Fighting Love

Happiness trickles down your spine and fills you whole. You can feel it in your stomach, in your toes. It's a lot like love—and a lot less complicated. You think it's for the best, the best of both worlds, but then…sometimes you come to a fork in the road. Two paths lay before you, and you don't know which way to go. One way will turn your happiness into obsession…and the other…well the other will turn it into love.

You can't help who you fall for.

That is one thing I learned rather late. I'd beat myself up about it too many times, for too many years. But you just can't help who you're attracted to. And I don't think you're supposed to.

I try hard to remind myself of these things every time I see this person. But…when thoughts fly out of your head, it's really hard to remember anything, to see anything, except for your obsession.

That's the road I took, I didn't want love, I couldn't…couldn't deal with that.

At least, that's what I thought at the time. Now I sit here, watching, observing…hurting. It hurts so much not to be able to come to terms with my own feeling, my own emotions. It's a hurricane—as damaging and as devastating. A hurricane that lives and thrives inside of me and I know that one day it will devour me whole.

The swirling colors, the dresses and the robes, the music and the light combine into a whirling festival of emotion.

The ball is—as I thought it would be—an excuse for close dancing, groping, and making out. No one here was seriously taking the reason for this whole thing to heart. It was joke and I, the coordinator, admit it. The thing is that you can't take a whole group of kids with raging hormones and try to get them to understand something important. I should have learned that back when I started SPEW and everyone thought it was a joke.

Though it might of have just been the fact that people think I'm a joke.

I sit back and watch Harry and Ginny as they danced. It wasn't as sickening a display as some of the other couples but…

I was just thankful that Ron had decided to take his woman of the moment into a more private area. I didn't need to be seeing that, just as I did not need to see Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson doing—whatever it was they were doing.

Turning my head I lean back, closing my eyes and hope that the next hour and a half pass quickly.

The music drenches me; relieving me of the stress I'd put myself under in preparation for this failure. I could hear the music as it slowed, and a soft tune fills the air. A slow song no doubt, one that would allow those idiots out there to get closer than ever to their partners…

And I was jealous. Without opening my eyes I knew I was the only person who was alone, sitting all alone. It made me mad, but what can you do? Seriously. There is nothing you can do if people find you less than attractive and, I grinned, too smart for them. I could run circles around most people.

Most people. There was one, one person who, no matter what, made my breath hitch, my blood race…only one person.

I wanted more than anything to be out there on that dance floor, with the arms, so strong and gentle, encircling my waist—holding me close.

Never letting me go.

"Granger?"

I heard the voice and groaned, opening my eyes. "Yes?"

Blaise Zabini rolled his eyes. "You are supposed to be out there." He motioned towards the dance floor.

"Oh, yeah. Right. That's funny. Excuse me if I don't laugh." I close my eyes again, unafraid of the Slytherin. I could hear him sigh and felt as he pulled a chair out next to me and sit.

"Why am I always being dumped?" Blaise asked.

I sit up, rubbing my temples, the music was blaring again. "I don't know."

He sighs and I offer him one of my patented 'sorry, can't help, but I know what you're going through' smiles. We had been forced to prepare the ball together and after six weeks of spending a majority of your time with one person, you get to know them. Even the hostility that the Slytherin held towards me had worn off a bit. But I didn't care. My eyes had caught site of my obsession…and that was the end of all coherent thoughts.

Eyes the color of a stormy day and hair of pale winter sunlight. I hated the very fact that my obsession was in every way an angel. I was sure that if he knew my thoughts he'd hate that too. No one who proclaims to be evil wants to be compared with something of light, of justice. But I don't think he would care all that much after the ceremonial anger subsided. I had watched him long enough to see through his façade.

Or at least I had convinced myself I had.

It's hard to say you know nothing about your obsession—that would almost contradict that fact that you have an obsession. So, let me just say that I figure myself an expert on the human being Draco Malfoy.

But in all reality, I did not know him at all. We engaged in regular verbal quarrels, and recently in physical. It's hard to be one of the 'Golden Trio'. To say that Ron, Harry, or myself could go one day without hitting, cursing, or insulting a Slytherin would be an oxymoron. It's not supposed to happen.

It doesn't happen.

I cringe now as my obsession walks over to us and seats himself across from Blaise and myself.

"Blaise, what are you doing…" Malfoy observes me. "Here?"

Blaise shrugs. "Not much."

My mind spun out of control. He was so close, I wanted to touch him but held my hand back—at least I had some control…but my thoughts…were another case entirely.

His silver eyes glanced at me, a small smile—a rare treasure—glancing his lips as he brushed his hair from his face.

I can't see clear. My eyes are closed

But I can feel your warm embrace

I don't know why we were crying

"Granger." Malfoy was looking at me in that way that I hated.

"Yeah?"

Blaise stood. "Well, I'm going to go drown my sorrows."

I turned as he walked away. "No drinking!" I yelled after him and smiled as he turned and waved, showing the flask he'd had hidden in his robes.

I shook my head. I was very against what Blaise was about to go do. But you can't help who you like and you can't help what other people do when they are dead determined to do it.

That was one thing I'd learned. And learned early.

Malfoy was looking at me oddly. "We need to talk." He didn't wait for an answer, just stood and left, expecting me to follow.

If I'd had half of my wits about me or a friend who wasn't occupied I probably wouldn't have gotten out of my seat. But I was alone and half out of my mind. I followed him—just as I had a year ago.

When my obsession started.

I hold your hand for the last time

I hear your words break the silence

I understand it's you last wish

I kiss your lips before I leave

As I said, happiness can make the whole world change color. It makes the dull gleam and everything just brightens. You don't walk, you skip, your heart light.

But things just got complicated too quickly. And I couldn't deal with that.

I follow Malfoy to a dark and surprisingly uninhabited hallway where he stopped and turned.

"You really should have danced with me when I asked you." he said softly. "I don't see why you didn't."

Because I like you, I thought, but didn't say. Just being near him had cut off all ability to speak.

He didn't wait for an answer, I'm not sure if he even expected one.

He took my hand in his and pulled me closer. If one can die from contact with someone who sends their heart into abnormal rhythms, I'm sure I'd be dropping dead right about now.

But I didn't, instead he started to move us in a slow dance.

And let me tell you something, not all cats land on their feet, and not all girls are graceful—I can't dance.

That doesn't seem to matter to him though and he moves us in some dance I don't know to the faint music that was trickling in.

"You have been avoiding me."

I nodded, no disagreement there. I had been. I knew that, he knew that—the world knew that.

"Why?"

I didn't say anything. Draco Malfoy had confused me ever since that day.

That day, time stood still.

And my heart was taken.

Every night I wake up crying

I feel so helpless

Why did you leave?

And every night I feel like dying

What's the reason?

Well, this will indeed by a rather romantic story, if that's what you like, continue to read.

Song incerts from: End of Love by BlutEngel

Inspired by the art of Linda Joyce Franks

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Thank you,

jd.