Disclaimer: Much as I would wish it, Draco Malfoy, unfortunately, does not belong to me. He belongs to JK Rowling, along with Harry Potter, Cho Chang, and pretty much everyone else at Hogwarts. If JK would like to donate him to me, however, I would be very much obliged.
Author's Note: The Great One, yeah, that's Silverchair, I'm a real 'chairhead. :D I LOVE them! LOOOOOVE them! I'm just sad that Daniel is engaged to Natalie Imbruglia. He deserves better, but if she makes him happy, well, good. Glad to notice some useful comments in the reviews. I know I haven't built up much on Cho's character, but we must remember that this IS only chapter three, and if I don't get tired of travelling in Europe any sooner, we won't be seeing her for quite a while (I have part of this planned, at least). I don't like her much, but I'm not trying to be mean. School has resumed, so my boredom is pretty much going away, albeit a bit slowly. I dug a bit into what I think Draco would be good at (aside from sarcasm), and anorexia seemed to be it. So I'll stop boring you with my rambling now, and I'll leave you with a well-used phrase of mine before I start off with chapter three. SILVERCHAIR ROOOOOOOOCKS!
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He was on the plane to Barcelona, bored out of his wits and incredibly irritable. He was travelling first class (of course), and was already on his third Mai Tai. Ah, the wonders of alcohol. He was feeling better already. Draco had spent his last day in Tuscany walking through the countryside and taking snapshots of the nice views he came across. He'd briefly considered compiling all his photographs in an album for his mother. Maybe she'd appreciate it. He used to think--no, knew--that they could have become close, if his father hadn't always dragged him away from her and her rose garden to discuss the Dark Arts in the study.
An extremely well-dressed lady looked at him up and down, giving him a haughty little look. Was it his fault he just so happened to be wearing his Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt when he decided to take the first class flight? No, it wasn't. If she didn't like it, she could shove herself out the window. If she would even fit. He sneered at her, though she didn't seem to notice, as she was on her way to the lavatory. Hell, he had more grace, dignity, not to mention money, power, and good looks in his pinky than two or three of her would ever have in a lifetime. Besides, ruffles had gone out of style years before. Who was she to criticise his fashion sense?
The flight wasn't going to last that long, but if it did, he wouldn't have minded. Long trips gave him more opportunities to spend time for himself, alone. Not like he wasn't alone all the time, but this was different, in a way. Draco bit back a laugh. Since he already lacked the sophistication required by those seated nearby, he didn't want everyone to think he'd lost his sanity, too.
When did he start being so introspective? When did he first find out how to look into himself and see what was there, anyway? Five years ago, if anyone had told him he'd be this sappy as a nineteen-year-old, he would have told them they were on wizard crack. Likewise, if anyone had said he would be listening to Muggle rock bands, wearing t-shirts with names of Muggle rock bands on them, and purchasing Muggle technology. He knew full well that four years ago, he would have preferred to die. Hell, he used forks, spoons, knives, and glasses. Muggles used those. He used plates and books. Muggles used those. The Weird Sisters used guitars, bass, and drums, and so did A Perfect Circle, Placebo, and Muse. Why couldn't he? Because he was a Malfoy? A pureblood? Because they brought him up to hate the kind of things he was now discovering (and was properly fascinated with)? Draco wished he'd had a PlayStation back when he was a kid. That would have been a lot of fun. But he was a Malfoy, and it wasn't allowed. Then again, it occurred to him, if anyone had told him he would be anorexic at age fifteen back when he was seven or eight, he would have laughed. If he even knew what anorexia was back then. He doubted he did. Though Granger probably knew. His silver eyes glinted. Funny he should think of Granger. He spent most of his Hogwarts years trying to piss off the Dream Team (usually succeeding), and, strangely enough, he sort of missed them.
