Pairing: H/D
Author: quarterpipe
AN: Don't know how long this one will be. I've written only a bunch of oneshot's before, so lets se how I'll handle this.
Please take this
And run far away
Far away from me
I am tainted
- Nine inch nails
I won't weigh you down Prologue - All that could have been
by quarterpipe
I'd painted my nails black, in secret of course. I had worn a pair of black velvet gloves the whole day, to make sure father wouldn't see my hands. Thecar was bouncing slowly, like a sweet rhythm trying to lull me into sleep. I twisted my hands and kept my gaze focused out of the small window. It was still dark, mist had formed during the night and soon the first rays of sunlight would lighten the callused fields. There were hardly any trees, not this far up in North. I hated the cold and abandoned land, but I never complained. The manor – my home, I thought in disgust -, had been located here for centuries, and here it would stay. I quickly pushed aside the awful thought that I would someday have to live in that mansion the rest of my life. Thank Merlin I was still in school, so I could get away.
I pulled my gloves off, thinking back of my departure. It was always the same. Houselves packed my things, father squeezed my hand and pierced me with his stare, mother hugged me formally and told me to do my best. And off I was. Leaving no traces – no teacup stains on the table, no unmade bed, no scent of soap.
It's just like I never was there.
I marvelled the way the black nails stood out from my white hands. But then I thought how stupid it was – a rebellious muggle would probably do something like this, not an aristocrat like myself – and I charmed the colour away. I would meet Crabbe and Goyle at the train station, Merlin I had grown to hate them. The mere thought of their dull, expressionless faces made me twitch in repulsment. My bodyguards. The first few years it was fun, a way to emphasise myself. But nowadays I just hated them, the way they didn't have their own will. My sheep.
I looked at my reflection from the window glass, I had lost some weight during this summer and it really did show. My already pointy and hard features stood out even more, I snorted. If I could even wear my hair down, so it would frame my head, I would probably look little better. But I had to wear it like this, like father had worn his when he was at my age. Great.
--
I arrived at the train station, weary from the long trip. I saw Crabbe and Goyle waiting for me, they were hugging their families goodbye. It was an odd sight. Even they were shown more love than me. I immediately felt disgusted by the thought. I didn't need affection and I certainly didn't need love, even the word tasted weird on my tongue. I slipped out of the car and dramatically clapped my hands - a sign for the houselves to gather my belongings and follow me. Iquickly caught some attention, muggles were staring of course. I smiled secretly.
'Malfoy! Over here!' Crabbe shouted for me and waved. They both had again gained a few pounds, I just wondered if they'd ever stop growing. And suddenly I felt exhausted.
Will anything ever change?
'Crabbe. Goyle.' I greeted them with a nod. 'Shall we?'
--
I was standing at the isle, waiting for Crabbe and Goyle to return from the bathroom. The train had just left.
'... spells can you learn? I mean, you'll soon be teaching the teachers.' came a familiar voice. I straightened my back, it was like a reflex. It was Potter and his little friends. They didn't seem surprised to see me. Why would they be? I wasn't going to just vanish one day and never come back to school.The mudblood gave me one piercing look as they passed me and continued on rambling about the new spells she'd learned during summer. I sneered secretly, she might be more clever than me but she'd never compare to my skills of performing dark spells. Never. Somehow, knowing that made me utterly satisfied. The weasel passed me also, his face burning red, and I didn't even bother to think how much better I was from him. He was too easy. And then there was Potter, of course. Right where he was meant to be, right on his place. He was walking just few steps behind his friends, trying to disguise himself from the crowd of first-year girls who obviously were looking for him. The same old rage burned me up from inside, I could never compare to Potter. Never. No matter what I did. I made it to the Slytherin Quidditch team, as a seeker, just like him. And I still had no fan crowds lurking around. I was better in school than him and still my father constantly reminded me how I must do better. Better? What was better, then? Perfect, maybe? But no-one is, so why should I even try?
Because I am a Malfoy.
Yes. Another thing my father liked to repeat over and over again: Live up to the name of Malfoy. Malfoy? What more was it than an old name for anancient family? It was nothing.
The mudblood and the weasel continued to babble, their voices disappearing into one of the compartments, and Potter followed behind. I looked at him as he passed me, my glare at it's own place, waiting for the usual insult. And he –
smiled at me.
What?
But the moment was already gone and Potter vanished into his compartment leaving me stunned.
What was that then? A new way of getting me irritated, perhaps? The little bastard was probably very pleased with himself right now. I gave it no more thought, and continued to wait for Crabbe and Goyle.
Review please.