Obsession From Afar

AN: Drabble Drabble Drabble...

Draco hid his wandering eyes beneath the stray hairs that had fallen onto his forehead, a book, propped up against the table, hiding the rest of his fairly handsome face. His eyes were eager, searching, almost prodding the room for that one person...that one, single person who would bring his heart to a fluttering uproar, who would help him to believe that he was a good--no, angelic--person. Where was she, though? he wondered, knowing that this was her time to come to the library--when it was late and no one else was there, save him.

Where was she?

His mind was in turmoil. Had she abandonned him? Though they never spoke to each other out loud--no, no, speaking out loud would break every word in the book of Malfoy etiquette-- they had a special understanding. It seemed all he need do was catch her blue eyes for half a millisecond, and she would know exactly what to do. She would know what he wanted, when he wanted it--and she would do it. She'd never let him down before, she'd never had a reason to let him down, seeing as all he asked for was an hour or so of staring time.

Yup, that was the truth of the matter: Draco Malfoy enjoyed staring at her. She wasn't even that pretty, but he still liked to. He thought it was safe to say that Parkinson was more attractive than she, but still he could not help but look. Her hair was red and absurdly frizzy, her nose was long and slightly crooked, like her brother's, and her lips were too small and heartshaped. Before people had said she would blossom into this beautiful wildflower by the time she was in sixth year...but, here they were, he in seventh, she in sixth, and she still hadn't grown out of that long-limbed lankiness and flat-chested adolescent stage. He did suppose she would be beautiful someday, but that someday was not now.

So why need he stare at her so? Why was it a necessity for him to gaze at her freckled face as she studied, furiously trying to ignore him. Why? Why? Why? So many 'why's, but Draco knew the only plausible answer was that he was obsessed. Madly, insanely obsessed.

He'd read a Muggle book before, sneaked it out of a Muggle library under his father's prying nose. It had been about a man who had gone insane for a forbidden love. He'd had one sweet night of her, in sacrifice for the rest of his life. In the end he'd commited suicide.

Draco wasn't sure if you could call what he had with her love. He'd come so far as his father's son that he was convinced that he couldn't feel love any more. Lust, yeah, friendship, maybe...obsession, definitely. See, his father had always been an obsessed man. His father was obsessed with the Dark Lord. The man practically worshipped him, and yet whenever Draco's father echoed a word about the slithery snake-like abomination, all Draco could do was scowl. He would have to serve that for the rest of his life?

He would much rather serve Ginny Weasley, he thought, as she entered the library, breathless, her hair more curly and frizzy than usualy, her freckled face red with exhaustion. Yes, he thought, I would definitely serve Ginny Weasley.

And why not? he questioned. She was a goody goody girl, intelligent, nonetheless...and still she had this rebellious streak, barely audible, but still there. It was, he feared the only reason she continued to come to the library at these late hours, knowing he was there, knowing that no matter what he was forbidden to her as she was to him. Maybe, he mused, she was obsessed, too.

But he doubted that. She was so perfect. The perfect life with the perfect loving family, and, he thought jealously, the perfect loving boyfriend. Harry Potter. Her boyfriend was Harry Potter, the stinking Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Fucking-Die. Why did it have to be Harry Potter? Couldn't it have been Finnigan, or Thomas or some other Gryffindor boy. Why, he thought, did it have to be Potter?

What was so great about Potter any way? He wasn't all that goodlooking...definitely not as goodlooking as he was, Draco mused...

"Malfoy?"

Ahh, his subject had chosen to break their unhindered vow of silence. "Yes Weasley," he said a bit bitterly. He looked up to see her blue eyes looking down.

"Can't we just be friends instead of continuing this stupid...thing?" she asked. She was aware of it, then, he thought, she didn't only come out of habit. She knew about their unspoken conversations.

"Of course not Weasley, because then I would be forced to kill you."

She started, and Draco smirked at her shock. "Kill me?" she said incredulously, "You wouldn't dare."

"I would," he said, pulling out his wand and brandishing at her, almost playfully.

"Well, if we can't sort out an agreement that doesn't include spending hours upon hours of me in the library waiting until you've finished staring at me, then I suppose the 'deal', if ever one existed, is off." Draco was actually a bit scared by this statement. She couldn't.

