Disclaimer: I just own Draco. Hey! Don't look at me like that I really do
own him. I swear.
All right, I don't own any of them (grumble.) The song is My December by Linkin Park.
A/N: I cannot be held responsible for any grammar mistakes.
And no there won't be an explanation as to why.
Winter at Hogwarts had been plentiful, glazing the castle grounds with sheets of shimmering snow. Draco particularly favored winter out of all other seasons, a little known, but easily presumed fact about him.
After all, snow and Draco were similar entities. Both pale white, cold as ice and packed a hard punch one way or another. You couldn't be around snow for too long before it started to chill you to the bone.
So for Draco, walking on the snow-covered ground was akin to writing in a diary, although not quite as unmanly.
It called to him, the snow, whispering to take him away. In the snow, surrounded by wind and ice, thoughts would flow out of Draco, he could think of things, things that he flawlessly ignored inside the walls of Hogwarts.
But now, out in the cold dead of winter, the quiet, gleaming frost promised him nothing but solace.
~This is my December,
This is my time of the year,
This is my December,
This is all so clear.~
It was already quite dark outside and still snowing lightly; the air was freezing and windy, like waves of perfect of chilled breath. Still, Draco hardly flinched as he left the castle and a gust of icy wind blew against him, disheveling his neat hair and biting at his pale cheeks till they flushed pink.
This was perfect. Everything was still and quiet save the wind, no Crabbe or Goyle trudging along behind him. No Potter or Weasley there to show off and be praised for it. No Lucius, bullying him through letters and packages. And certainly no Pansy clutching onto his arm like she was stuck there and annoying him with shallow compliments. Nothing accept calm peace as he walked along idly, his feet crunching softly into the velvety ground and tiny flakes of ice melting against his cloak and face.
~This is my December,
This is my snow covered home,
This is my December,
This is me alone.~
It was now that his thoughts wandered to the secret corners of his mind that he kept closed off during school hours. Not to be misunderstood, even in the *very* deep corners of his mind he was still jealous, proud and malicious for good measure. All the things a good Slytherin should be.
Most importantly, Draco still despised, resented and slandered Weasley and Potter, and all Gryffindors alike. All Gryffindors. Except one.
Granger. She was the worst of them all. A muggle, best friend to the Potter and his pet weasel, and so damn unattainable. So of course he had to want her.
And nothing sated him anymore. Not the money, or the power or any of the Slytherin girls. She was his opposite: Good, loyal and honest, and he wanted her for being nothing like him. But at the same time Draco cursed the day he'd ever caught site of her.
*Ignorance, after all, is bliss* he thought as he walked by the now frozen- over lake, *How does that octopus live under there?*
But now Draco knew Hermione and he knew what he was missing every time she turned those deep brown eyes on someone else, anyone else but him. Loving Granger, it was like loving something as far away as the moon or the stars. It felt bad to want and never acquire; Malfoy's seldom had this problem. It felt bad to want someone you could never have, someone who wasn't meant to be yours in the first place.
But here in the twilight, amongst the frost and ice, he could silently want her and it was OK.
~And I just wish I didn't feel like there was something I missed,
And I take back all the things I said to make you feel like that.~
Draco's thoughts swept over him like the wind at his back. His name was his father's, so was his pale skin and hair, his blood was Slytherin's, proud and greedy. But his mind was his own, though somewhat altered to Lucius', and his heart was Granger's. Ever since third year when she had slapped him in the face, it was like getting a kiss to him. No it wasn't sweet or tender or loving, but it was passionate. He could feel her heart beating through her feverish hand as she slapped his cheek and the mark she had given his face, warm and red, just like a heart. He had wanted her from the very instant her fingers touched his face.
Although he didn't realize it then, he knew it now. He knew it as the wind bit his cheeks and the snow fluttered against him.
-And I'd give it all away just to have somewhere to go to,
I'd give it all away to have someone to come home to.-
Maybe morbid and sick the way he showed his love but he did show it, she just doesn't know it. Something that Hermione Granger didn't know and never would. That every time Draco spat "Mudblood" he whispered "Beautiful." Every time he gloated about the Death Eaters, it was a warning instead of the threat she heard. He was cruel to her because it was the only way for him to love her. If he had to be her enemy he would, it was better then being nothing at all.
Sometimes while walking, he'd think of going to her and telling her. He'd tell her that her blood wasn't of mud, but of rubies as rich and valuable as you could hope to find, that she wasn't a bossy show-off, just wonderfully clever. Telling her that he loved her with all of his scarred heart.
