He was an idiot to believe that no one wanted him. That no one desired his warm skin, his talented hands and bronzed body. His was a fool and forever a fool he should remain.
A night, so much like any night during the winter ; I caught Potter, and some Hufflepuff boy that I had never taken the chance to know at all, at the very top of the north tower. I heard them long before I found them, limps tangled, sweat mingled, potter panting the other boy not far behind.
But when I look on it now, it's not fair to call Potter a boy is it? He's fought the Dark Lord as many times, as most full grown wizards, in the order. If not more times. No. I suppose calling him a boy isn't fair. But he'll always be a boy to me.
It was my job of course, to stop the interaction immediately. I lit my wand with a silent spell and walked out into the darkness which Potter and the other thought them selves alone. Potter pushed away from the boy and starred up at me in shock. 'Get descent both of you, now!' I snapped angrily watching Potter flush a very Gryffindor shade of red.
Right then as I watched him dress, head down , in shame I can only guess , I wanted him. I felt old. I felt sick. I felt hot. And I wanted Potter. I wanted to kill anyone who had touched him before I . I wanted to skin alive that Hufflepuff who thought that he was good enough for Potter. No one, was good enough for this golden boy. But somehow I felt I was. But no one else. No one else would ever be good enough for the damn Golden Boy.
I escorted The Hufflepuff boy back to his rooms, to make sure he made it back with out any more stops on the way. And when I was left with only Potter by my side I turned to him and spat , 'Do you think so low of yourself Potter to give yourself to a man you barely know?' Potter stared at me in disbelief. 'I really think it's none of your business sir. ' He said quietly trying to turn and walk away from me.
I grabbed his arm and made him face me. 'Never walk away from me when I'm talking boy. ' I hissed. Potter looked into my eyes, with something like fear. A scared look that made me only desire him more. 'Answer me boy, why do you think so little of yourself?' I demanded, voice sounding cold like ice, like I always had when I approached Potter.
He took a deep breath that seemed to make his entire being shudder and replied in a voice I barely even heard, ' Because I have no reason to think higher of myself, Sir. '
He looked at me this time with not fear, but desperation. He was desperate for me to insult him again. For me to tell him he was right, that he wasn't worth anything more. But he was wrong. He was worth so much, no one should be aloud to touch him. But never would I tell him and never would he know.
And as he turned his face towards mine, begging me to make him worth something I knew he was a fool . A fool to believe that no one wanted him . And that no one ever would.