-x-x-
The professor sighed from the front of the room, turning a page in her book as the rows of students before her scrambled to copy down the assignment. Due to a last minute faculty meeting, all the detentions had been rearranged to be taken care of by one professor. Idiot McGonagall, Draco laughed to himself at the image of the headmistress. Just like Dumbledore, he had no reverence for her. What had she done to prove herself that no other could easily bring about?
He had laid his quill down a few minutes earlier. Copying words, phrases and sentences couldn't engrave a message into a person's head. Draco knew better, so he thought. His eyes wandered about the room, catching a glimpse of recognizable older students and the trembling first and second years. It wasn't to his benefit that his eyes caught the back of a redhead's, two rows ahead of him next to a Hufflepuff boy. The shade of red had to have been a universal warning, a Weasley sighting. She was hunched over the paper, as if putting everything she had into the useless scrap.
The girl meant nothing to him; all he knew was a name and hair color. Yet, Draco's gaze stayed onto her hair, so long, pin straight and neatly parted to the side. It was an appealing color, he admitted sheepishly, but she was a Weasley. Therefore, she had to be a downright sickening sight with all those freckles, gangly limbs and hand-me-downs. He hastily expunged the notion of the sole Weasel girl, and, regrettably, picked up his quill once more simply to pass the time.
It felt like perpetuity until the professor released them with a weary look. The group silently left the room, packing away quills and papers, until they reached the hallway. A sixth year Slytherin abruptly thrust his leg out in the way of the Weasley girl. She collapsed to the ground, every single one of her papers, quills and books spreading out upon the stone floor. The boy laughed at the sight and kept moving. Many others followed the suit, considering no one felt like dealing with another's problems so late into the night. Draco headed up the stairs, behind the rest of the pack. But then he saw one of her folders, overflowing with notes and work at the start of the steps. He heard the shuffling of her papers from where he stood, kneeling down to salvage the folder. Draco looked up the flight of steps, and back over his shoulder. They were the only beings in sight. He took a risk, like always, but in a way that was unusual to his customary.
Draco turned around, and silently walked over to the crumpled sight of Ginny Weasley. He never let his numb guard down as he stood above her. She raced to arrange her things, and slowly looked up with heartbreaking eyes gazing upon his callous ones. Draco stuck out the papers to her, in a way to make her feel even more despondent and pitiful. When she did not take it immediately, he flung it to her lap and whipped around. He swiftly made his way up the flight of stairs back to the Slytherin dungeon. As hard as he tried to ignore it, that look of her desolation hit his heart where nothing else could. Draco couldn't let that meaningless, nothing girl get to him, but he knew that sensation much too well to let it go by disregarded.
-x-
The smoke clouded his eyes, forcing them to tear up as he coughed from the drag. His cigarettes brought him liberation from his world, for the price of his health. But sometimes it was all he could do, to take his mind away from other things, things that really plagued him. Draco let his eyes wander up to the castle, where many students resided in the Great Hall for lunch.
The cigarette dangled from his fingers as he narrowed his eyes at the entrance. Despite all he said, despite all he desperately lied, Draco was not contented. He was bored of getting disgustingly smashed night after night. The feeling of a drunken girl, slurring her way into his bed, or him into hers, was quite pitiable. Nonetheless, the drugs didn't help much either; most likely, they made it only worse. He didn't feel like doing anything anymore. He didn't have the energy, or the motivation to do anything. Hadn't he experienced it all by now?
He was tired. He wanted to sleep rather than stay up, hours on end, waiting to hear the girl-of-the-night leave, or for the other boys to awaken. Draco needed a sleep that lasted for years and years and years. Why not sleep the rest of the world away? Then maybe he would become conscious, and fully awake, rather than traipse around, barely half-cognizant. And maybe he'd find something that didn't bore him, that never wore him out. Something that kept him content, never uninterested him and never crawled into his bed during the dead of night, deeply inebriated and horny.
He stamped the cigarette out beneath his shoe as he leaned against his tree. Draco tilted his head upward, furrowing his brow as he squinted at the grey sky that blew vicious winds at him. He tried to look past the dreary atmosphere, beyond the skies and the heavens. A sharp blast of air bit into his skin, ripping through his clothes and gnawed at his skin. Draco didn't want to be this person anymore. But at the same time, he wasn't wholly convinced in what he truly sought after to become.
-x-x-
A/N: I know this is short, sorry, but school is ridiculous. I have so much shit to do, but I'm going to try to stay constant with this. & pleasepleaseplease read & review, a lot! ;D
