Precious Memories Wasted
By Mrrrisa :)
A/N: I'm soooo not even a writer. This is like my first fan-fiction ever so please excuse me if it well if it sucks. It takes place throughout Draco's childhood, and with some quick sections in the present, consisting of Draco haunting throughout his home. Uhmm as of now it contains nothing offensive but some reference to child beating but I'm planning on incorporating some slash, DM/HP pairing, and the possibility of more violence. So until I do, I'll keep the rating low. Excuse me if I don't post every day, but I'll try my best to do so. Please r/r if you can.
Luv y'alls,
Mrrrisa :)
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The rain pounded upon the tile roofing. The thunder clapped as lightly illuminated the sky. Draco tossed violently in his sleep. Suddenly he rose quickly, broken into a heavy sweat. HE stared down at his body, ashamed of the frenzy he has worked himself into. He looked down upon his sweet, unsuspecting wife. She looked so heavenly, yet even in her sleep, Draco could see the submissive nature he had forced her into. *My poor Zahira...* he thought to himself, before changing his mindset, again upset that he had let himself fall back into such a caring state.
He pulled the sheets from him and threw open the curtains on his four post bed. The air was chilly, and cooled his sweaty body until his bones could feel the breeze tickling them. He cringed as he walked into the hallway. Upon the walls were pictures of the famous Malfoy ancestors. In the center was a large oil painting of Lucius Malfoy. The canvas was ripped, obviously in a fit of rage. Draco looked up at the painting before spitting upon it. Even though he had his pride in his vindictiveness, Draco knew the dangers of his father's business.
As he strutted down the corridor he could hear the tormented nightmare calls from the young Xavier, and the whimpers from his eldest daughter Kariena. He pitied the children, wishing they could only be as strong as he was in his childhood. After all, Lucius had always been much more strict with young Draco than he was with his children.
The thought of his yells and torments towards the children twinged his heart. But he didn't know any better. He lived up to his father's expectations, Malfoy to the coldest nerve in his beating heart. Draco walked to the large stained glass doors, watching the rain pelt the glass, sending colors into his eyes. The windows lacked all pinks, reds, and gold. Those colors brought back too many precious moments wasted.
As he stared out the window, he looked back upon his childhood, the wasted moments, the cruel beatings, and the harsh final words of the only person he had ever cared for. Draco stood at the window panes for hours, trying desperately to grasp the small memories he had left of his childhood. But it was no use, too many things had since happened for him to be able to retain anything. He could no longer love. He could no longer care. As far as Draco was concerned, he could no longer feel.
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A/N: Oooh so this is all in Draco's furture… fun fun… hee hee… It'll soon flashback into his past, I promise! Sorry for such a short chapter. I was writing when suddenly we had a power outage... :( Grrrr… Oh well… I may post a second chapter later on tonight.
Losta Luv,
Mrrrisa :)