Author: TheShinigumi
Warnings: None that I know of O.o; The only cursing is the word 'damn', and that doesn't really count to me. Amazingly, this isn't even slash (well, maybe there's a dash, but not even a solid thought -.-;), just a semi-introspective bit that proves me and classical music don't mix when it's raining and late.
Archived: fanfiction.net only, as always...
Disclaimers: I own nothing! This should be obvious O.o Only the plot is mine...
----
Fall.
It's fall, and the leaves are turning gold and red, glowing with a fierce last try at beauty before they die and are torn from their homes by the next cold wind.
Fall, and I'm on my way to Hogwart's via the train that no muggle eye can see. Away from a home where no one really cares for me, back to a school where I can look forward to being hated and despised for the way I act.
Rain pours down outside, and looking out the windows at the blurry grey landscape I can't help but marvel at how well the weather reflects my mood. Dark and blank, and heading into a time where all beauty dies.
Forgive me if I sound depressing, I don't mean to. I suppose it's my company- at every oppurtunity I have I escape them for the relative company of my mind.
Crabbe and Goyle have got to be the stupidest, nastiest gits I've ever had the displeasure to meet- Harry Potter may be my enemy, but at least he has a brain.
Not that I would ever let him know that I'm aware of that fact, of course.
But back on subject- my two goons. I swear, both their brains together wouldn't fill a walnut.
Sighing to myself, I try not to pout and act like a spoiled brat. I know I am one, but still, I don't always have to act it.
I spare a glance at my companions- I would never call them 'friends'- and the lugs have fallen asleep in their seats. Crabbe is drooling- there's a sight I could have lived without seeing.
Wincing in disgust, I stand and slip quietly through the door seperating our compartment from the others. Not looking around at my fellow travellers, I move confidently towards the plump woman selling sweets in the next booth over. She smiles as she turns, but seeing my face her smile freezes into something just short of a grimace.
"-hello, Mr. Malfoy, need anything today?" Despite her obvious displeasure at our meeting, her tone is cheerful. For some reason this upsets me; I decide to toy with her.
Giving my widest, most flirtatious grin, I turn on my charms. "Hello to you, miss, and yes- I would like something..." I study the boxes in her arms, although there isn't anything new in them. After making a small show of it, I choose.
"A bag of beans, two licorice wands, some pasties and a chocolate frog... will that be all, Mr. Malfoy?" Now that I'm paying her, she's even becoming polite. Amazing what money will do... not out of generosity, I pay her more than is necessary and tell her to keep the change, giving her a wink as I do so. She blushes a little, looking startled and utterly confused. As I recall, this is the first time I've ever said more than four words to her since my first year.
Hearing a sound, I turn to find that my luck isn't quite as good as I had hoped. There, seated together as always, are Weasley and Granger.
And... Potter.
The sound was Ron's pasty hitting the floor, as he gave me an exaggerrated look of shock. Turning to Hermione, he stage-whispered, "Now I've seen everything- Malfoy acting _human_? And to a _servant_ too!"
I give him a smile that's designed to sting, and move towards them on my way back to my compartment. Potter meets my eyes as I pass him, and we have a brief staring contest, ending with a grudging nod. "Potter," I greet him finally, and he gives me a look I can't read. "Malfoy," he responds, and I wonder why it upsets me when he looks away dismissively.
He's always been like that; acting as though I'm something to be ignored if at all possible. He always makes me feel like some sort of fly- I wonder what it would take for me to get some other response from him.
A thought occurs to me, just one of my nasty habits coming back to me as I get used to my school routine. As I get to Weasley, I stop.
Giving a disdainful look to where his pumpkin pastry still lies on the ground for him to clean, I give him a superior sort of smile and offer him a chocolate turtle.
"Here," I say, and he glares from me to the turtle like he's trying to figure out what my game is. "Well, Weasel, are you going to take it or not? I know that with your family as poor as they are, you can't afford another- think of it as a gift from the kindness of my heart."
