Title: Blood
Pairings: Draco x Harry
Rating: PG-13 mild language, potential slash
Type: A narrative(more like a rant) Draco's Pov-
Summary: Draco envies the "normal" students at Hogwarts. He wishes he had a life like them...he hates them because he doesn't. Draco wishes he had friends, real friends, like Harry.
I look at all of the students here, everyday. I watch them, study them, learn them - in and out. No, I'm not a pervert. I don't even like the idiots here, I dislike them...every last one, including Saint Potter himself - mainly him. None of these idiots know what they've got. Some - like Potter, complain that they have no parents...no home. I'd trade that any day, for what I've got. I would fancy having no family at all and to live in a box down on Knockturn Alley, than to have Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy as my parents and live in that hellhole manor. I would rather to fend for myself in the Forbidden Forrest, and to sleep in a cave with a pack of hungry wolves, than to spend one more holiday with the Malfoys. I'm not a Malfoy...I've never been one. I will never be a Malfoy despite how much my father may push. The Malfoys are nothing to be proud of. All of these sniveling children don't know half of what it's like to be me. I see the way they look at me from the corners of their eyes, with malice. They hate me with out giving me a chance. I'm some sort of monster to them, yet they admire me - for my money at least. I wish they knew that I don't give a damn about the Malfoys prize possession! It isn't my money, and won't be until I come of age and grant my father's wishes; to be a Death Eater. The day I become a supporter of Lord Voldemort is the day someone will have used the Imperius Curse on me. I hate Voldemort...possibly more than my family. What bothers me most, above all else is that Golden-Boy thinks he's better than me. In a way, everyone does, but it's Potter that I resent for it. Hate him - oh no, never. I dislike him, with a passion. I wanted nothing more than his friendship - that first time I saw him in Madame Malkin's Robe shop. I think I liked him better then...before I knew who he really was, but even after that I persisted in gaining his friendship, only that Weasley rat stole him from me:
"My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." ...and Weasley starts snickering. That was so bloody rude! I wasn't going to let him embarrass me and go unscathed. Words can sting.
"Think my name's funny do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." In truth, my father had actually said those words. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better that others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort, I can help you there." Do you know what he said? Do you know how much it hurt me, and how much his words affect me still?
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."
You should've seen that smug look on his pompus ass. Mr. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, our Golden Saviour, the one who triumphed over Lord Voldemort himself - guess what? He's no better than me, or you. People act as if he's a god or something. We could've been good friends, hell - we still could be, if he'd step off his pedestal for a moment. Underneath it all, I'm willing to forgive, and forget...start over. I know that the way I approached him wasn't the best way at all. I shouldn't have made fun of Weasley, no matter how much he deserved it. Perhaps things would've been different - or maybe not, people like Hagrid, Weasley or Granger probably filled his head with preconceived notions about me because of my surname. It hurts, you know? Oh, what I wouldn't give to be next to Potter right now. He's probably in the company of Granger and Weasley though. Am I jealous, well yes - who wouldn't be? Though it's been years since we've gone to this school, Harry Potter still has a pretty good fanbase. Everyone still wants to befriend him, or at least suck up to him. Personally, I think that all of those so called "saves" from the Dark Lord should have been done by him and I, not those two gits. One can't work a wand right, and the other...well, she's not even a witch by my standards. Being book-smart isn't everything. Still, everyone has their ideas on me being against Potter, and I shan't disappoint them, at least not in public. There's sort of a competition between us now. I suppose it gained it's legs when I joined the Slytherin Quidditch team. The great search for the snitch. Whenever we're out on the field it seems as if it's just him and I, to me anyway. No one ever notices how hard I try to get that tiny winged orb, they only notice Potter. No one cares if I've been hurt really, they all assume that I'm faking it, and in the end Potter is always the better one after all. I admire him for so much, and yet I loathe him...and I can't help it. He's like an obsession. All of the rude remarks, the hopes to get him expelled, the attempts to make him falter from being perfect. To stop him from being what I can't be. To bring him to his knees. I want those emerald eyes to worship me. It should be the other way around. Not Harry, Draco!
...but, that's all impossible. It won't ever happen as long as I'm Draco Malfoy, I've come to accept that blood is everything.