~This is my December,
These are my snow covered dreams,
This is me pretending,
This is all I need.~
Of course it was just the raw chill of winter that made him vulnerable to these dreams. He knew he'd never tell her because even if it wasn't criminal for a Malfoy to love a Mudblood, Draco wasn't sure he could get these words of affection to come out of his mouth properly. His vocal cords couldn't be trusted, they were trained to insult.
So he walked on against his floor of white brilliance, against the cold that brought out the only warmth in Darco Malfoy. He walked under the night sky with it's shield of stars like lucid glass and the air around him crisp and dry, pausing to survey his enchanted setting that somehow made him softer, warmer.
A moment longer Draco humored these musings before striding back to the castle, turning his back on the twinkling ice and all the forbidden dreams it exposed.
He entered the hall, blushing with cold from the winds sharp fingers and droplets of brilliant water clinging to him. The warmth of the Hall encased him and students were already shuffling in for dinner. Suddenly he caught a glimpse of fluffy brown hair and pushed through the crowd to get closer. Draco let his eyes pour over her until she felt his gaze and turned her eyes on him curiously.
~And I just wish I didn't feel like there was something I missed,
Take back all the things I said to make you feel like that.~
His mind screamed at him.
*Smile, for once don't scowl at her. Say her bloody name, she'd notice if you did!*
But as if on auto-pilot, a sneer formed on his lips and his eyes turned steely. She looked away.
Draco stared on for a moment before turning to go change out of his damp clothes.
*Forget her. She's just a Mudblood,* he walked down the hall, past a staircase, towards the Dungeons. For a second Draco paused in a desolate corridor. For just a second he squeezed his eyes shut and his black clad figure stood rigidly, dripping in the hall. And for just a second Draco felt the small lump crowd the back of his throat, he felt the gentle burning at the back of his eyes. The words whispered to him,
"She's my December."
For just a second maybe Draco Malfoy had a heart and maybe it was braking.
But only for a second and then his eyes were open, a little glossier but just as cold, and his head was high as his feet began to move again back to the Sytherin common room, cocky stature now fully intact.
*Just a Mudblood.*
Outside the wind howled. It seemed to croon sadly as the snow flurried over the ground, permanently covering the pair of footprints that had stood there a minute ago.
~This is my December,
This is my time of the year,
This is my December,
This is all so clear.~
***************************
All right, I don't own any of them (grumble.) The song is My December by Linkin Park.
A/N: I cannot be held responsible for any grammar mistakes.
And no there won't be an explanation as to why.
Winter at Hogwarts had been plentiful, glazing the castle grounds with sheets of shimmering snow. Draco particularly favored winter out of all other seasons, a little known, but easily presumed fact about him.
After all, snow and Draco were similar entities. Both pale white, cold as ice and packed a hard punch one way or another. You couldn't be around snow for too long before it started to chill you to the bone.
So for Draco, walking on the snow-covered ground was akin to writing in a diary, although not quite as unmanly.
It called to him, the snow, whispering to take him away. In the snow, surrounded by wind and ice, thoughts would flow out of Draco, he could think of things, things that he flawlessly ignored inside the walls of Hogwarts.
But now, out in the cold dead of winter, the quiet, gleaming frost promised him nothing but solace.
~This is my December,
This is my time of the year,
This is my December,
This is all so clear.~
It was already quite dark outside and still snowing lightly; the air was freezing and windy, like waves of perfect of chilled breath. Still, Draco hardly flinched as he left the castle and a gust of icy wind blew against him, disheveling his neat hair and biting at his pale cheeks till they flushed pink.
This was perfect. Everything was still and quiet save the wind, no Crabbe or Goyle trudging along behind him. No Potter or Weasley there to show off and be praised for it. No Lucius, bullying him through letters and packages. And certainly no Pansy clutching onto his arm like she was stuck there and annoying him with shallow compliments. Nothing accept calm peace as he walked along idly, his feet crunching softly into the velvety ground and tiny flakes of ice melting against his cloak and face.
~This is my December,
This is my snow covered home,
This is my December,
This is me alone.~
It was now that his thoughts wandered to the secret corners of his mind that he kept closed off during school hours. Not to be misunderstood, even in the *very* deep corners of his mind he was still jealous, proud and malicious for good measure. All the things a good Slytherin should be.
Most importantly, Draco still despised, resented and slandered Weasley and Potter, and all Gryffindors alike. All Gryffindors. Except one.
Granger. She was the worst of them all. A muggle, best friend to the Potter and his pet weasel, and so damn unattainable. So of course he had to want her.
