For best results, I suggest listening to the following songs while reading (No particular order).
1. Radiohead - How to Disappear Completely.
2. Radiohead - Nude
3. Mogwai - Take Me Somewhere Nice
4. Radiohead - No surprises
5. Radiohead - Sail to the Moon
You want to capture her light, make it your own, because you've been consumed by a darkness so bleak that you don't recognize yourself.
But the truth is you never did.
One day you'd try to give a shit and others you could give a shit less.
You watch the way she treads softly, dancing about like a fawn, careful not to tread on the delicate underbrush. The way her brown hair falls on her shoulders, framing her angelic face just makes you want to cut across the opening and kiss her until neither of you can feel anymore, until this poisonous obsession of yours' is cured.
You hate her.
You hate what she does to you, but mostly you hate yourself for loving her.
But instead, being the coward that you've convinced yourself that you are, you just watch her, enraptured by her innocent beauty. The Birch you've been propped against for God knows how long has been itching and biting away at your flesh but you refuse to move, afraid that this intoxicating dance might end. Just when you thought you couldn't be drawn in any deeper, she smiles at you. A devilish smile that makes you weak in the knees, and the mind.
"Why do you always stand there looking at me like that?"
You don't reply.
You can't.
Instead, you just bore into her eyes with your own. When she lowers her gaze, you want to walk over and force her to look at you.
At what she's done.
You turn on your heel and walk away, your breathing shallow and ragged. You don't notice at first, but your hands have formed tight fists at your sides, veins protruding from your arms. The self control is slipping, you don't know how much more of this you can take.
Suddenly your dress robes feel a bit too tight. Suffocating.
"Draco wait," she calls after you. You don't stop though. You might end up slamming her up against a tree, greedily collecting her virtue.
"Fuck off Granger."
"What is your problem?"
You can hear the fury dripping from each word. She wants answers that you don't have.
"You're my problem." It's the truth.
"Then why is it that you follow me out here and spy on me?"
"I was curious as to what a Mudblood does during their free time."
It is a stupid answer and you realize it the moment the words escape your mouth. You mentally slap yourself for sounding like a fool.
"How is it any of your concern? You never fail to remind me of my filthy bloodline, but yet here you are spying on me;" she moves her hands in the air animatedly.
You whirl around, frightening her. Before you can comprehend your actions, you grasp her upper arm tightly, your finger tips digging into her tender flesh. You want to hurt her but at the same time you want to kiss the skin where the bruises will appear.
But instead, you just scowl at her.
"Don't flatter yourself Granger, Malfoys do not spy, they merely observe."
"Let go of me Malfoy, you're hurting me."
She begins to squirm and you can't help but think of the way she would squirm in your bed sheets. The way she would writhe beneath you in sheer ecstasy. In an action alien to even yourself, much too gentle to be your own, you tuck a stray stand of brunette hair behind her ear.
She freezes completely, staring at you bewildered. You can't help but get lost in her brown eyes, reminding you once more of a doe; a chasm of secrets within secrets, all of which you want to know. 'God you're beautiful,' you want to say, but instead you push her back into the grass, feeling her eyes bore into the back of your head as you leave.
And God it hurts so fucking bad.