Left For

Left For

~

I stalk her.

I taunt her.

Everything for her

In my sick and twisted way

I am everything to her

Her life in my hands

Her life made into nightmare

But the only way to be

If I am to be there

I'm weak, not on form now, alone.

My goons gone. My friends vanished, like the typical Slytherins they are. More fairweather than the clouds themselves.

There is only her.

And my former self.

I still have it good enough to push the button I know is hidden under her calm facade.

She slaps me because even when I'm bad at what I do what I said was was just enough to provoke a response.

It was really all I wanted, her flesh against my flesh, stark and harsh like my feelings for her and my contrasting words spoken to her.

I don't care about the pain, I want it to last, to never stop because even the pain is heavenly coming from her. That she'd cared enough to hit me, to not ignore me like everyone had taken to.

That no else was enough, to fill me up, it didn't matter if it was love or hate. She was both for me, pure passion - which way it went I didn't care as long as she had it.

I took arithmancy to be with her. I knew she would take it. Other than her intelligence she 'd also checked out nearly all the books in the library related to it over the last several years.

It was her favourite.

It didn't matter what it was to me, only what she was to me.

Infact I'd read with awe the numbers of books she'd gotten through and I'd even checked out as many out myself as soon as they came back, just to scour the pages she'd touched, fresh from her.

iId linger on them, taking it in and wondering which she'd liked best, what she'd found difficult, where she'd spent most time. What she actually cared about that I could share almost like I shared it with her, though she'd never know it.

She was always the best student, always tried the hardest and I knew she wanted to be the star.

I'd always come second best to her despite the plannings of my parents and now I tried to be second to her. I'd rather she brag to me, sarcastically congratulate me for being second than have to put her down once again. It was the one concession I made for her however much I tore at her verbally.

I didn't mind being second best to her as much as anyone else, but privately I wanted to beat her or to simply know I could be good enough.

I never was and I never said anything because I knew there was no way to be good enough, not by breeding or by class or her highly held knowledge.

My name was all it took to be nothing much. My family forever there and against me, all I can do is embrace what I am meant to be.

My father was never the only problem, it was my family, what they are influencing what I am to be and what is thought of me. Escaping my father did nothing to free me from my fate or to get me what I want. My name is simple enough to bind me to things I don't want and away from what I dream of..

It's ironic too, that as a Malfoy I could not have what I wanted and to not be good enough for a mudblood. Since Malfoys are meant to get what they ask for and automatically be the top of everything, the richest, the purest. Now we were known for being the evilest, naturally.

My father said if you were going to do something then do it properly. Which was why I said those things that carved out her heart and made her cry in the corridoors when she thought she was far enough away from me and everyone else to. I'd stopped trying to blame it as what was denied, as a lust but equally it could only ever be an unrequited love, something I would not accept.

I had to be something to her, more than Potter or Weasley were.

If being the worst was all I could do then its what I did with joy and pleasure and cruel charm.

She hates me ofcourse. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Just as i'm second best to her, her hate is the second best way for me to mean anything to her.

Actually i'm kidding myself there, it is the best I'll get. It could only be second best if she could ever possibly love me and since I can never know the truth then I am set to make it certain that she despises me with all her heart.

Nothing less would be good enough for me.

~