Chapter 1 : Obsession
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 24|
Background: Font color:
Tossing the note aside you get up and pace the room, unable to stand sitting still a second longer. It doesn’t help you escape though; the words haunt you whichever way you look, fate cruelly etching each stroke of the quill onto your retinas permanently. How can he do this to you of all people? You, who gave him everything he ever wanted or needed. All those years you spent by his side, supporting him no matter what, just for him to abandon you, to leave you with only the maybes and what ifs for company. Still, you forgave him for leaving. How could you do anything else? You waited patiently for him to return to you and instead he sends you this.
A sigh flows from your lips as you remember the words your so-called friends had warned you with. They'd told you this might happen, advised you to look around as there were so many other eligible men out there for you to choose from, and he clearly didn't want you anymore. They didn't understand though; they couldn't see you were much too busy being in love with him to even consider falling for anyone new. You still are. Obsessive they spat at you, you're obsessing over him. They didn't know the half of it, you think ruefully as your eyes scan the dark room, his face looking back at you from so many angles. Ignorance is bliss though, and the more you ignored them the more they left you alone until soon, they stopped talking to you at all.
You move closer to your favourite picture of him, the one in a thin golden frame that takes pride of place on your wooden dressing table. A small smile plays on his arrogant face, which makes the corners of your lips turn upwards too and you don't think you've ever seen anything so wonderful. He used to look at you like that right before he kissed you. Your stomach would tingle in delight, toes scrunching against the floor as your lips met perfectly. Bile rises in your throat now at the thought of him with her, his peppermint-laced kiss intoxicating lips that aren't yours.
A feral scream rips through you as more images of the two of them together come unbidden to your mind. In anger, you grab objects from your dressing table and throw them as hard as you can across the room. Satisfying smashes echo around you and so you continue to destroy everything within your reach, rage pouring out of your every pore. You finally find yourself stood amongst a pile of ruined possessions at a lost as to what to do next. The first tear slips down your cheek, followed by two more in quick succession. Soon they stream down your face thick and fast and you sob, falling to your knees. There’s nothing more to you than a hollow shell burning with the worst kind of love.
You curl up on your side amongst the shards of glass and fragments of wood and plastic. You may be the only thing that still looks intact in the room, but you know you're by far the most damaged. Grabbing fistfuls of hair, you yank hard as if it will pull each unwanted memory out. You sob in the hope the tears will purge each moment with him from your mind. You want to reach into your own head and claw every last thought of him away. Each glance, each laugh, each touch. You want it all gone.
Seconds tick by, endlessly marching on despite the fact your world has collapsed around you. You’re not sure whether they accumulate into hours, days or even weeks; you just hear them, selfishly refusing to stop like the endless stream of water from your eyes. You want it to end. Every way you consider it, all the exits looks the same. You’re still stood alone with a knife through your heart.
You lie there some more. Existing marginally in the cramped space you’ve made for yourself amongst the rubble. A glint of gold catches your eye from within the wreckage surrounding you and suddenly, it's all you can focus on. You slowly uncurl in a trance like state, moving stiffly towards it with your arm stretched greedily.
An unwanted present from some great aunt you hardly saw finally lies in the palm of your hand. You'd hated it. The idea of needing some object to tell you you'd forgotten something was repulsive, even as a child. The day the round ball had filled with red mist you had sat for hours staring at it, trying as hard as you could to figure out what you had forgotten until finally, your mother had taken it away from you, moving it out of reach. As you watch the colourless gas now, an idea slowly forms in your mind. A wretched plan, but for the first time since receiving the letter you realise, there's another way out.
"Binx!" You whisper into the dark room. A resounding crack reveals a small dirty creature wearing nothing but a filthy pillow case.
You tell the servant your orders and he tries to protest. A raised hand quickly silences him and you order him again. He doesn't speak for a second, but with a quick threat of handing him clothes he raises his grubby hand, eyes wide with terror as to what he's about to do. You close your eyes and smile, waiting for the bliss to overwhelm you. His fingers snap.
You sit curled up in an oversized squishy lounger, lost to the outside world deep in your own thoughts. The fingers on your left hand scratch at the velvety green fabric, creating contrasting lines down the length of the chairs arm. Your eyes feel swollen and sore, as though you've been crying for a long time, yet you have no idea why. You pay these things no attention as you stare intensely into the small spherical object you press tightly between your fingertips.
A strange feeling encompasses you, a bit like when you used to wake up from a dream and instantly forget what had happened. You'd concentrate hard, but the more you tried to remember, the more the details slipped away like grains of sand between your fingers. Now, as you look hard into the swirling smoke you see blurs of images, dancing just at the edges of your vision. Desperately, you try to grasp for them, reaching as far as you can but it's no use. The orb in your hand knows it as well as you do. Its cloudy red interior mocks you as the frustration inside you builds.
You pull out the tatty photograph you found tucked behind your dressing table. A pale boy with slick blonde hair smirks up at you superciliously. There’s a familiarity about him that makes you want to scrunch your toes and smile, but no matter how hard you try you can’t place him.
There’s something you’ve forgotten.
request the pleasure of the company of
at the marriage of their daughter
Astoria Margret Greengrass
Draco Lucius Malfoy
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy
on 28th October 2004
RSVP to Malfoy Manor by 15th September.
AN: Hi guys! Thanks for taking the time to read this! It was written for the May Gryffindor Writing Challenge where we had to use 3 promtpts from the selection given to us. I used Pansy Parkinson, House Elf and Remembrall. If you have the time I would love to hear your thoughts on it.
I would also love to say a massive thank you to Sian (nott theodore) for beta reading this for me. She's an absolute star and you should definitely read her stuff, it's amazing!!
Other Similar Stories
Bad To Worse
The Boy Thro...