An: woow. It's official! THIS is the longest story I have ever written to
date! :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDD -for me, almost 97 pages now!!! :DDD it doesn't
seem that long though...arp...
ACK! I DON"T lyke MATH!!! Why must I take SUMMER SKOOL??? IT REALLy, REALLY, had no purposseee!!! Ackkkk!
Ah wells, to my very treasured, one review...ahem, ahem...
LCA: hiya!!! D'oh! U win!!! :CCCC haha lolls.*scratches mosquito bites and also at the same time eats a doughnut* yup! Hermione's being stuuupid!!! neways REVIEW!!!!! :DDDD (haha...don't laff @ the shortage of D's) I used up all of them competing in the 'D' Olympics...lols.
TO the STory!!!
~*~
Light of Darkness
Draco walked down the halls of Hogwarts, his arm fully mended, although a few of the Slytherin fourth years continued to coo at him with sympathetic noises. He nodded his head ambiguously at them, his heart aching to find Hermione, to ask her what she wanted to do, to just be in her presence...he would've never had admitted to himself however, but scoured the hallway for bushy brown hair.
He barely noticed when Crabbe and Goyle joined him, staying a step behind.
Draco's prayers were answered when he came across them: Hermione, Potter, Weasley, and Longbottom. He was feeling peculiar. Nobody but him and Hermione knew about their midnight trysts...they had never really talked before in plain daylight, normal circumstances, in front of all his and her, friends. His eyes stole a quick glance at Hermione, and he frowned. Her face was screwed up, her eyes looked bloodshot and sullen, and she seemed to be putting Potter in between them and avoiding his gaze.
Draco decided she didn't want to talk to him in front of Potter and his death-eating housemates, and was about to pass the Gryffindor bunch without incident when-
"Malfoy, this isn't the infirmary, where you can fake your injuries so easily." Draco glanced up at Harry, who seemed to be rearing for a fight. His jaw clenched, and he was just about to echo a scathing remark when he stopped, and saw the look Hermione was sending him.
A look of pure loathing.
His voice caught in the back of his throat, as his eyes swam over her hatred-filled face. He was sure that a garbled sound came from his throat. Draco's heart stopped, and he was sure his mouth was hanging open. He studied her expression for a kind of falseness that would let him know she was just faking it, confusion written over his face; a dark knife seemed to be ripping his insides apart.
She raised her eyes defiantly at him, looking at him as if he were an insect, one she would really like to squash on the wall if it would just come closer...
Draco blinked. This was the girl that he had felt ANY affection for, the one who he thought maybe didn't look past his last name, looked past his shield...and saw him- REALLY saw him.
Her eyes however, continued to hate him. And draco's wisp of hope, that he was actually liked by somebody in the world, was snuffed out.
He was at a loss of words, his mouth lolling around in his mouth like some useless instrument. She could not fathom how much his heart was hurting, how his limbs were feeling weak and funny like he had just been drenched with freezing water; how badly he was shaking, how badly he wanted to just run away.
But Draco continued to stare, his gaze entranced by Hermione's.
His numbing thoughts crashed around him. Nobody cared. Everybody had betrayed him. Hermione had betrayed him. After all he had done for her. He had almost DIED for her, for Chris' sake! After all that, even she had stabbed his heart with a cruel blunt edged knife.
He couldn't think straight. Draco knew that there was a voice inside his head, telling him this was HERMIONE, the one who he had shared so much with...that he TRUSTED. But the thoughts bounced off Draco's unfeeling mind, shattering into a thousand fragments.
Draco swallowed, and let his usual cold swiftness wash over him, welcoming the strength it brought him. He didn't care-he shouldn't care-about anything. He smoothed his white-blonde hair to his head, a sneer coming to his face.
His expression was a perfect mask that hid his feelings. Draco's eyes, however, were as wide as saucers, glancing over the curious audience that had surrounded them. They were a blur to his mind, but suddenly his mind registered a sound.
It was a snicker.
The Gryffindors were laughing at him. They pointed at him, their laughter shocking him out of his daze. He regained the feeling in his arms and legs, almost collapsing under his sudden weight. They were laughing at him. And he didn't know what to say...how to retaliate.
Without a word, he fled.
~*~
Draco groaned as he woke up, the back of his neck wet from sweat, and his hair plastered to his forehead. He ran a hand through his hair, then flinched as pain shot up his arm. Surveying his arm grimly, Draco couldn't help but feel a small tendril of satisfaction wind it's way around his semi- conscious mind.
Caked blood had dried glisteningly on his arms, from numerous cuts-some wispy and yet others thick-that winked merrily back on him. He ran a finger down one laceration, smiling grimly at the pain it caused.
He laughed cruelly at himself. He was a masochistic ass. His pain was his only pleasure.
