever. To have been blind only a few minutes ago would have felt like heaven, to have been blind and deaf she would have said God had blessed her. But no, God has not blessed her, he has cursed her with an image that will stay burned into her mind for all of infinity.

She is out of the library now, an area that she once relished, where she could bury her past and troubles into the dirt and read about someone else's problems. Coming out of her fantasy has always been quite difficult for her and now the door is sealed shut, never to enter it again.

She does not know where to go, but she knows if Draco sees her she will die. He will demand more, and she will have to give in, give in to the prince of Slytherin, the man whom will become the next Dark Lord. If she does not, the word of her disobedience will get out, and she will be punished harshly by her parents. They do not care that their daughter is not a virgin, has not been for nearly four years, just as long as she does Malfoy's bidding.

She does not want to think of that slime ball, Malfoy, and instead that awful scene floods her mind again, and the world becomes a steady blur as she runs, sprints outside and stops, panting heavily.

No, she doesn't want to hear her own breathing. She does not want to hear the pounding of her heart beating inside her chest, just wants to die. Die and maybe Harry will realize what he has done.

She heads out to the lake, and sits by a tree watching the water lap up against the shore. Timeless, it repeats itself over and over and - she vomits swiftly over to the side of her leg. Wiping her mouth with a slender hand, Millicent stares at the sky waiting for lightning to strike her so that she may die. She would rather die then live knowing that she will never have Harry.

She fumbles for her pocketknife, a Muggle invention that she found on the streets one day, and opens it up, staring at her wrists. Perhaps this is the time, perhaps it is time to go but then-

"Hello, my pretty," Draco has crept up on her and she jumps. Before he notices, she slips the knife back into her pocket and pulls her lips apart in an attempted smile.

"Hello, love," she replies and wonders if that was really her voice, if she really just said that. He is not her love, will never be, and she would rather say good-bye forever to that asshole.

"I've missed you," he whispers and before she can defend herself, his hands have slipped down her shirt, pulling it apart. She shivers in the sudden cold, wishing Malfoy would just go away.

Now he's pulling down her skirt and she can't move. She doesn't want this, but maybe if she closes her eyes and imagines...it can be Harry....

Draco leans in for the kill, and he is all over her, exploring her - but what is there to explore? The question pops into her mind. He knows about every inch on my body, she conceives, and suddenly she pushes Draco away.

"What's wrong with you, baby?" His voice is muffled by her flesh. "Don't like being fucked outdoors?"

His voice is harsh, and she shudders at the cruelty and mockery that it holds. No, she does not like being fucked at all but there is nothing she can do. She cannot stop him and even if he tried, she could end up being worse then dead. Although death right now seems to be the only option for her...

His tongue is in her mouth but she does not want it there. His hands are caressing her chest, and he is making love to her but it is not real love, just lust and it hurts. Please leave me alone, she prays.

He suddenly stands up. "Well, I'll be seeing you tonight, now shall I?" He winks, but it is not in jest. "Might want to work on it a bit, not very fulfilling today."

He looks away, and sees Hermione and Harry locking lips passionately near the Forbidden Forest. He scowls. "Scumbag," he mutters and walks away, leaving her there. She fumbles for her shirt, her clothing, throws her robe over her body so that no one will see that her shirt has been torn apart. Her lips are swollen, her body throbbing, yet she does not feel a thing except a sharp pain to her stomach like a dagger. Worse then a dagger.

No, Malfoy will not be seeing her tonight.

* * * *

She is back in the Slytherin dormitory. The only class that she has today, Defense Against the Dark Arts, has been forgotten as she stares out the window where Potter and that bawd are now making love in a garden. In the same garden where she and Draco had made love - if it could be called that - she realizes, feeling sickened. The same bench, oh god, if only it was her with Harry and that stupid slut with Draco perhaps the world could be at right again...but it cannot be.

It is more than just a simple division of the Houses, or that Gryffindor and Slytherin are arch-enemies, no it is because her family, the Bulstrodes is a clan of Death Eaters and followers of the Dark Lord, the Potters - when they lived - had been fighting against Lord Voldemort, and...her parents had been responsible for the death of Harry's parents, the realization makes her queasy but nothing comes up, she must keep it down now because someone is coming upstairs, in fact it is two someones.

Pansy Parkinson walks in, her hand around the ivory wrist of another - Malfoy, and Millicent gets up to leave.

"Oh don't leave us, Millicent, come join us!" Malfoy laughs as he sits on the bed, Pansy on his lap, his hand on her derriere.

She shakes her head. "Study..." she whispers and trails off; she can't find the words to tell Malfoy what she means.

"Well then you can watch us - perhaps you could get some tips!" Now his laughter his sadistic but serious. He wants her to watch.

"Must go to the...the...." and she bolts out before either of them can stop her. She would rather stab her eyes out then watch them go at it...

It feels as if somebody, some unknown demon, is hammering her head with titanium the way it has suddenly begun to pang. She turns a corridor and slams into Professor Snape.

"Not watching where we are going, now are we, Miss Bulstrode?" His voice is cold but somehow comforting. He is not Crabbe or Goyle or Zabini or not somebody else who will try to fuck her, she has been through enough today.

She cannot help herself, the tears are suddenly streaming down her face, and she has begun to cry a river. A river of crystal, priceless tears.

"Miss Bulstrode-" Snape realizes that she is crying and gently asks, "What's wrong?"

"Oh god," she sobs and she flings herself at the Potions master a man she has loathed for six and a half years.

Snape awkwardly pats her back and whispers, "It'll be all right, it'll be all right."

"But that's exactly it, it can't be all right and it won't ever be all right it's too late, I've been damned since I was born," the words are falling out of her mouth and she cannot not stop them. "And-" She cannot continue and hiccoughs loudly.

"Tell me what happened, Millicent." He says and pulls away from her to look the girl in the eye.

"I can't. Good bye, Professor Snape," and she walks away from him, wiping away her salty tears.

It is time, she realizes sadly and walks into an abandoned classroom. Classes are over, no one should be in here until Monday, two days away, and no one will find her...

After locking the door, she sits on a desk and pulls out her knife. She is not afraid, for she fears life more than death, and grimacing, pulls the knife across her left wrist. The cut is deep but she feels no pain, and she brings the blade down on her other wrist. Rich, dark blood spills out and she stares at it.

The world begins to spin and she knows her time is fading. She closes her eyes and waits for when her heart will beat no more.... her senses leaving her, she does not hear the door unlock and open.

She slowly crumbles to the ground. "I love you Harry," she calls out using her strength although she thinks no one is there. "And this if for you..." Please God, she prays, Let me into Heaven, and the world darkens...

A faint voice gasps. "Oh my gosh...what have I done?'

Although she is slipping away quickly, Millicent has a sudden feeling as if...as if she will not die...