My first songfic and a challenge/request for you to complete it
I have wanted to try a songfic for a long time now, and being a HUGE Garbage fan (Shirley Manson is my GOD), my first songfic had to be by Garbage. And this song fits Hermione and Draco perfectly, in my honest, fanatic opinion.
http://tinyurl.com/zgg6j
I intended to make it from Hermiones point of view, but somehow ended up with Draco's...
...I also INTENDED it to be if not light, then NOT-dark at least. With me it was heading to either non-con or somewhere really really strange..
So I started thinking, maybe one (or more of) you would like to complete it? See where you'd like to take it, be it either continuation from Draco's POV or make the rest from Hermione's??? Is there any other way out than non-con and if so, what? And even if it goes non-con, what then??
I would be very interested in finding out what you could come up with, and also what you think of the beginning. It's my first attempt at songfic, so keep that in mind!! :/
And rating, it's not very graphic at least yet...
The start of a song fic to ”I think I’m paranoid” by ever so fine Garbage
"Paranoid"
'You can look, but you can't touch
I don't think I like you much'
Oh, how he hated her. He hated her so much. He would’ve given almost anything just to see her suffer like she had made him suffer.
She seemed to be everywhere. Everywhere, and every time he turned around she was there, talking to either Pothead or Weasel, laughing. And flaunting. Boy, did she like to flaunt it. He bet she just loved it when she got all the boys (and some professors! Especially Snape, to his horror) staring at her. Maybe it was a small payback for all the years she had been considered solely as a boring, ugly bookworm, and an insufferable know-it-all.
He had to admit though, that to flaunt it she had to have it, and Merlin did she ever! He remembered the skinny, akward-looking girl with frizzy hair, bucked teeth and an annoying attitude. The attitude was the same. Her hair was still tangled. But the teeth were normal and the rack on her…she wasn’t tall. She barely reached his shoulder. Her body was curvy with birthing hips and full breasts. Draco knew it was quite old fashioned to go for “birthing” kind of hips today in age, but he really hated the girls who were all skin and bones and looked malnourished. You might as well be screwing a broomstick with limbs. Hermione was a pocket-sized Venus or a Goddess with long hard-to-handle hair and as hard-to-handle temper. He really would’ve liked to wrap his hand around a curl of her unmanageable hair and force her to her knees. That was her proper place. And there she would have better suited things for her wonderful pouty mouth to do than talk. She talked too much. And never to him. Never unless he made her.
'Heaven knows what a girl can do'
Merlin, look at her. There she goes again. Whatever Pothead said it couldn’t’ve been that amazing that she had to drape herself on his shoulder and giggle. Weasel looked dismayed. “I know what you’re thinking Weasel, you want her too. You want the damn scarhead to take his hands of your girl. Or rather, your girl to take her hands of the scarhead. But she isn’t your girl, is she? You’re not man enough to even have her, let alone keep her. She’s making a fool of you both and you are too stupid to even realize it.”
'Heaven knows what you've got to prove'
If Draco decided to have her and keep her, he could. No one said no to a Malfoy. And a mudblood certainly should be thankful of the chance to get a pureblooded, real man in her bed. Or where ever he would see it fit to take her.
'I think I'm paranoid
And complicated
I think I'm paranoid
Manipulate it'
Draco couldn’t tell when it had started but it had escalated fast. For the past six or seven days and nights he couldn’t think about anything except her. That filthy little mudblood.
He laid awake at night, imagining who she might’ve been with. He laid awake, imagining who she had given her precious Gryffindor cherry to. Potter? krum? The bloodtraitor Weasley? He shuddered at the thought.
During the day his eyes followed her around all the time, when she talked to her friends and laughed. And threw her hair back to get attention, bit the end of her quil to get everyone looking at her sexy lips, scratched her leg “absentmindedly” just above the knee but under the hemline of her short school skirt where her delicious Gryffindor coloured socks ended…
He wanted to punch all of their lights out, the trail of gits that thought themselves worthy of her. And Hermione, he wanted to push her against the wall, any wall, anywhere, not caring if anyone watched, rip her undoubtedly white cotton panties aside and push himself roughly into her tightness, make her admit that she did this all on purpose, make her scream, make her beg to be his own little mudblood bitch forever.
http://tinyurl.com/zgg6j
I intended to make it from Hermiones point of view, but somehow ended up with Draco's...