He apparently misses the twist in my tone on those last words, because he feels the need to point out my meaning on his own. "Heart? You haven't got a heart! And that was a gift from Harry, Malfoy- even if my family were rich, I wouldn't accept something from a snaky prat like _you_!"
My back stiffens, and even though I know I'm just baiting him I snap, "Better a cold-hearted snake than some dirt-grubbing weasel."
His eyes are gleaming and protruding a little from their sockets, and his face matches his hair. I wonder for a moment if I haven't somehow managed to make him angry enough to attack me, but Potter's hand on his arm stops him. Granger looks from Weasley, to me, to Potter and back again. She had been getting ready to jump in herself- they're a very tightly knit little group.
"That's enough, Malfoy." Potter's emerald eyes pierce me over the rims of his glasses, and I wonder suddenly when he learned to do that.
"And why the hell should I obey _you_, Potter?" I snarl, managing to keep my anger in check only with strict control. "Just because these two are your faithful dogs doesn't mean I am."
Potter gives me another look and frowns, as Weasley growls like the dog I just called him and Granger looks mad enough to bite me.
"They aren't my dogs, and you know it. They're friends- a word you can't seem to understand. If that's the case then I feel sorry for you... but it doesn't give you an excuse to be a prat."
There's that look again- apparently I'm being a fly. My arm tingles, and I run my hand over it absently, then draw it back again out of a recently learned reflex. His eyes track the movement and I can see his mind working- I have to distract him before he has time to connect the dots in my irritable behavior. Suddenly my only desire is to get as far away from him and his damned eyes as possible.
"Fine, Potter, they aren't your dogs. Friends are worse, anyways- at least you can train some dogs to be loyal," I hadn't really meant to say that, it's much more honest than anything that normally comes out of my mouth, but my arm- ignoring the thoughtful weight of his eyes, and the glares of his friends, I hurry out of the cabin. The serving lady had long been forgotten, and I'm almost surprised to discover that I still hold my candy...
Not feeling any desire to eat, I toss the sweets onto the seat beside Crabbe and Goyle and throw myself onto my own seat. Casting a furtive look around to make sure no one is looking, I pull the sleeve of my robe back from my itching arm.
The Dark Mark is branded into my flesh, the skin around it red and tender. Looking at it, I shudder, having to concentrate to resist the urge to claw it from my arm with my nails.
After all, that wouldn't do any good- even if I could tear the flesh from my bones, it would be as deep as it needed- etched into my very bones if I could survive clawing that much away.
Voldemort doesn't make it easy for people to defect from him- and if you do, he makes sure you'll _never_ be able to forget him.
Below the brand, just inside my wrist, a pale scar traces vertically along the main vein. Being the thorough sort, another matches it on the opposite wrist... Father never found out about these.
After all, they're only a few days old- just a few hours older than the Mark itself, in fact.
Mother was the one to find me, and she managed to get me patched together and drugged fast enough to stop me from succeeding- she was also smart enough to know better than to even hint to Luscious about her discovery.
Instead, she keeps the information as blackmail against her only son, just in case I should ever think to try anything against her will.
Pulling my sleeve back down, I'm glad for the long robes of our school uniforms, and the stupidity of my companions.
I pass the rest of the trip in silence, staring out the window through the rain as the world dies around me in brilliant colors. In my heart, I feel more like a Slytherin anyway- such bright colors never suited me. I'm a child of decay, festering green and rotting black, and an icy silver like the blade of a knife.
The window feels cool against my forehead.
I sleep.
----
Cheerful, huh? ^_^; Well, I'm not sure if that needs a second part or not... *shrugs* if it did, that part would have slash simply because I can't help myself ^___^ *waves a little 'I -heart- slash' flag and grins like an idiot* Umm- anyways O.o C&C very welcome! Even flames, though why someone would flame this I have no idea- there isn't even any cursing worse than 'damn' in it, and the only slash is just a dash thrown in for in case I write more O.o;
Warnings: None that I know of O.o; The only cursing is the word 'damn', and that doesn't really count to me. Amazingly, this isn't even slash (well, maybe there's a dash, but not even a solid thought -.-;), just a semi-introspective bit that proves me and classical music don't mix when it's raining and late.
