Raisins
by : epiphanies
He'd always liked the raisin cookies. She'd go over to his house in the summers and his mother would bake chocolate chip, just for her, because he only liked raisins.
He liked how they were wrinkly and brown. They looked like bad apples, like they were making a face at him. When he was in a good mood, they were smiling. When he'd just been yelled at , they were scowling or sticking their tongues out at his father as his father left the room, and they would ease Draco's fears. And then he'd be so thankful that they made him laugh that he'd not want to eat them, and wouldn't eat them. But then he worried about them going bad, so he would, thinking that a raisin would rather be in his belly than have fuzz growing on it.
Pansy had always been a chocolate chip kind of girl. She had chocolate at least once a day, the spoiled brat. He always yelled at his mother for making those cookies for her, he said that she didn't deserve them, that she had her own mother to make the cookies for her. Conveniently, he never found any kind of negative when her mother made raisin cookies for him.
The problem was, Draco could eat the raisins quicker than his parents could get more. He always had to go a few days without the raisins because whenever the arrived, he just gobbled them up, knowing full well that he would starve of them later that week, but at that moment, not caring for anything but eating and observing those damned raisins.
When he went to Hogwarts, he was astounded that they didn't serve tapioca. He sent a letter to his mother at once, but she must have remembered it from her school days, because later in the very day he sent the letter, much too fast, he received an owl with a basket of raisin candy. He grinned like a schoolboy that day, because he was one.
He always envied Pansy, though, because the school always served chocolate. He privately thought her a bit loony. After all, if chocolate is a medication and she has it every day...whistle.
In fifth year, when they were sort-of together, on Valentine's Day, he bought her a special box of chocolate. She gave him a bag of something, he didn't know what it was. She told him only to try it. He bit into it and began to snarl - then he laughed.
Chocolate covered raisins.
He kissed her then. His first kiss, and hers. She tasted like chocolate, but he didn't mind.
He never minded chocolate as much after that.
In sixth year, his mother died. He stopped getting raisin treats from home. The maids didn't know about his fetish, nor did he suspect they cared any.
He went through a raisin withdrawal, which is hard to do when you're already suffering from great pain. One day he found a parcel from an anonymous source, filled with raisin treats, and he smiled through his tears and found himself suspecting Dumbledore. He hated Dumbledore.
The raisins never tasted as good after his mother's death. They were always more bitter, with more seed. Crunchier, never even the slight bit juicy. Never the same.
Valentine's Day, two years passed, Pansy gave him chocolate covered raisins again, as she had done every year.
He broke her heart, spat them out at her, took the chocolates he'd planned to give her, and ran away into the Forbidden Forest. He spent the night huddled in the knot of a giant tree, eating the chocolate with bitter lips.
He closed his eyes with unshed tears, his grey eyes reflecting the glare of the moon. They hardened.
His mother had gotten old and wrinkly and had her life stolen from her. Like the raisins.
He cried then. He died then, in the cold of that winter night.
Pansy found him the next morning, his skin a pale blue, frozen tears streaking his shallow face. His lips were wrinkly. Like raisins.
_
Don't ask. I watched Benny and Joon today and felt kind of morbid. Johnny Depp is hot.
Sam: You don't like raisins?
Joon: Not really.
Sam: Why?
Joon: They used to be fat and juicy and now they're twisted. They had their lives stolen. Well,
they taste sweet, but really they're just humiliated grapes. I can't say I am a big supporter of the
raisin council.
Sam: Did you see those, those raisins on TV? The ones that sing and dance and stuff?
Joon: They scare me.
Sam: Yeah me too
Joon: It's sick. The commercial people they make them sing and dance so people will eat them.
Sam: It's a shame about raisins.
Goodnight!