Private Message to Draco Malfoy
Look, I know you said you don't love me but I don't care. I'll do anything you want, anyway. You have to give me a chance, you just have to or I'll die. I'd be perfect for you if you think about it. This whole holiday Pav's been absolutely in tears over getting betrothed and fighting for the suitor she wants, and I understood but I didn't really know how she had to feel, getting so desperate to make the right choice forever. And I guess it got me thinking about my choices, and whether I'd really ever be happy with anyone else. So when I saw you tonight with Daphne like that I--I just couldn't take it anymore. Knowing that you don't see me. I had to say something. I had to make you understand.
You're the only gora I've ever wanted, the only one my parents would approve of, too. Lares, Grant, Davies, even Blaise--no, especially Blaise--they were all just placeholders. It's always been you. It's never not going to be.
And I don't care who knows it. I don't care if it means I have to crawl behind you every day, or if it means you make me act like a mudblood for you. Just as long as I can be near. It's like that line in Shakespeare:
I am your mudblood, and ...
The more you beat me, I will fawn on you:
Use me but as your mudblood, spurn me, hex me,
Neglect me, curse me; only give me leave,
Unworthy as I am, to follow you.
What worser place can I beg in your love,
And yet a place of high respect with me,
Than to be used as you use your mudblood?
It's just like that.
Isn't it odd how a wizard who's been dead so long can know just how I feel?
I love you so much I think my heart's going to burst. It feels like the only way to make it stop is if you'd love me back, and if you can't or won't, then I may have to just cut it out of my chest to stop it hurting so much.
Give me a chance to prove it to you. Give me a chance to see if you could love me. Please.
I'd rather be unhappy loving you, even if you made me suffer every day, than try to be happy with anyone else.
You're the only gora I've ever wanted, the only one my parents would approve of, too. Lares, Grant, Davies, even Blaise--no, especially Blaise--they were all just placeholders. It's always been you. It's never not going to be.
And I don't care who knows it. I don't care if it means I have to crawl behind you every day, or if it means you make me act like a mudblood for you. Just as long as I can be near. It's like that line in Shakespeare:
I am your mudblood, and ...
The more you beat me, I will fawn on you:
Use me but as your mudblood, spurn me, hex me,
Neglect me, curse me; only give me leave,
Unworthy as I am, to follow you.
What worser place can I beg in your love,
And yet a place of high respect with me,
Than to be used as you use your mudblood?
It's just like that.
Isn't it odd how a wizard who's been dead so long can know just how I feel?
I love you so much I think my heart's going to burst. It feels like the only way to make it stop is if you'd love me back, and if you can't or won't, then I may have to just cut it out of my chest to stop it hurting so much.
Give me a chance to prove it to you. Give me a chance to see if you could love me. Please.
I'd rather be unhappy loving you, even if you made me suffer every day, than try to be happy with anyone else.