ummm he's not mine! he's ms. rowling's. i just borrow him. as far as i know
this is totally clean. weird, paganistic deity references...
Full Moon Muse
There's not much of it but when the moonlight breaks its silvery self over the windows and through the curtains onto my velvet drapes, I can feel it. I sit up and tug the thick green fabric away and let the soft glow wash over me. It makes my ice-gold hair look like liquid silver and it causes my steel eyes to shimmer in reflection of it.
Tonight is one of those nights. She is full and here I sit, my cold eyes shut as I absorb the light that She gives me. Her smile is bright yet faraway. I sigh softly and blink, glancing around at the stone circular walls and the green velvet of my dormmate's beds. I lean over and stick one hand under my bed, leaving Her glow for a moment to scrabble for a sheet of parchment, quill and ink. I locate all easily enough and swing back up, clutching my violet ink and my raven's primary feather quill and several sheets of thick, creamy ivory colored parchment as I lean back against my headboard. I grin up at the moon hanging with a red tinge low and large on the horizon as it rises. I shuffle the shet and carefully uncap the ink, dipping the quill into it and sending my careful hand over the paper in my neat, elegant handwriting.
Moon shines bright in the cold night sky
She tells me so much but never tells why
I dust the black feather over my lips as I purse them in thought. My poetry is good enough, I think, but sometimes it just doesn't flow and I have to work for it. I close my eyes and tilt my face up to the moon, opening my mind and heart and calling to the streak of silver that stretches from my face to my soul.
I glow when I am in Her light
She watches over me every night
She listens and speaks and She understands
She says She is with me, in my wand and my hands
She tells me that the magic I bear
Is the gift of Her, as is my hair
I curl to my pillow and sigh in Her arms
While She keeps me I shall suffer no harm
Lady hold me every day
Keep my darkest demons away
Lady hold me every night
Keep me bathed in Your blessed light...
I lean back in satisfaction, smirking to myself as I reread my poem. It could easily be turned into a chant of power. I start singing it softly but abruptly stop myself, as I do not wish to bring attention to myself, in either my strange lyrics or my lilting, light voice like a clarion. I used to hate my voice, until I learned to use it. Now it is one of my greatest weapons. I nod sharply and blow on the ink to make it dry, waiting until its shimmer is gone before I slide my supplies back under the bed. I set several sharp creases into the paper as I fold it and slide it into my Book that sits on my little nighttable.
I lean back in my bed, lying there in the silver moonlight and sigh. It disturbs me sometimes, the way people see me. I am more than just a cold, calculating Slytherin. I have a personality, and I am not all bad. I'm not Malfoy's son.
I am Draco, and the Moon Herself calls me by name. So, too, should you!
~exeunt~
note - wow that was weird i just started writing please tell me if you like it, i might eb able to do a harry/sunlight one or something if ya'll want a sequel... please review! luvvies! (i like this fic, i like the way it turned out...)
Full Moon Muse
There's not much of it but when the moonlight breaks its silvery self over the windows and through the curtains onto my velvet drapes, I can feel it. I sit up and tug the thick green fabric away and let the soft glow wash over me. It makes my ice-gold hair look like liquid silver and it causes my steel eyes to shimmer in reflection of it.
Tonight is one of those nights. She is full and here I sit, my cold eyes shut as I absorb the light that She gives me. Her smile is bright yet faraway. I sigh softly and blink, glancing around at the stone circular walls and the green velvet of my dormmate's beds. I lean over and stick one hand under my bed, leaving Her glow for a moment to scrabble for a sheet of parchment, quill and ink. I locate all easily enough and swing back up, clutching my violet ink and my raven's primary feather quill and several sheets of thick, creamy ivory colored parchment as I lean back against my headboard. I grin up at the moon hanging with a red tinge low and large on the horizon as it rises. I shuffle the shet and carefully uncap the ink, dipping the quill into it and sending my careful hand over the paper in my neat, elegant handwriting.
Moon shines bright in the cold night sky
She tells me so much but never tells why
I dust the black feather over my lips as I purse them in thought. My poetry is good enough, I think, but sometimes it just doesn't flow and I have to work for it. I close my eyes and tilt my face up to the moon, opening my mind and heart and calling to the streak of silver that stretches from my face to my soul.
I glow when I am in Her light
She watches over me every night
She listens and speaks and She understands
She says She is with me, in my wand and my hands
She tells me that the magic I bear
Is the gift of Her, as is my hair
I curl to my pillow and sigh in Her arms
While She keeps me I shall suffer no harm
Lady hold me every day
Keep my darkest demons away
Lady hold me every night
Keep me bathed in Your blessed light...
I lean back in satisfaction, smirking to myself as I reread my poem. It could easily be turned into a chant of power. I start singing it softly but abruptly stop myself, as I do not wish to bring attention to myself, in either my strange lyrics or my lilting, light voice like a clarion. I used to hate my voice, until I learned to use it. Now it is one of my greatest weapons. I nod sharply and blow on the ink to make it dry, waiting until its shimmer is gone before I slide my supplies back under the bed. I set several sharp creases into the paper as I fold it and slide it into my Book that sits on my little nighttable.
I lean back in my bed, lying there in the silver moonlight and sigh. It disturbs me sometimes, the way people see me. I am more than just a cold, calculating Slytherin. I have a personality, and I am not all bad. I'm not Malfoy's son.
I am Draco, and the Moon Herself calls me by name. So, too, should you!
~exeunt~
note - wow that was weird i just started writing please tell me if you like it, i might eb able to do a harry/sunlight one or something if ya'll want a sequel... please review! luvvies! (i like this fic, i like the way it turned out...)