Happy birthday to Jaded Roses ^^ I hope you enjoy it.
I don't own Harry Potter, and this fic is written for Jaded Roses, as a birthday fic ^^.
Warnings: One-sided HarryDraco.
I don't know when Draco's birthday is, nor do I think it has ever been mentioned in canon, so bare with me.
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I looked out the window, watching the snow fall to the ground softly, gently. Hagrid's hut looked so cozy and inviting out on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I sighed, and stepped away from the window, falling onto his bed.
Ron and Ginny had, of course, gone home for Christmas. Their family was home this year, and they wanted to be with them. Of course, they invited me to come with them, like ever year, every summer, but, it was safer if I stayed here – for everyone.
Hermione went home. Christmas this year was very important for her. Her brother was coming home from where he had been studying in America. She hadn't seen him for years, and she had been so excited, she hadn't stopped speaking of it for a week before the vacation came around.
Neville was visiting his parents this holiday. Poor Neville. It must be so hard. To have your parents alive, but barely know who you are, and to be considered insane by the rest of the world but you would be torture. I don't think I'd be able to handle it if I were in his position.
So, here I lay, bored and alone. Probably the only person still in the school who I talk to on a regular basis was Malfoy, and whenever we talked, it wasn't exactly pleasant.
He was the darkness, while I was the light. At least, that's what people say. If you look at it in a metaphorical sense.
Metaphors are confusing. How can he be the darkness, while I'm the light? He's had such an easy life. He hasn't had to suffer through death, he's had both his parents his whole life, and he's had nearly everything he could ever want.
My life, though not to get a pity party going, has been a lot harder. I've suffered through too much death. Both my parents are gone, and now my Godfather has joined them. My friend, however short I've known him, has also been killed. All by the same man, the same man who wants me dead. I've had nothing. No toys to play with, unless they were broken. Not even my own bedroom, until the Hogwarts owls came.
So, shouldn't, by comparison, that make Malfoy the lighter one?
His hair is blond, nearly white. His eyes are this pale shade of grey that I only noticed one day in potions when he had turned away and sneered at me, and our eyes locked for just a moment. His skin is pale, nearly ghost like. His appearance, clothes, hairstyle, just his general, overall appearance is dignified and demands respect.
My hair is black. My eyes are this dark green. My skin, though not extremely tanned, is darker than his. My appearance, clothes, hairstyle, and overall appearance is scruffy, and practically screams that I have nothing.
So, shouldn't, by comparison, that make Malfoy the lighter one?
No.
Because of our actions, the different paths we had taken, were forced to take, I'm the light, while he's the darkness.
Because his fathers a Death Eater, and serves under Voldemort, that automatically makes him 'evil'. Though, I have to admit, that I was the one who had first accused him of that.
Because he's rich, and he was brought up that way, he's stuck-up, and mean and no one really wants to be on his bad side. I have to admit, that I'm one of the ones who acts like I just want him out of my life.
And here I am. My parents were killed by Voldemort, and he in turn, wants to kill me, that marks me as 'good'. I was brought up in a rough environment, and that makes me empathetic to others in my situation, I'm automatically loved by nearly everyone. Malfoy not included. He hates me.
So, why are we judged by things that we had no control over? He can't help the way he is. And I can't help the fact the Voldemort wants me dead. The only reason why I fight him is so I can just survive, yet everyone thinks I'm some great hero.
Malfoy. He made the first move to befriend me. He was the first wizard that I met my age, who had tried to be my friend. Look where we are now. We 'hate' eachother.
But I don't hate him. Not really. Not anymore. Because we have no control over anything in our lives, to tell the truth.
And next time I see him, I'm going to tell him that.
I'm walking out of my dorm now. Past the Fat Lady and down the hall. Into the Great Hall.
There sits Malfoy. All alone at the Slytherin table. And here I am, walking all alone towards the Gryffindor table.
He looks up at me. I want to say something, but something stops me from doing so. He looks uncertain as he looks at me. Sad, almost. I can't help what I do. I can't stop my eyes from narrowing at him, but he thinks I can, and he glares at me.
Now he bangs his fist on the table and up pops a piece of cake.
He eats it, keeping his eyes glaring down at the plate, at his cake.
I try to say something, but it gets caught in my throat. I clear it, and try again.
"Hey, Malfoy?" I say quietly. My voice echo's, and I don't really like that. I can tell how uncertain I am, just by hearing my voice repeated back to me, though it's more empty.
He looks at me, glares at me.
I stand up. Gryffindors are known for their courage, right? So why are my knees trembling as I walk over to him?
"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy sneers. I know it shouldn't bother me this much, and what he said probably doesn't. I think the way his comment stings me is more based on what I'm about to do.
"I – I," Oh great, I'm stuttering now. How noble Harry. "I just wanted to wish you... a... a happy birthday."
His eyes widen somewhat at my statement, but they're growing wider as my face goes closer to his, and I have the feeling that, if I were to open my eyes, his would nearly be popping out of his skull when my lips brush against his.
His lips are soft, and they still taste a little bit like a icing sugar from his cake. I wonder if my coarse lips feel as bad on his soft ones as his soft ones feel as good on mine.
I pull away, and look at him, and see his face filled with surprise. I'd laugh, because his face looks so comical, but then I think that he'd think I was playing some sort of sick joke on him.
So, instead, I turn away. I turn my back to him, and walk back up to my common room, and I don't turn back to him. I refuse to look behind me.
I'm afraid, if I do, I'll see him giving me that look that Voldemort or Wormtail gave me.
I don't think I'd be able to stand seeing that look coming from him towards me.
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Please review. I'm on my knees begging for constructive critisim. I hope to see at least some.