A/N: Beware this chapter. If you're trying to get off of cutting, you might want to skip it.
Muse-sama: Now, class, how can you tell this is an Anie-fic?
*girl in pigtails excitedly waves hand*
Muse-sama: Yes, Josephine?
Josephine: Because it's dark and twisted and is obviously the product of a disturbed mind!
Muse-sama: Yes! Good girl! You have passed the test, and shall diminish, and go into the west, and remain Galadriel. . . erm. . . sorry, wrong fandom there.
Anie: Yeah, Muse-sama has problems with that. *mutters something about strange crossover ideas*
Muse-sama: I HEARD THAT!
Anie: *squawks and runs away from a mallet-wielding Muse-sama* So, here ya go, kids!
There was a flash of bright silver. Underneath it was pale peach, luminescent; streaks of deepest blues and deepest purples underneath that, with a hint of green. Another flash, and then a line of red.
Another flash, another line. Again. Again. And again. Pale peach turned raw pink. The blues and the purples and the hint of green disappeared. More red, shining and sparkling.
Flash. Flash. Flash.
Red. Red. Red.
A drop, clear, falling from nowhere. More drops, falling like rain on the pink and the red and the silver flash. The drops mixed with the red, made it thinner and weaker.
Flashes without abandon.
Deep, dark red now; strong crimson. It flowed over the raw, stinging pink. There was only red now. Bright and dark and alive.
He brought his lips to his wrist and kissed the blood and tears away.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I couldn't believe it. Simply could not believe it. I had just watched Harry Potter - the famous Harry Potter - pull out a knife and slash his wrist into oblivion.
Something was very, very wrong.
Hedwig knocked on the window, and Potter's head snapped up. Shit shit shit. I had the feeling he was not going to appreciate my viewing that entire episode.
My feeling was right. He stormed over to the window and yanked it open.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he yelled in my face. I winced from the pain in my ears. Hedwig flew in, and I followed her, almost knocking Potter over.
"Your last letter alarmed me a bit," I told him. "And I think there's a just reason for that!" I tried to take his arm, to look at the damage he'd inflicted on himself.
"Go away," he told me. "Get the fuck away from me."
That hurt my ears too. Especially because he meant it.
"No." I pushed him over onto the bed. "You're getting help. Now."
"Don't you dare touch me!"
I ignored him and ripped the bottom hem off my robe for a bandage. I took his wrist and began to dab at it with the cloth. He pulled away.
"Malfoy, you ferret! Leave me alone!" He crossed his arms and turned away.
Sigh. Why did he have to be like this? Why wouldn't he just let me help him? He was hurting, after all, and you're supposed to help people who hurt.
You're most definitely not supposed to let them do the hurting themselves.
I grabbed his arm again. "Potter, you need help, and I'm giving it to you."
He glared at me. His eyes looked like one of Snape's potions: green and angry and boiling over. "I don't need your help."
"Well, you need someone's help, and through the process of elimination we arrive at me. So shut up and let me bandage your wrist."
"Mal-"
I tied the bandage around his mouth as a gag. I ripped another strip from my robe and took his arm again. This time, perhaps because he couldn't yell at me, he let me dab at it and wrap it up. I'm pretty sure I heard a few curse words from behind the gag, though.
I didn't understand. What drove him to do this? What reason was there? Well, pain, obviously; always it was pain that made people do things like this. But why take this route? His home life sucked, but so did mine. He hurt, but so did I. We both lived under the pressure of pasts that we never knew - he with his scar, I with my family. I never cut my wrists. What made him do it?
Before I could stop it, it left my tongue. "Why?"
He stared. If earlier his eyes looked like a potion, now they looked like uncut emeralds. A dull green, with that bright sparkle obscured within. I'm sorry if I go on about his eyes, but I like eyes, and Potter's. . . Potter's are so very, very unusual.
Anyways, he stared. It was the "d'oh" look, the one that says "but isn't it obvious?" Which was precisely what he said. "Isn't it obvious?"
I stared right back at him. "No. It's not."
"I hurt. Or can the cold-hearted bastard not see that?"
"We all hurt, or can the self-centered prat not see that?"
I'm afraid that he angered me. The idea that he would call me such a thing. . . People look and see my walls, but they never see the creature that lives inside them - the Minotaur inside the labyrinth. I was not, am not, and will never be a cold-hearted bastard. A bastard, yes; but not cold.
Whatever I am, I have always been good at making Harry Potter mad. He pushed me down onto the bed, hard, making me bang into the headboard.
"You hurt? YOU hurt? Did the two best - no, the two ONLY real friends you ever had - forget you? Abandon you? Do you have to live with people that hate you? Do you have to live with hating *yourself*?!"
And I could answer him word for word. He and I are alike underneath. Proud, loyal, cunning, and ambitious; most of all, emotional. And he has always been good at making *me* mad.
"Do you think it's great fun to be the son of Lucius Malfoy? Do you think it's all games? At least you had friends. At least you fucking had someone to count on! I had no one. No one, do you hear?"
I never meant to say that, to reveal any of that. Never ever. I still can't believe that he made me so angry that I did say it. But. . . it was all true. I love Lucius; he is strong and intelligent, and I know that deep inside he cares, deep inside he loves me. But being a Malfoy means being alone, distant from possible friends - and even other Malfoys. It means never letting your heart be touched.
We stood looking at each other. I watched him shake with anger and pain, and he watched me do the same.
Silence. Complete and utter silence, yet I had never communicated so well with someone in my life until that moment.
*tbc*
A/N: Strange, yes? I've got a few ideas about where to go from here, and my only certainty is to hook up Harry and Draco. Review, and give ideas! Plot bunnies! Anything! (even flames!)
