Te souvient-il...
Silky moon coloured strands flying in the wind, revealing pale face,
pointed chin, delicate mouth, shell pink lips pulled into a mischievous
smirk, and slightly higher, behind long blond lashes, large, almond-shaped
eyes, of an undefinable colour, that one could perhaps compare to that of rain,
as it falls from an october sky. Stunning, yet nonchalant and distant orbs of
grey...
Just like his.
There was no denying she was a Malfoy. The
cold eyes, the composure, the ability to smile and yet appear emotionless.
Untroubled, but at the same time aloof...
"And yet",
he
mused, "Though physically she qualifies, she is far from being your typical
Malfoy,"
Discordia Eris Malfoy, daughter of Didius Malfoy, rich
British wizard of pure decent, and Ophélie de la Mole, youngest daughter of one
of the richest muggle families of France. Discordia, the closest thing to a
friend Draco had ever had. Dia, his cousin. As he had, she had been born and
bred Slytherin.
"Well, that is, if there's such a thing as 'Slytherin' in
France..."
"And yet..."
She was different. Perhaps it
was the fact that she was a half-blood, that she was neither fully Malfoy or
muggle. Or maybe she was both, he did not know. What he did know,
though, was that everytime he saw that superior look in his Father's eyes
when he addressed her, or whenever he saw his Mother sneer in her presence, he
felt ashamed of them, and wished he could wipe those nasty smirks of
their "perfect" faces. Dia's mother was muggle-born, so what? Wasn't she still a
Malfoy? Still a human being for Merlin's sake? How could his parents not
understand, not see that she was one of them? Not some filthy mudblood, like
Granger?
He had been brought up to despise and, in a way, fear muggles.
They were... Different. Odd. Strange. Weak. And if they didn't except wizards,
he didn't see why wizards should except them. He had been told of the witch
hunts, the cruelty and stupidity of muggles, and, though no real witch had ever
been killed during those trials, the whole thing still disgusted him. The
muggles had thought they were really burning witches. That they were really
inflicting inhumane deaths to innocent people. And they were glad. Happy to be
the cause of such pain, as long as there was someone else to blame... Yes, he
truly despised muggles. Maybe not to the point of joining the Death Eaters, and
ridding the world of them, as was the Dark Lo-"Voldermort." 's plan.
Because, Draco, believed, both parties were just as pathetic, finding scapegoats
to blame for every wrong in the world. If Voldermort couldn't cope with the fact
that he was part muggle, so be it. If he wished to somehow venge himself of his
father by ridding the world of the muggle kind, so be it. It was his problem.
Not Draco's. Nor his Father's but, well, that was another matter. The fact was
that he would rather have his head bitten off by a troll than join them and have
to serve the so-called 'Dark Lord'. Nevertheless, he didn't understand muggles,
he didn't like them in the least.
Again, he studied the photograph held
in his hand. It had been taken a few summers back. Dia had been so excited
when Aunt Ophélie had bought her the
camera...
Memory~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She
had wanted him to take a picture so she could send it back to her Mother in
France.
"Aller Draco, S'te-plaît? You know how much this means to me...
Please?"
She was pouting now, her face radiating with mock
indignation. She always been a good actress... Her pouting would have made many
hearts melt... Not his, though.
"Nope. You won't get me to touch
that muggle filth." Draco laughed, indicating the camera she held in her
hands.
He regretted those words as soon as he said them. He felt
like slapping himself. How idiotic could he be?
" ..."
For
a second, the world seemed to stop. The birds, it seemed, had lost their voices,
and Draco couldn't hear the murmur of the nearby river anymore. It was a pity,
for he would have eagerly welcomed it's soothing music. A few seconds before,
Dia had been holding his sleeve, tugging gently, pleading. Now though, she
backed away, and disgusted look on her face, her eye-brows furrowed and eyes
wide, disapproving.
In a moment though her face was emotionless again, her eyes far away, looking
right through him. She was in no mood to joke now.
"Fine. You should
have told me you had a problem with 'muggle filth' as you like to call us.
Really Draco, I'd have thought... No, wait, this doesn't surprise me in the
least. I should have known you'd be just like your Fa... You know what?
Nevermind, I didn't really want the photograph anyway." she hissed, her
voice low and controlled.
One would never have guessed she were a mere
nine years old...
