Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything you might recognise.

Unreachable

One man scorned and covered with scars still strove with his last ounce of courage to reach the unreachable stars;

and the world will be better for this

-

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

She looked beautiful.

Simply and utterly beautiful and he couldn't have taken his eyes of her even if he had wanted. Which he quite obviously didn't.

But who wouldn't want to look at the goddess standing just a few feet away?

The way she held herself –confident but not arrogant– the way she crossed the room –with no fear, showing everyone that she was exactly where she belonged– and the way she smiled looking around the room –like a queen greeting benevolently her subjects– was simply mesmerising.

He had always considered her pretty and interesting, but now she was gorgeous and graceful and...

And not holding his arm, but that of that big, bulky, Bulgarian oaf.

What could she possibly see in him? She wasn't the type to accept his offer just because of his fame, so what could it be?

For heavens sake he wasn't even able to pronounce her name correctly! Even he had cringed as he heard him utter it in the library a few weeks ago. That was the day that bothersome Drumstrang student had asked her to the ball, the same day a part of the library, all the way back in the last aisle towards the Rawenclaw tower, mysteriously exploded.

So what if he wasn't particularly good at anger management? He had to take after his father in some way after all.

If he would be more like his father, he wouldn't be in the predicament he now found himself in.

Pining after a dirty Mudblood who hadn't looked at him twice since she started Hogwarts, surely wouldn't have happened to his father.

It had been two months now - two months since he had stumbled across her while he was exiting the prefects bathroom on the fifth floor.

He had been quite lost in his thoughts not thinking that there could be someone passing the door just in that precise instant.

Thus he had crushed into her, sprawling on top of her, the books she had been carrying flying all around them.

It had taken him some moments to realise what just happened and in that short time he came to fully enjoy the feeling of being sprawled across her body, settled comfortably between her thighs, his weight pressing his chest to hers, feeling her breast rise and fall against him with each breath she took, the shallow and surprised puffs of air she exhaled against his neck.

It was a short moment until she pushed him off her and hastily scrambled to her feet, all the while mumbling apologies, even if it wasn't her fault, but never daring to look at him.

Just a moment till she dashed away.

But a moment nonetheless.

And that moment was enough to awaken something in him. Not only the quite painful bulge in his pants, but something else, something he hadn't ever felt before.

After starring for some time motionless at the corner she had just taken, he turned on his heel swiftly entering the Prefects bathroom again. There was no way in hell he was going to wander around Hogwarts in his current state. He was already getting ridiculed enough as it was, he wasn't going to offer them even more material.

And so his obsession with Hermione Granger began.

He spent the next two weeks following her around, despising himself for being so weak and giving in to the urge to stalk her, but at the same time not being able to take his eyes of her.

By the third week he knew her schedule by heart; knew when she would be going to the library, when to her Common Room and when to the Grounds to take some solitary walks.

He knew of her infatuation with that redhead Weasley (really what did she see in that one? Krum was already bad enough, but at least he was rich and famous; but what the hell had that freckled monster to offer?), he knew how she waited for him to ask her out and he knew that that idiot had done something to get her really upset.

He knew her favourite subject was Transfiguration and that she actually admired Snape for his deftness; he knew that she bit her nails while studying only to make them regrow before someone could notice; he knew that she often just sat in the library to get some peace and quiet and to think or read some Muggle novels.

But most importantly he knew that in all the time he had spend observing her, she hadn't once noticed him.

It was like he was air to her, and even if it was refreshing that there finally was somebody who didn't make fun of him for having to repeat his NEWT's it still hurt.

It hurt like hell.

He understood that she probably would never see him; never ever consider him as a possible boyfriend candidate; they would look hilarious together anyway: the bookworm and the dounce, the goddess and the beast (because he wasn't delusional, he knew he wasn't the least bit attractive with his big, irregular teeth and ugly face).

But still – he wanted her.

He wanted her so much.

And he would get her, maybe not right now, in this instant, but in a few years..

Time was known to change everything..

And maybe...

Maybe things would finally work out in his favour for once.

He would do everything he could to get her and, after all, he was a Flint, and Flints always got their way in the long run.

Yes, in the end he would have her.

In the end his father would relent, allow him to have her as his bride and she'd fit perfectly, not only in his family, but also in his world – she already behaved as a queen and soon she'd be treated as one too. And with her intellect and magical power the Flint-line wouldn't have to worry to produce Squibs for a few generations.

Oh, he could already see what a perfect wife she'd become, carrying his children, waiting for him to come home, withering under him as he made her his own over and over again, staying loyal at his side till they breathed their last breath.

Yes, life would be grandiose.

Shortly after he left the Great Hall to retreat to the peacefulness of the deserted dorms.

There would come the time when he would be able to whisk her away from a party to have his way with her instead of having to relieve himself.

A/N: I know that Flint hadn't been at Hogwarts anymore in Hermione's fourth year, but for the sake of this story I'm simply going to overlook that tiny little fact..

Special thanks to Greekchic who beta-ed this for me!

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