A Sequence of Desire
Chapter 1: Desire Conceives Change, Change Births Desire
Author's Note This is my first ever fan fic, so I beg you, Please Read & Review!
I have my outline, so if you stick w/me, you won't have to wait long:) Again, don't hesitate to criticize, it's the only way I'll improve. Thanks!
The characters of both Oliver Wood and Lucius Malfoy are based on their movie counterparts, Sean Biggerstaff and Jason Issacs, respectively.
Disclaimer: Many of the characters and the wonderful magic world in which they live are the sole property of J.K. Rowling. This story is the result of my imagination (and a few of my own characters) running wild in her world.
Desire conceives change, change births desire. All humans, be it muggle, witch, or wizard, experiences desires. Sometimes determination from within, maybe a few pushes or shoves from the outside, and a little luck actually sees them through. Sometimes passion doesn't even give you a choice. And sometimes they dissipate, and you always wonder "what if" or say "I could've". My name is Rosalyn and this is the path desire lead me.
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I was walking out to the lush green castle grounds to enjoy my lunch under much anticipated rays of sunshine on this rare, bleached-bright day. It was calling me out. Take down my wavy, wispy, auburn hair, take off my stuffy business suit jacket, come and just sit in the grass. Calling me out to remove myself from the dank tendrils of oppressiveness, gradually wrapping itself around, dragging me down, from being caught inside the chilled, stone walls of Hogwarts for days on end, my weary head buried in endless parchment. The weather here in Scotland is too often so gray, so bleak and clammy, especially when compared to the tropical Caribbean, alive with the energy of vivid color and island life. I know it's an unfair comparison, but I truly didn't know just how different it would be, and now the golden tan I've known all my life is gradually fading to a sickly complexion.
I'm being too harsh, that really is my sole complain. After I graduated, I desperately wanted to intern and, hopefully, eventually teach at the very best wizarding school, which in my opinion, is the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I've always wanted to travel to the United Kingdom as well, experience snow and take in whatever else the UK had to offer, not to mention those wonderfully charming accents that just make me shiver and melt! So when a gorgeous snowy owl swooped down over the crystal clear, blue waters onto the golden sands of a coconut tree shaded beach to deliver a letter stating they actually accepted my application, needless to say, I was beyond ecstatic.
With being here for only two weeks, and interning under the renowned, and renownedly stern, Professor McGonagall, my specialty being transfiguration, I am playing the classic role of shy, out of place, obedient, weary, overwhelmed, and frazzled intern very, very well. As my short black heals reverberated down the large, shadowed, stone hallway, I was in that heavy cloud when my senses suddenly became conscious of the warm, welcoming approach of the blinding outdoor sun. My head and eyes lifted up out of my own gloom and muddled mind to meet the once familiar sight, feel it's glow wash over me…but instead, crashed into a pair of arresting, ice-blue eyes belonging to a tall, broad man wearing a rich, black cloak and an aristocratic stature. He quickly snapped his tilted head and attention back to the smaller man in front of him, who was prattling away with a hushed voice and exuberant arms. Moving my way toward and past them, I couldn't help but sneak glances. Those clear eyes often made their way back to me as well. The way his long, thick, pale-golden hair radiated as the sunlight hit the back of his head and sneaked down the right side of his fair, beautifully contoured face, he looked positively striking. After my lunch break, there wasn't time for the frivolities of a man, no matter how stunning, to enter my mind again,… that is, at least not until a few weeks later.
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It was the day of the first Quidditch game, Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff, the whole school was tinged with an air of renewed excitement. Being under McGonagall's wing, I of course favored Gryffindor, who wasn't playing until a few weeks later, but I was still just as eager to welcome the change of pace as everyone else. That afternoon I was stuck alone in McGonagall's classroom, tiding up transfigurations gone wrong, right up until the game started. I grabbed my canvas tote bag, shoving everything in and rushed out, flinging the flap closed. I was half jogging, half walking my way quickly out to the Quidditch field, my eyes glued to the darkening sky as I watched the players rise on their brooms and the balls were released. Utter fanatical chaos erupted: The crowd was going crazy as the players and balls zoomed through the air. I suddenly felt a gentle, but firm thud on my left thigh, halting me abruptly, and bouncing my attention to the obstacle in front of me. It was him. The stoic figure in black shifted to face me, his presence was overpowering.
"I do believe you need to watch where you're going." his voice drawled out.
