The characters are J.K. Rowling's. I'm just twisting them all sorts of ways...
It's been three years to the day since I walked out of her life.
I was cold, and I was calculating, and I was cruel, but she let me be.
I manipulated people. For the sheer power of it, I manipulated them. I didn't need my father's petty Imperio. They obeyed my every command without it.
I told them things. Cruel, unnecessarily evil things that no one else dared say.
To each and every one of her pathetic little friends.
And she let me.
She appealed to me, somehow.
In some wretched, weakening little way of hers. Those doe-like eyes. That sweet innocence.
That pure, utterly corruptible aura she embodied.
I loved that about her.
I hated that.
In the beginning, I wanted her at my level. I saw that pathetic innocence, and I wanted it crushed. Pure, simple, mangled, just like the blood that ran through her veins.
I wanted to destroy her.
Call it what you will.
Evil, cruel, sadistic... I've heard them all.
And I do realize they all apply.
It was what it was.
Something in her got to me. I might have envied that.
She made me weaker.
She made me want to be like her.
She made me want to care.
She made me want to stop.
I hated that as well.
There were moments I almost gave in. Those moments, when those beautiful eyes met mine, where I almost fell for her entirely. Where I almost just wanted to throw it all away for her.
But I was a legacy.
I was my father's son.
That power, that pure manipulative skill, flowed through my veins just as much as those wretched muggle ways flowed through hers.
It's addictive, really. That sort of power.
Once one has it, there really is no thought of denying it.
But she made me doubt.
And I hated it.
I did love her.
I know that, now.
She was kind, and she was sweet, and she stood by me no matter what I did to her or her disgusting friends.
That sort of loyalty is hard to come by, especially where I'm from. True, sincere loyalty.
The utter conflict of that pure, wholesome love in contrast to the gruesome power I possessed consumed me, taking over every part of my being, until I could no longer stand it.
So I left.
Completely, utterly left.
No one has heard from me since.
Until now.
There it is.
My hand poised to knock at her doorstep.
That annoyingly sweet quickening of my pulse as I hear the doorknob twist.
That disgustingly adorable look on her face as she sees me.
The unbearably welcoming smell of her hair as we embrace.
That beautiful, heart-wrenching mouth of hers forming the word.
One, simple, word.
A name.
Mine.
"Draco."
A/N: Okay, yeah, I realize, twisted. But somehow, maybe true?
Anyway, at most, one more chapter. But only if people want one again.
Let me know what you think.