A/N: WARNING: This contains some SLASH material.
Ha! Now that you have been warned, you can only blame yourself for getting offended.
Jewels
And so I said to her:
How doth the fickle weather fair on your far side of town?
Hath bird and bee both acknowledged it, and consented to fly down?
From lightest autumn air unto its golden crown,
Which soon will drop its many jewels onto ungrateful ground.
Draco gazed absently at his feet, letting the refreshing crunch of the leaves beneath them drown away his thoughts. Ahhh…monotonous oblivion. He felt something bordering on peace. The air bright and sharp, and the trees lining the narrow path scattered their jewels around him with every shallow breath. This was what life was about, right? Life was about living- not about thinking.
Thoughts were present in a sphere around your mind, layers and layers, each more deep as it got closer to the core. Draco felt lost in it. It was suffocating and confusing. The layers alternated between conflicting answers. And he never found out what was in the core. The layers seemed eternal.
He felt like he had lost something in the depth; he had lost the ability to appreciate the surface simplicity. And the entire world was left on the surface.
He knew he had some spark- something that set himself from the rest, but it also isolated him. How could he explain anything to those idiots? Well aside from Crabbe and Goyle. They had a lot more to them, than most people realised. They were not academically clever and acted really stupid, but they understood his loneliness. His resentment.
Life was bittersweet--well, he had heard it being said. But so far their had been an overwhelming torrent of bitterness that had succeeded in masking most of the sweet. That was just it. He had tasted the sweet- it was still on his lips, but still he had to live with the bitter. Bitter can be intoxicating- Draco thought of the muggle drink. Yes, that drink. He grinned faintly as he remembered that first time he had discovered it. He had spit it out and sworn never to trust muggle drinks again. Then came the addiction.
He drew his hands out of the pockets in his robes and pulled his cloak tighter around him. Lately he had managed to push his feelings away and the surface of his mind was free for life. His reality was slipping away.
Autumn was Draco's favourite time of the year. Just after the fierce and fake 'joy' of summer, and just before the icy harshness of winter.
The soft moan of the wind suddenly took on an actuality. He stopped in his tracks. That couldn't be right? The moan again- this time louder. He turned cautiously and peered behind him. The Shrieking Shack was on the other side of town, so where was the source of the noise? He was about to continue on his walk when he caught a glimpse of red hair- Weasley hair. In the clearing to his right, a tiny glimpse of fire again.
Draco tilted his head, and crept through the crackling leaves, wishing that he had a broom to stop his noisy footsteps. What was the Weasley boy doing? Draco smirked. He would bet anything that Granger was there with him. He stopped and placed his pale hand carefully on the nearest trunk, preparing himself for the climb up.
Up and up till he came to a perfect branch with a perfect view. He shifted his position before daring to look down, rough bark indenting his fragile skin. The wind whistled past his ear; a mocking song. 'Thought you were too above the spying side, didn't you? Thought you could escape your roots?' What was with this sudden curiosity? His curiosity was given a nasty kick when he saw that not only was it not Hermione, it was Potter. The two of them were in the midst of a passionate kiss that made Draco nearly fall out of his hiding place and blush lightly. Their embrace shouted zeal and heat. Draco could not take his eyes off them. He had no idea. No idea at all, that Potter and Weasley were gay.
If he squinted, he could just make out the glowing ecstasy on Ron face. His arms were protectively round Harry's waist and Harry's arms around Ron's neck, his back facing Draco. He felt something inside him break as he watched them pull apart, still so close and staring intently at each other. He hadn't realised that they could be so devious and so…well, Slytherin-like. Ron was currently in an official relationship with Hermione and Harry, with Florence from Ravenclaw. And yet here they were- the very ideals of Griffindors in red, locked together in a breath taking picture of endearment.
Maybe the red wasn't just the bold pure colour of wholesome respect. It also represented lust and passion and fire.
They were talking now. Their friendship and affection evident even from this high distance. He saw Ron lean down and lick Harry's neck, whispering something in his ear, that made the other boy grab his face and kiss him feverishly.
Draco stared at the two boys for a minute before turning away, with glistening eyes. He felt anger, full and mind numbing, sweep over him. What were they doing? What did they have that Draco hated? Was it their love- did he want that so much? Draco climbed down the tree with reckless footsteps. The feeling was still beating through his mind when his feet touched the ground. Blind anger. Why?
He tried to take in calming breaths but to no avail. He felt himself sweating slightly in his fury. What was wrong with him?!
He felt dizzy and sick- the wood was spinning around him. He couldn't think straight- his mind was a whirling mass of senseless words, forming on a whim. His childhood---a memory--
The wood is made of trees. The trees are made of wood. The wood is made of trees. The trees are made of wood. The wood is made of trees. The trees are made of wood. The wood is made of trees. The trees are made of wood. The wood is made of trees. The trees are made of wood.
He fell roughly, his back to the tree trunk. Why couldn't he see- it was all black. What was happening? All he heard before he passed out, was Harry's concerned and surprised voice, and fast approaching footsteps.
A/N: It will get better (I hope :) Part II is half done, but is on its way-- 'Unsatisfied equation'. Harry and Ron find that Draco has been a naughty little boy... In more ways than one ;)
Thank you for reviews of 'Surreal??' I love reading them.