I looked down at his gleaming, silver snake headed staff still pressed against my thigh. He lowered it back to his side.
"You almost charged straight into me." he went on, raising a smug eyebrow.
"I'm sorry sir, I was just hurrying to get to the game." I muttered, still not able to look him squarely in the face, he had caught me off guard.
"Humph" came his guttural response when I finally looked right at him. He turned, rather dramatically, to walk away. But stopped just for a second, for his heavy, glass eyes to slide their corners, back to me, then continued on his high and mighty way, his black cloak billowing out behind him. What an arrogant man he is.
The game was brutal, or rather the Slytherin players were brutal, but Hufflepuff held their own. Though barely winning by 20 points in the end, only after that rude little snot, Malfoy, was too busy laughing and taunting his opponents to see the Snitch zoom right over his big head, followed by the very favored and extremely handsome Hufflepuff seeker, Cedric Diggory. After being here a few weeks, I still don't know all the students names, but Draco Malfoy's was one I learned the very first day purely from repeated scolding and instant dislike.
Propelled along by the chattering crowd of excited students shouting Cedric's name, plus a few angry Slytherins moping and raging their way back toward the enormous castle, I heard, "Rosalyn! ROSALYN!" Turning around, I saw a tall, wafer thin girl, stringy strands of blond hair escaping from a loose ponytail, pushing her way toward me. She looked as if she'd been playing in the game rather than a sideline spectator. "Hey Debra!" I waved my arm to her. Debra was Madam Hooch's daughter; she's been assisting both her mother and Madam Pomphry as training and using Hogwarts as a quiet, safe place to study and practice magical sports medicine. We became good friends straight off being the only ones here the same age, although I honestly think that girl could make friends with a wall or rock if need be.
"Were 'ave you been all avvy!" she yelled at me, throwing up her arms.
"I was late, I couldn't find you. Apparently transfiguring lizards into jewelry is utterly imposable for third years; I still have a green, scaly watch in my bag getting more and more tongue-tied as the seconds go round." Sticking my tongue out and twisting my face as I explained.
She laughed, "Yeah, but not as imposable as it is for that daft twit, Draco, to ever catch the Snitch!"
"So you mean he's always been a great seeker?" I snickered.
"You think he became seeker out of pure skill? His father made tha' 'appen. He's too busy takin' the piss out of everyone else. The only way that team ever wins is by cheatin' or clobberin' all their opponents into Pomphry's care. Blimey, did you see how Parkinson slammed the Bludger into that Hufflepuff player's head, not two feet away?! I bet you… " she rambled on about the game as we walked in the dark, the bright stadium lights behind us.
I saw him again, the man. He was in the distance, tromping briskly but somehow still elegantly, over to the Slytherin players. He glanced around and his eyes paused on me. The Earth skipped a beat in it's ongoing revolutions, for a second, it was only us. Just then someone bumped into me from behind. I hadn't realized I slowed down or stopped. I turned back to him, but he had kept going. Debra had stopped a few feet in front of me, her hands on her hips. She marched back to me, shaking her head.
"Oooh, I despise him," she seethed, "you don't want to think about even going near that."
I looked at her quizzically. "Near what?"
"Girl don't even. I saw you." she laughed.
"I don't …"
"Do you know who that IS?" she cut me off, watching him, "THAT is Lucius Malfoy! A vicious creature, pure embodiment of evil he is! Walks around like he's a living god, his nose stuck up in the air like everyone below him reeks of rubbish. That's all he's full of. Rubbish. Thinks he could 'ave the whole magic and muggle world at his fingertips if he wanted to. Don't get me started on how much he hates muggles!" We both stood there staring at him like stones in a river as the crowd moved around us. "A Deatheater to the end, that one." Then she grabbed my arm, pulling me along.
I was lost in my thoughts as she nudged me and pointed back. "Well daddy doesn't look too 'appy." Lucius was yelling, his long golden hair swished violently as he grasped the base of Draco's neck and shoulder and shook him. "I'm telling you, the bad apple didn't fall too far from that tree." I turned away and kept walking.
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I could not get him out of my mind, our minor encounters, very minor encounters kept swirling around and around in my head. I wish I had a pensive to dump them out in, so they can swirl around in there and leave me alone. I even started causally mentioning him to people, to paint a better picture of just how evil he really is, to maybe eventually, and hopefully even physically, revolt at the slightest thought of him. No luck. The image of his paralyzing eyes staring at me, his beautiful build, his voice, his mouth, and that power that emanates from his being. Oh I want him! I'm being stupid and irrational, the person he is…is completely disgusting! Disgusting and ferocious and malicious, manipulating, egocentric…so stunning. Stop it, STOP it! What is wrong with me! It must be a spell.
