Doubts and Spinning Tops

Part Two by Kay

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Really. ^_^;; I don't! I promise! .... well, okay, so maybe I've been trying to buy Draco-chan for a few months...

Author's Notes: Heheheh, I'm evil... two person reviewed, so I figured, what the heck!? Let's write more! ^_^ (You poor people...) Again- total Draco angst fic. If you want slash, I'll gladly add some in there, but I don't do other romances except slash ones.

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When I was seven, I saw my first spinning top.

It was a small, red plastic toy that Muggles produced, being the stupid, easily entertained sort of humans they can be. Although, for being not our kind, they do have moments where even I admit I'm curious to their inventions. The first time I saw that toy, a small scarlett object shaped vaguelly as a cone, there was the intense urge to examine it's irregularities.

A child about four years old was making it spin on a table that sat outside a cafe, just a shop away from where my father was making a deal. I can recall the summer heat even now, blessed with a sharp memory, and how it made the back of my shirt stick to the base of my neck heatedly. There was no breeze, and it was impossibly hot standing in the middle of the burning sidewalk, clinging to my father's oversized hand. He wasn't even paying attention to me, only jabbering on about god know's what to some business man, something about books and magic that I didn't understand.

Squinting to the left and right, my flashing eyes finally caught that spinning top- an interesting thing in the boring midst of the street. The little boy kept trying to make it go, urging it to go faster, "Round n' round! G'round!" before falling into giggles as it slipped off the table edge.

I wanted to run over, desperatly curious and delighted at the strange device that stayed up on its own, and play with it. Make it go round n' round, like the boy was.

It fell off the table. I let go of my father's hand and went to pick it up, smooth in my hands, hot plastic. Simple. Ingenious.

The little boy ran off with his mother, and I kept it in my pocket. But when I went home and tried to spin it on the smooth marble floors of our hallways, where I was sure it wouldn't fall off any edge, my father slapped me and took it away.

I didn't cry. But I did lock myself in my bedroom.

Now, years ahead of that summer day, I wish I had kept it somewhere safe to use sometime. In my entire life, I've never had the chance to try it again, see if I really could have made the toy spin like it was supposed to, never falling, never going off the edge. To be perfectly caught in a whirlwind spiral for all eternity, protected from the world.

It's a foolish idea. I hate it, but I sometimes I can't help thinking about it.

Sometimes I think I'm just like that spinning top. In fact, the more I think about it, contemplating the idea, the more I agree with the absurd notion.

I spend my days at Hogwarts being Draco Malfoy, the vicious spoiled brat who's father could destroy half the families who come to this school. I mock, I taunt, I throw harsh barbed words that twist and kill smiles, and I feel a rush of power when I do, addictive. To think I can make them as miserable as me.

Selfish, isn't it?

My nights are different, though. Careening through the twilight hours, all my thoughts turn away from the world, and I feel as though I'm a mirror image of myself, opposite in every way. In the dark, you can examine your own twisted desires and wishes without fear or shame. In the shadows, I can yearn for something warmer than the coldness that bites the room.

Even more selfish. At least I live the days for my father and his ideals. At night, I live for myself.

The school hallways glisten in the faint moonlight that streams in from the wide windows, stones that shimmer with pale imitations of the light. Even down the dark steps to the dungeons where I've gone before, the gentle rays are cast. It's like an eerie painting or snapshot frozen in time, an empty school stretched before me, more silent than my own mansion, which echoes. It feels like every breath is swallowed, every sound.

I glide through this place when no one can see me with my shields down. Absently being someone different, something who doubts and worries. I trace the window cill as my distracted thoughts turn to decisions.

To be Death Eater, or not to be. Give into my father's wishes, that he's struggled to mold me to his entire life, or merely put aside that and go which way I please. I'm tempted to pick the latter, because following has never been my strong suit. Yet neither is going against my family. Without them, without a name, I feel like I'm nothing.

Without the darkness that protects me as a barriar, I would melt in the sun, it seems. How pathetic is that? I've become dependant on the very things I hate. Dependant on my father's strict rules about what I must do with my life and spare time, and even more on the knowledge that fighting with the Dark Lord is what I should be doing.

Here, safe within these walls, I sometimes think even if I did turn, no one could get me here. But that's a lie.

Listlessly, I sink to the floor, leaning back against the cool stone of the wall, and pull my legs up to my chest with my arms. My lashes are thick with something warm, a liquid, and I must be an idiot, because I'm crying *again*. When I shouldn't.

Some Malfoy I make.

