Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and
owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to
Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros.,
Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is
intended.
Authors note: The title is of the song by Hoobastank "Crawling in the Dark"
of their self-titled debut album. No this is not a song-fic. Constructive
criticism is welcome along with praise (hehee!). And one more thing
REVIEW!!!
Spoilers: SS, CoS, PoA, GoF.
Pairings: G/D, G/HP, D/PP, and R/HG (i.e.: PP-Pansy Parkinson.)
Crawling in the Dark: Prologue
(Draco Malfoy's POV)
October 15 -Three years after I graduation from Hogwarts.
There was once a time in my life when I, like all my ancestry, would serve my family diligently. No questions were raised hence none answered. Whatever they needed I'd give freely as if it were love. Although as we have all learned at least once in our lives, that too is a lie. A lie created to shield children's eyes from the cruel reality that is life.
"I hate your family Malfoy," they'd say full of bitterness and agitation. I hated my family as well but, for oblivious reasons. I was too fearful to speak out then, finding it so difficult to find my own voice apart from my surname.
Death Eaters, we are called so vilely. We are heathens, manipulative, cold and evil to the core. There is no room for error in our lives. Every step is a carefully recorded predetermined measure of time, time until the reckoning.
"You are not them. You are your very own individual," she whispers gently always. How I wish I could rip all the evil from myself and distil what is left with virtues to bestow and crown her with.
Her slender, milky-white arms finding their way knowingly around my waist, so very careful not to disturb the wound inflicted upon my abdomen where I was pierced like cattle before branding.
The warm, gentle touch disrupts my thoughts as she raises my shirt and I abide obediently. Somehow in the soft moonlight I can see her eyes, soothing, loving golden orbs that can melt the tundra of my soul in a second. Long silken hair a myriad of crimsons that shines just so in this pale light.
She immediately tends o my wound, rapidly healing it with a mere turn of her wrist. A pang of guilt reaps over me as I think upon all the times I've seen this scene portrayed. She surely would have all the known healing charms cataloged in her memory.
Tenderly she reaches up to stroke my rain soaked fine, silver-like blond hair, almost instinctively. My heart swells as I reach to bury my face into her delicate neck, heavily intoxicated I become inhaling her faint scent of honeysuckle and strawberries that is so uniquely her own.
I find it amusing how she must stretch on tip-toes to reach my face, tasting my eager lips sweetly. We've grown so accustomed to these shadows that we can find each other's body without any senses.
It's selfish of me to keep her hidden from others here but, as she so eloquently put it; "You are not my master. I came here of my own free will and can leave of that same will."
We keep away from prying eyes here. They all have tried to separate us countless upon countless of times through lies and tears. We've had our moments of discord. I've done shameful things to her that would make my death eater tasks seem child's play. She knows I repent those awful things yet, forgives me just as if I had merely stepped on her toe.
She is safe here, I personally see to that. We are never hungry or cold, there is always a fire lit in vigilance to our hope. The only light that shines in this cold drafty manor is her soul with its loving light to give me peace. She says it's from her Gryffindor influence and that all of them have it inside -even Potter.
Yet I know one day they'll find her. I know one day he'll find her.
Crawling in the Dark: Prologue
(Draco Malfoy's POV)
October 15 -Three years after I graduation from Hogwarts.
There was once a time in my life when I, like all my ancestry, would serve my family diligently. No questions were raised hence none answered. Whatever they needed I'd give freely as if it were love. Although as we have all learned at least once in our lives, that too is a lie. A lie created to shield children's eyes from the cruel reality that is life.
"I hate your family Malfoy," they'd say full of bitterness and agitation. I hated my family as well but, for oblivious reasons. I was too fearful to speak out then, finding it so difficult to find my own voice apart from my surname.
Death Eaters, we are called so vilely. We are heathens, manipulative, cold and evil to the core. There is no room for error in our lives. Every step is a carefully recorded predetermined measure of time, time until the reckoning.
"You are not them. You are your very own individual," she whispers gently always. How I wish I could rip all the evil from myself and distil what is left with virtues to bestow and crown her with.
Her slender, milky-white arms finding their way knowingly around my waist, so very careful not to disturb the wound inflicted upon my abdomen where I was pierced like cattle before branding.
The warm, gentle touch disrupts my thoughts as she raises my shirt and I abide obediently. Somehow in the soft moonlight I can see her eyes, soothing, loving golden orbs that can melt the tundra of my soul in a second. Long silken hair a myriad of crimsons that shines just so in this pale light.
She immediately tends o my wound, rapidly healing it with a mere turn of her wrist. A pang of guilt reaps over me as I think upon all the times I've seen this scene portrayed. She surely would have all the known healing charms cataloged in her memory.
Tenderly she reaches up to stroke my rain soaked fine, silver-like blond hair, almost instinctively. My heart swells as I reach to bury my face into her delicate neck, heavily intoxicated I become inhaling her faint scent of honeysuckle and strawberries that is so uniquely her own.
I find it amusing how she must stretch on tip-toes to reach my face, tasting my eager lips sweetly. We've grown so accustomed to these shadows that we can find each other's body without any senses.
It's selfish of me to keep her hidden from others here but, as she so eloquently put it; "You are not my master. I came here of my own free will and can leave of that same will."
We keep away from prying eyes here. They all have tried to separate us countless upon countless of times through lies and tears. We've had our moments of discord. I've done shameful things to her that would make my death eater tasks seem child's play. She knows I repent those awful things yet, forgives me just as if I had merely stepped on her toe.
She is safe here, I personally see to that. We are never hungry or cold, there is always a fire lit in vigilance to our hope. The only light that shines in this cold drafty manor is her soul with its loving light to give me peace. She says it's from her Gryffindor influence and that all of them have it inside -even Potter.
Yet I know one day they'll find her. I know one day he'll find her.