New one-shot! :)
A one-shot just starting pouring out of me tonight and I finished it and had it beta'd stat and so, here it is!
A thousand appreciative shout-outs to my beta
ftsor for her brilliance! ;)
Let Me Get What I Want
Everyone has always looked at me as this snobby, spoiled little rich bastard. But who of them have ever really known me? Crabbe? Goyle? Please. Those two know just as much about me as anyone else in this god-forsaken castle. Which is nothing. And sure, okay, the bastard part may be true enough, and I suppose snobby would go hand in hand with being a bastard, but spoiled? No. Spoiled implies that I get everything I want. So no, I’m certainly not the spoiled rich kid that everyone thinks I am. In fact, I can’t remember a single time in my entire life I actually got something I wanted. Really wanted. For myself. I wish that for once in my life, just one time, I could have something I really truly want. Sure, I have more dress robes and expensive accessories than anyone around, but I never really wanted any of them. In fact, everything I have ever obtained was basically forced on me. I have never had any choice in any matter what so ever. Not even school, actually. I had wanted to attend Durmstrang, but Father would have none of it.
So here I am. And here I stand with all of my fancy robes and possessions, playing my expected role of “spoiled”, snobby, Slytherin bastard. And I acknowledge that yes, I play the role wonderfully, to a T. And most of the time I’m fine with it. Really, I am. I can play lap dog to my father and appear the obedient mudblood hater amongst the death eater posse. But every once in a while it can wear even the strongest, most determined Slytherin prick down. Well, mainly just when I see her.
Now, it’s certainly not something I like to admit, even to myself, but all of those cliché’s you hear - “the grass is always greener on the other side”, “you always want what you can’t have,” et cetera, et cetera. Well, for some goddamn reason, when it comes to her, they all seem true. And it’s pitiful and pathetic, I know. But she is the one thing I want. Really want. And, of course, living up to the cliché, and being right up to par with every other thing I’ve actually wanted in my life, she is what I can’t have. Not because of my Father or because of my house or because of my presumed Death Eater status - those things can all be damned as far as I’m concerned.
I watch her pass me now in the hallway, and as she hurries by with her two cronies, making sure to completely avoid eye contact with me in anyway, I’m reminded of why I can’t have her.
The real reason I can’t have her is because she wont have me.
***
Everyone has always looked at me as this loud mouthed, goody-goody, know-it-all. But who really knows me? Harry? Ron? Sure, they know enough about me to be considered friends, and we work great together. But they really don’t know anything about me beyond the surface, nor have they ever showed any real interest to. And yes, I may be a bit of a loud mouth. I can’t help it. I was raised not only to have my own opinions, but to voice them as well, and not let others control what I think. I have no qualms about that. Nor do I about my persona of being a know-it-all. I like knowledge. I suppose it goes hand in hand with being able to form my own opinions and voice them “loudly”. In fact, sometimes I wonder why I wasn’t sorted into Ravenclaw. But a goody-goody? No. Being a goody-goody implies that I could never even fathom breaking a rule, or doing something remotely fun or dangerous. And believe me, I’ve broken plenty of rules and done many a dangerous thing. I do so quite often, actually. So no, I’m certainly not the goody-goody little princess that everyone thinks I am. Though I suppose being a goody-goody just gets grouped right in with being a know-it-all and loudmouth.
I fit the role wonderfully to everyone, I suppose, because nobody really knows me. And most of the time I’m fine with it. Really, I am. Still, I wish that I could set everyone in this place straight, or at least shake up their set-in-stone idea of me a bit. Not that I really care what they think of me. Not really. Actually, there’s only one person I’d really care to set the record straight with. There’s only one person I’d love to disprove my persona of uptight goody-goody to, and that’s him.
Now, it’s certainly not something I like to admit, even to myself, but all of those cliché’s you hear - “the grass is always greener on the other side”, “you always want what you can’t have,” et cetera, et cetera. Well, for some reason, when it comes to him, they all seem true. And it’s pitiful and pathetic, I know. But he is the one person I wish viewed me differently because, well, I want him, I suppose. But, of course, living up to the cliché, he is what I can’t have. Not only because of his Father or because of our Houses or because of his presumed Death Eater status. No, there’s much more to it than that.
I see him out of the corner of my eye now as I walk down the hallway with Harry and Ron. I avert my gaze entirely, hoping he didn’t catch my wandering peripheral vision, and I’m reminded of exactly why I can’t have him. The real reason I can’t have him is because I will never be able to change how he views me. He hates who I am, and what I am. And I will never have him because he won’t have me.
***
I’m sitting across from her in the dining hall again tonight, just like every evening since first year. I try to keep my eyes off of her, and in doing so I cant find anything better to do than play with the food on my plate, so I proceed in shoving it from side to side with my fork. My housemates are rambling about the Dark Arts and Death Eaters once again, as if it’s somehow a new conversation, when really it’s the same goddamn thing over and over. I try my hardest to tune them out. Then, for what has to be at least the 9 millionth time I’ve heard the phrase now, I hear “mudblood” slip from someone’s lips yet again. It’s the last straw and something within me snaps. I shove my plate aside and stand up, abruptly leaving the dining hall.
