Draco Malfoy was a tortured soul. He dressed in black. He drove others away with his sharp, biting, caustic wit. He loved that which he could never have. Someone that was forbidden to him. His very being was revolted by his feelings, but they were what they were and he could not help it, no matter how he tried. No number of nights spent in the ice-cold water of the titanic baths of the prefects bathing room could rid him of his desire.
Visions of sleek auburn curls and large liquid pools of amber haunted his every waking and dreaming moment. His every living moment. Intense waves of passion, revulsion and self-loathing attended every shimmering image of her like a parasitical wraith. He spent almost every late night and early dawn in the high tower baths, his breath coming in ragged crystal gasps as he contemplated the angel that plagued him.
He saw her every day, and every day he was forced to ignore or abuse her. The only creature that ever sent thrilling spasms of desperation and delight through his pureblooded veins was forever cursed to remain beneath his notice. According to his father, she was not fit to breathe the same air as he.
But that is what he most wanted in the world. To have his breath mingle with hers.
But no.
He mustn't think like that.
Which was exactly why he was perched at the top of the astronomy tower like one of the ancient, twisted, gargoyles carved there centuries past. The harsh winds flicked his pale hair off of his forehead, whipped his cloak to a frenzy, and stung his face with needles of ice that felt like relief. He stood and spread his arms, allowing his cloak to billow out like huge, dark wings. The moonlight broke through the sultry clouds and reflected off of his polished black boots. He gathered himself like a coiled serpent and leapt gracefully into the turbid heavens.