Shadows of Obsession

Shadows of Obsession

I never believed that I was capable of love. I used to think myself too empty and cold; the thought of belonging to another person, from soul to bone, terrified me in a way I would never admit. My childhood was not nurturing to say the least, I had no urge to hug or be hugged. In fact I hated to be touched, the notion of another person tainting my skin left be sickened. During the latter years at Hogwarts however, my strange ways changed dramatically. I began to sleep around - I had sex and plenty of it. But with each conquest love was decidedly absent. Every time was simply a meeting of the flesh, a harsh joining between body and body - the girls didn't have names to me, why would they need them? Once I had satisfied my need I disregarded them quickly enough. Looking back I'm not proud of myself but at the time the thought that I might be hurting my 'lovers' never once concerned me. I enjoyed the power, the feeling of control as I possessed their bodies and minds, leaving them whimpering for more.

This behaviour continued for nearly two years until one day, a glimpse, just a tiny glimpse of a person, caused my life to shatter around me. I saw her striding from the quidditch pitch with her broomstick dragging on the floor. She was muttering angry curses under her breath and roughly pushing back her wild, tangled hair which the wind had caused to fly in her face. Red patches coloured her rounded cheeks and her lips were pale from the cold. I couldn't stop staring at those lips. Why the sight of a muddy, very tired looking girl caused such a reaction in me, I don't know. All I knew was that this girl had a name... my god, what a name!

So began my love for Ginny Weasley. Yes, I knew it was love, although my life had thus far been void of it, somehow I recognised the feeling as soon as it settled in my stomach. It was heavy and horrible; it was painful and wonderful. My loathing of the Weasley family paled to insignificance as I watched Ginny doing her everyday things. I lamented myself for not noticing her sooner - I grieved for the lost days when my eyes could have been her silent shadow. My meaningless encounters with nameless shells ceased as I could no longer concentrate on anything but her. Nobody ever noticed how my gaze would remain slyly fixed on the Gryffindor table. She never noticed...

Several months of muted longing persisted until one day I found the courage to begin my slow seduction. I knew where my powers lay; I knew that my body, honed to perfection, could be a deadly tool. At first she resisted, showed all that redheaded, charmingly untamed temper which I so enjoyed. But soon enough, our lips joined in a way which surpassed even my most vivid dreams. We gradually grew closer and finally she announced to the whole school that we were an item. My brave, brave girl... The looks on each face were priceless, some were shocked, some were jealous but most carried a look of disgust. I loved it. The best part was seeing her brother turn a multitude of colours, firstly ghostly pale as his mouth lay agape in shock, and then pink and finally a horrible shade of fuming red. Now that was funny! Not so much when his fists came flailing towards me but his expression as Ginny stood in my defence was beyond hilarious. All in all it was turning out to be a very good day that was until I caught a secret look passed between Ginny and Harry Potter. Of course I had noticed a...connection between the pair but denial can go a long way and soon I forgot that Ginny had loved the same boy for nearly seven years. I chose to ignore the times when they would share a joke and Ginny's face would light up in a way I rarely saw. I averted my eyes away at the times when Harry's hand would 'accidentally' brush hers. The mix of anger and longing I would see when her eyes misted over at him was always forcefully wiped from my memory. But it was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore the signs. When she announced our relationship she spoke directly to him, spoke each shocking word as if he was the only person in the world. Watching his face pale, fists grind and heart visibly break didn't make me laugh. It made me sick.

In that instance I knew the time for pretence was over. I truly believed that she felt something for me, it may not have been love but it was something, something real... For several weeks we carried on as normal, I didn't tell her what I knew and I could see that she was trying her best to forget him and take comfort in my embrace. But my Gryffindor was far too noble for permanent deceit. Several short days later she came to me with a sober face and spoke in a quiet, apologetic voice. "I'm using you Draco and it's killing me". I was angry, of course I was. I shouted at her as expected but my heart really wasn't in it. I had already decided long ago that she would be mine and I viewed a short break while she got Potter out of her system, a requirement I was willing to make. I truly believed that we belonged together.

