It was one of those spring days where the sun shone brightly and the grasses moved with the currents of a warm breeze. Everyone would be outside enjoying themselves today, given the lousy weather we'd been having the past couple of weeks or so.
I made my way through the grass and toward somewhere that someone would not chance to stumble across me. My wanderings took me to the Whomping Willow, or as close as humanly possible without being torn to shreds. Carefully keeping out of its range, I found a tree beside the Willow that I could lean on. I cleared a space underneath its shade for myself and sat down. No one would think to look for me, if they so chose, on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, nor so close to the Whomping Willow. They would probably look around the lake, where most of the school's occupants were. I was alone for now.
That's the convenient thing about being a Malfoy, excluding the riches and the prestige, you're always second, third, or fourth guessing everyone. Some people may call it paranoia, but it's better than being caught unawares.
I sighed and let myself relax. Stuck in a common room with two brainless dolts and a gaggle of simpering girls was not a peaceful way to spend the days. The light wind stirred the grasses and rustled the leaves in the trees around me. The sunlight that filtered through the overhead branches dappled the ground in patches of light and dark. It was very peaceful and soothing for my frayed nerves. I could lose myself in this.
The first thing that popped to mind was how unfair it was that Potter had gotten a Firebolt. No one could figure out where the hell it had come from. Did he steal the blasted thing? It wasn't fair, just because he was the famous Harry Potter, he would get away with it. No matter, I would ask Father for one this summer.
I wonder what sort of person I would have grown up to be if evil weren't instilled in me from my very birth. Would I be like Potter? Noble and righteous. How disgusting. No matter. It's already been a Pavlovian response for as long as I remember, being evil is. Even if I were to act differently now, I would be ostracized from my peers and face painful consequences at home. No, it was definitely better just being me.
The warm air coupled with my wandering thoughts caused me to doze off. I wasn't even aware of being unconscious until being woken by a loud, plaintive mewing. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I looked around for the source of the cries and saw a small lump near the base of a neighboring tree. The sound seemed to come from that direction, so I got up and went over to examine it.
I leaned down and rolled the lump over with a stick. It was an adult cat with a kitten clutched between its teeth. I checked the cat for signs of life. Dead. Its already dark fur was sticky and stained an even deeper shade from the blood that had been pouring from its wounds. The head was bent at an odd angle, so I assumed that its neck was broken, and it had multiple cuts covering its body. I guessed that the cat had been caught by the Willow's branches and had been flung into the air where it had struck a tree moments later. Death was instantaneous.
I wondered how the willow had attacked a cat; usually most animals were too swift and agile to be hit by the thrashing braches. Then my attention was drawn to the kitten, struggling and crying and trying to free itself from the jaws of its parent. Perhaps the added weight of the kitten was slowed it down enough to be hit.
I leaned closer to look at the kitten. I wanted to free it, but I didn't want to touch the corpse of the adult nor would the stick be any help in prying its jaws open. I sighed. I never get to do things the easy way, do I? Feeling that the world always had something against Draco Malfoy; I bent down and gingerly worked the kitten free of the cat's mouth. I tucked it under my arm retraced the path to my tree. Sitting down,
The kitten had kept mewing throughout the entire affair. I inspected it for any injuries it may have required. Other than a few bruises, there was only a puncture wound where the cat's teeth had pierced the skin on impact. I fumbled in my robes for my wand, and bringing out the length of wood, passed it over the larger bruises and puncture wound. The injuries healed a bit; I was no mediwizard, but at least I could do that much.
Where the cat had been dark, the kitten seemed lively, even in physical appearance. Its fur was a light shade of orange, almost peach, and its eyes were a bright gold that seemed to shine with their own luminous light. It was small, very small. Only its twitching tail spilled out when I held it in my cupped hands. I estimated it to be at about four weeks of age.
I set it down gently in my lap; the kitten had started struggling at being airborne. I absentmindedly stroked it as I wondered what I was going to do with it. I couldn't keep it nor leave it to fend for itself in the forest. That probably meant that I was going to have to let someone else have it.
The rustling of grass interrupted my train of thought. Wondering what it was, I looked up. That bushy-headed Granger, making her way to me in that solemn, serious way she always had. Her eyes were trained on the floor, and she carefully stepped over any obstacles in her path. The breeze made her brown hair fluff out more than usual, and then pulled it into disarray.
I snarled as she approached me. "What do you want, Granger?"
She jumped when she heard my voice, and her cheeks flushed. "Er, well…" she stumbled over her words and swallowed, "I saw you… just now." The flush got even darker.
"Saw?"
"It was very kind of you, to help that kitten the way you did. I want to know why…"
Abruptly, I jumped up before she could finish. She started and left her sentence unfinished, dangling in the air. I angrily pushed the kitten into her arms and crossed my arms. She could only look at me in shock.
"What are you staring at? I didn't want that mangy little beast anyway. I can't believe you'd misinterpret me like that you," I searched around for something to say that would drive her away, "you filthy mudblood! Get away from me before I hex you!"
Drawing in a sharp breath, she jerked back unsteadily. There was a pause. Our eyes locked. Mine could only reflect contempt. But her eyes, her eyes smoldered with something I couldn't place, and before I figured out what it was she was gone, running light and fleet-footed through the grass toward the castle.
~*~*~*~
Still breathing angrily, I turned back to where I was sitting and slumped down. The rough bark of the tree caught my robes as I slid down. The air was still fresh and moving, the trees waved their jeweled, sunlit leaves sporadically. Small animal sounds could be heard if one strained his ears.
But it didn't matter. Because she had walked in and shattered my peaceful haven. I could no longer enjoy the serenity that the forest afforded to me; all I could feel was a burning hate. Now, what had been a tranquil respite from humanity shifted into a place to mull over angry thoughts and feelings.
And then, unexpectedly, her look found meaning with me. And I hated her all the more for it. That look of pity, that knowing pity.
She had seen who I could be. She had seen who I was too weak to be.
~*~*~*~
A/N: Riiight. Welcome once again, ladies and gentlemen, to Overreaction Theater. Please refrain from talking during the presentation.
I wonder why it's always Hermione that stumbles in on Draco. I mean, you read any Angst!Introspect!Draco fic, and about three times out of four, Hermione walks in whilst he is doing some heavy duty soul-searching. Hmmm. And yes, I know I conformed. Bad me! XD
Tell me anything that I should fix, or anything stylistic I should change next time I write something, please. Because if you don't I'll be stuck writing like this and slowly burning out your corneas. X3