*FLASHBACK*
Draco ran to his room, his thoughts stopping, his heart empty. He was a Malfoy...he didn't feel anything, and wouldn't feel anything. His robes flew out behind him, Crabbe and Goyle long gone. His hair was in a disarray as he ran up the staircase (behind the witch statue) and to the head boy's dormitories.
The boy ran down the hallway, his footfalls thudding in the silent air. The dims sconces on the walls flared in his dead-feeling face, illuminating his wide eyes and his clenched hands that trembled as he ran. The dark silver and gold carpet held the footprints of his passage, and Draco turned another corner, his blonde hair flying recklessly behind him. The hallway was stifling, and had no windows.
There. Draco reached the door to the Head's common room, his breath unnoticed as it rasped past his lungs. His cheeks pink from the exercise.
He glared at the hard oaken door that stoically refused his entrance. Draco really was NOT in the mood for it. He DID NOT want to hear what he had to say...he was...afraid of what he would say...
Instead, he kept silent, and the door wouldn't budge.
That was the last straw for Draco. With an anger that even startled himself, Draco started pounding on the painting beside it, it's startled inhabitants quickly scurrying from his presence. He didn't care, he continued gouging at the hard wooden frame, until his knuckles were scratched and bleeding.
The more pain he caused himself, the more soulless sobs spasmed up his throat, not causing any tears, just a repetition of choking. Draco banged his head on the wall, sobs threatening to engulf his body. His shoulders were shaking with hopelessness. He covered his face in his arms, and slid down the wall, hitting the ground with a thud. There, the blonde tried to calm his breath.
He kept thoughts from resurfacing, he didn't need to deal with them. He couldn't handle the hatred...
To his surprise, the door flung open on it's own accord, snapping Draco out of his depression for a while.
Uncertainily, the boy walked into the common room, his eyes wandering the room. He heard a skitter and turned, only to face shadows. Draco was suddenly engulfed in disgust. He loathed himself, just as Hermione did.
As Hermione DID.
Draco collapsed on the couch in misery, his heart feeling like a lump of coal in his chest, his mouth dry. His eyes caught a sparkle of metal, and he picked it up. A gasp shot out of his throat.
It was his dagger.
He unsheathed it unsteadily, his gaze drawn to the cruel point of the blade as it refracted the sunlight. Outside he could hear the children laughing, their raucous chorus sounding far away. Draco looked at the knife again, knowing what he was about to do, not caring that he was going to miss classes, not giving a rat's ass about how mentally deranged the whole situation was. How he had promised Hermione he would never do it again...
That settled it. With the mention of her name his expression darkened, and squinting his eyes and grating his teeth, Draco dragged the blade down his skin. It didn't give him the peace it had the last time.
Frowning, Draco cut the blade viciously into his skin, almost biting his tongue at the pain the had blossomed on his arm. A wild, desperate smile flickered on his face, and he cut himself again, the cuts becoming a pattern as the blood met to form a dark red river...
END FLASHBACK
~*~
Draco laughed cruelly, the disgust of himself welling inside his body. He laughed desperately, cynically, his chuckles reverberating crazily around the empty common room. How long had his father taught him to be strong? To be cruel? His insane chuckles filled the room again.
If Lucius could only see him now. Ha. He would have him flogged for his demented self-pity, he would have him imprisoned in the dungeons with no food for days and days and days for his self-inflicted cuts. That was weakness. Weakness is not for Malfoys. Weakness is for the dead. Or those who wanted to die.
He sat himself spread eagled on the couch, his legs leaning off the arm. He thought seriously.
Did he really have anything more to live for?
~*~
Meanwhile, in the other room, Harry was preparing for the weekend Hogsmeade trip, and nervously swallowed and slicked his messy dark hair down with one hand. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and licked his lips.
He might as well practice now, if he wanted to tell her on the weekend. Harry swallowed nervously again, but his mind was made up.
"Hermione," he began nervously, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Harry took a deep breath, and plunged into what he wanted to say. "I want to be your boyfriend. I love you."
There was a small gasp at the door, and Harry turned around in an instant, blushing, his Quidditch reflexes taking over. He walked to the door, and opened it slowly, preparing for the worst.
He heard soft cries, and saw Ginny bent over a chessboard. Harry shrugged. Chess was a hard game, he thought obliviously. But then his attention was diverted as he felt HER presence. She was standing by the door, her body ramrod straight.
His eyes met tearing brown ones, wisps of curly brown hair hiding them partially from view.
~*~
Okeea...that's about it for now, sorry this chappie was kindof angsty, ppl! I didn't mean it! Arrghhh...i hope u guys like it tho!