He knew she couldn't, and that's why he shot her one of those obnxious yet inveeringly handsome smirks the next night. She sighed exasgeratingly at him, her look of loathing painting gruesome pictures of him dying in his own mind. He laughed.

Ginny Weasley was something that could never leave him, no matter how hard she tried. She was, he thought, just as addicted to him as he was to her. There was chemistry, he thought, but it wouldn't be followed up on. Nope, never ever, ever would it be followed up on. Its like a mutual drug, he thought pleasantly...severe therapy is in need of getting us off it.

The next night she walked up to him and slapped him in the face. "I hate you," she said, before straddling him where he sat and planting a confident kiss on his lips. What could he do but reply? He wrapped his arms around her small waist and kissed back with fire, with passion, that made her 'confident' kiss seem like a curious first. She pulled away flushed. "I really hate you."

"I hate you, too."

The next night they went a bit farther. Ginny threw herself atop the table in front of him, beckoning him to her with wild abandon. They kissed and kissed, and Draco found his hands groping and touching, and he found that she actually did have breasts, and curves...and it was mindless, what they were doing. They were so focused on each other that it was mindless and reckless and a swirl of hidden and denial-worthy emotions...

They didn't go far. Sex in the library with your nemisis, no matter how much you hated him, wasn't a good idea. "Tomorrow night," he panted restlessly, "tomorrow night we go to my room."

Ginny was ever so slightly shocked. "I hate you," she repeated passionately, and kissed him again, "I hate you so much."

The next night Draco got what he wanted. It was ever more mindless than what they'd been doing before. The sex was mindblowing, Draco knew, better than any he'd ever had with Parkinson. And the best thing was that Weasley seemed to know exactly what she was doing. When asked who it was that had taught her, she'd replied with a smirk, "Harry," and Draco had had to contain himself from throwing her out right there.

The night after that was awkward, and Draco started it out with a scowl. Why on earth did she suddenly look so pretty? Her hair didn't look so frizzy, more so curly, wavy and beautiful. He noticed that it wasn't the bright carrot red he'd before seen, but a copper and russet blend of red. It was actually quite pretty. Her nose was still big and crooked, but it seemed to carry its own kind of beauty, and her lips looked almost delicate and pink in all their tiny heartshapedness. She was gorgeous.

He bit his lip. His heart wasn't just fluttering tonight, it was pounding. His hands were cold and he felt flighty and intense at the same time. What to say to her? What to say?

He found himself reliving every freckle he'd found on her the night before, found himself wanting to hold her, to squeeze her, to make love to her again. His heart felt heavy and his mind was out of balance, because it kept sending him stupid messages like, 'Tell her,' and 'You know what to do.'

Absurdities upon absurdities, but Draco knew what he had to do.

"Great night, last night, eh Malfoy?" Ginny said with her smirk, that he realized resembled his a great lot.

That was one thing he liked about her. Her mind, the way she could turn him around on himself. The fact that when she was angry her eyes, her blue eyes, seemed to turn red and you could practically hear the dangerous fire as it crackled in them. She was beautiful, but dangerous.

"Great..." he said absently, noting that she herself seemed little out of it today.

She took her designated spot at the other end of the table, and started to read. Draco studied her, her eyes seemingly shining more than usual. It was only when the first tear slipped out that he realized that the reason her eyes had been shining so was because she'd been holding back a barrage of emotions. He found his heart cracking as he heard her sob, and something other than himself guided him to her across the table. He found himself holding her, kissing her, whiping away her tears with a tenderness he didn't know.

"Draco," she murmured, and he knew what she meant, as he always did. "I hate you."

"I hate you, too, Gin," he said, kissing her again.

She didn't return the next night, and Draco knew she wouldn't. Why should she? He hated her after all.

Author's Note: I'm back, loves! This was just a drabble, if any of you haven't noticed. Kinda like a practise run, since I really neede one after not writing for so long. Newayz, the reason I haven't written for so long is because I've been really preoccupied with school. My parents were putting a tremendous amount of pressure on me to get on the Principal's List and all this shit, so I just couldn't find time. Sorry, guys, but it might like this once September come around, too, but never loose faith...why? Cuz I'm a dynamic person and the dynamicz always come through!

Love all of you who've kept me on Favorites and Author Alerts for all this while. It really makes me feel special. Thanks all! Read and Review!