HotPinkTriangle Killing Apathy *7*
Draco lay face down on the floor, notebook under his head. Asleep. He woke up to blaring music in his ears and took his headphones off. Glanced at the time. He was missing another class. He let go of the pen in his hand. The words he'd been writing screamed at him. A disgusted look and he threw it across the floor. Bathroom tiles were freezing on his bare feet. He stared into the mirror. His blond hair reached his shoulders, tangled and dirty. Black eye and cut lip. He didn't recognize himself. Dead gray eyes stared back. *Being faced with what I'm faced with. . . .I feel. . . * his hoarse voice whispered.
** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * **
Detention could get killed. Draco sat in the cool grass and took off his socks. He pulled a pipe out of his school bag. *Since when did you become such a hippy? * Harry asked. Laughing. *Get fucked Potter.* he said, less harsh than before. Harry grinned, sitting down across from Draco. As he leaned over to grab his own bag Draco watched. Holes in his red t-shirt, torn jeans. *Very punk* Draco said out loud. *What's that?* Harry asked. *If I'm a hippy you're a punk Potter.* Draco said with some amusement. Draco passed the pipe to Harry. *Why are you even talking to me?* Harry asked with some uncertainty. Draco leaned back and blew smoke slowly upwards. He glanced at Harry. *You have a marker?* *Yeah sure* Harry said - looking through his bag. He handed Draco the black marker. *Give me your arm, don't look at me like that just do it.* He started to draw on Harry's wrist. *So what does your dad think of your hair?* Harry asked smiling. *He doesn't think* Draco said shortly. *What did you do over the summer?* *You ask all the wrong questions* Draco said quietly, head still down. *A star?* Harry asked curiously, staring at his wrist. *Shit, I don't know how to draw anything else. Don't fuckin laugh. That's you right? Star of Quidditch star of this shit that shit, star of - what the fuck, that's you Potter, right?* he asked sarcastically. Harry stared at his shoes and smiled. *No, that's not me* Harry said. Long silence. *You sing all right.* Draco said softly. Harry looked up. Draco was staring at him. Intense. His gray eyes not so dead.
Draco lay face down on the floor, notebook under his head. Asleep. He woke up to blaring music in his ears and took his headphones off. Glanced at the time. He was missing another class. He let go of the pen in his hand. The words he'd been writing screamed at him. A disgusted look and he threw it across the floor. Bathroom tiles were freezing on his bare feet. He stared into the mirror. His blond hair reached his shoulders, tangled and dirty. Black eye and cut lip. He didn't recognize himself. Dead gray eyes stared back. *Being faced with what I'm faced with. . . .I feel. . . * his hoarse voice whispered.
** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * **
Detention could get killed. Draco sat in the cool grass and took off his socks. He pulled a pipe out of his school bag. *Since when did you become such a hippy? * Harry asked. Laughing. *Get fucked Potter.* he said, less harsh than before. Harry grinned, sitting down across from Draco. As he leaned over to grab his own bag Draco watched. Holes in his red t-shirt, torn jeans. *Very punk* Draco said out loud. *What's that?* Harry asked. *If I'm a hippy you're a punk Potter.* Draco said with some amusement. Draco passed the pipe to Harry. *Why are you even talking to me?* Harry asked with some uncertainty. Draco leaned back and blew smoke slowly upwards. He glanced at Harry. *You have a marker?* *Yeah sure* Harry said - looking through his bag. He handed Draco the black marker. *Give me your arm, don't look at me like that just do it.* He started to draw on Harry's wrist. *So what does your dad think of your hair?* Harry asked smiling. *He doesn't think* Draco said shortly. *What did you do over the summer?* *You ask all the wrong questions* Draco said quietly, head still down. *A star?* Harry asked curiously, staring at his wrist. *Shit, I don't know how to draw anything else. Don't fuckin laugh. That's you right? Star of Quidditch star of this shit that shit, star of - what the fuck, that's you Potter, right?* he asked sarcastically. Harry stared at his shoes and smiled. *No, that's not me* Harry said. Long silence. *You sing all right.* Draco said softly. Harry looked up. Draco was staring at him. Intense. His gray eyes not so dead.