MUST be off to SCRATCH mosquito bites! Buhbye~
-dkc...REVIEWWWW!!!!! :DDDDDDD
ACK! I DON"T lyke MATH!!! Why must I take SUMMER SKOOL??? IT REALLy, REALLY, had no purposseee!!! Ackkkk!
Ah wells, to my very treasured, one review...ahem, ahem...
LCA: hiya!!! D'oh! U win!!! :CCCC haha lolls.*scratches mosquito bites and also at the same time eats a doughnut* yup! Hermione's being stuuupid!!! neways REVIEW!!!!! :DDDD (haha...don't laff @ the shortage of D's) I used up all of them competing in the 'D' Olympics...lols.
TO the STory!!!
~*~
Light of Darkness
Draco walked down the halls of Hogwarts, his arm fully mended, although a few of the Slytherin fourth years continued to coo at him with sympathetic noises. He nodded his head ambiguously at them, his heart aching to find Hermione, to ask her what she wanted to do, to just be in her presence...he would've never had admitted to himself however, but scoured the hallway for bushy brown hair.
He barely noticed when Crabbe and Goyle joined him, staying a step behind.
Draco's prayers were answered when he came across them: Hermione, Potter, Weasley, and Longbottom. He was feeling peculiar. Nobody but him and Hermione knew about their midnight trysts...they had never really talked before in plain daylight, normal circumstances, in front of all his and her, friends. His eyes stole a quick glance at Hermione, and he frowned. Her face was screwed up, her eyes looked bloodshot and sullen, and she seemed to be putting Potter in between them and avoiding his gaze.
Draco decided she didn't want to talk to him in front of Potter and his death-eating housemates, and was about to pass the Gryffindor bunch without incident when-
"Malfoy, this isn't the infirmary, where you can fake your injuries so easily." Draco glanced up at Harry, who seemed to be rearing for a fight. His jaw clenched, and he was just about to echo a scathing remark when he stopped, and saw the look Hermione was sending him.
A look of pure loathing.
His voice caught in the back of his throat, as his eyes swam over her hatred-filled face. He was sure that a garbled sound came from his throat. Draco's heart stopped, and he was sure his mouth was hanging open. He studied her expression for a kind of falseness that would let him know she was just faking it, confusion written over his face; a dark knife seemed to be ripping his insides apart.
She raised her eyes defiantly at him, looking at him as if he were an insect, one she would really like to squash on the wall if it would just come closer...
Draco blinked. This was the girl that he had felt ANY affection for, the one who he thought maybe didn't look past his last name, looked past his shield...and saw him- REALLY saw him.
Her eyes however, continued to hate him. And draco's wisp of hope, that he was actually liked by somebody in the world, was snuffed out.
He was at a loss of words, his mouth lolling around in his mouth like some useless instrument. She could not fathom how much his heart was hurting, how his limbs were feeling weak and funny like he had just been drenched with freezing water; how badly he was shaking, how badly he wanted to just run away.
But Draco continued to stare, his gaze entranced by Hermione's.
His numbing thoughts crashed around him. Nobody cared. Everybody had betrayed him. Hermione had betrayed him. After all he had done for her. He had almost DIED for her, for Chris' sake! After all that, even she had stabbed his heart with a cruel blunt edged knife.
He couldn't think straight. Draco knew that there was a voice inside his head, telling him this was HERMIONE, the one who he had shared so much with...that he TRUSTED. But the thoughts bounced off Draco's unfeeling mind, shattering into a thousand fragments.
Draco swallowed, and let his usual cold swiftness wash over him, welcoming the strength it brought him. He didn't care-he shouldn't care-about anything. He smoothed his white-blonde hair to his head, a sneer coming to his face.
His expression was a perfect mask that hid his feelings. Draco's eyes, however, were as wide as saucers, glancing over the curious audience that had surrounded them. They were a blur to his mind, but suddenly his mind registered a sound.
It was a snicker.
The Gryffindors were laughing at him. They pointed at him, their laughter shocking him out of his daze. He regained the feeling in his arms and legs, almost collapsing under his sudden weight. They were laughing at him. And he didn't know what to say...how to retaliate.
Without a word, he fled.
~*~
Draco groaned as he woke up, the back of his neck wet from sweat, and his hair plastered to his forehead. He ran a hand through his hair, then flinched as pain shot up his arm. Surveying his arm grimly, Draco couldn't help but feel a small tendril of satisfaction wind it's way around his semi- conscious mind.
Caked blood had dried glisteningly on his arms, from numerous cuts-some wispy and yet others thick-that winked merrily back on him. He ran a finger down one laceration, smiling grimly at the pain it caused.
He laughed cruelly at himself. He was a masochistic ass. His pain was his only pleasure.
