I was angry at the sky.

Here I was, trudging across the grounds in a hasty fit of rage. My boots smeared mud across the unmarked pathways purposefully, my cheeks flushed brightly with suppressed anger.

The cool November afternoon, however, had put away the rainy skies for the day and left the castle drenched in flickering sunlight.

I was angry at the sky.

I wanted rain. I wanted clouds. I wanted thunder and lightning and a ferocious clap of hail to hit the castle, awakening the shadowed creatures of the forest and provoking wails of terror.

I didn't want the heat of the sun, golden rays to accentuate my blond locks, glowering at my back with a sinisterly cheerful spite.

I was angry at the sky.

But most of all, I was angry at you for enjoying it.

I've tried all my life to be what I cannot. To be something that I don't want, and to satisfy a craving that I did not carry. I've tried all my life to not want what it is I desire, and I've tried for the past several years to deny any feelings welling up inside me.

But that was before.

That was before I began to hate the sky.

I have control—or at least I thought I did. I deliberately drew myself closer to you, hoping for a reaction that couldn't exist. It was getting better, and I swear last night you smiled at me—

— A genuine smile.

Something I've never felt, and something I have a feeling only you can coax from my lips.

Last night, the library was quiet, as moronic as it sounds. It was quiet. There was no noise to disturb the scrawl of your quill as it playfully doodled on what was supposed to be your Transfiguration essay. It was thrilling to be paired up with you, spending nights upon nights alone in the library.

Just you and your quill.

"Stop that, Potter."

And me.

I was there too, equipped with all my idiocy.

"Stop what, Malfoy?" You ask innocently, green eyes flashing with an insistent urge to annoy. You were less pleased with the pairing for our assignment.

"Messing around, you know this project is going to affect our entire final grade—"

"I'm already done my part, actually." You say coolly, your stupid glasses slipping off your nose just.

"You mean you did it willingly in your own free time?" I let my quill roll from my finger tips, the soft clatter hardly enough of a distraction to pull away my gaze from yours.

"Anything to get this project done and over with," you shrug, dipping your quill in your inkwell and letting out a soft sigh.

I smirk, my eyes flashing as I revel at how ignorant you can be.

But that night, I caught the slight smile. Your red lips tilting upwards just slightly, a roguish look in your eye.

x.x.x.x

Draco hates the sky.

He likes when it's gloomy outside, to match his appearance and usual demeanor. He can't stand the sun, especially when he's brooding.

I learned this long ago, when I caught him staring up forlornly at it, eyes wide with rage. I was astonished to hear his quick reply to my question.

"What are you doing hiding behind Hagrid's pumpkins, Malfoy?" I said suspiciously, leaning over and glancing at the shadow he'd isolated to himself. "He'll only grow more if you sabotage these ones, you hideous git."

"I'm not sabotaging anything, you overly dense Gryffindor." He said with narrowed eyes, his short hair flickering in the small breeze.

"You're right, you hardly look suspicious, Draco." I say sarcastically, his first name catching him by surprise.

Draco gives a tiny smile then, standing up and at that moment, what he always describes as 'cruel fate' occurs.

It begins to rain.

x.x.x.x

Large droplets of rain collect on your dark eyelashes as I move closer to you.

I was angry at the sky.

But most of all, I was angry that it bent to your every whim.

Just like me.

x.x.x.x

A/N:

VT – R.I.P

- Shadow