Archived: fanfiction.net only, as always...
Disclaimers: I own nothing! This should be obvious O.o Only the plot is mine...
----
Fall.
It's fall, and the leaves are turning gold and red, glowing with a fierce last try at beauty before they die and are torn from their homes by the next cold wind.
Fall, and I'm on my way to Hogwart's via the train that no muggle eye can see. Away from a home where no one really cares for me, back to a school where I can look forward to being hated and despised for the way I act.
Rain pours down outside, and looking out the windows at the blurry grey landscape I can't help but marvel at how well the weather reflects my mood. Dark and blank, and heading into a time where all beauty dies.
Forgive me if I sound depressing, I don't mean to. I suppose it's my company- at every oppurtunity I have I escape them for the relative company of my mind.
Crabbe and Goyle have got to be the stupidest, nastiest gits I've ever had the displeasure to meet- Harry Potter may be my enemy, but at least he has a brain.
Not that I would ever let him know that I'm aware of that fact, of course.
But back on subject- my two goons. I swear, both their brains together wouldn't fill a walnut.
Sighing to myself, I try not to pout and act like a spoiled brat. I know I am one, but still, I don't always have to act it.
I spare a glance at my companions- I would never call them 'friends'- and the lugs have fallen asleep in their seats. Crabbe is drooling- there's a sight I could have lived without seeing.
Wincing in disgust, I stand and slip quietly through the door seperating our compartment from the others. Not looking around at my fellow travellers, I move confidently towards the plump woman selling sweets in the next booth over. She smiles as she turns, but seeing my face her smile freezes into something just short of a grimace.
"-hello, Mr. Malfoy, need anything today?" Despite her obvious displeasure at our meeting, her tone is cheerful. For some reason this upsets me; I decide to toy with her.
Giving my widest, most flirtatious grin, I turn on my charms. "Hello to you, miss, and yes- I would like something..." I study the boxes in her arms, although there isn't anything new in them. After making a small show of it, I choose.
"A bag of beans, two licorice wands, some pasties and a chocolate frog... will that be all, Mr. Malfoy?" Now that I'm paying her, she's even becoming polite. Amazing what money will do... not out of generosity, I pay her more than is necessary and tell her to keep the change, giving her a wink as I do so. She blushes a little, looking startled and utterly confused. As I recall, this is the first time I've ever said more than four words to her since my first year.
Hearing a sound, I turn to find that my luck isn't quite as good as I had hoped. There, seated together as always, are Weasley and Granger.
And... Potter.
The sound was Ron's pasty hitting the floor, as he gave me an exaggerrated look of shock. Turning to Hermione, he stage-whispered, "Now I've seen everything- Malfoy acting _human_? And to a _servant_ too!"
I give him a smile that's designed to sting, and move towards them on my way back to my compartment. Potter meets my eyes as I pass him, and we have a brief staring contest, ending with a grudging nod. "Potter," I greet him finally, and he gives me a look I can't read. "Malfoy," he responds, and I wonder why it upsets me when he looks away dismissively.
He's always been like that; acting as though I'm something to be ignored if at all possible. He always makes me feel like some sort of fly- I wonder what it would take for me to get some other response from him.
A thought occurs to me, just one of my nasty habits coming back to me as I get used to my school routine. As I get to Weasley, I stop.
Giving a disdainful look to where his pumpkin pastry still lies on the ground for him to clean, I give him a superior sort of smile and offer him a chocolate turtle.
"Here," I say, and he glares from me to the turtle like he's trying to figure out what my game is. "Well, Weasel, are you going to take it or not? I know that with your family as poor as they are, you can't afford another- think of it as a gift from the kindness of my heart."
