Story: Losing It. Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all
Bold- Draco POV
Italics- Harry POV
Normal: 3rd person POV
Losing it.
I was losing it I thought to myself as I paced back and forth out front of his common room. Losing it. I can't shake this feeling that I've had this feeling of Obsession The feeling that I've always had for him, elevated into much more.
Words.
Words popped into my head whenever I thought of him. What's happening to me? These words were repeating themselves obsessively in my mind. Whenever I see his face, scowling back at me, or staring in quiet contemplation words flooded in. I couldn't get him out of my head. Each word appeared cruder than the last.
Stalk.
The first word: Stalk. Definition: To pursue by tracking stealthily. That definition could never define the meaning behind the word. To watch, to pine for, to desire. My definition of stalk. I guess you could say that sometimes my stalking was not so stealthy, but I am only human. Human enough, to think about you when I shouldn't, so human that here I am, pacing out-front your common room for no particular purpose. It's almost laughable, if you have that sick sense of humor that do. It's a game, like cat and mouse guess which one you are? The game is seemingly endless, but I come out on top, I always do. I'll keep toying with you though, because I know it's what you what, I'll play you game for now for one reason, as long as we keep up this charade I keep coming back to your common room, to stalk.
Sex.
The second word: Sex, crude in it's demented lovely way, when I think of I think of you blushing. You would blush when someone says it. Sex. I wonder what it would be like, you and I. Sex. I wonder if you've done it before. Probably not, you would be a blushing virgin. It's endearing in its own innocent way. Maybe I'd tell you I was a virgin. Just to level the playing field. Then maybe you would stop blushing so much. Do you have any idea what that blush does to me? The way it creeps past your neck across your chiseled jaw, up to that gorgeous face, I could watch you blush all day. You infuriate me you know? The way you're so damn ignorant, and how you think the sun shines out of your arse. Despite how gorgeous it may be. You infuriate me because I think the sun shines out of your arse. I think I love you, I think I'm obsessed with you.
Obsessed.
The word. Back to that word that sums up in 8 insignificant letters how much I want you. The words that show that I cannot live without you because I am, by definition obsessed. Still it isn't the perfect way to say how much I need you, to need you is much greater than the fact that I want you. I need you. And yet here I am. Obsessing, wanting. I am obsessed with you, I obsess over you, you make me feel like I want to put you back together, after having ravished and ripped you apart. And yet obsessed can't sum it up those strange feelings I have for you, neither can stalk or sex. I obsess over you. I stalk you. I want to have sex with you. But none of those words, even my favorite obsessed, can prove to you what you mean to me. There's only one word. Love, I hate the word. Maybe its because I've never really seen what love is, am I afraid of love? I guess I am in many ways I am afraid of you.
But I do love you, so much.
I paced back and forth for another minute. It was time to end the stalking for tonight. Until another day when I can muse over how I-obsess- no, love you. A noise behind me startled my pacing. I turned around to see you standing there looking tired and bewildered.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
Stalking, Obsessing, Loving,
I was losing it.