A/N - I dont own Harry potter, its characters or its plot, belong to Rowling beautiful mind.
Hi, This is my first attempt, Please Review!
Any comments on my writing style or technique will be really appreciated! But please nothing to harsh :) Otherwise ... i wrote this after a strange dream I had, I plan to turn it into a fiction story but am unsure on my technique, in my head its Draco awaking the moment a muggleborn dies. Enjoy!
.
A full moon shines down on a black city. It gleams off black tiles and glints of black cobblestone streets, as the sound of running footsteps reverberates through the silence.
A hooded figure quickly scurries through the streets. Glancing behind it takes a left. Bolting full speed a couple of feet, it looks back, taking a sharp right. This street is narrower. The hooded figure slows to a jog. Its cloak billows. Its breaths joins the sounds of its footsteps. Every few steps it looks back hurriedly, causing delicate brown curls to fly haphazardly from the security of its hood. Other footsteps are growing louder, the hooded figure brakes back into a run. It takes the next left. This street is wider. The moonlight paints the cloak emerald green. It looks back.
BANG.
Thud.
The sound of footsteps stop. Brown, limp, curls lie on blood red cobblestones. The moonlight shines off droplets of colour.
A bell tolls.
A new day begins.
Thud.
His eyes blinked slowly open as he noticed the book on the floor in front of him. His fingers lightly grazing the edge of it. Oh yes he had been reading a book on something called Mummification, it fascinated him that people thought this was a proper way to treat the dead. He found their way of life fascinating, mainly because it made little to no sense to him, but also because it was forbidden knowledge. He had obviously agreed with his parents in public that muggles and muggleborn beings where the lesser species, and belonged in a separate society hidden from the world. "For their own safety" some people would say; as if they were animals. But in truth it made him sick. He had been spellbound by how resourceful the non-magical where ever since he found a music box which used this elece-tizity stuff, at the age of nine. Out there they were treated like animals, just like he was caged like an animal in here, he could relate to that.
Griping the spine of the book, he picked it up. "so you woke me up" he whispered to the book as if it was a baby that had started crying. Slowly he rose from his emerald green Chaise longue, slipping his long pale feet into his black velvet slippers, he slowly raised his head to the shinning moon. He scanned his simple room. His large four poster bed towered menacingly in the shadows left by the dyeing embers in his large fire place to his right. But the dark was not that menacing with the moon shining though his three full length windows. He never liked that bed.
He rose and walked purposely over to the desk to the right of the windows. Opening a draw he took out a candle with a quick flick of his wand, and a non-verbal spell, it lit with a blue flame. He raised it to the walls of his room. Every inch that was not occupied with furniture or the family portrait was filled with books. Two rows above his desk sat a set of blue and gold bound spell books. The Ultimate Encyclopaedia of Cleaning Spells and Household Magic Volumes 1 to 14. He placed the candle in the air and it floated happily whilst he placed the book on his desk. Slowly he placed his index fingers on each end of the collection and gradually slid it out, placing it on the table. All 14 volumes covers where stuck together, Volume 6 had no pages in it, and this is where he slid the muggle book, hidden away from prying eyes. People have been killed for less.
A bell tolls.
"A new day begins" he said to his books. He slipped his hidden stash of non-magical books back into plain sight on the shelf, and looked through the window out onto the old clock tower.
He paused, and he wondered, how many died yesterday? How many will die today?
He slowly returned to the chaise longue, lied down with his arm over his eyes, and he thought When will this stupidity end?