Just as abruptly, I’ve made up my mind. Fuck pining away for something or someone I can’t have. Fuck feeling sorry for myself because I’ve never gotten what I really wanted. That’s not how a Slytherin should operate. I will take what I want. I will make the one thing I’ve wanted become the one thing I have.
I stand in the corridor just outside the dining hall with my mind made up and my courage almost spewing out of me, and all I can do now is wait.
She comes out on her own only minutes later. I wonder if it has anything to do with my quick departure. She looks embarrassed when she sees me standing there. Her cheeks flush and she immediately looks away from me, turning quickly to leave the area. I turn after her and almost forget that speaking is a crucial thing in one of these types of situations.
“Hey, Granger! Wait! Stop!” I stumble on the words and reach for her arm.
“What, Malfoy? What could you possibly want from me?” She spits as I spin her around towards me.
“I…Goddamn, this is going to sound like utter shite coming from me, but I…well, I don’t want anything from you really…” I mumble.
“Well, if there’s nothing then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind letting go of me,” she huffs as she pulls away and starts stomping once again down the hall.
“No! Dammit Granger, you don’t understand!” I half shout, speeding up after her.
I reach her again and throw her up against the closest wall, forcefully enough to control her, but not enough to hurt her. I don’t say another word, I simply slam my mouth against hers, claiming what I want. Making what I want into what is mine.
I’m confused for a second when I don’t feel even the slightest bit of struggle from her, but it makes no difference. This is what I want.
After our breath has become ragged, our lips swollen, and our faces hot and flushed, I pull away and simply say, “I don’t want anything from you. I just, want you.”
She stares at me in what I can only assume is utter hatred mixed with astonishment. I start to panic a bit and words start spilling out of my mouth at an ungodly speed, in what I’m sure is a huge incomprehensible mess.
She almost yells over the jumble of noise I’m spewing.
“Shut up, Malfoy!”
I stop dead in my tracks and just stare. She continues, “I thought you thought, well, I’m sure you know what I thought you thought of me…and I just well, I thought this would never happen. Ever. And…”
She pulls me back to the wall, flush against herself. “I want you too.” She presses her mouth to mine once again.
And as we stand there, taking each other in, I can’t help but smile a bit against her mouth as I think to myself, I finally got what I really wanted, and now she's mine.
A thousand appreciative shout-outs to my beta
ftsor for her brilliance! ;)
Let Me Get What I Want
Everyone has always looked at me as this snobby, spoiled little rich bastard. But who of them have ever really known me? Crabbe? Goyle? Please. Those two know just as much about me as anyone else in this god-forsaken castle. Which is nothing. And sure, okay, the bastard part may be true enough, and I suppose snobby would go hand in hand with being a bastard, but spoiled? No. Spoiled implies that I get everything I want. So no, I’m certainly not the spoiled rich kid that everyone thinks I am. In fact, I can’t remember a single time in my entire life I actually got something I wanted. Really wanted. For myself. I wish that for once in my life, just one time, I could have something I really truly want. Sure, I have more dress robes and expensive accessories than anyone around, but I never really wanted any of them. In fact, everything I have ever obtained was basically forced on me. I have never had any choice in any matter what so ever. Not even school, actually. I had wanted to attend Durmstrang, but Father would have none of it.
So here I am. And here I stand with all of my fancy robes and possessions, playing my expected role of “spoiled”, snobby, Slytherin bastard. And I acknowledge that yes, I play the role wonderfully, to a T. And most of the time I’m fine with it. Really, I am. I can play lap dog to my father and appear the obedient mudblood hater amongst the death eater posse. But every once in a while it can wear even the strongest, most determined Slytherin prick down. Well, mainly just when I see her.
Now, it’s certainly not something I like to admit, even to myself, but all of those cliché’s you hear - “the grass is always greener on the other side”, “you always want what you can’t have,” et cetera, et cetera. Well, for some goddamn reason, when it comes to her, they all seem true. And it’s pitiful and pathetic, I know. But she is the one thing I want. Really want. And, of course, living up to the cliché, and being right up to par with every other thing I’ve actually wanted in my life, she is what I can’t have. Not because of my Father or because of my house or because of my presumed Death Eater status - those things can all be damned as far as I’m concerned.
I watch her pass me now in the hallway, and as she hurries by with her two cronies, making sure to completely avoid eye contact with me in anyway, I’m reminded of why I can’t have her.
The real reason I can’t have her is because she wont have me.
