This was written for my Second Mate entry for the Non-het ship "Drapple" on the Christmas Battlefield on Pirate Ship Battles. I have never written it before, and yeah it's very cracky, but I am actually quite proud of how it came out.
I used the prompts 'asylum', 'practice', 'pastry' and 'insult'.
And it was surprisingly easy to write over 1,600 words about Drapple.
The Life Of An Apple
On Christmas in sixth, year, Draco Malfoy came to the sullen realisation that he was crazy. Not just crazy, but needs-to-be-locked-up-for-his-own-and-everybody-elses-safety-in-an-asylum crazy. An asylum would probably be quite fitting for him. He definitely wasn't normal anymore, that was for sure.
He sighed as he sat at the Slytherin table. The pastry in front of him looked delicious but he just couldn't find it in himself to eat it. It felt wrong.
He watched his classmates tuck into their food and he scowled. Why couldn't he be like that? Why did he have to be so weird?
X
It had all started when Pansy Parkinson broke up with him. He wasn't really too fond of her to begin with, but to be dumped by someone like Pansy Parkinson was a horrible blow to his self-esteem. He had spent the entire week moping around like a lost puppy. Nothing seemed to help make his mood better.
He tried heading out to the Quidditch pitch to practice, but his mind kept drifting back to negative thoughts of why would she dump me? Am I not good enough? What did I do wrong?
And then it got to the point where he was throwing petty insult after insult at himself. Worthless idiot. Awful person. Pathetic excuse for a person.
But after all of the moping and insulting, the final stage was his anger stage. He would get angry at even the smallest things. Crabbe had stumbled over his words when talking, and it drove Draco crazy, resulting in Crabbe ending up in the Hospital Wing with a smashed jaw. He regretted it, but it only made him more angry.
He had been sitting at dinner in the Great Hall when it had happened. He was already in a foul mood and then Potter had entered the Hall. He clenched his teeth. Just the mere sight of Potter was making him angrier.
Without even thinking he grabbed the green apple on the table in front of him and lobbed it across the room at Potter, just missing him slightly.
As he saw the apple slam into the floor, he felt a sudden twinge of guilt. Immediately, he was up and running to pick it up. He had caused it to bruise slightly, tainting the beautiful chartreuse.
He ran his finger over the bruise.
What had he done?
He took the apple back up to his dormitory with him, laying it on the bed in front of him and thinking. Why had he spared this apple? What was so special about it?
He reached out with both hands, holding it in front of him and examining it. The stem, sticking out so predominantly, and the perfect round smoothness of it made him realise how beautiful apples were.
He took the apple to the bathroom and ran it under cold water, watching as little water droplets collected on it, making it somehow so much more beautiful.
He was almost trance-like as he stared at the apple. Why was he so mesmerised, he wondered.
He left the apple on his bedside table that night. It had been a restless night, and every time he had awoken, his eyes would automatically begin to search in the darkness for the outlines of the apple sitting on the bedside table.
Horror struck him once when he thought it wasn't there. He had even gone as far as to cast a lumos charm to make sure that it was definitely still sitting there, and was flooded with relief as he saw the fruit exactly where he had left it.
The next day, he kept the apple in his hand as he carried on his everyday tasks. He found himself enraged when he saw others eating apples at breakfast. When the last apple had been taken out of the fruit bowl, a younger student had had the audacity to actually run up to him and "are you going to eat that apple?", pointing at his apple.
His mouth fell open and he gritted his teeth.
"No," he said. "But you are not having it."
He walked away, trying to stop himself for punching something.
He knew his behaviour was odd. Why all of a sudden was he so pro-fruit? Why did this one apple mean so much to him?
He stalked through the corridors of Hogwarts. He wasn't even sure where he was going – he just needed to walk. When his legs got tired, he leaned back against the wall and dropped to the floor. He pulled the apple up to his eye level and then brought it closer to his nose and inhaled.
The smell was almost intoxicating. He was overwhelmed by the sheer sweetness and fruitiness of it. It was like nothing he'd ever smelt before. His heart rate picked up a little, and he decided in that moment that it was his favourite smell. The first smile in days made its way to his face.
This apple was special, he knew that now. His apple was special.