It's just... there is no safe place anymore. No matter what side I go to, whether or not I'm good or evil, who I am won't change a thing. Every place on the earth would be filled with people who would never make sure I was safe, everyone's either out to kill me, make me theirs, or just can't stand me. Where is the sanctuary in that? Mm?

My head's spinning again. I really don't feel well.

Draco Malfoy doesn't get sick, though. He doesn't get upset or sad, he doesn't sit in lonely, empty hallways, cold and shaking from the urge to cry, knowing only a few drops will escape before he stops, because he has no tears in him to cry. I'm empty, so very hollow these nights, except for my whirling thoughts that dance in my head. My doubts, my demons.

Draco Malfoy has no demons. There is no doubt about what he's going to do, what side he will choose. His father made sure of that.

I have begun to refer to myself in third person... I really must be going insane. Completely barking mad. I'll end up in some Muggle hospital for the crazy, or an asylum if I'm not careful, just like Longbottom's parents did so long ago. Only I'm not crazy. I just can't stop spinning. Can't fall anywhere, because no matter what edge I jump off of, the bottom will meet me in the end.

My destiny seems to be breaking on the floor.

These nights I wonder about anything, actually. Right now, it seems all I can think of is tomorrow, what I'll do, the things I'll make myself say. Force myself to move the hinges of my joints, open my mouth and sing ugly, poisonous words. They hit me just as much as they do the other person now, for some reason. What happened to the power rush? The thrill and warmth of wanton destruction?

I try so hard to break people, to utterly shatter objects. There's no glue to fix them up, nothing that a magic spell can vanish, what I do is permanent. Or maybe I flatter myself- perhaps no one really hears me at all. Maybe that's it. That's why no one can hear me on the floor right now, curled up against the wall, eyes squeezed tightly shut, trying not to cry out for all the thoughts going through my aching head. I think I'm beginning to reach my limit, it hurts to consider things like this now.

That doesn't stop the doubts, though, and the spinning wildly continues.

It's as though I'm twirling around and round, unable to stop the motion I've created, resigned to that spinning. The top can never stop itself once it's started going, only someone else can do that. If no one cares about the toy, they'll leave it to do whatever it wants forever, like the boy did that summer day. He didn't even care that I took it from him. It was a meaningless bobble to him, an easily replaced item.

My father treats me like that toy.

It's no secret that he could easily get another heir for the family, if he was desperate enough. However, it's just easier and quicker to deal with me, no matter how "weak" he claims I am. I'm not the perfect son he wanted, although he's attempted almost successfully to create me in that image, but at least there's some of him in me. A few traits, habits. Things I watched, taking in me like precious jewels, thinking, "If I'm like my father..."

I don't know whether to be proud of that, anymore. Maybe I should be ashamed. Or scared.

I'm none of those. Just very confused right now, damn it, and I can't stop it from happening at once. The entire world's passing me by in quick flashes of colour, blended together to form a mural or sorts. I'm only watching, trying to see when it stops. When the "spinning top" falls to the floor, I guess.

Blissfully, horribly aware of what's happening to me, I let my father steer me where he wants me to go. Now I feel as though I couldn't stop it if I tried. I have to continue spinning until I fall where he lets me land. Unless someone changes the direction.

It will never happen.

I am Draco Malfoy, and that's just the way it has to be... right?

Right? These days... thinking of that summer back then, when I first recalled feelings of what living was truly like... and now, remembering little moments...

I drag a hand across my wet face shakily. I really am an idiot. I'm almost as bad as Muggles and non-pure bloods now. Almost.

Maybe worse. I moistened my dry lips, whispering to myself,

"Right?"

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While Draco was locked in his own world, a boy with flashing green eyes watched thoughtfully across from him. Unseen and unheard, sitting awkwardly against the opposite wall, hardly daring to breathe.

Harry Potter made sure to tuck the Invisibility cloak around him tightly when he finally left the broken boy to his own thoughts.

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... Owari for now... ^^;; I didn't like this chapter... it babbles to much, and the ending leaves something to be desired. However... I did get two reviews the first time! YAY! Happiness! Thank you so MUCH, you two! ::hugs them:: Wow, and you liked it... funny, I hated it...

Anyway. ::blushes:: Review if you'd like- please don't hurt me for writing badly. Oh- and PLEASE- important! IMPORTANT! Let me know what you want to see happen. I might make this a slash Harry/Draco if anyone would like. Or I could just do lots and lots of Draco slash. No matter what, in the next chapter... Draco gets a kitty cat somehow... and discovers something he never knew about himself. ;) Take care, minna-san!

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