Ask Not
by Kayla
Disclaimer: It all belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.
Notes: First part is Harry's POV, second part is Draco's POV. Not sure about this style of writing, sorry if it doesn't work for me.
I never asked for this, you know.
I never asked to be The Boy Who Lived. Never asked for the prestige and fame that seems to come with that title. Never asked to be anyone special.
All I ever wanted, really wanted, was a home, a loving family, and maybe a few friends.
I never asked to be responsible for the lives of others. Never asked for the duty to stand up against Voldemort. Never asked to face the possibility that the people I love will die horrible, painful deaths trying to stand against the rise of evil.
I just wanted to be normal. Have a normal life, with normal parents, and normal people around me. And what do I get? Witches for friends, dark powers for enemies, and an escaped convict for a godfather. I won't even get into the werewolf/unicorn/dragon experiences I've had.
Don't get me wrong; I like my life now. Well, most of it. I've got Ron and Herm, who are the best friends I could have ever dreamed of having. I get to spend the majority of my time away from the Dursleys, and I'm learning how to do things that I never would have imagined in my wildest dreams.
But...I never asked to be lonely. You'd think I would be used to it, after growing up the way I did. I guess I just became accustomed to always having either Ron or Hermione around wanting to do things. Being...just friends. Things are different now that they've 'discovered' each other. I know they try to include me still, but I feel...left out.
I wonder what they'd say if they knew? If they knew why I really give them those wistful, longing looks whenever I see them holding hands, or whispering quietly to each other, or when I witness the occasional stolen kiss.
I never asked to feel this sharp pain in my heart when I look at him. Never asked to be haunted by gray-blue eyes and pale hair. Never asked to be bewitched by his smooth, arrogant voice.
How sick is that, huh? Of all the people I could have fallen for, why did it have to be him? I never asked to feel this way about him. To dream about him, and...long for him.
I never asked to be kept awake at nights wondering how soft his skin is, how his lips would feel on mine, what the touch of his hands would do to my body.
What he would taste like.
I never...
I never asked to be in love with Draco Malfoy.
I didn't ask for this, you know.
Oh sure, everyone probably thinks I'm just as happy as can be, what with my reputation and all. I've got most of the students here planted firmly under my heel, right where they belong. I'm feared, and hated. And I like that.
Sure, I've got the infamy. That's what being the son of a Deatheater will do for you. I've got the requisite horde of followers, salivating over the chance to share in my glory. The girls drooling over me, lusting, dreaming of being 'the one' who gets chosen to share my life, bear my children. And not least of all, I have parents who will get me anything I ask for because their son has to have the best. Be the best.
And I should be happy. I have everything, everything I want.
But...I didn't ask for a father whose only goal for me is to mold me in his image. I didn't ask to made into his clone. To have my entire life mapped out and planned for me without any choice in the matter. To be what they want me to be, expect me to be.
I didn't ask for the disappointment on their faces, the recriminations I face every time I'm just a little less than perfect, not quite the best. The hours I spend locked in my room, alone, studying ceaselessly just so I can get better grades than a damned mudblood.
I didn't ask for this...emptiness.
I'm not lonely. I'm not! I have plenty of friends, people who want me, want to be me. Want whatever piece of me they can get. Any one of them would come running if I ever once indicated that I wanted them.
I don't want them, though. And...I didn't ask to feel this way.
I didn't ask to see green eyes burning in my dreams. I didn't ask to feel this lurching in my stomach whenever I hear his soft, annoying voice.
I didn't ask to start shivering when he accidentally brushed against me that time in Potions, or when he give me those heated glares across the tables at dinner. And I know I didn't ask for this perverse desire to see what he looks like just out of the shower.
As for the niggling little thoughts about what it would be like to touch him, hold him, trace my tongue over that stupid scar on his forehead...I didn't ask for those, either.
I didn't...
I didn't ask to have these damned, disgusting, sick...feelings for Harry fucking Potter!
Finit
So??? Let me know what you think!