And nothing sated him anymore. Not the money, or the power or any of the Slytherin girls. She was his opposite: Good, loyal and honest, and he wanted her for being nothing like him. But at the same time Draco cursed the day he'd ever caught site of her.
*Ignorance, after all, is bliss* he thought as he walked by the now frozen- over lake, *How does that octopus live under there?*
But now Draco knew Hermione and he knew what he was missing every time she turned those deep brown eyes on someone else, anyone else but him. Loving Granger, it was like loving something as far away as the moon or the stars. It felt bad to want and never acquire; Malfoy's seldom had this problem. It felt bad to want someone you could never have, someone who wasn't meant to be yours in the first place.
But here in the twilight, amongst the frost and ice, he could silently want her and it was OK.
~And I just wish I didn't feel like there was something I missed,
And I take back all the things I said to make you feel like that.~
Draco's thoughts swept over him like the wind at his back. His name was his father's, so was his pale skin and hair, his blood was Slytherin's, proud and greedy. But his mind was his own, though somewhat altered to Lucius', and his heart was Granger's. Ever since third year when she had slapped him in the face, it was like getting a kiss to him. No it wasn't sweet or tender or loving, but it was passionate. He could feel her heart beating through her feverish hand as she slapped his cheek and the mark she had given his face, warm and red, just like a heart. He had wanted her from the very instant her fingers touched his face.
Although he didn't realize it then, he knew it now. He knew it as the wind bit his cheeks and the snow fluttered against him.
-And I'd give it all away just to have somewhere to go to,
I'd give it all away to have someone to come home to.-
Maybe morbid and sick the way he showed his love but he did show it, she just doesn't know it. Something that Hermione Granger didn't know and never would. That every time Draco spat "Mudblood" he whispered "Beautiful." Every time he gloated about the Death Eaters, it was a warning instead of the threat she heard. He was cruel to her because it was the only way for him to love her. If he had to be her enemy he would, it was better then being nothing at all.
Sometimes while walking, he'd think of going to her and telling her. He'd tell her that her blood wasn't of mud, but of rubies as rich and valuable as you could hope to find, that she wasn't a bossy show-off, just wonderfully clever. Telling her that he loved her with all of his scarred heart.
~This is my December,
These are my snow covered dreams,
This is me pretending,
This is all I need.~
Of course it was just the raw chill of winter that made him vulnerable to these dreams. He knew he'd never tell her because even if it wasn't criminal for a Malfoy to love a Mudblood, Draco wasn't sure he could get these words of affection to come out of his mouth properly. His vocal cords couldn't be trusted, they were trained to insult.
So he walked on against his floor of white brilliance, against the cold that brought out the only warmth in Darco Malfoy. He walked under the night sky with it's shield of stars like lucid glass and the air around him crisp and dry, pausing to survey his enchanted setting that somehow made him softer, warmer.
A moment longer Draco humored these musings before striding back to the castle, turning his back on the twinkling ice and all the forbidden dreams it exposed.
He entered the hall, blushing with cold from the winds sharp fingers and droplets of brilliant water clinging to him. The warmth of the Hall encased him and students were already shuffling in for dinner. Suddenly he caught a glimpse of fluffy brown hair and pushed through the crowd to get closer. Draco let his eyes pour over her until she felt his gaze and turned her eyes on him curiously.
~And I just wish I didn't feel like there was something I missed,
Take back all the things I said to make you feel like that.~
His mind screamed at him.
*Smile, for once don't scowl at her. Say her bloody name, she'd notice if you did!*
But as if on auto-pilot, a sneer formed on his lips and his eyes turned steely. She looked away.
Draco stared on for a moment before turning to go change out of his damp clothes.
*Forget her. She's just a Mudblood,* he walked down the hall, past a staircase, towards the Dungeons. For a second Draco paused in a desolate corridor. For just a second he squeezed his eyes shut and his black clad figure stood rigidly, dripping in the hall. And for just a second Draco felt the small lump crowd the back of his throat, he felt the gentle burning at the back of his eyes. The words whispered to him,
"She's my December."
For just a second maybe Draco Malfoy had a heart and maybe it was braking.
But only for a second and then his eyes were open, a little glossier but just as cold, and his head was high as his feet began to move again back to the Sytherin common room, cocky stature now fully intact.
*Just a Mudblood.*
Outside the wind howled. It seemed to croon sadly as the snow flurried over the ground, permanently covering the pair of footprints that had stood there a minute ago.
~This is my December,
This is my time of the year,
This is my December,
This is all so clear.~
***************************