***
Everyone has always looked at me as this loud mouthed, goody-goody, know-it-all. But who really knows me? Harry? Ron? Sure, they know enough about me to be considered friends, and we work great together. But they really don’t know anything about me beyond the surface, nor have they ever showed any real interest to. And yes, I may be a bit of a loud mouth. I can’t help it. I was raised not only to have my own opinions, but to voice them as well, and not let others control what I think. I have no qualms about that. Nor do I about my persona of being a know-it-all. I like knowledge. I suppose it goes hand in hand with being able to form my own opinions and voice them “loudly”. In fact, sometimes I wonder why I wasn’t sorted into Ravenclaw. But a goody-goody? No. Being a goody-goody implies that I could never even fathom breaking a rule, or doing something remotely fun or dangerous. And believe me, I’ve broken plenty of rules and done many a dangerous thing. I do so quite often, actually. So no, I’m certainly not the goody-goody little princess that everyone thinks I am. Though I suppose being a goody-goody just gets grouped right in with being a know-it-all and loudmouth.
I fit the role wonderfully to everyone, I suppose, because nobody really knows me. And most of the time I’m fine with it. Really, I am. Still, I wish that I could set everyone in this place straight, or at least shake up their set-in-stone idea of me a bit. Not that I really care what they think of me. Not really. Actually, there’s only one person I’d really care to set the record straight with. There’s only one person I’d love to disprove my persona of uptight goody-goody to, and that’s him.
Now, it’s certainly not something I like to admit, even to myself, but all of those cliché’s you hear - “the grass is always greener on the other side”, “you always want what you can’t have,” et cetera, et cetera. Well, for some reason, when it comes to him, they all seem true. And it’s pitiful and pathetic, I know. But he is the one person I wish viewed me differently because, well, I want him, I suppose. But, of course, living up to the cliché, he is what I can’t have. Not only because of his Father or because of our Houses or because of his presumed Death Eater status. No, there’s much more to it than that.
I see him out of the corner of my eye now as I walk down the hallway with Harry and Ron. I avert my gaze entirely, hoping he didn’t catch my wandering peripheral vision, and I’m reminded of exactly why I can’t have him. The real reason I can’t have him is because I will never be able to change how he views me. He hates who I am, and what I am. And I will never have him because he won’t have me.
***
I’m sitting across from her in the dining hall again tonight, just like every evening since first year. I try to keep my eyes off of her, and in doing so I cant find anything better to do than play with the food on my plate, so I proceed in shoving it from side to side with my fork. My housemates are rambling about the Dark Arts and Death Eaters once again, as if it’s somehow a new conversation, when really it’s the same goddamn thing over and over. I try my hardest to tune them out. Then, for what has to be at least the 9 millionth time I’ve heard the phrase now, I hear “mudblood” slip from someone’s lips yet again. It’s the last straw and something within me snaps. I shove my plate aside and stand up, abruptly leaving the dining hall.
Just as abruptly, I’ve made up my mind. Fuck pining away for something or someone I can’t have. Fuck feeling sorry for myself because I’ve never gotten what I really wanted. That’s not how a Slytherin should operate. I will take what I want. I will make the one thing I’ve wanted become the one thing I have.
I stand in the corridor just outside the dining hall with my mind made up and my courage almost spewing out of me, and all I can do now is wait.
She comes out on her own only minutes later. I wonder if it has anything to do with my quick departure. She looks embarrassed when she sees me standing there. Her cheeks flush and she immediately looks away from me, turning quickly to leave the area. I turn after her and almost forget that speaking is a crucial thing in one of these types of situations.
“Hey, Granger! Wait! Stop!” I stumble on the words and reach for her arm.
“What, Malfoy? What could you possibly want from me?” She spits as I spin her around towards me.
“I…Goddamn, this is going to sound like utter shite coming from me, but I…well, I don’t want anything from you really…” I mumble.
“Well, if there’s nothing then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind letting go of me,” she huffs as she pulls away and starts stomping once again down the hall.
“No! Dammit Granger, you don’t understand!” I half shout, speeding up after her.
I reach her again and throw her up against the closest wall, forcefully enough to control her, but not enough to hurt her. I don’t say another word, I simply slam my mouth against hers, claiming what I want. Making what I want into what is mine.
I’m confused for a second when I don’t feel even the slightest bit of struggle from her, but it makes no difference. This is what I want.
After our breath has become ragged, our lips swollen, and our faces hot and flushed, I pull away and simply say, “I don’t want anything from you. I just, want you.”
She stares at me in what I can only assume is utter hatred mixed with astonishment. I start to panic a bit and words start spilling out of my mouth at an ungodly speed, in what I’m sure is a huge incomprehensible mess.
She almost yells over the jumble of noise I’m spewing.
“Shut up, Malfoy!”
I stop dead in my tracks and just stare. She continues, “I thought you thought, well, I’m sure you know what I thought you thought of me…and I just well, I thought this would never happen. Ever. And…”
She pulls me back to the wall, flush against herself. “I want you too.” She presses her mouth to mine once again.
And as we stand there, taking each other in, I can’t help but smile a bit against her mouth as I think to myself, I finally got what I really wanted, and now she's mine.