Author's Notes
If you didn't read the Default Chapter, the timeframe is the beginning of sixth year. For more details read the author's notes, etc, in the Default Chapter. And once again, this is a SLASH fic, so if you don't like it, then don't read it. The journal enteries are in italics. Anyway, read on, and rock out!
Façade
Chapter 1
The echo of a quill scratching rapidly against thick parchment filled the nearly empty dungeons. Long, slim, pale fingers, tightly grasped a small black book, as a slouched figure poured over it in concentration. In thought, the figure sucked on the end of an elegant eagle feather quill, with full lips. The scratching of the quill stopped, as the person read over their thoughts.
It's all an act. That's what my entire life is. A façade. I strive to make people believe that I'm nothing but a slimy git who knows nothing but greed and cruelty. But, in reality . . . it's all a lie. I hate living like this, making people believe I'm something I'm not. The truth is . . . I'm scared. Of him. Father. He's a borderline tyrant who could make the greatest giant cower in fear. A 'respected' man and feared above all else, he's pressed his theories of the Magical World upon our family and society. Heaven forbid someone disagrees with him . . .Draco read rapidly. That sounded about right. He shifted his leg slightly, making a more comfortable position for himself on the stone floor, and resumed his writing again.
He had been sitting there, in the Slytherin Common Room alone, contemplating things for the better of the beautiful Saturday afternoon. This of course, was a very un-Malfoy-like thing to do. Not like he cared at the moment. Normally however, Draco would be taking advantage of the wonderful weather, possibly doing a few labs around the Quidditch pitch on his Nimbus 2001. But today was slightly different . . . today, things that had been irking him all his life, had finally gotten to Draco.
Draco was writing so swiftly that his mind could practically keep up. It had been comprised of muddled thoughts for the majority of the day.
I remember when I was three, when I first showed signs of being something Father feared. Something less than evil, something less than cruel, cold hearted and narrow minded. I made friends with a 'lowly' Muggle. I was with Mother, on out way to Diagon Alley. We used the train, and went through the Muggle road to get to the Leaky Cauldron. And that's where I met the only true friend I ever had, ironically being a Muggle, who like me for me, not my money or power. You see, Mother thought it would be nice if I saw what the Muggle world looked like. Father . . . Lucius had always forbid me from mingling with 'their kind', so I had never even seen a mere Muggle shop. I looked at this a new experience, an adventure. Of course, being only three, everything was an adventure.
Upon writing this, Draco smiled slightly, fondly remembering his childhood, when everything seemed right in the world. When he was too young to understand the horrible things that went on in the world, some that his own father had caused. He quickly shook his head not willing to think about the pain and suffering his father had caused so many people . . . for his mother . . . for Draco.
Mother made sure Lucius never found out about our adventures into the Muggle world. She would always tell him we were in desperate need of a new cauldron, or were out of eye of newt, and so on as not to make him suspicious.
A smirk played across Draco's lips. His mother, Narcissa, was always quite sneaky . . . but never sinister as his father. Never sinister as what Lucius wanted him, Draco to become. Draco grimaced at the thought of this. Only in Lucius' wildest dreams was that happening . . . Draco would never join the Dark Side, or be truly the truly evil wizard that was expected of him. He wouldn't allow himself to be so submissive to the commands of his father anymore. Draco quickly turned to a new page of parchment in the little book, as he'd already filled up a page and continued writing heatedly.
How am I ever going to stand up to him? No . . . when an I ever going to stand up to him. I' sick of living my life in Fear. Fear that he'll find out what I'm really like. Who I really am. Something totally opposite from what he expects me to be. The way Lucius treats people . . . it's horrible. And he has expected me to do the same all my life. And I of course, have complied. Not willingly, but I've went a long wit all of his wished.
A grim expression crept upon Draco's pale face as he continued to write with fervor.
I'm a coward, I know that. But I suppose that runs in the Malfoy family . . . and so does a quick temper underneath that cool demeanor. That's why Lucius can never find out how much I despise the way he's chosen to live his life . . .how much I hate him. He'd never actually kill his only air to Malfoy 'throne' so to say, but then again, he would come bloody near close.
