Behind the Serpent head
This is a monologue from Draco's point of view, I am aware this has been done before but well this is my little contribution. I do not own Draco or any of the rights to Harry Potter. This is not affiliated with JK Rowling or the official peeps.
Sometimes I will sit for hours in the corner chair of our common room. I can be completely silent for that long and no one will notice me or try and approach me. I am not hated, or at least not by the Slytherins. They just don't seem to be able to talk to me. There are people all around me laughing, talking. They are on the peripheral edge of my vision. I want to approach them, join in their idle chat. I am about to move and walk over when panic over-runs me. What if I say something stupid or I am not wanted? So I stay put in the corner of the common room.
There are friends I talk to but only precious few that I can confide in. I have difficultly letting people into my full range of interests and personality. I have created an elaborate illusion with hints and subtle misleading hints to throw people like Potter who would sneer if he knew how I loved such a mundane subject as Ancient Runes or gazed at the stars for hours by the lake after slipping un-noticed into the night.
I sometimes feel that people whisper cruel rumours behind my back and snigger at my ineptitude. As you can imagine that doesn't help me much so I cling to the solace that I find within myself. Occasionally I will get "into things" and become more than a shadow in the far chair. These are fleeting moments when I feel I truly belong to the world occupied by the people I live with. But they are so fleeting. I soon become overwhelmed by the complexities of the social rules and retreat cowering back into the rich tapestry of the imaginary and abstract where I exist.
I must be an intellectual, someone who spends hours on their own in a study or library and calls it fun. People think that it is pathetic so I try and limit that side of myself to a minimum and at least remain in the common room trying to maintain some semblance of sociability. I seek out the company of other intellectuals such as myself. Granger is one, she knows the passion of learning. I can see it when she is studying in the library. I want to approach her but my brain shifts down a gear and I can only insult her, which only serves to drive her further away. Why must I transform into Draco "the blonde bimbo" Malfoy whenever I want to bare my soul to her.
I express myself through my writing and my playing. I can pour out my emotions into my violin. No one knows I play, no one. I brought it with the pocket money I get off Father. It was a beautiful broken old thing. I fixed it by magic and began to learn how to play. The top of a tall tower, the door sealed shut is where I let myself fly free and become the notes and trilling vibrations that drift like shadows of myself into the winds and carry my deepest self as far as my mind can imagine.
Draco Malfoy, 16
This is a monologue from Draco's point of view, I am aware this has been done before but well this is my little contribution. I do not own Draco or any of the rights to Harry Potter. This is not affiliated with JK Rowling or the official peeps.
Sometimes I will sit for hours in the corner chair of our common room. I can be completely silent for that long and no one will notice me or try and approach me. I am not hated, or at least not by the Slytherins. They just don't seem to be able to talk to me. There are people all around me laughing, talking. They are on the peripheral edge of my vision. I want to approach them, join in their idle chat. I am about to move and walk over when panic over-runs me. What if I say something stupid or I am not wanted? So I stay put in the corner of the common room.
There are friends I talk to but only precious few that I can confide in. I have difficultly letting people into my full range of interests and personality. I have created an elaborate illusion with hints and subtle misleading hints to throw people like Potter who would sneer if he knew how I loved such a mundane subject as Ancient Runes or gazed at the stars for hours by the lake after slipping un-noticed into the night.
I sometimes feel that people whisper cruel rumours behind my back and snigger at my ineptitude. As you can imagine that doesn't help me much so I cling to the solace that I find within myself. Occasionally I will get "into things" and become more than a shadow in the far chair. These are fleeting moments when I feel I truly belong to the world occupied by the people I live with. But they are so fleeting. I soon become overwhelmed by the complexities of the social rules and retreat cowering back into the rich tapestry of the imaginary and abstract where I exist.
I must be an intellectual, someone who spends hours on their own in a study or library and calls it fun. People think that it is pathetic so I try and limit that side of myself to a minimum and at least remain in the common room trying to maintain some semblance of sociability. I seek out the company of other intellectuals such as myself. Granger is one, she knows the passion of learning. I can see it when she is studying in the library. I want to approach her but my brain shifts down a gear and I can only insult her, which only serves to drive her further away. Why must I transform into Draco "the blonde bimbo" Malfoy whenever I want to bare my soul to her.
I express myself through my writing and my playing. I can pour out my emotions into my violin. No one knows I play, no one. I brought it with the pocket money I get off Father. It was a beautiful broken old thing. I fixed it by magic and began to learn how to play. The top of a tall tower, the door sealed shut is where I let myself fly free and become the notes and trilling vibrations that drift like shadows of myself into the winds and carry my deepest self as far as my mind can imagine.
Draco Malfoy, 16