-End-
© 2003 -Morian Black(ame)
Pairings: Draco x Harry
Rating: PG-13 mild language, potential slash
Type: A narrative(more like a rant) Draco's Pov-
Summary: Draco envies the "normal" students at Hogwarts. He wishes he had a life like them...he hates them because he doesn't. Draco wishes he had friends, real friends, like Harry.
I look at all of the students here, everyday. I watch them, study them, learn them - in and out. No, I'm not a pervert. I don't even like the idiots here, I dislike them...every last one, including Saint Potter himself - mainly him. None of these idiots know what they've got. Some - like Potter, complain that they have no parents...no home. I'd trade that any day, for what I've got. I would fancy having no family at all and to live in a box down on Knockturn Alley, than to have Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy as my parents and live in that hellhole manor. I would rather to fend for myself in the Forbidden Forrest, and to sleep in a cave with a pack of hungry wolves, than to spend one more holiday with the Malfoys. I'm not a Malfoy...I've never been one. I will never be a Malfoy despite how much my father may push. The Malfoys are nothing to be proud of. All of these sniveling children don't know half of what it's like to be me. I see the way they look at me from the corners of their eyes, with malice. They hate me with out giving me a chance. I'm some sort of monster to them, yet they admire me - for my money at least. I wish they knew that I don't give a damn about the Malfoys prize possession! It isn't my money, and won't be until I come of age and grant my father's wishes; to be a Death Eater. The day I become a supporter of Lord Voldemort is the day someone will have used the Imperius Curse on me. I hate Voldemort...possibly more than my family. What bothers me most, above all else is that Golden-Boy thinks he's better than me. In a way, everyone does, but it's Potter that I resent for it. Hate him - oh no, never. I dislike him, with a passion. I wanted nothing more than his friendship - that first time I saw him in Madame Malkin's Robe shop. I think I liked him better then...before I knew who he really was, but even after that I persisted in gaining his friendship, only that Weasley rat stole him from me:
"My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." ...and Weasley starts snickering. That was so bloody rude! I wasn't going to let him embarrass me and go unscathed. Words can sting.
"Think my name's funny do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." In truth, my father had actually said those words. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better that others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort, I can help you there." Do you know what he said? Do you know how much it hurt me, and how much his words affect me still?
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."
You should've seen that smug look on his pompus ass. Mr. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, our Golden Saviour, the one who triumphed over Lord Voldemort himself - guess what? He's no better than me, or you. People act as if he's a god or something. We could've been good friends, hell - we still could be, if he'd step off his pedestal for a moment. Underneath it all, I'm willing to forgive, and forget...start over. I know that the way I approached him wasn't the best way at all. I shouldn't have made fun of Weasley, no matter how much he deserved it. Perhaps things would've been different - or maybe not, people like Hagrid, Weasley or Granger probably filled his head with preconceived notions about me because of my surname. It hurts, you know? Oh, what I wouldn't give to be next to Potter right now. He's probably in the company of Granger and Weasley though. Am I jealous, well yes - who wouldn't be? Though it's been years since we've gone to this school, Harry Potter still has a pretty good fanbase. Everyone still wants to befriend him, or at least suck up to him. Personally, I think that all of those so called "saves" from the Dark Lord should have been done by him and I, not those two gits. One can't work a wand right, and the other...well, she's not even a witch by my standards. Being book-smart isn't everything. Still, everyone has their ideas on me being against Potter, and I shan't disappoint them, at least not in public. There's sort of a competition between us now. I suppose it gained it's legs when I joined the Slytherin Quidditch team. The great search for the snitch. Whenever we're out on the field it seems as if it's just him and I, to me anyway. No one ever notices how hard I try to get that tiny winged orb, they only notice Potter. No one cares if I've been hurt really, they all assume that I'm faking it, and in the end Potter is always the better one after all. I admire him for so much, and yet I loathe him...and I can't help it. He's like an obsession. All of the rude remarks, the hopes to get him expelled, the attempts to make him falter from being perfect. To stop him from being what I can't be. To bring him to his knees. I want those emerald eyes to worship me. It should be the other way around. Not Harry, Draco!
...but, that's all impossible. It won't ever happen as long as I'm Draco Malfoy, I've come to accept that blood is everything.
-End-
© 2003 -Morian Black(ame)