Muse-sama: Now, class, how can you tell this is an Anie-fic?
*girl in pigtails excitedly waves hand*
Muse-sama: Yes, Josephine?
Josephine: Because it's dark and twisted and is obviously the product of a disturbed mind!
Muse-sama: Yes! Good girl! You have passed the test, and shall diminish, and go into the west, and remain Galadriel. . . erm. . . sorry, wrong fandom there.
Anie: Yeah, Muse-sama has problems with that. *mutters something about strange crossover ideas*
Muse-sama: I HEARD THAT!
Anie: *squawks and runs away from a mallet-wielding Muse-sama* So, here ya go, kids!
There was a flash of bright silver. Underneath it was pale peach, luminescent; streaks of deepest blues and deepest purples underneath that, with a hint of green. Another flash, and then a line of red.
Another flash, another line. Again. Again. And again. Pale peach turned raw pink. The blues and the purples and the hint of green disappeared. More red, shining and sparkling.
Flash. Flash. Flash.
Red. Red. Red.
A drop, clear, falling from nowhere. More drops, falling like rain on the pink and the red and the silver flash. The drops mixed with the red, made it thinner and weaker.
Flashes without abandon.
Deep, dark red now; strong crimson. It flowed over the raw, stinging pink. There was only red now. Bright and dark and alive.
He brought his lips to his wrist and kissed the blood and tears away.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I couldn't believe it. Simply could not believe it. I had just watched Harry Potter - the famous Harry Potter - pull out a knife and slash his wrist into oblivion.
Something was very, very wrong.
Hedwig knocked on the window, and Potter's head snapped up. Shit shit shit. I had the feeling he was not going to appreciate my viewing that entire episode.
My feeling was right. He stormed over to the window and yanked it open.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he yelled in my face. I winced from the pain in my ears. Hedwig flew in, and I followed her, almost knocking Potter over.
"Your last letter alarmed me a bit," I told him. "And I think there's a just reason for that!" I tried to take his arm, to look at the damage he'd inflicted on himself.
"Go away," he told me. "Get the fuck away from me."
That hurt my ears too. Especially because he meant it.
"No." I pushed him over onto the bed. "You're getting help. Now."
"Don't you dare touch me!"
I ignored him and ripped the bottom hem off my robe for a bandage. I took his wrist and began to dab at it with the cloth. He pulled away.
"Malfoy, you ferret! Leave me alone!" He crossed his arms and turned away.
Sigh. Why did he have to be like this? Why wouldn't he just let me help him? He was hurting, after all, and you're supposed to help people who hurt.
You're most definitely not supposed to let them do the hurting themselves.
I grabbed his arm again. "Potter, you need help, and I'm giving it to you."
He glared at me. His eyes looked like one of Snape's potions: green and angry and boiling over. "I don't need your help."
"Well, you need someone's help, and through the process of elimination we arrive at me. So shut up and let me bandage your wrist."
"Mal-"
I tied the bandage around his mouth as a gag. I ripped another strip from my robe and took his arm again. This time, perhaps because he couldn't yell at me, he let me dab at it and wrap it up. I'm pretty sure I heard a few curse words from behind the gag, though.
I didn't understand. What drove him to do this? What reason was there? Well, pain, obviously; always it was pain that made people do things like this. But why take this route? His home life sucked, but so did mine. He hurt, but so did I. We both lived under the pressure of pasts that we never knew - he with his scar, I with my family. I never cut my wrists. What made him do it?
Before I could stop it, it left my tongue. "Why?"
He stared. If earlier his eyes looked like a potion, now they looked like uncut emeralds. A dull green, with that bright sparkle obscured within. I'm sorry if I go on about his eyes, but I like eyes, and Potter's. . . Potter's are so very, very unusual.
Anyways, he stared. It was the "d'oh" look, the one that says "but isn't it obvious?" Which was precisely what he said. "Isn't it obvious?"
I stared right back at him. "No. It's not."
"I hurt. Or can the cold-hearted bastard not see that?"
"We all hurt, or can the self-centered prat not see that?"
I'm afraid that he angered me. The idea that he would call me such a thing. . . People look and see my walls, but they never see the creature that lives inside them - the Minotaur inside the labyrinth. I was not, am not, and will never be a cold-hearted bastard. A bastard, yes; but not cold.
Whatever I am, I have always been good at making Harry Potter mad. He pushed me down onto the bed, hard, making me bang into the headboard.
"You hurt? YOU hurt? Did the two best - no, the two ONLY real friends you ever had - forget you? Abandon you? Do you have to live with people that hate you? Do you have to live with hating *yourself*?!"
And I could answer him word for word. He and I are alike underneath. Proud, loyal, cunning, and ambitious; most of all, emotional. And he has always been good at making *me* mad.
"Do you think it's great fun to be the son of Lucius Malfoy? Do you think it's all games? At least you had friends. At least you fucking had someone to count on! I had no one. No one, do you hear?"
I never meant to say that, to reveal any of that. Never ever. I still can't believe that he made me so angry that I did say it. But. . . it was all true. I love Lucius; he is strong and intelligent, and I know that deep inside he cares, deep inside he loves me. But being a Malfoy means being alone, distant from possible friends - and even other Malfoys. It means never letting your heart be touched.
We stood looking at each other. I watched him shake with anger and pain, and he watched me do the same.
Silence. Complete and utter silence, yet I had never communicated so well with someone in my life until that moment.
*tbc*
A/N: Strange, yes? I've got a few ideas about where to go from here, and my only certainty is to hook up Harry and Draco. Review, and give ideas! Plot bunnies! Anything! (even flames!)