Yes. And. You know I believe in H/D. I also believe in doubt, but. I'm here because I love them. No, I'm here because I -feel- them. Ever since that night when Draco didn't let me go to sleep, screaming POTTER, I've been theirs, see. Look, this is the first thing I ever wrote, Draco pov, and it's still what I feel:
Each time I see you, I want to growl, have you quake before me. I want to release all this pent-up maddened energy any way I can. I want to fuck you blind. I want to hold your life in my hands, in these very hands, bloodless and girl-like, and oh so powerless. Be mine, be mine, be mine, sweet valentine. You make me enjoy my perversity more than I thought possible, with your purity and kindness slapping me across my face, a challenge to everything I was always content being. I forget what was it that occupied me, before. I can't decide whether I want to break you, or taunt you, drive you to the edge.
Oh, how I love seeing you squirm. You can't ignore this either, can you-- my presence like a fist in your gut. This makes me smile. I have you, and you don't even know it-- this is what I tell myself. I have you already. It's just a matter of time before you realize it, before you come to me. I don't really know how-- or who you'd be, then-- after all, I like the chase more than the catch. I probably won't want you, Potter, if I got you. I'm not good enough for you-- you'd never want me-- so if I had you, I suppose that means your hands are just as dirty as mine-- and that bores me to no end, Potter. Everyone's hands are dirty-- everyone I've ever seen. Not the Boy Who Lived, oh no, he's going to save us from ourselves. Ha. Those fools. What do they know? Even if you saved them, they'd just fall prey to their perversions all over again.
I watch you, I taunt you, I needle you and ignore you and do my best to make your life the same living hell you make mine, but it's not working, is it? You have your precious Mudblood and that freak boy. The teachers dote on you, everybody's hero. You're the Dark Lord's number one annoyance. And I suppose for you, I'm less than that-- some sort of lesser annoyance, best not thought of. Who am I kidding. I'm such a fool, I can't even fool myself properly. All I want is for you to feel this too. I'd pretty much hand myself over to you on a silver platter, just like everybody else. Here, take me, Potter.
What? You haven't noticed? Well, I'm offering. I -have- been offering, so long now, that if you took me now I think I might just cry. Yes I'm kidding, ha, that was a good one wasn't it? I hate you, after all. There are no limits to what I'd say to fuck with your mind. Or do. I might even fuck you. Careful, now.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2004-09-12 09:50 am (UTC)And. You know I believe in H/D. I also believe in doubt, but. I'm here because I love them. No, I'm here because I -feel- them. Ever since that night when Draco didn't let me go to sleep, screaming POTTER, I've been theirs, see. Look, this is the first thing I ever wrote, Draco pov, and it's still what I feel:
Each time I see you, I want to growl, have you quake before me. I want to release all this pent-up maddened energy any way I can. I want to fuck you blind. I want to hold your life in my hands, in these very hands, bloodless and girl-like, and oh so powerless. Be mine, be mine, be mine, sweet valentine. You make me enjoy my perversity more than I thought possible, with your purity and kindness slapping me across my face, a challenge to everything I was always content being. I forget what was it that occupied me, before. I can't decide whether I want to break you, or taunt you, drive you to the edge.
Oh, how I love seeing you squirm. You can't ignore this either, can you-- my presence like a fist in your gut. This makes me smile. I have you, and you don't even know it-- this is what I tell myself. I have you already. It's just a matter of time before you realize it, before you come to me. I don't really know how-- or who you'd be, then-- after all, I like the chase more than the catch. I probably won't want you, Potter, if I got you. I'm not good enough for you-- you'd never want me-- so if I had you, I suppose that means your hands are just as dirty as mine-- and that bores me to no end, Potter. Everyone's hands are dirty-- everyone I've ever seen. Not the Boy Who Lived, oh no, he's going to save us from ourselves. Ha. Those fools. What do they know? Even if you saved them, they'd just fall prey to their perversions all over again.
I watch you, I taunt you, I needle you and ignore you and do my best to make your life the same living hell you make mine, but it's not working, is it? You have your precious Mudblood and that freak boy. The teachers dote on you, everybody's hero. You're the Dark Lord's number one annoyance. And I suppose for you, I'm less than that-- some sort of lesser annoyance, best not thought of. Who am I kidding. I'm such a fool, I can't even fool myself properly. All I want is for you to feel this too. I'd pretty much hand myself over to you on a silver platter, just like everybody else. Here, take me, Potter.
What? You haven't noticed? Well, I'm offering. I -have- been offering, so long now, that if you took me now I think I might just cry. Yes I'm kidding, ha, that was a good one wasn't it? I hate you, after all. There are no limits to what I'd say to fuck with your mind. Or do. I might even fuck you. Careful, now.
...So I know how you feel :>