Calypse: umm a pointless one shot... again, sort of a follow up of 'Serpentine Anguish' but you don't have to read that. Draco might be ooc but then... since when have I kept anyone totally straight?
You begin to think about your childhood and you begin to notice things you never noticed before.
Remember things left best untouched
Recall things that you had forgotten
This was one of those things...
Hello, my name is Draco Malfoy
My name is the bane of my existence I remember that much
Everywhere I go, just because of my name I'd be scorn, laughed at...
Because of my name I never had a childhood...
Or perhaps I had one but I had forgotten
Hello, my name is Draco Malfoy
Being a Malfoy never get caught, never be human
I remember a garden... I'm not sure if it was in our out of the manor but it was beautiful
Exotic flowers from all over the world, my mother's private collection. But the most beautiful flower there were the roses... all shades of warm colors from bloody red to pastel yellow, and vivid hues of pink to pearly whites...
I...
I remember so much...
Things that I don't want to remember...
...
I picked one even when I found out thorns could hurt you, pierce through my fingers... even when the blood dropped on to the already scarlet petals and staining the leaves I picked one and proudly showed it to my mother when I found her.
Needless to say she wasn't very pleased
Scratch that, she's never pleased
I was five I think
Maybe I was younger...
Maybe I was older...
I don't remember
She hurt me I think, but then pain never lasted long. And for some reason I began to crave the pain...
The rose was red...
Still red when it fell lifelessly on to the floor
Broken yet beautiful...
She told me never to touch her flowers again, and she went out into the garden to see what other 'damage' I had done.
My hand was still bleeding well into the night; perhaps if I had been trifle older I would have feared death by blood loss. But I was young; children don't fear such things, not really.
A Malfoy does not cry
But by then I had run out of tears
I went back to the garden, the roses were still there and so were the other flowers.
I took care of them, I don't know why... I still do during the summer months. My skin began to peel but it didn't stop me from trying to touch one of the roses. My favorite were the white ones...
And it still is...
It reminded me in a sick, twisted way
How could something so fragile, candlelight compared to a bonfire be so pure? The white never changing color till the day it died, it boggles my mind how it did that.
Perhaps it explains how and why people act the way they do around me.
Some act like I'm a thorn at their side
Some think I'm some forbidden beauty
Others... think I'm a distraught, psychotic child underneath it all
Funny actually
It represents a Malfoy perfectly
A rose is beautiful no matter what color they are or were
Even dying ones have an aura around them, the beauty of broken things
But then every rose has its thorns...