"Did you know, that when it snows,
My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen?"
"kiss from a rose"- Seal
The mood was joyous and carefree at dinner that night. Gryffindor had just won the quidditch cup final against the Slytherins for the 3rd year in a row. The hero of this game, however, had only the faintest idea of the happiness wringing abound in the masterful Hogwarts great hall. No, seventh year Harry Potter, gryffindor seeker was far too wrapped in thought.
He had been eager to join the celebration his 5th year, but by his 6th it was already dull and it didn't take him long to discover he needen't feign excitement. His obvious distracted disposition went unnoticed by nearly all his overjoyed peers. Either way he didn't much care and would not have noticed even if they had perceived his mood.
Draco Malfoy was quite used to being the center of attention - enjoyed it even. It was impossible for heads not to turn as he entered a room; it had been all his life. He seemed almost angelic at first sight, with his soft, silvery blond hair and silver eyes that shone with a depth that seemed almost unnatural. To those who knew him though - or had ever heard him speak two words - he was always associated with all things sinister. Prince of darkness, Mysterious and desirable.
Tonight though, Draco was relived to be going unnoticed. His fellow Slytherins were too busy seething with anger and plotting pathetic revenge plans. Everyone in the great hall was distracted. Everyone save Harry Potter. Not that Draco was concerned mind you, god forbid the prince of darkness be concerned! This was mere curiosity, that's all. And maybe just a tad worried.
Where did that worry sprout from? Potter was Draco's latest venture. Oh, who was he kidding? Harry Potter had been the only one worthy of his thoughts and dreams for the last six and a half years of his life. This, though, was most certainly not love.
How could it be? Draco never knew love, as far as he knew he was incapable of it. He had never loved anyone and had never been loved. Not by his father, he hadn't loved his father. His father was a bitch to say the least, with all his rules on life under the Malfoy roof, bearing the Malfoy name. All those impractical outdated rules that could be deadly if broken. Draco had still not mastered his father's boundaries when Lucius died and while his father was still living, not having that knowledge turned out to be every expensive to him. His form of payment had left many scars. But not even these could taint his undeniable beauty. They only added to his splendor because tragedy is completely enamored of beauty, seeking it, haunting it. Tragedy is the companion of beauty much like breath is the companion of life.
No, this boy had not loved his father, who had foolishly followed Voldemort to the gates of hell - literally. He did not love his mother either. He lost all respect for her, for she was so weak. She had feared Lucius, and this fear of him had mounted a devotion for husband that could not be broken even by his death. Now she roamed the manor day and night, as if looking for him to come back, or for further instruction from him.
In his fourth year Draco had "dated" Pansy Parkinson, though the thought of suggestion that he had at any time loved her made him laugh. That relationship had obviously been a set-up. What only Draco seemed to realize was that in the War against Voldemort, never did either party ask neutral personnel to pick sides. Yes, it was a cowardly alternative, and it was not exposed to anyone with relations to Muggles, Dumbledore or Harry Potter, but it had been a choice for one Draco Malfoy and he was intelligent enough to pick in his own favor. And, may I say, he got out of the war unscratched. After all, all bravery is, is the lack of enough common sense to run.
At that time, his relationship with Pansy helped him keep status as Voldie's follower to the ignorant public, but when Harry got an upgrade from Boy Who Lived to Savior of the World no evidence was found to prove Draco had gotten involved with the death eaters. Heh, silly death eaters.
And now Draco was not in love with Harry Potter. He didn't deny obsession though, the obsession was definitely there. In his first and second years Draco had been extremely angry with Harry. When the boy refused his hand in friendship he had hurt Draco, hurt his pride. Third year he came to greatly admire Harry and by fourth year he was in awe of this boy who had surpassed almost every terror life could offer.
But it was in 5th year that Harry began to charm him. Draco began to notice little things about Harry, how he would bite his bottom lip when nervous, or how his green eyes would flash in anger when Draco insulted one of his friends. How Harry flew with such ease, and how carefree and content he looked, as if when he was in the air nothing existed but him and the wind surrounding him. How the dim lighting of the potions dungeons gave him an air of mystery, he would crease his brow in concentration trying to understand the assignment. He was the hero of any schoolgirl's fantasy, freshly emerged from battle or - ironically - from slaying a dragon.