He apparently misses the twist in my tone on those last words, because he feels the need to point out my meaning on his own. "Heart? You haven't got a heart! And that was a gift from Harry, Malfoy- even if my family were rich, I wouldn't accept something from a snaky prat like _you_!"
My back stiffens, and even though I know I'm just baiting him I snap, "Better a cold-hearted snake than some dirt-grubbing weasel."
His eyes are gleaming and protruding a little from their sockets, and his face matches his hair. I wonder for a moment if I haven't somehow managed to make him angry enough to attack me, but Potter's hand on his arm stops him. Granger looks from Weasley, to me, to Potter and back again. She had been getting ready to jump in herself- they're a very tightly knit little group.
"That's enough, Malfoy." Potter's emerald eyes pierce me over the rims of his glasses, and I wonder suddenly when he learned to do that.
"And why the hell should I obey _you_, Potter?" I snarl, managing to keep my anger in check only with strict control. "Just because these two are your faithful dogs doesn't mean I am."
Potter gives me another look and frowns, as Weasley growls like the dog I just called him and Granger looks mad enough to bite me.
"They aren't my dogs, and you know it. They're friends- a word you can't seem to understand. If that's the case then I feel sorry for you... but it doesn't give you an excuse to be a prat."
There's that look again- apparently I'm being a fly. My arm tingles, and I run my hand over it absently, then draw it back again out of a recently learned reflex. His eyes track the movement and I can see his mind working- I have to distract him before he has time to connect the dots in my irritable behavior. Suddenly my only desire is to get as far away from him and his damned eyes as possible.
"Fine, Potter, they aren't your dogs. Friends are worse, anyways- at least you can train some dogs to be loyal," I hadn't really meant to say that, it's much more honest than anything that normally comes out of my mouth, but my arm- ignoring the thoughtful weight of his eyes, and the glares of his friends, I hurry out of the cabin. The serving lady had long been forgotten, and I'm almost surprised to discover that I still hold my candy...
Not feeling any desire to eat, I toss the sweets onto the seat beside Crabbe and Goyle and throw myself onto my own seat. Casting a furtive look around to make sure no one is looking, I pull the sleeve of my robe back from my itching arm.
The Dark Mark is branded into my flesh, the skin around it red and tender. Looking at it, I shudder, having to concentrate to resist the urge to claw it from my arm with my nails.
After all, that wouldn't do any good- even if I could tear the flesh from my bones, it would be as deep as it needed- etched into my very bones if I could survive clawing that much away.
Voldemort doesn't make it easy for people to defect from him- and if you do, he makes sure you'll _never_ be able to forget him.
Below the brand, just inside my wrist, a pale scar traces vertically along the main vein. Being the thorough sort, another matches it on the opposite wrist... Father never found out about these.
After all, they're only a few days old- just a few hours older than the Mark itself, in fact.
Mother was the one to find me, and she managed to get me patched together and drugged fast enough to stop me from succeeding- she was also smart enough to know better than to even hint to Luscious about her discovery.
Instead, she keeps the information as blackmail against her only son, just in case I should ever think to try anything against her will.
Pulling my sleeve back down, I'm glad for the long robes of our school uniforms, and the stupidity of my companions.
I pass the rest of the trip in silence, staring out the window through the rain as the world dies around me in brilliant colors. In my heart, I feel more like a Slytherin anyway- such bright colors never suited me. I'm a child of decay, festering green and rotting black, and an icy silver like the blade of a knife.
The window feels cool against my forehead.
I sleep.
----
Cheerful, huh? ^_^; Well, I'm not sure if that needs a second part or not... *shrugs* if it did, that part would have slash simply because I can't help myself ^___^ *waves a little 'I -heart- slash' flag and grins like an idiot* Umm- anyways O.o C&C very welcome! Even flames, though why someone would flame this I have no idea- there isn't even any cursing worse than 'damn' in it, and the only slash is just a dash thrown in for in case I write more O.o;