I tried to busy myself, occupy my mind at every second, though Professor McGonagall kept me quite busy on her own. I never realized that being at Hogwarts was going to be a full time, around the clock experience. There is no off time, this place envelops you completely. So different than my old life, but so wonderful. Well, as for my plan, it worked best as it could, but when I'm alone, in the safe haven of my own room, leisurely drifting off to sleep, my mind wanders on it's own account to places that I have no control.
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Quidditch fever reached unparallel heights today. It was the first Gryffindor game,… and it was against Slytherin. There was yelling, shouting, reptile green and shimmering silver, brilliant red and glittering gold, blinking banners, screeching buttons, and pure marvelous bedlam, everywhere, all day long. McGonagall was wound tighter than usual today, though she did seem to take it extra easy on her house Quidditch players, even pretending not to notice Harry Potter's snores. Which in fact, became so loud, Mr. Weasley had to kick him under the table, and he fell off his chair. In fourth period, I went to get something from the walk-in supply cupboard in the back, only to feel a hard thud as I pushed open the door, so I pushed again, harder.
"Ow!" I poked my head in to see a boy's hand clutching the top of his brown haired head.
My hand flew up to my mouth, trying to stifle my laughter, "I am SO sorry!" When he looked up, it was team captain, Oliver Wood, sitting crossed-legged on the floor with papers and diagrams strewn out around him. Students aren't supposed to be in here, but he was such a pleasant, and not to mention handsome, young man, I couldn't help but be nice. I helped him up, "What are you doing in here?" I laughed.
"Professor McGonagall suggested it, you know, as a safe, quiet place to prepare for the game." He had one of those voices I was talking about, the kind that'll melt you into a soft puddle.
"I don't think the safe part worked out."
"No, not thanks te you." he cracked with the cutest smirk. He was so endearing!
"Alright, you just move aside, let me get my stuff, and you can go back to quietly worrying."
He bowed his adorable round head and widely stepped aside. I could feel him placidly calm as he waited for me gather what I needed. I could also feel those deep, dark, eyelash riddled eyes on me, so I tried to hurry.
"That's it." I stated, turning around to face him and just quick enough to see him lift his head,…and his gaze. Would've never expected that from him, he's so innocent looking. Well, except when it comes to Quidditch that is. But boys will be boys. Hell, I'd have done the same. He raised a sly, expectant eyebrow at me with that smirk of his. What a charmer! I wonder if he knew just how endearing it really was. Lord, I felt like a schoolgirl, how could you not adore that face. "I guess I'll leave you be." I was positively beaming on the inside. "Watch your head!" I joked as I closed the door behind me. I heard him laugh. Just as the door was about to click shut, I felt the handle gently pull back open a few inches.
Oliver stuck his face out. "Hey, no one's supposed to know I'm in here. McGonagall doesn't want to be seen doing favors for her house."
"Oh sure, no problem."
We stayed like that for a few seconds, his face just looking at me through the cracked, shadowed cupboard door, and me standing there in the middle of a vacant floor, the nonchalant young intern, looking back. There was something there, and we both knew it, we both felt it.
What is wrong with me, he's a STUDENT! Be it a seventh year student. A popular, mature, smart, earnest, athletic, attractive student. Where was he when I was in school?! After that day, I always seemed to like the days he came in for transfiguration more. But it wasn't him I was eager to see at the Quidditch game later that day.
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High up in the stands, Debra and I were cheering wildly along with the Gryffindor fans. Though I seemed to be the only vocal Wood fan among many Potter supporters. Doesn't matter, we were winning! But I was secretly disappointed, I'd been looking out for Lucius Malfoy, hoping to catch even a glimpse of him. I don't know why.
"Oi, look at that brilliant save in slow motion!" The short second year beside me was telling his friend, twirling his omnioculars.
"Can I see that?" I turned to him, reaching out my hand. "Oh, just for a second!" I snapped when he stared at me.
I snatched it when he hesitantly held it out and quickly scanned the boxes. I saw him, pale hair tied back, chin up, looking radiantly smug, like one being watched at all times, and reveling in every single second of it. He was seated in the teacher's box, right beside the greasy potions teacher, Severus Snape. That figured.