"Dia... Look, I apologise, alright? I am an
idiot, right?" he said, with a little effort.
Rarely did a Malfoy ask for forgivenness. It was not done.
"..."
She nodded, still not satisfied.
Swallowing his pride he
continued,
"You're right, I sound just like my Father, and believe me, or
don't, but I really didn't want to say those things. I'm not trying to...
Justify my stupidity, it was unjustifiable and, really, I'm sorry. You're the
one who's one year younger, mais c'est moi qui me comporte comme un
enfant."
At first he thought he had failed, that she hadn't even
listened to him and that she was going to walk back to the Manor. He failed to
see the mischievous smirk tugging at her lips as she turned around anf began to
walk away from him.
"I apologised, what else do you want?"
he called out. Had that not been enough?
Just when he had
thought all was lost though, she turned around, beaming.
"Tu sais
quoi, Draco? You're absolutely right. What you said was unjustifiable. And I
really shouldn't forgive you. " She tried keep a straight face, but her
happiness was showing through the mask of stern disapproval.
"But I will.
Under one condition of course...
That you make Dobby come and take a photo of
the both of us ! Then I can owl it to Mother tonight, she will be so pleased
!
Oh, and Draco? I never want to hear you saying such 'filth' again.
Agreed?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It
had been a muggle camera, and, to his dismay, the image he now held in his
fingers was static. Draco had found it odd at first, and it had taken him a
while to get used to the fact that his cousin would not blink, that her hair
would not fly in all directions...
What was the use of a photograph that
would not move? So strange, muggles were.
And yet,
Dia was different.
Discordia was a Malfoy. But she was half muggle, too. But she was different...
Or was she? Could he be wrong? Had he been deceived, tricked into believing lies
and not recognising the truth? No, muggles were cruel... They had to be. Look at
the witch hunts...
"But Dia isn't. You can't say they're all evil. It's
like saying all wizards are Death Eaters..."
"Nothing is black or
white in this world, Draco. You must learn to see things in shades of grey, or
you will never know the truth..."
It had been his mother whom had
told him this, he had been a child then.
"What a hypocrite..." he
thought, scowling.
"So, I must be able to 'see in shades of grey', but
it's fine that she labels Dia as inferior simply because she is half muggle?"
Did he, too, have double-standards without realising it?
Draco didn't know what to think, and wasn't in the mood for such
thoughts. He would figure it out some other time.
He brought his
slenders fingers to his face, revelling in their coldness. All this sentimental
crap was getting to him. Weakening him. And he had to be strong.
What had
come over him? Was he sick, insane, mad?
Of course those worthless
mudbloods and muggle-lovers were inferiors. Just look at the Weasleys, you
don't get much lower than that. Dirt poor, freckled good-for-nothings with more
kids than they can afford. Nothing but bullyable material, that's what they
were.
Draco exited the plain green room, promptly forgetting any
goodness he might have felt for muggles.
What he didn't know, was that a
pair of eyes had been watching him all along, spying on his every move.
"All is going according to plan... The Master will be pleased."
thought the darkly clad figure as he came out of the
shadows.
Colloque sentimental
Dans le vieux parc solitaire et glac
Deux formes ont tout à l'heure
passé.
Leurs yeux sont morts et leurs lèvres sont molles,
Et l'on entend à peine
leurs paroles.
Dans le vieux parc solitaire et glac
Deux spectres ont évoqué le
passé.
-Te souvient-il de notre extase ancienne?
-Pourquoi voulez-vous donc qu'il
m'en souvienne?
-Ton coeur bat-il toujours à mon seul nom?
Toujours vois tu mon âme en
rêve? -Non.
-Ah! les beaux jours de bonheur indicible
Où nous joignions nos bouches!
-C'est possible.
Qu'il était bleu, le ciel, et grand l'espoir!
-L'espoir a fui, vaincu,
vers le ciel noir.
Tels ils marchaient dans les avoines folles,
Et la nuit seule entendit
leurs paroles.
Paul Verlaine
* "Te souvient-il"
- Do you remember...
* "Aller Draco, S'te-plaît?" - "Come on Draco,
Please?"
* "...mais c'est moi qui me comporte comme un enfant." - "But
I'm the one acting like a child."
Please review. I actually have quite a
bit of a complex plot in mind. I just have to figure out how I'm going to write
it.