Desire. Passion. Hatred. Madness.

Desire. Passion. Hatred. Madness. By MuffyTaj

She was beautiful.

How long had he been thinking that? Since fourth year . . . but he had wanted her before that . . . third year . . . since she had touched him, he had wanted her. Not in the romantic I-want-to-marry-you, nor in the I-want-you-to-go-down-on-me-NOW! No . . . it was a different kind of want. He wanted her to be his, to always see him, only him. To want to please him, be there for him. But she never saw him. Not as he saw her. And he had no idea why.

One day she would see him for what he was. She would see him, and know that she must be his. He wanted to make her want him, need him. He wanted her to be going crazy with desire. One day, she would want him. One day he would have her. He planned for that day to be soon.

No one wanted him. He had never been wanted; he had been lusted after, sought after, needed because they needed what he could give, those things he had all experienced. But never simple want. However, that was fair. He had never wanted, he had always simply taken.

He twisted around, looking for the only person that filled him with this strange feeling.

She was beautiful, innocent, happy . . . when she had appeared at the ball, out of his reach, and driving him crazy with primal desire . . . he had realised how passionate she was, what she could give him, what promises she held, wanted to make her sorry that she had slapped him, make her see things from his side - and it was then that he realised how far she was from him.

And he had hated her.

She was always surrounded by Potter and Weasley . . . there was no chance of him ever getting to her, and forcing her to see that he wanted her, and that she obviously (now she knew he liked her) wanted him too, with her two knights of armour slobbering over her knickers.

He had never believed that life doesn't give you everything, he had had everything, now he wanted one thing more. And he would have it.

He would have her in the face of his father, in the face of Potter and Weasley and all the Gryffindors, despite the fact that they came from different worlds, he would even have her despite herself.

She must feel the same way, there was no way she could not. He was powerful, rich, charismatic and handsome. He had all the girls drooling over him, surely she must feel the same way too? For a moment doubt shook him, but he quickly waved it away. There could be no way she could not.

She had been paying more attention to him lately; he had made sure of that. Sure, it was to yell at him, and to hate him more, but it was something.

He just wanted to see into her eyes . . . see her soul . . . see inside her . . . see how to make her beg him to take her. But there was never anything there, just rage and hatred. And . . . sadness.

There was always a hint of sadness, or was he just imagining it? No, it had to be there. She must be sad that he was so mean to her. He stared at her harder, hoping to see the sadness he was sure was there. But he got a reaction he was not expecting.

"What are you staring at Malfoy?"

"I'm not too sure about that Granger, but whatever it is, sure is ugly!"

Damn cow, why must she always react so? She should be glad that he was staring at her, glad that he had chosen her, but instead she was angry at him. It was a novel, and none too pleasant, experience for the young Malfoy. But not to worry, he would soon make her glad to receive even his glance.

"Looking in a mirror now Malfoy?"

"At least I can do so without it cracking Weasley."

As Ron flushed angrily, Malfoy turned back to Hermione.

When could he make her see? She must see soon, otherwise he might go crazy . . . tonight. He would make her see how he wanted her, needed her, tonight. All he had to do was lure her out. Make her vulnerable. Make her realise that he would keep her safe, make her his, make sure she was never anyone else's.

He would make her want him. It would not fail, it could not fail. She must be his.