The Illusion of Permanence
a/n: just something i wanted to work on, though even i am not yet sure of the outcome.
disclaimer: it is my fervent wish that J.K. Rowling be a slasher. in the meantime, allow me to play with her characters while she decides whether to slash them or not. ^^v
warnings: this is just pg-13. basically just thoughts. draco pov, btw.
~~~~
Prologue:
I was up at some high tower that night, sitting on my arse with my knees pulled up at my chest, looking up at the sky. I was marvelling at how orderly the constellations were. They were constant. You don't always see them, but they're there, as the cliche went. They're there, with the same arrangement, the same plan, the same outline.
I wish my thoughts were the same.
It was so easy during my first few years at Hogwarts, when all that was expected of me was to obey my father's whims, to torment good people, to be a true Malfoy.. in other words, to be an asshole. It was so darn easy to play out your fore-ordained role.
As it was so dangerous to have a mind of your own.
I was working my way through a pack of menthol cigs that night, getting dangerous.
Because I was thinking.
And Harry Potter was not the one I was expecting to suddenly come up out of nowhere, ask for a smoke, see it was menthol, and cringe.
I believe I was not able to say anything except, "Why not menthol?"
"I'm a reds person," he shrugged.
"How Gryffindor of you," I snorted.
"And I suppose you smoke something green and menthol to keep your cold image," he retorted. "How Slytherin of you."
I laughed, long and hard.
He was smiling.
Basically, that was how everything started.
~~~~
http://www.livejournal.com/users/kimichan/
a/n: just something i wanted to work on, though even i am not yet sure of the outcome.
disclaimer: it is my fervent wish that J.K. Rowling be a slasher. in the meantime, allow me to play with her characters while she decides whether to slash them or not. ^^v
warnings: this is just pg-13. basically just thoughts. draco pov, btw.
~~~~
Prologue:
I was up at some high tower that night, sitting on my arse with my knees pulled up at my chest, looking up at the sky. I was marvelling at how orderly the constellations were. They were constant. You don't always see them, but they're there, as the cliche went. They're there, with the same arrangement, the same plan, the same outline.
I wish my thoughts were the same.
It was so easy during my first few years at Hogwarts, when all that was expected of me was to obey my father's whims, to torment good people, to be a true Malfoy.. in other words, to be an asshole. It was so darn easy to play out your fore-ordained role.
As it was so dangerous to have a mind of your own.
I was working my way through a pack of menthol cigs that night, getting dangerous.
Because I was thinking.
And Harry Potter was not the one I was expecting to suddenly come up out of nowhere, ask for a smoke, see it was menthol, and cringe.
I believe I was not able to say anything except, "Why not menthol?"
"I'm a reds person," he shrugged.
"How Gryffindor of you," I snorted.
"And I suppose you smoke something green and menthol to keep your cold image," he retorted. "How Slytherin of you."
I laughed, long and hard.
He was smiling.
Basically, that was how everything started.
~~~~
http://www.livejournal.com/users/kimichan/