My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen?"
"kiss from a rose"- Seal
The mood was joyous and carefree at dinner that night. Gryffindor had just won the quidditch cup final against the Slytherins for the 3rd year in a row. The hero of this game, however, had only the faintest idea of the happiness wringing abound in the masterful Hogwarts great hall. No, seventh year Harry Potter, gryffindor seeker was far too wrapped in thought.
He had been eager to join the celebration his 5th year, but by his 6th it was already dull and it didn't take him long to discover he needen't feign excitement. His obvious distracted disposition went unnoticed by nearly all his overjoyed peers. Either way he didn't much care and would not have noticed even if they had perceived his mood.
Draco Malfoy was quite used to being the center of attention - enjoyed it even. It was impossible for heads not to turn as he entered a room; it had been all his life. He seemed almost angelic at first sight, with his soft, silvery blond hair and silver eyes that shone with a depth that seemed almost unnatural. To those who knew him though - or had ever heard him speak two words - he was always associated with all things sinister. Prince of darkness, Mysterious and desirable.
Tonight though, Draco was relived to be going unnoticed. His fellow Slytherins were too busy seething with anger and plotting pathetic revenge plans. Everyone in the great hall was distracted. Everyone save Harry Potter. Not that Draco was concerned mind you, god forbid the prince of darkness be concerned! This was mere curiosity, that's all. And maybe just a tad worried.
Where did that worry sprout from? Potter was Draco's latest venture. Oh, who was he kidding? Harry Potter had been the only one worthy of his thoughts and dreams for the last six and a half years of his life. This, though, was most certainly not love.
How could it be? Draco never knew love, as far as he knew he was incapable of it. He had never loved anyone and had never been loved. Not by his father, he hadn't loved his father. His father was a bitch to say the least, with all his rules on life under the Malfoy roof, bearing the Malfoy name. All those impractical outdated rules that could be deadly if broken. Draco had still not mastered his father's boundaries when Lucius died and while his father was still living, not having that knowledge turned out to be every expensive to him. His form of payment had left many scars. But not even these could taint his undeniable beauty. They only added to his splendor because tragedy is completely enamored of beauty, seeking it, haunting it. Tragedy is the companion of beauty much like breath is the companion of life.
No, this boy had not loved his father, who had foolishly followed Voldemort to the gates of hell - literally. He did not love his mother either. He lost all respect for her, for she was so weak. She had feared Lucius, and this fear of him had mounted a devotion for husband that could not be broken even by his death. Now she roamed the manor day and night, as if looking for him to come back, or for further instruction from him.
In his fourth year Draco had "dated" Pansy Parkinson, though the thought of suggestion that he had at any time loved her made him laugh. That relationship had obviously been a set-up. What only Draco seemed to realize was that in the War against Voldemort, never did either party ask neutral personnel to pick sides. Yes, it was a cowardly alternative, and it was not exposed to anyone with relations to Muggles, Dumbledore or Harry Potter, but it had been a choice for one Draco Malfoy and he was intelligent enough to pick in his own favor. And, may I say, he got out of the war unscratched. After all, all bravery is, is the lack of enough common sense to run.
At that time, his relationship with Pansy helped him keep status as Voldie's follower to the ignorant public, but when Harry got an upgrade from Boy Who Lived to Savior of the World no evidence was found to prove Draco had gotten involved with the death eaters. Heh, silly death eaters.
And now Draco was not in love with Harry Potter. He didn't deny obsession though, the obsession was definitely there. In his first and second years Draco had been extremely angry with Harry. When the boy refused his hand in friendship he had hurt Draco, hurt his pride. Third year he came to greatly admire Harry and by fourth year he was in awe of this boy who had surpassed almost every terror life could offer.
But it was in 5th year that Harry began to charm him. Draco began to notice little things about Harry, how he would bite his bottom lip when nervous, or how his green eyes would flash in anger when Draco insulted one of his friends. How Harry flew with such ease, and how carefree and content he looked, as if when he was in the air nothing existed but him and the wind surrounding him. How the dim lighting of the potions dungeons gave him an air of mystery, he would crease his brow in concentration trying to understand the assignment. He was the hero of any schoolgirl's fantasy, freshly emerged from battle or - ironically - from slaying a dragon.