Ack, that was horrible. Had he actually thought that? Draco smiled wistfully. If only Hogwarts years lasted longer. He'd still be ruling Slytherin House (technically), he'd still be Snape's favourite, he'd still be driving the Gryffindors up the wall, and he'd still be having fun. Not that he wasn't having fun now, but his youth had been pure, mindless fun, and this was different. His youth? So now, he was considering himself old? God, something was horribly twisted with the world!
He pulled the green umbrella out of his drink and added it to his growing collection of similarly coloured umbrellas (conveniently stored in a previously empty pocket of his backpack). He now had drink umbrellas in forest green, neon green, yellow green, and emerald green. He had several others whose exact names he couldn't quite place, and when he got bored, he would arrange them by colour, from lightest to darkest (or vice versa). Yes, he really was pathetic, wasn't he?
Draco was now on his fifth Mai Tai and had two more umbrellas to add to the lot. He counted seventeen in the small bundle. Seventeen alcoholic drinks in two weeks of travel? He really was exercising the self-restraint, wasn't he? How pathetic of him!
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Shanghai was chilly
in April. She walked through Xiangyang Market, exhausted from her fruitless
search for her family. The Market wasn't exactly the most relaxing place in
China, but looking at all the nice things they were selling made her feel a
lot better.
Cho wanted to get back to the hotel as soon as possible. She still had a letter to write. The bus however, wouldn't be there for another hour at least. She decided to pass the time by doing a bit of shopping.
There were people
everywhere, people who looked like her, people who spoke her native language.
Could any of these be her relatives? Her mother had strongly tried to dissuade
her from taking this trip to China. Cho's mother had been an orphan, less than
half a year and abandoned near a hospital. Female infants were valued less than
male infants, and with the one child policy, many baby girls were left alone
to die from cold or starvation. Few families had enough money to pay the extremely
high taxes for having a second or third child, so they didn't have any.
Cho was certain
her grandmother would be here somewhere. Mrs. Chang had said that it was impossible,
but Cho was willing to try, given the absolute lack of information her mother
had. Cho didn't even have a name. Mrs. Chang had been adopted by a kind British
family.
Funny, really,
she was twenty and jobless, feeling so lost in a place that should have been
home. Looking for people that couldn't be found. She was good at Quidditch,
but not good enough to get a spot in one of the better teams in the League.
Not like she wanted to spend the rest of her life chasing a little golden ball,
anyway. Back in her Hogwarts years, she always thought she would be doing so
much more. And now, she had nothing. Not even an inkling as to what she would
like to do to earn herself a living. She had no direction, and it was getting
kind of depressing.
Five o'clock. The
bus was scheduled to arrive at five thirty. She looked at the wares, the modern
clothing that was made for export, manufactured in China, the countless pairs
of fashionable shoes and Nikes, the silk bags and elegant cheongsams
that were on sale. She was drawn to a black, sleeveless variation of the traditional
Chinese dress. She smiled faintly as she fingered the material. Smooth silk,
and embroidery in a shade of blue so dark, you could hardly notice it. Excellent
workmanship. She touched one of the threaded designs. They were small dragons,
a magical creature always dear to her heart. She inquired, in the little Mandarin
she knew, as to the price of the garment, spent a few minutes haggling, and
left with the beautiful dress.
There was a delicate
bag next door that matched her dress exactly, so she purchased that, too. If
anything, Draco had taught her how to accessorize. Once, she remembered, she'd
questioned his masculinity. "You're so into looking good, Draco. Are you
sure you're not gay?" Needless to say, he didn't speak to her for
a week. She had only been kidding, anyway, but Draco took these things too seriously.
She missed him
sometimes, Draco. She wished things hadn't turned out the way they had. It was
all Mandy Brocklehurst's fault. She didn't want to dwell on the topic, it only
brought back bad memories, memories that she wanted to forget.
She wouldn't forget them anyway, she knew. Much as she tried, she wouldn't forget
what she did. Fate was evil.
