This is wrong. We both know it. He's older than me. He could be my father. He really could. But it doesn't matter. I accept all of him. As long as it comes to me with love.
It's so wrong. These furtive and heated glances, the stolen kisses in empty corridors of Malfoy Manor. I feel like the heroine of a trashy romance novel. Driven crazy by his touch, by his voice, by his eyes. You think it's all cliché and then it happens to you. And you feel so right and wrong. You enjoy it, however sick it is, but then you hazard a glance over your shoulder, as though you're on the run. But I want it all, the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. I want him.
I don't want to be friends. I don't want to be his daughter in law. I don't want to be free, either. I don't want to be less than lovers.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling. "Bad Romance" belongs to Lady Gaga.