1 Chapter One: Unwanted Emotions
Snowflakes fell freely and carelessly on the new but aging hardwood windowpane of the Slytherin common room. Christmas was fast approaching, and it was the season for the most delicious meals, the welcome warmth of cheerful, crackling fireplaces, and the fresh white powder providing a picturesque appeal to the Hogwarts grounds outside.
And maybe, if you went back in time a little and farther from the big old castle, you might encounter an unexpected scene from the past. If you stepped out on the snow of the frosty background, there you would see a little boy no older than four or five, staring out at those lacelike snowflakes with huge, excited gray-blue eyes from a huge manor with many mahogany windows to look through. He'd point enthusiastically at them, and watch intently as the white things turned the enormous garden into a winter wonderland.
The happy little boy would then call for his beloved father. "Daddy! It's snowing outside! Come and play with me!" Yeah, maybe he and his dad could go outside into the garden and play around a bit. They'd probably build a jolly old snowman wearing a crisp orange carrot, fresh from the rich family's greenhouse, and dressed in the boy's dark blue scarf and the grown man's old hat. They'd have a snowball fight with the silver-gray frost, make snow angels on the soft, mushy base, and maybe feed the ducks sitting on the icy but liquid water in the big pond. And then the man would lift his son in the nippy winter air and onto his strong shoulders to walk around the village, greeting the residents and passers-by a 'good morning' and 'very Merry Christmas.' Maybe they'd-
"Daddy? Daddy, where are you?"
There was no answer anywhere in the manor. The man was gone. He was away like always. Lately he'd been disappearing away from his son, and where the man went, the boy never knew. It gave the solid impression that the father didn't love the boy anymore, and sad to say, it was a very accurate impression. The man had now permanently disappeared from the boy. He was now a cruel, troubled person. And all that the little boy could do was curl up in a cold-leathered armchair and sob his heart out. Because no one loved him, and from that day, he loved no one.
That was all Draco Malfoy could do to bear all this unwanted emotion-curl up in a common room armchair and cry. Every Christmas, he'd sit by the fire, all alone, his ice-colored eyes wet with sorrow, and then a hot tear would fall onto his pale cheek, just like how the snow fell on the windowpane of the isolated common room. And he'd sit there, crying silently. Because he was alone. Unloved, and unwilling to love.
But he could feel it-was someone experiencing the same unwanted emotion he was feeling right now?
Snowflakes fell freely and carelessly on the new but aging hardwood windowpane of the Slytherin common room. Christmas was fast approaching, and it was the season for the most delicious meals, the welcome warmth of cheerful, crackling fireplaces, and the fresh white powder providing a picturesque appeal to the Hogwarts grounds outside.
And maybe, if you went back in time a little and farther from the big old castle, you might encounter an unexpected scene from the past. If you stepped out on the snow of the frosty background, there you would see a little boy no older than four or five, staring out at those lacelike snowflakes with huge, excited gray-blue eyes from a huge manor with many mahogany windows to look through. He'd point enthusiastically at them, and watch intently as the white things turned the enormous garden into a winter wonderland.
The happy little boy would then call for his beloved father. "Daddy! It's snowing outside! Come and play with me!" Yeah, maybe he and his dad could go outside into the garden and play around a bit. They'd probably build a jolly old snowman wearing a crisp orange carrot, fresh from the rich family's greenhouse, and dressed in the boy's dark blue scarf and the grown man's old hat. They'd have a snowball fight with the silver-gray frost, make snow angels on the soft, mushy base, and maybe feed the ducks sitting on the icy but liquid water in the big pond. And then the man would lift his son in the nippy winter air and onto his strong shoulders to walk around the village, greeting the residents and passers-by a 'good morning' and 'very Merry Christmas.' Maybe they'd-
"Daddy? Daddy, where are you?"
There was no answer anywhere in the manor. The man was gone. He was away like always. Lately he'd been disappearing away from his son, and where the man went, the boy never knew. It gave the solid impression that the father didn't love the boy anymore, and sad to say, it was a very accurate impression. The man had now permanently disappeared from the boy. He was now a cruel, troubled person. And all that the little boy could do was curl up in a cold-leathered armchair and sob his heart out. Because no one loved him, and from that day, he loved no one.
That was all Draco Malfoy could do to bear all this unwanted emotion-curl up in a common room armchair and cry. Every Christmas, he'd sit by the fire, all alone, his ice-colored eyes wet with sorrow, and then a hot tear would fall onto his pale cheek, just like how the snow fell on the windowpane of the isolated common room. And he'd sit there, crying silently. Because he was alone. Unloved, and unwilling to love.
But he could feel it-was someone experiencing the same unwanted emotion he was feeling right now?
