Behind Blue Eyes
by Miaka Kennyuuki
(Song Fic) Slash - Draco/Harry PG-13
Summary: Draco contemplates how his life has been lived, and the one reason he wishes to change.
//No one know what it's like, to feel these feelings, like I do, and I blame you.//
"Behind Blue Eyes", Limp Bizkit
*Draco's POV*
Love. What was it, really? In Slytherin, we equated love to a disease, a sore on our hearts, a sickness that could ruin us forever. Once a Slytherin fell in love, it was over. I remember this one boy, Tomas O'Fonner, an Irish boy who fell in love with a Hufflepuff. For a week, the poor boy was all hearts and roses. Then one night he realised what had happened to him. It all hit him at once, his love for a Hufflepuff (a Hufflepuff, for Merlin's sake), and the fact that he'd gone Cupid for a week. We found him the next day in the prefect's bathroom, his wrists slit.
And the worst part was, after he commited suicide, Tomas was considered a hero, if a bit tarnished. To us, he realised the problem, and solved it. No more Hufflepuff love, no more hearts and stars. Just blissful darkness, welcoming red flow of blood. To most Slytherins, Tomas should be forever remembered. He saved himself, and in the process, saved us. That very week any of us in a relationship broke it off so fast, the boyfriends and girlfriends we once had were disoriented for almost a month.
That is why love makes absolutely no sense to me. Die for it? Live for it? Lie for it? Be truthful for it? Work for it? Pay for it? It was all just a load of oxymorons and contradictory situations. The way I see it, once in love, you lose, end of story. You lose your dignity, pride, good sense, and in extreme cases like Tomas, your life. It was over once you gave into that fat baby with the cute arrows.
I suppose I should kill myself, then. Well, maybe just cut myself a bit. Forgive me, Salazar, for I have sinned, and sinned I have. I have allowed myself to fall into some semblance of love with Harry Potter himself. No, I don't have to die. I still have my dignity, the respect of my peers, and my pride. My good sense is shot to hell, but that is to be expected. How, you ask? Well, it was like this....
Walking down the corridor during my free period, simply strolling along, minding my own business, I bumped into Potter. I was incensed, to say the least. Here was Potter, the antichrist to my christianity, knocking into me and causing me to drop my books.
"Watch where you are going, Potter," I'd spat, annoyed. I gathered up my books and prepared to stalk off in anger, when Potter whispered one word. I heard it, but couldn't believe my ears. "What?" I demanded.
"I said, I'm sorry," Potter said. I spun around and stared at him in shock, and that was when I was caught. I continued to stare at Potter, seeing things I'd never seen before. I've never noticed that Potter's hair fell so fetchingly into his eyes, much like that day in Madam Malkin's. And his eyes, when had they become such a vivid green? His skin, his lips, his hands, everything seemed new and different. I didn't understand at the time. What was different about Potter?
"Malfoy!" Potter snapped, drawing me from my thoughts. I looked up sharply, still disoriented from my discovery.
"Yes, what is it?" I snapped right back. I was annoyed. How dare he interrupt my scrutiny? At the time, it didn't register that people didn't have to stay still and take my staring without a fight. I wasn't a prince or anything. That Slytherin Ice Prince thing was ridiculous as well as embarassing.
"Quit staring at me. I have someplace to be," Potter had snapped at me, before turning on his heel and walking off. I fumed. How dare he?
"Nothing's keeping you, Scarhead!" I called after him. "Bloody Gryffindor," I muttered when he was gone. I was confused. What was I feeling? Why did I care? My thoughts spun out of control and collided with each other. I didn't know top from bottom anymore.
Which left me as I am now, discombobulated, disoriented, and in love with one Harry Potter. His unruly hair that begged my fingers to run through them, those emerald eyes that dragged me in and drowned me when I was least expecting it. Those strong hands, calloused from Quidditch, that caused shivers when I imagined them on my soft skin. And those pouty lips, just pleading to be kissed, and nibbled, and devoured from inside and out. Just the thought made me tremble. Then there was the whole protection thing, this instinct in me that told me to keep Potter safe at all times. It was quite strange.
Did such thoughts merit actions such as Tomas's? Must I slit my wrist just to destroy the thoughts and feelings that were Harry? Maybe so. But my dreams, my hopes, I'd like to hold onto those.
I'll wait before I destroy these feelings. Who knows, maybe something good will come of it.