Cho berated herself
silently. "Draco taught me more than buying the right jewelry to go with
my dresses," she hissed. He taught her that people could change. In his
case, he changed for the better.
She only became
worse.
I'd better go
wait at the bus stop, she thought to herself, picking up the three or four
shopping bags she had full of boots, sneakers, and nice clothing. Even if she
didn't find any of her relatives here, she would at least have some pretty new
things to wear.
God, if she could
get any shallower.
She boarded the
bus, along with a few other Europeans who had gone on the same trip and stayed
at the same hotel. Soon, she could go take a rest, and then write the letter.
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Dear
Draco,
I'm at Shanghai now, same place as I was last time I wrote you (which would
be last week, if I remember correctly). Have made no progress whatsoever. Am
beginning to think I have no relatives here, and that this little quest of mine
is hopeless. Then again, you'd tell me otherwise. I can hear you now, laughing
at me. "If you want to achieve, you first have to try, and you have to
really want what you're looking for." Sure doesn't sound like you, does
it?
You've
changed over the years, Malfoy. You're nicer now, friendlier, yeah, you're still
as sarcastic as you've always been, but some things don't change. Some things
will never change. Maybe you just aren't Draco without the drawl, the harsh
words, and the cynicism. You used to tell me that I wasn't Cho Chang without
the entourage of adoring fans and admirers. Maybe I'm not Cho Chang anymore.
I'm all alone here, in China. I see no friendly faces, I hear no kindly voices,
and I am farther from home than I have ever been in my life. I have never been
so desolate. Why am I bombarding you with my laments? You probably don't care.
Cho
smiled, resting her hand a bit, before continuing her letter.
Yeah,
you don't care. I don't care where you are, either, or what you're doing
now. I just felt like bothering you today. Being alone can be so dull. It's
times like these that I really miss you, you know? Okay, Draco, warning you
now. If you do not want to read any sap, skip this paragraph and the next, and
just read the last one.
It's
times like these that make me thankful that I have you to be there for me. You're
like my guiding light, you're my shoulder to cry on, you're my knight in shining
armour. You're always so supportive, and it seems like you're the only one who
ever completely understands me. You accept me the way I am. I don't have to
be the picture perfect Cho Chang, Ravenclaw model student, when I'm with you.
It's
why I like being with you. It's like being free, when you come to think of it.
Mutual understanding between the two of us, I guess. I don't have to be perfect
(like you always say), and you don't have to be a Malfoy.
Did
you skip the last two paragraphs? Ha. Figures. Write me back soon, take care,
wherever you are, and remember always that I love you.
See?
I did manage to make you read some mush, after all!
I
love you, Malfoy. Don't forget it. And don't go running off with some socialite
beauty while I'm away, or I will personally fly back there on my Comet and KILL
YOU. Even if I have to fly the bloody thing over the Ocean, halfway across the
world. Even if I die trying. Because I love you.
I'll
spare you from the sugar shock now. Again, take care. I hope I'll be seeing
you soon.
Love
always,
Cho
She
signed her name on the parchment with a flourish. Some of the words had become
blurred, and she only noticed then that tears had fallen from her eyes. She
kissed the letter, rolled up the paper, and tucked it away into a box, along
with the other letters she'd written for him over the years after graduation.
When she counted them the previous week, there had been one hundred and twelve.
This one was the hundred and thirteenth.
She
never had the heart to send any of them.
Besides,
Draco probably hated her. It was his right, and she deserved it.
But she still loved him.
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Author's Note: When I told you Cho wouldn't be coming in until much later, I lied. Actually, I didn't plan for her to be in here so soon, but I was bored and I felt like it. This chapter is SO not anywhere as good as the other two. Not like those were good, either, but this is worse, and it's SHORTER. 113, as in 1/13, in honour of Orlando Bloom's birthday on Monday. He turns twenty-six. Happy birthday, Orli! :D And again, I'd like to apologize for this chapter sucking. I will try harder next time. I promise.