sassy_cissa (sassy_cissa) wrote in slythindor100, @ 2006-09-11 19:26:00 |
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Current mood: | drained |
Entry tags: | monday-fun ll |
Monday Fun
Original poster: aquila_star
Title: Who am I?
Author: aquila_star
Rating: G
Word Count: 418
Challenge: Monday fun. I think I will tag enchanted_jae and since we seem to have a theme going ;) I will throw out a song that has made me think Harry and Draco for ever so long, and I have wanted to write a fic for it, but I haven’t. And I'd like to see what you do with it. So yeah, it’s On Fire by Switchfoot.
The spotlight has been shining on him since he was born and he doesn’t even know it. He’d lived out of it for so long that he has no idea how to live in it, now he’s here. It strikes me then that he’s more like a bear than a lion, bumbling out of hibernation; sleepy, powerful, obstinate; green eyes blinking dumbly in the brightness.
I hate him and love him equally, for all his attempts to escape, his willful obliviousness, I was born in the spotlight and I know how harsh it can be, how revealing, how unyielding. How much it demands of a person. But he never backs down, he’s so like a bear trapped in a corner, trying to bat away the light with his big paws, claws out; blunt and dull with constant use.
I hate myself for this ambivalence of feeling where he is concerned; my inability to choose a way to feel…but my real problem is that I do know how I feel, and I hate my inability to accept his choice to reject me, his decision to push me away from his spotlight before he knew what it was I was offering. Before even I knew what I was offering, what I wanted to offer him.
So I fight him now, I rile him, pushing and prodding with any stick at hand; pushing him to the limits, only to revel in seeing those green eyes spark with awareness, the sleepy oblivion swept away by his hatred of me. I love to see him angry, flushed and growling, it’s a balm to my conflicted soul that it’s me who makes him look like that, that he saves that look for me.
Yes, I love him the same way I hate him, fully and with total commitment. And it’s clear to me everyday that although I wish for a moment when I might finally get between those paws, to get close, not batted away this time, but drawn nearer, held closer, pressed against his broad chest. Drawn into him, close enough to see the sparks taking shape in his eyes; just because I’m living day to day within that wish, the desire to be owned by him, that doesn’t mean that day will come. For he’s thrust me out of his spotlight, irrevocably, without a chance to try and sort out these feelings. He’s thrust me away and I had no choice but to go. After all, who am I to deny him?