Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter though I can keep on
wishing.=D
AN- My first ficcy. I apologies for any errors as I do not have a beta. Enjoy!
He
There was once a boy. Simply to put, he was special. He separated light from dark, white from black, good from evil. He could make people trust him or fear him, to love him or to hate him, to sacrifice their life for him or to kill him. Each two totally different things, a contrast to each other but he did it while nobody else could.
He had green emerald eyes that no one could compare. Eyes that would sprinkle with hope and love when a friend or loved one talked with him. Eyes that would turn shockingly green when fire up in that special type of anger that seemed to be projected only to me.
I liked that. It made me feel special, it also means that he notices me and for that alone, I am glad. For if you were observant and looked clearly, you might be able to spot that tiny pinch of darkness that he has hidden and locked carefully inside his soul of his. And I noticed it.
He would walk around school with his hair all messed up, as if he could not be bothered to comb it in the morning. I knew that was not it. It was hilarious to find out the time he took and the methods he tried to keep his hair presentable but he never could succeed.
Remember there was once when I even caught him in the Prefect's bathroom attempting to use some gel to slick his hair down, amazing, it did not work. His hair sprang up minutes after he was admiring his 'master piece'. Scowling towards his reflection that reflected an electrocuted hairstyle which looked absolutely horrendous on him. He washed the gel away and gave up trying to do the impossible. Blind he was without his glasses as it was on the sink and I suppose a little deaf, he failed to spot me choking down on my laughter behind the door.
Then, there was also that gorgeous smile of his that could let anyone feeling down, feel comforted with the words he conjured out of his mouth. The way he talks to people out of their misery giving them the will to carry on with life that seemingly few can do. But that is not reserved for me, but for others. Does he not know that even the way he licks his mouth means me ecstatic? I guess not.
As I said, there was once a boy, and as time passes, he soon grew into man. Though he is still special, for he was and is and forever will be the Boy who Lived. He is Harry Potter. He, who would save us all from evil and give us the life we always wish for- peace and happiness. Sadly, I am not us. I am the son of Lucius Malfoy, right-hand of the Dark Lord, Voldermort, the one that will go against him in times of war, I am Draco Malfoy, the Boy who Cried for Help. So, will he still save me?
AN- My first ficcy. I apologies for any errors as I do not have a beta. Enjoy!
He
There was once a boy. Simply to put, he was special. He separated light from dark, white from black, good from evil. He could make people trust him or fear him, to love him or to hate him, to sacrifice their life for him or to kill him. Each two totally different things, a contrast to each other but he did it while nobody else could.
He had green emerald eyes that no one could compare. Eyes that would sprinkle with hope and love when a friend or loved one talked with him. Eyes that would turn shockingly green when fire up in that special type of anger that seemed to be projected only to me.
I liked that. It made me feel special, it also means that he notices me and for that alone, I am glad. For if you were observant and looked clearly, you might be able to spot that tiny pinch of darkness that he has hidden and locked carefully inside his soul of his. And I noticed it.
He would walk around school with his hair all messed up, as if he could not be bothered to comb it in the morning. I knew that was not it. It was hilarious to find out the time he took and the methods he tried to keep his hair presentable but he never could succeed.
Remember there was once when I even caught him in the Prefect's bathroom attempting to use some gel to slick his hair down, amazing, it did not work. His hair sprang up minutes after he was admiring his 'master piece'. Scowling towards his reflection that reflected an electrocuted hairstyle which looked absolutely horrendous on him. He washed the gel away and gave up trying to do the impossible. Blind he was without his glasses as it was on the sink and I suppose a little deaf, he failed to spot me choking down on my laughter behind the door.
Then, there was also that gorgeous smile of his that could let anyone feeling down, feel comforted with the words he conjured out of his mouth. The way he talks to people out of their misery giving them the will to carry on with life that seemingly few can do. But that is not reserved for me, but for others. Does he not know that even the way he licks his mouth means me ecstatic? I guess not.
As I said, there was once a boy, and as time passes, he soon grew into man. Though he is still special, for he was and is and forever will be the Boy who Lived. He is Harry Potter. He, who would save us all from evil and give us the life we always wish for- peace and happiness. Sadly, I am not us. I am the son of Lucius Malfoy, right-hand of the Dark Lord, Voldermort, the one that will go against him in times of war, I am Draco Malfoy, the Boy who Cried for Help. So, will he still save me?