It was later that week that they were studying Amortentia in class. Draco had scoffed at the idea. He didn't love anybody – there would be no smell for him. But he was wrong. As the scent of the potion wafted through the classroom and registered with his senses, he knew just how wrong he was and it scared him a little.
Sweet, fruity... apply. He had the sudden urge to pull his apple out and-
The lid to the Amortentia cauldron was closed over and his urge was gone. He wondered what on Earth had just happened, but continued his day as per normal.
A couple of weeks passed and it was almost Christmas now. He had decided to stay at Hogwarts this year. The corridors were empty and warm with Christmas decorations.
He felt a little lonely. All of his friends had gone home, and he wished he had too. Finally, he decided to pull out his apple.
He almost dropped it in shock.
It was no longer the ripe, beautiful apple it had once been. It was getting softer, going brown in colour. He lifted it to his nose and scrunched his nose up. It smelt bitter.
His heart was pounding in his chest. This couldn't be happening. Not to his apple. His apple.
He paced back and forth, desperate to think of something that would help. What was happening?
He ran upstairs to find a professor, any professor. He ran into Professor McGonagall and sighed with relief.
"Professor McGonagall," he panted, catching up with her.
"What is it, Mr Malfoy?" she looked apprehensive.
He lifted the apple up to show her. She was about to take it but he pulled it back protectively. "What is wrong with my apple? It used to look different. Now it's all soft and brown like this."
"It's going off," Professor McGonagall said simply. "It's rotting. How long have you had it."
"Around a month now," Draco replied, his heart sinking. "Do they only live a month?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Professor McGonagall said. "It's not good for eating now. But we have plenty of apples. You can just buy some more at Hogsmeade or get some with your meal later."
She headed off down the corridor and Draco couldn't even express the heartbreak he was feeling.
He moped around for the rest of the day. His apple was dying.
He pursed his lips and closed his eyes. He needed to calm down. He took a couple of deep breaths and continued walking, until his eyes landed on something hanging in the corridor.
Mistletoe.
It took him a second before deciding what he wanted to do. He smiled as he took his apple out once more and headed towards the mistletoe.
He stood squarely underneath and glanced up at it, and then back down at his apple.
"Apple," his voice cracked. "I know we don't have much time left, so we need to make it last. You've helped me so much through this past month. I don't know how and why you had this effect on me, but you did. I-"
He sighed and smiled. "I love you."
And before he knew it, his lips were pressed against the once shiny skin of the apple. He could feel himself crying, and he was slightly worried for his sanity, but he couldn't break the kiss. It would be their only kiss, so he needed to make it last.
He finally pulled away and wiped away the tears that stained his cheeks.
It was two weeks after the kiss that his apple died. There wasn't a set day, but when he opened the top drawer of his bedside table and saw an ugly shrivelled up mess, he knew.
He took it outside. It was snowing out, so he was wearing a huge winter cloak and a solemn expression. He walked and walked through the snow towards the Forbidden Forest. By the edge of the Forest was the tree he most liked to sit under in the summertime.
He headed towards the tree and stood before it.
"Rest in peace, Apple," he whispered, but his voice was lost in the wind. "Gone, but never forgotten."
He placed his apple down onto the snow and blinked a tear out of his eyes. With one swift movement, he placed his gloved hand on the snow nearby and swept it over the top of his apple, covering it up.
He would never see it again. He would never smell the smell, or smile as widely as he had when his apple had been young and ripe.
But life would go on. He trudged back up to the castle without looking back.
X
And it was now, an entire year later that he thought about his apple again. After breakfast, he headed down to the tree. It wasn't snowing this year.
He reached the foot of the tree and stopped.
He hadn't been back to the tree since he had buried his apple, and he was shocked to see that in the exact spot that he'd left it, there was a small plant growing.
He ran inside to find Professor Sprout, almost dragging her outside to show her.
"What plant is that?" he asked, out of breath. She examined it for a minute.
"It's the beginnings of an apple tree by the looks of it," he said.
And the smile on Draco's face was like the smile he wore last year. Soon his apple would be back. He was content.
And maybe that made him crazy, and in need of an asylum, but he didn't care. He was happy and that was all he really wanted.
xXx