It was the day. The day of fate, of friendship, of love, and of desire.
Draco couldn't sleep that night, but how could he? The next day would be the beginning of fate, his prophecy, which was already laid out for him. Draco didn't like this fate, in fact, he was desperately trying to avoid it, he couldn't. He would have to hide, hide the tears that seeped desperation, guilt, and the fear of letting his father down.
His father, Lucius Malfoy, was not what Draco would call a "good" father. Though he supplied for him, fed him, and gave him the nicest of, well, everything, he lacked the qualities that Draco needed to have in his father. He needed someone who would listen to him, understand him, accept him, but Draco knew that would never happen.
He wanted to live his own life, Lucious wanted him to carry on the "Malfoy Way."
But now its time to wake up, Draco thought as he finished his contemplation, and he slid off his green-and-black, Queen-sized bed and gazed around his room for what would be the last time for a while.
His room is simple, but large. As soon as he walks through the door he sees his bed, with his fireplace linearly in front of it, with a wall-sized tapestry, that has none other than the Malfoy emblem, the "symbol of our pride" his father said as he hung it over his various posters of his favorite bands, celebrities, and broomsticks, hanging to the left of it. Like many other teenage boys bedroom (his Father didn't want him to go to school at 11 with everyone else) he has a desk that is decorated with parchment, eagle-feathers, and ink.
I may actually miss this place. Thought Draco as he stepped out of his room after he was prepared to go to the train that would both get him away from his father, but towards his fate. "It'll be nice," Draco thought, "to get away from here. I can do the schoolwork, that's all I'm really supposed to do well in I suppose, well that's all he can get proof of." He didn't like the part of "only associating with out kind (purebloods)," or finding a soul mate, which was supposed to be a girl, obviously.
"Draco! Come, son, we must leave!" His Father called.
"COMING!" He said as he dashed down a stone staircase toward what now seemed like freedom.
The train station was crowded, muggles everywhere, but Draco was distracted by a Beautiful sunny day that was arising from the dawn. After they got out of our "car" if that term does it justice, it's more of a "plastic death-machine" as Draco calls it, they headed toward the platform. Once they got to the entrance, Draco wondered: "why there isn't just a door that says "Entrance to Hogwarts Express." That would make things SOOOO much easier.
But there wasn't one, so Draco had to haphazardly, but boldly for his father, dash towards what should be a certainly painful and embarrassing crash, flinging animals, books and clothes everywhere. Somehow, however, he avoided this horrid scene and gracefully glided past the bricks (a sensation that felt oddly like running a finger through pudding) into a crowded platform full of both people in a train waving farewells, and people crying and returning them. He and his Father walked together (Draco pushing the cart) to the entrance of the train, where Draco's Dad merely said:
"Make me proud."
And he walked away…
A minor feeling of Despair curled over him, but the shouting of people telling him to move was more overpowering. He then placed his luggage on a golden brass rack and proceeded to wander around with his hands in his pockets looking for a place to sit. He saw people of all sorts: Redheads, poor people, snobby people, most of them in disgustingly boring attire, Grey or black shirt, and jeans, followed by the occasional beige jacket. Why must we all blend in with everyone else? Why can't we all be ourselves, our unique, abnormal selves?
"There is nobody to sit with…" thought Draco. That is, until he saw him.
He was the single most extraordinary being he ever saw. Dark hair, blue shirt, near-white pants, and glasses. The best part was, though, was that he was all alone. Draco was speechless, and all he could spit out was "Hi."
"Hey." Said sexy mystery boy.
What do I SAY to him?! Both of them thought in unison. Draco beat him to it:
"Can I sit here?"
Please do thought Mystery boy "Sure!"
Draco made his way into the small, square wooden box and sat across from him. Neither of them knew what to say, they just sat there, looking at each other. Draco made the first move:
"So, who are you?" Draco said, then he instantly wished he was quiet again. THAT CAME OUT SOOOO WRONG!
"Well, my name is Harry. Potter." He said
Harry Potter. Harry. I like it. Draco thought to himself.
"Your turn." Harry Potter said in a teasing attitude, smiling a smile that Draco will never forget.
Perfection Draco thought. And said: "I'm Draco Malfoy."
"Malfoy?"
"Don't let the name scare you! I'm NOTHING like my dad…" Draco thought. I'm gay, not prejudice, and I am not Death-Eating.
"At least you have a dad, I'm an orphan."
"OH! I didn't-"
"Don't worry about it." Harry said with a smile. And Draco relaxed…
NOT DONE, but a start at least.