Even when I saw her, hand in hand with Potter a month later, I believed that it would be me who fathered her children and grew old by her side. I still believed in the last few weeks at Hogwarts when they seemed welded together, an invisible link preventing them from ever being apart. They were the wonder couple; the boy hero and his redheaded lover. They existed in an impenetrable bubble of oblivious happiness - lost to the world. Yet my faith remained strong. It wasn't until they announced their engagement on the last day of term that a chink dented my armour of conviction. It was ludicrous! Marriage age seventeen! But still I kept calm. I even offered my 'congratulations' as forced and insincere as they were. For I knew that a force far greater than I was fast approaching...war...

Although I had long been suspected of being a death eater in training - the truth was far less exciting. My father did not deem me worthy of following his 'great and powerful master' (his words not mine) he believed me to be weak and too soft - perhaps I was. Either way I had no incentive to throw my life away for such a cause. I may have once given the impression of being my father's lapdog - snarling obediently at nasty mudbloods like a good boy but those times were far in the past. I cared for only one person besides myself. The affairs of the witching community, as serious as they were, mattered little to me. My father, his voice heavy with disappointment, ordered me to maintain the Malfoy estate and manage all the trivial affairs - which as a loyal servant on Voldemort - were far beneath him. This position suited me perfectly. I largely stayed out of the nasty war incidents which occurred on a daily basis.

Once again I resumed my position as her silent companion. I watched her, followed her and from the shadows, offered her all the protection in my power. Many times I killed the creatures that stalked her - I didn't think of it as murder. For Ginny Weasley I would have done anything.

For over two months, I watched as Harry Potter and his cronies fought valiantly against Voldemort. My Ginny and Potter were still together, and as much as it pains me to admit it, their love was stronger than ever. They had that kind of desperate clinging and all-consuming passion that I longed to experience once more.

When my father was announced dead I felt relieved and only the slightest twinge of guilt. Obviously I wasn't surprised - my wand had a good aim...

The side of good was slowly winning and soon it became clear that Voldemort's power was waning. The whole witching community had tentatively begun celebrating; foolishly believing that the worst was over. Idiots. On one particularly cold morning in winter Harry Potter and Voldemort faced their final fight. Potter had taken off alone, unwilling to put those he loved in danger - ever the noble hero...

He had done what everybody had expected and defeated the big bad. But nobody had truly believed he would die too. His body was found by his best friends. The distraught crying of Hermione Granger had echoed eerily loud. It gave me a headache.

The funeral was outlandishly over the top. Hordes of people had walked behind the coffin, tears streaming down their ghostly faces. Most had never even met him. The sight of Ginny, broken and empty, in a mass of black did dull the sense of triumph but not enough to strip the secret smile from my face. The obstacle that had been Harry Potter had now disappeared. Nothing stood in my way.

I knew that Ginny liked a slice of Hero in a man so to fulfil this requirement I single-handily killed the leftover death eaters who had begun terrorising muggles. It was simple enough. I lured them back to the Manor under the pretence of knowing a secret my dear old dad had bestowed to me. They triggered a particularly complex curse as soon as they stepped over the threshold. Burned them to a crisp. Ruined the carpet completely but it was worth it.

Gaining her love was much harder. She was completely heartbroken by his death. At times I don't believe her vacant, beautiful eyes saw me at all. Initially I became Draco the friend. Draco who understood and cared. Draco who offered a shoulder to cry on. Draco who stood there while she screamed and raged and wept. I was Draco the liar.

After a year or so things gradually begun to change. When I reached for her hand she no longer pushed me away. When my eyes remained entranced with hers, she no longer blinked and looked elsewhere. It was all progressing nicely. Finally she kissed me, yes, she kissed me! I knew deep down that she wasn't over Potter but I didn't care. Not one bit. Her soft lips were on mine and nothing in the whole world mattered. Another two months passed before I asked her to marry me. She paused for what seemed like a life age and then one word came out of her mouth, one soft, impossibly perfect word. Yes.

That was fifteen months ago. Today was our one year wedding anniversary. I believe congratulations are in order. I will be the father of her children. I will grow old by her side.

Nothing will stop that. Nothing will prevent our happiness. She is mine and will be forever.

That's why I won't ever tell her that Potter is very much alive.

That's why I won't ever tell her I know exactly where he is...

Not ever.