Destroying Beauty
I was fascinated by her.
Don't get me wrong. I wasn't in love. Not by a long shot. It was more of…an obsession.
I didn't stalk her. But I was captivated by her every move.
I think it may have been her innocence. I wanted to break her.
Okay, I admit that I have some dominance issues here.
But there was something so desperately pure and fragile about her that I longed to get my hands on.
I guess I "wanted to destroy something beautiful."
Like shredding the Mona Lisa.
Or eating a copy of Hamlet.
I wanted to devour her.
I knew things that no one else knew about her. And I didn't even have to work hard to find out.
For instance, I knew she was horribly lonely.
Alright, anyone with one eye could see that.
Are Harry and Ron blind then, or just dimwits?
That question answers itself.
And I knew that she was passionate. Oh, I could see it in her eyes when she was filled with rage, often directed towards me. Then I'd smirk as I could easily imagine that fire being put to better use.
I had to have her.
To possess her.
I made up my mind.
I didn't try the normal seduction route. Oh no, my ways were much more subtle.
I infiltrated every part of her mind. I made sure she hated me with every breath in her soul.
And when she did, I knew she belonged to me.
So when I kissed her, she kissed back harder.
When we first slept together, she was like a wildcat. I was covered in the bruises and scratches for days.
Not that I minded.
When in the throes of ecstasy she would whisper, "I hate you" repeatedly in my ear, I smiled more.
I owned her.
Today, I know she'll be thinking of me. When she walks down the aisle, she'll feel my breath on her cheek. When she stares into his green eyes, she'll see my silver staring back. When he takes her into his arms and makes love to her, she'll think of me and the glorious hate we made.