Until next time.
~finite
Ha! Now that you have been warned, you can only blame yourself for getting offended.
Jewels
And so I said to her:
How doth the fickle weather fair on your far side of town?
Hath bird and bee both acknowledged it, and consented to fly down?
From lightest autumn air unto its golden crown,
Which soon will drop its many jewels onto ungrateful ground.
Draco gazed absently at his feet, letting the refreshing crunch of the leaves beneath them drown away his thoughts. Ahhh…monotonous oblivion. He felt something bordering on peace. The air bright and sharp, and the trees lining the narrow path scattered their jewels around him with every shallow breath. This was what life was about, right? Life was about living- not about thinking.
Thoughts were present in a sphere around your mind, layers and layers, each more deep as it got closer to the core. Draco felt lost in it. It was suffocating and confusing. The layers alternated between conflicting answers. And he never found out what was in the core. The layers seemed eternal.
He felt like he had lost something in the depth; he had lost the ability to appreciate the surface simplicity. And the entire world was left on the surface.
He knew he had some spark- something that set himself from the rest, but it also isolated him. How could he explain anything to those idiots? Well aside from Crabbe and Goyle. They had a lot more to them, than most people realised. They were not academically clever and acted really stupid, but they understood his loneliness. His resentment.
Life was bittersweet--well, he had heard it being said. But so far their had been an overwhelming torrent of bitterness that had succeeded in masking most of the sweet. That was just it. He had tasted the sweet- it was still on his lips, but still he had to live with the bitter. Bitter can be intoxicating- Draco thought of the muggle drink. Yes, that drink. He grinned faintly as he remembered that first time he had discovered it. He had spit it out and sworn never to trust muggle drinks again. Then came the addiction.
He drew his hands out of the pockets in his robes and pulled his cloak tighter around him. Lately he had managed to push his feelings away and the surface of his mind was free for life. His reality was slipping away.
Autumn was Draco's favourite time of the year. Just after the fierce and fake 'joy' of summer, and just before the icy harshness of winter.
The soft moan of the wind suddenly took on an actuality. He stopped in his tracks. That couldn't be right? The moan again- this time louder. He turned cautiously and peered behind him. The Shrieking Shack was on the other side of town, so where was the source of the noise? He was about to continue on his walk when he caught a glimpse of red hair- Weasley hair. In the clearing to his right, a tiny glimpse of fire again.
Draco tilted his head, and crept through the crackling leaves, wishing that he had a broom to stop his noisy footsteps. What was the Weasley boy doing? Draco smirked. He would bet anything that Granger was there with him. He stopped and placed his pale hand carefully on the nearest trunk, preparing himself for the climb up.
Up and up till he came to a perfect branch with a perfect view. He shifted his position before daring to look down, rough bark indenting his fragile skin. The wind whistled past his ear; a mocking song. 'Thought you were too above the spying side, didn't you? Thought you could escape your roots?' What was with this sudden curiosity? His curiosity was given a nasty kick when he saw that not only was it not Hermione, it was Potter. The two of them were in the midst of a passionate kiss that made Draco nearly fall out of his hiding place and blush lightly. Their embrace shouted zeal and heat. Draco could not take his eyes off them. He had no idea. No idea at all, that Potter and Weasley were gay.
If he squinted, he could just make out the glowing ecstasy on Ron face. His arms were protectively round Harry's waist and Harry's arms around Ron's neck, his back facing Draco. He felt something inside him break as he watched them pull apart, still so close and staring intently at each other. He hadn't realised that they could be so devious and so…well, Slytherin-like. Ron was currently in an official relationship with Hermione and Harry, with Florence from Ravenclaw. And yet here they were- the very ideals of Griffindors in red, locked together in a breath taking picture of endearment.
Maybe the red wasn't just the bold pure colour of wholesome respect. It also represented lust and passion and fire.
They were talking now. Their friendship and affection evident even from this high distance. He saw Ron lean down and lick Harry's neck, whispering something in his ear, that made the other boy grab his face and kiss him feverishly.
Draco stared at the two boys for a minute before turning away, with glistening eyes. He felt anger, full and mind numbing, sweep over him. What were they doing? What did they have that Draco hated? Was it their love- did he want that so much? Draco climbed down the tree with reckless footsteps. The feeling was still beating through his mind when his feet touched the ground. Blind anger. Why?
He tried to take in calming breaths but to no avail. He felt himself sweating slightly in his fury. What was wrong with him?!
He felt dizzy and sick- the wood was spinning around him. He couldn't think straight- his mind was a whirling mass of senseless words, forming on a whim. His childhood---a memory--
The wood is made of trees. The trees are made of wood. The wood is made of trees. The trees are made of wood. The wood is made of trees. The trees are made of wood. The wood is made of trees. The trees are made of wood. The wood is made of trees. The trees are made of wood.
He fell roughly, his back to the tree trunk. Why couldn't he see- it was all black. What was happening? All he heard before he passed out, was Harry's concerned and surprised voice, and fast approaching footsteps.
A/N: It will get better (I hope :) Part II is half done, but is on its way-- 'Unsatisfied equation'. Harry and Ron find that Draco has been a naughty little boy... In more ways than one ;)
Thank you for reviews of 'Surreal??' I love reading them.
Until next time.
~finite