***TBC***
(Song Fic) Slash - Draco/Harry PG-13
Summary: Draco contemplates how his life has been lived, and the one reason he wishes to change.
//No one know what it's like, to feel these feelings, like I do, and I blame you.//
"Behind Blue Eyes", Limp Bizkit
*Draco's POV*
Love. What was it, really? In Slytherin, we equated love to a disease, a sore on our hearts, a sickness that could ruin us forever. Once a Slytherin fell in love, it was over. I remember this one boy, Tomas O'Fonner, an Irish boy who fell in love with a Hufflepuff. For a week, the poor boy was all hearts and roses. Then one night he realised what had happened to him. It all hit him at once, his love for a Hufflepuff (a Hufflepuff, for Merlin's sake), and the fact that he'd gone Cupid for a week. We found him the next day in the prefect's bathroom, his wrists slit.
And the worst part was, after he commited suicide, Tomas was considered a hero, if a bit tarnished. To us, he realised the problem, and solved it. No more Hufflepuff love, no more hearts and stars. Just blissful darkness, welcoming red flow of blood. To most Slytherins, Tomas should be forever remembered. He saved himself, and in the process, saved us. That very week any of us in a relationship broke it off so fast, the boyfriends and girlfriends we once had were disoriented for almost a month.
That is why love makes absolutely no sense to me. Die for it? Live for it? Lie for it? Be truthful for it? Work for it? Pay for it? It was all just a load of oxymorons and contradictory situations. The way I see it, once in love, you lose, end of story. You lose your dignity, pride, good sense, and in extreme cases like Tomas, your life. It was over once you gave into that fat baby with the cute arrows.
I suppose I should kill myself, then. Well, maybe just cut myself a bit. Forgive me, Salazar, for I have sinned, and sinned I have. I have allowed myself to fall into some semblance of love with Harry Potter himself. No, I don't have to die. I still have my dignity, the respect of my peers, and my pride. My good sense is shot to hell, but that is to be expected. How, you ask? Well, it was like this....
Walking down the corridor during my free period, simply strolling along, minding my own business, I bumped into Potter. I was incensed, to say the least. Here was Potter, the antichrist to my christianity, knocking into me and causing me to drop my books.
"Watch where you are going, Potter," I'd spat, annoyed. I gathered up my books and prepared to stalk off in anger, when Potter whispered one word. I heard it, but couldn't believe my ears. "What?" I demanded.
"I said, I'm sorry," Potter said. I spun around and stared at him in shock, and that was when I was caught. I continued to stare at Potter, seeing things I'd never seen before. I've never noticed that Potter's hair fell so fetchingly into his eyes, much like that day in Madam Malkin's. And his eyes, when had they become such a vivid green? His skin, his lips, his hands, everything seemed new and different. I didn't understand at the time. What was different about Potter?
"Malfoy!" Potter snapped, drawing me from my thoughts. I looked up sharply, still disoriented from my discovery.
"Yes, what is it?" I snapped right back. I was annoyed. How dare he interrupt my scrutiny? At the time, it didn't register that people didn't have to stay still and take my staring without a fight. I wasn't a prince or anything. That Slytherin Ice Prince thing was ridiculous as well as embarassing.
"Quit staring at me. I have someplace to be," Potter had snapped at me, before turning on his heel and walking off. I fumed. How dare he?
"Nothing's keeping you, Scarhead!" I called after him. "Bloody Gryffindor," I muttered when he was gone. I was confused. What was I feeling? Why did I care? My thoughts spun out of control and collided with each other. I didn't know top from bottom anymore.
Which left me as I am now, discombobulated, disoriented, and in love with one Harry Potter. His unruly hair that begged my fingers to run through them, those emerald eyes that dragged me in and drowned me when I was least expecting it. Those strong hands, calloused from Quidditch, that caused shivers when I imagined them on my soft skin. And those pouty lips, just pleading to be kissed, and nibbled, and devoured from inside and out. Just the thought made me tremble. Then there was the whole protection thing, this instinct in me that told me to keep Potter safe at all times. It was quite strange.
Did such thoughts merit actions such as Tomas's? Must I slit my wrist just to destroy the thoughts and feelings that were Harry? Maybe so. But my dreams, my hopes, I'd like to hold onto those.
I'll wait before I destroy these feelings. Who knows, maybe something good will come of it.
***TBC***