*FLASHBACK*
Draco ran to his room, his thoughts stopping, his heart empty. He was a Malfoy...he didn't feel anything, and wouldn't feel anything. His robes flew out behind him, Crabbe and Goyle long gone. His hair was in a disarray as he ran up the staircase (behind the witch statue) and to the head boy's dormitories.
The boy ran down the hallway, his footfalls thudding in the silent air. The dims sconces on the walls flared in his dead-feeling face, illuminating his wide eyes and his clenched hands that trembled as he ran. The dark silver and gold carpet held the footprints of his passage, and Draco turned another corner, his blonde hair flying recklessly behind him. The hallway was stifling, and had no windows.
There. Draco reached the door to the Head's common room, his breath unnoticed as it rasped past his lungs. His cheeks pink from the exercise.
He glared at the hard oaken door that stoically refused his entrance. Draco really was NOT in the mood for it. He DID NOT want to hear what he had to say...he was...afraid of what he would say...
Instead, he kept silent, and the door wouldn't budge.
That was the last straw for Draco. With an anger that even startled himself, Draco started pounding on the painting beside it, it's startled inhabitants quickly scurrying from his presence. He didn't care, he continued gouging at the hard wooden frame, until his knuckles were scratched and bleeding.
The more pain he caused himself, the more soulless sobs spasmed up his throat, not causing any tears, just a repetition of choking. Draco banged his head on the wall, sobs threatening to engulf his body. His shoulders were shaking with hopelessness. He covered his face in his arms, and slid down the wall, hitting the ground with a thud. There, the blonde tried to calm his breath.
He kept thoughts from resurfacing, he didn't need to deal with them. He couldn't handle the hatred...
To his surprise, the door flung open on it's own accord, snapping Draco out of his depression for a while.
Uncertainily, the boy walked into the common room, his eyes wandering the room. He heard a skitter and turned, only to face shadows. Draco was suddenly engulfed in disgust. He loathed himself, just as Hermione did.
As Hermione DID.
Draco collapsed on the couch in misery, his heart feeling like a lump of coal in his chest, his mouth dry. His eyes caught a sparkle of metal, and he picked it up. A gasp shot out of his throat.
It was his dagger.
He unsheathed it unsteadily, his gaze drawn to the cruel point of the blade as it refracted the sunlight. Outside he could hear the children laughing, their raucous chorus sounding far away. Draco looked at the knife again, knowing what he was about to do, not caring that he was going to miss classes, not giving a rat's ass about how mentally deranged the whole situation was. How he had promised Hermione he would never do it again...
That settled it. With the mention of her name his expression darkened, and squinting his eyes and grating his teeth, Draco dragged the blade down his skin. It didn't give him the peace it had the last time.
Frowning, Draco cut the blade viciously into his skin, almost biting his tongue at the pain the had blossomed on his arm. A wild, desperate smile flickered on his face, and he cut himself again, the cuts becoming a pattern as the blood met to form a dark red river...
END FLASHBACK
~*~
Draco laughed cruelly, the disgust of himself welling inside his body. He laughed desperately, cynically, his chuckles reverberating crazily around the empty common room. How long had his father taught him to be strong? To be cruel? His insane chuckles filled the room again.
If Lucius could only see him now. Ha. He would have him flogged for his demented self-pity, he would have him imprisoned in the dungeons with no food for days and days and days for his self-inflicted cuts. That was weakness. Weakness is not for Malfoys. Weakness is for the dead. Or those who wanted to die.
He sat himself spread eagled on the couch, his legs leaning off the arm. He thought seriously.
Did he really have anything more to live for?
~*~
Meanwhile, in the other room, Harry was preparing for the weekend Hogsmeade trip, and nervously swallowed and slicked his messy dark hair down with one hand. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and licked his lips.
He might as well practice now, if he wanted to tell her on the weekend. Harry swallowed nervously again, but his mind was made up.
"Hermione," he began nervously, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Harry took a deep breath, and plunged into what he wanted to say. "I want to be your boyfriend. I love you."
There was a small gasp at the door, and Harry turned around in an instant, blushing, his Quidditch reflexes taking over. He walked to the door, and opened it slowly, preparing for the worst.
He heard soft cries, and saw Ginny bent over a chessboard. Harry shrugged. Chess was a hard game, he thought obliviously. But then his attention was diverted as he felt HER presence. She was standing by the door, her body ramrod straight.
His eyes met tearing brown ones, wisps of curly brown hair hiding them partially from view.
~*~
Okeea...that's about it for now, sorry this chappie was kindof angsty, ppl! I didn't mean it! Arrghhh...i hope u guys like it tho!
MUST be off to SCRATCH mosquito bites! Buhbye~
-dkc...REVIEWWWW!!!!! :DDDDDDD
