I hated you. Loathed you so much, to such a point, I was ready to strangle you with the next given chance. The reason you hated me, however, was not because of how different we were, but how alike we were. You saw yourself in me and hated me for it. You also hated me, because I was what you could have been. Unfortunately, or, fortunately, (to which I will never willingly admit under any circumstances), you survived. You had lucked out, just like that stupid, stubborn Gryffindor I had met on the Hogwarts Express so many years ago. Too many years we've been apart, it seems.
Do you know me anymore? No. But I know you, all about you! All over the news and papers. Insane jealousy always followed seeing you in those obscene, garishly written pieces of garbage that Skeeter woman called "news". I resisted the urge to use father's connections to rid the world of her awful presence because of the glimpses of truth in them. They were far apart and barely recognizable, but I could see you in them.
I saw past the poppy-cock articles she would write about you, the 'true' Gryffindor. The Slytherin in you was unmistakable. Your dumb little friends may not have seen it, but it was clear as day to the almighty 'Prince of Slytherin'. No, nothing you did passed by my eyes unhindered or unobserved.
I was your puppeteer. From the moment I met you, your life became mine! You didn't know it at the time and I barely fathomed it, but you were. You succeeded in many things, simply with the intent of beating me. Quidditch was always your favorite sport, wasn't it? I was the one who showed everyone your brilliance- how you shone!
I enjoyed watching you, as well. The Quidditch uniform you wore did your body wonders, if I may say so myself. The leather was quite nice. Of course, you always won- I had shamelessly been watching you during our matches. You were probably under the assumption I was looking for the snitch or something. It was probably best you presumed such, anyway.
You hated me as well. Hated me so much! I enjoyed our fights so much, oh how you screamed my name. It made them worthwhile, seeing your face a fierce shade of red, flushed with anger and embarrassment. I relished in it. You were not one to be walked on and I appreciated that.
You never did embarrassing things like throwing yourself at my feet or submitting willingly. These terrible creatures that dared to called themselves pureblood simply bowed to my presence. It was always like this, no one ever daring to fight back or dare to rebel! And I hated it with a passion. I felt a need to assert my dominance and not a single person would question it! I could have killed them and they would not have uttered a word of displeasure or anger.
Such grievously dull creatures that dare call themselves Slytherin. They were so dreary, lifeless. It was no fun breaking them. They simply gave in, becoming simpering cowards and spineless tools. When there was no further use of them, I killed them right in front of you. You would scream about insanity and cruelty, but it made it worth it the moment you said my name. I was disgusted and surprised when you begged for their lives.
I became disappointed with you for the longest time when you did that. Begging? What kind of hero begged? It was unfitting for a Gryffindor like yourself. But of course, I felt such pride when you never begged for your own sake. Only those around you. You kept some dignity while I would bed you and I relished stealing it from you, slowly and painfully. I did it all very carefully, all planned and all for you.
There were very precocious and important people in the way of our relationship. So I killed them and took special enjoyment in the screams they would make- but hated it when they screamed your name. How dare they! Only I, me, will ever have the pleasure of screaming your name. It sounded disgusting, the way they would say it. Like nails going through my ears. The punishment for such a horrendous deed was a slow and strange death. It fitted the awful deed, I believe.
I found it very ironic and simply amusing you became "He-who-must-not-be-named", because of my strict laws over your name. Noone, absolutely under no circumstances were to utter your name. These impure, uncaring simpletons were brash and daring enough to say your name? No. That was a pleasure only I would have. Only I may say your name.
There were still final pieces to put into place, but my dear puppet, you finished it yourself. With Voldermort out of the way and the rebuilding commencing, I could step up. I was willingly accepted among the ranks of the Death Eaters, a refreshing change from the tactless and selfish Voldermort. I never referred to him as Lord, no matter how many a 'Crucio' I would get. That was a respect that he would never get from me.
But he was selfish, so selfish! Here I am, giving everything to you! Everything! I gave you the wizarding world and you rejected it. At least, I gave you what was left of it. I gave you all I could. I even saved your silly little Mudblood friend, so I could kill her in front of you. Just for you, my love, just for you. The silly little red-head family was already mostly gone and there was nothing I could do. I saved the Weaselette, bringing the finest healers from both worlds to her aid. She was saved and nursed back to health. I killed her as slowly as possible, enjoying every moment as much as I could for both you and me. Of course, I did not slaughter her in front of you, my love. Your innocent eyes were not meant for such sights. Though you did ask for the Weaselette occasionally and I simply smiled, which bothered you to no end. I gave you everything. You still had the bravery and naivete to scream about the injustice and how you weren't going to rule a dying empire. That you weren't going to be responsible for all these deaths.
But it was your fault. I am doing this for you and only you. I couldn't have anything in the way of us and knew no matter what I did- how good I was to you- I would never be accepted. It was the only way, my sweet. I try again and again to explain it and you never understand. You are strange, love. I still love you, though. And you will neverdoubt it. Because I am the only one who will ever love you. For I am the only one who still can.
As I down look into your eyes, so full of determination and hatred, all my hard work and efforts become worth it. I smile lovingly at you as you sneer, calling me derogatory names and cursing my existence. I still smile and whisper a quick "I love you." while my arm sneaks around your chained waist and my hand supports your neck. I push your lips towards mine and begin kissing you deeply.
To remind you who you belong to. To remind you who loves you.