All characters J. K. R. 's. Plot mine.
Apathy
The next night ~
Draco still felt cold.
It was horrible, the feeling of seclusion. The emptiness of rejection.
Did he actually belong? In Slytherin. Of course he did, he didn't belong anywhere else. . .but. . . but what? He had no real friends there to speak of. Crabbe and Goyle. Too thick to comprehend anything as deep as Draco. Pansy. Nice, intellectual, but not on the same wave length as he was. Blaise. Someone he could laugh with occasionally, but never confine in. . . That's what he wanted.
The bare simplicity of it hurt. He knew that that was all he wanted, all he needed, but refused to admit it. . .
He was a Malfoy. Malfoy's need nobody.
Right?
Someone to confine in? Was it really just that simple? It had to be more complex than this. . . had to be. The loneliness, the hurt, the isolation. . . just from that one thing? Was it possible? Was he going insane? It felt like it. . .
All over some stupid bloody Extension papers. . .
Maybe it wasn't so bad. After all, he had. . .
He failed to come up with a good point. He stared vacantly at the opposite wall, not seeing it. He wasn't thinking now. He wasn't doing anything. Just the vacant emptiness, void of thought, emotion or needs, the emptiness named Apathy.
He rocked quietly to himself. He didn't need friends, right? He was fine. Absolutely ok. . . he was Draco! Draco. . .Dragon. Nothing could harm a dragon. Nothing ever got to it. A solitary beast, a hunter, a ruthless killer. So nothing could harm Draco? That was his namesake. That was the picture Lucius Malfoy, his Father had painted for him.
No, had had painted for him. His Father would never do something when someone else could do it for him. Maybe that was the other half of his guilt? The feeling of constant inadequacy, failure.
He kept rocking, staring at the wall.
Poor inadequate Draco, friendless and alone. . .his family doesn't care, and he doesn't have any friends! He was bordering on hysteria. Why would anyone care about Draco?! Arrogant, stuck up Draco, not as "big" as he makes out to be!
He could see the faces of all the people he knew in his mind, jeering, laughing, gloating, sneering, ridiculing him, and showing him up to be a fool. . .
His head hurt. He couldn't sleep.
He couldn't cry any more. All his tears had been used up the previous night, leaving him weak and empty inside as well as out.
He didn't care. He knew that his grades were starting to slip already, but he didn't care. . . Homework, left undone, not handed in, class work not done, notes left un-copied, he didn't care.
What was the point?
The worst thing , the very worst thing, was that he knew that there was no point in all this. All these feelings. The guilt, the apathy, the feeling of seclusion, had no cause. His life, compared to those of others, was comfortable. He had a good home, he had people he could talk with, he had good marks. But he still felt so empty. . . alone.
Apathy
The next night ~
Draco still felt cold.
It was horrible, the feeling of seclusion. The emptiness of rejection.
Did he actually belong? In Slytherin. Of course he did, he didn't belong anywhere else. . .but. . . but what? He had no real friends there to speak of. Crabbe and Goyle. Too thick to comprehend anything as deep as Draco. Pansy. Nice, intellectual, but not on the same wave length as he was. Blaise. Someone he could laugh with occasionally, but never confine in. . . That's what he wanted.
The bare simplicity of it hurt. He knew that that was all he wanted, all he needed, but refused to admit it. . .
He was a Malfoy. Malfoy's need nobody.
Right?
Someone to confine in? Was it really just that simple? It had to be more complex than this. . . had to be. The loneliness, the hurt, the isolation. . . just from that one thing? Was it possible? Was he going insane? It felt like it. . .
All over some stupid bloody Extension papers. . .
Maybe it wasn't so bad. After all, he had. . .
He failed to come up with a good point. He stared vacantly at the opposite wall, not seeing it. He wasn't thinking now. He wasn't doing anything. Just the vacant emptiness, void of thought, emotion or needs, the emptiness named Apathy.
He rocked quietly to himself. He didn't need friends, right? He was fine. Absolutely ok. . . he was Draco! Draco. . .Dragon. Nothing could harm a dragon. Nothing ever got to it. A solitary beast, a hunter, a ruthless killer. So nothing could harm Draco? That was his namesake. That was the picture Lucius Malfoy, his Father had painted for him.
No, had had painted for him. His Father would never do something when someone else could do it for him. Maybe that was the other half of his guilt? The feeling of constant inadequacy, failure.
He kept rocking, staring at the wall.
Poor inadequate Draco, friendless and alone. . .his family doesn't care, and he doesn't have any friends! He was bordering on hysteria. Why would anyone care about Draco?! Arrogant, stuck up Draco, not as "big" as he makes out to be!
He could see the faces of all the people he knew in his mind, jeering, laughing, gloating, sneering, ridiculing him, and showing him up to be a fool. . .
His head hurt. He couldn't sleep.
He couldn't cry any more. All his tears had been used up the previous night, leaving him weak and empty inside as well as out.
He didn't care. He knew that his grades were starting to slip already, but he didn't care. . . Homework, left undone, not handed in, class work not done, notes left un-copied, he didn't care.
What was the point?
The worst thing , the very worst thing, was that he knew that there was no point in all this. All these feelings. The guilt, the apathy, the feeling of seclusion, had no cause. His life, compared to those of others, was comfortable. He had a good home, he had people he could talk with, he had good marks. But he still felt so empty. . . alone.