...I also INTENDED it to be if not light, then NOT-dark at least. With me it was heading to either non-con or somewhere really really strange..
So I started thinking, maybe one (or more of) you would like to complete it? See where you'd like to take it, be it either continuation from Draco's POV or make the rest from Hermione's??? Is there any other way out than non-con and if so, what? And even if it goes non-con, what then??
I would be very interested in finding out what you could come up with, and also what you think of the beginning. It's my first attempt at songfic, so keep that in mind!! :/
And rating, it's not very graphic at least yet...
The start of a song fic to ”I think I’m paranoid” by ever so fine Garbage
"Paranoid"
'You can look, but you can't touch
I don't think I like you much'
Oh, how he hated her. He hated her so much. He would’ve given almost anything just to see her suffer like she had made him suffer.
She seemed to be everywhere. Everywhere, and every time he turned around she was there, talking to either Pothead or Weasel, laughing. And flaunting. Boy, did she like to flaunt it. He bet she just loved it when she got all the boys (and some professors! Especially Snape, to his horror) staring at her. Maybe it was a small payback for all the years she had been considered solely as a boring, ugly bookworm, and an insufferable know-it-all.
He had to admit though, that to flaunt it she had to have it, and Merlin did she ever! He remembered the skinny, akward-looking girl with frizzy hair, bucked teeth and an annoying attitude. The attitude was the same. Her hair was still tangled. But the teeth were normal and the rack on her…she wasn’t tall. She barely reached his shoulder. Her body was curvy with birthing hips and full breasts. Draco knew it was quite old fashioned to go for “birthing” kind of hips today in age, but he really hated the girls who were all skin and bones and looked malnourished. You might as well be screwing a broomstick with limbs. Hermione was a pocket-sized Venus or a Goddess with long hard-to-handle hair and as hard-to-handle temper. He really would’ve liked to wrap his hand around a curl of her unmanageable hair and force her to her knees. That was her proper place. And there she would have better suited things for her wonderful pouty mouth to do than talk. She talked too much. And never to him. Never unless he made her.
'Heaven knows what a girl can do'
Merlin, look at her. There she goes again. Whatever Pothead said it couldn’t’ve been that amazing that she had to drape herself on his shoulder and giggle. Weasel looked dismayed. “I know what you’re thinking Weasel, you want her too. You want the damn scarhead to take his hands of your girl. Or rather, your girl to take her hands of the scarhead. But she isn’t your girl, is she? You’re not man enough to even have her, let alone keep her. She’s making a fool of you both and you are too stupid to even realize it.”
'Heaven knows what you've got to prove'
If Draco decided to have her and keep her, he could. No one said no to a Malfoy. And a mudblood certainly should be thankful of the chance to get a pureblooded, real man in her bed. Or where ever he would see it fit to take her.
'I think I'm paranoid
And complicated
I think I'm paranoid
Manipulate it'
Draco couldn’t tell when it had started but it had escalated fast. For the past six or seven days and nights he couldn’t think about anything except her. That filthy little mudblood.
He laid awake at night, imagining who she might’ve been with. He laid awake, imagining who she had given her precious Gryffindor cherry to. Potter? krum? The bloodtraitor Weasley? He shuddered at the thought.
During the day his eyes followed her around all the time, when she talked to her friends and laughed. And threw her hair back to get attention, bit the end of her quil to get everyone looking at her sexy lips, scratched her leg “absentmindedly” just above the knee but under the hemline of her short school skirt where her delicious Gryffindor coloured socks ended…
He wanted to punch all of their lights out, the trail of gits that thought themselves worthy of her. And Hermione, he wanted to push her against the wall, any wall, anywhere, not caring if anyone watched, rip her undoubtedly white cotton panties aside and push himself roughly into her tightness, make her admit that she did this all on purpose, make her scream, make her beg to be his own little mudblood bitch forever.