Blaise Zabini stared absently around the fairly empty common room. It was the first Saturday back from summer holiday, so who could blame anyone for wanting to bask in the suns warm rays? Blaise had seriously considered going outside, until Pansy Parkinson had flirtatiously bounced over to him, tugged at his robes playfully, and begged him to go for a walk with her along the lake. Well for Blaise, that just about killed any desires he had about venturing out doors. Sure, Pansy was a sweet girl to her fellow housemates, but she was also bloody annoying.
Blaise wasn't thick, he was aware he was next on Pansy's long list of potential boyfriends'. He was surprised to see that she had finally moved on from a one Draco Malfoy. It had only taken her a better of two years, but Pansy finally got the hint that Draco wasn't interested. And now, it was Blaise's turn to endure Pansy's aggravation affections. He had politely declined, feeding the Flirt of the Slytherin house a lame excuse of 'suddenly not feeling so well'. And so, this is how Blaise had come to be sitting alone in the frigid and dreary common room, in a squashy armchair by the fire, staring idly into space.
It was then he finally took notice to the incessant scratching noise coming from the corner of the dungeon. Blaise raised his gaze from the floor to the far corner of the common room, and saw none other than Draco Malfoy huddled up, with a look of deep concentration on his face, writing in what looked like a small black book. Odd . . . Quite odd . . . Blaise pondered, surveying Malfoy and then the rest of the common room. As it turned out, he and Draco were the only two left inside.
Even more strange . . . why the hell is Malfoy in here on a day like this . . . and more importantly, alone, he wondered thoughtfully. 'I'm surprised the stupid git hasn't thrown a nasty comment my way yet. Although, he might not have even noticed me . . . I wonder what he's writing that's got him so oblivious to everything. Then again, when does he ever care about anyone else?' Blaise let his gaze rest in the direction of Malfoy, though not really paying much mind to the pale, yet elegant blonde.
It was not secret; Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy just did not get along. They were like night and day, light and dark, the exact opposites. Blaise sometimes wondered how he ever ended up getting sorted into Slytherin in the first place; he wasn't narrow minded, or had ever shown any signs of being a Dark Wizard, or even remotely veil for that matter. Malfoy was an entirely different story: A Death Eater for a father, narrow minded as could be, and the attitude of arrogance and superiority always following him. Unlike Malfoy, Blaise had friends in all houses though kept to himself most of the time. But when it came down to it, Blaise absolutely despised Malfoy, and he could tell the feeling was mutual; the rich snot couldn't stand Blaise. Though, not as much as Malfoy hated Harry Potter and his friends, Blaise could tell.
Harry Potter . . . now that's a nice thought. A smile made its way to Blaise's face at the mere thought of The Boy Who Lived. Ever since first year, Blaise had been harboring a crush for the Gryffindor Golden Boy. Over the years this innocent crush had grown to be more . . . it was on the verge of obsession. And Blaise knew this, but did not think much of it. No, most of his time was spent thinking about Harry Potter anyways. Those brilliant jade green eyes always filled with so much emotion that shined like emeralds, that flyaway ebony hair, which smooth, lightly tanned skin that he longed to touch . . . it all haunted Blaise, day in and day out. 'And he doesn't even notice me . . . probably doesn't even know my name. But he will, one day, he definitely will.'
A smirk crept across Blaise's face at the thought. That day would be inevitably soon, he was sure of it. Blaise's time to make Harry Potter his was drawing nearer, and when that day came, it would be his biggest triumph in life.
Draco could feel a pair of eyes on him, as if seeing right through him, and frankly it was rather unnerving. He snapped his head up, and his gaze met with that of Blaise Zabini. Draco noted that Zabini had his face twisted in an odd sort of grin . . . He looked almost psychotic. That's odd, even for a git like Zabini, Draco thought. And then Zabini blinked, and roughly shook himself out of the daze he so obviously was in. He replaced the disturbing grin with a snarl, as he continued to lock eyes with Draco. In turn, Draco smirked, got up from the stone floor, brushed himself off, and gathered his things.
"See something you like Zabini? I know I'm hot and all, but please, learn to control your drool. And next time Zabini, I'll charge a fee for all that staring you were doing." And with one last malicious smirk, Draco headed over to the boy's dormitories.
He was furious. Why did he always let ruddy Malfoy had the last word? Blaise swiped a tanned arm across his mouth. Indeed, he had been drooling. 'Not over that insufferable git of course . . . just think about him gives me the creeps. Unfortunately, I can't control what I do when I start thinking about Harry. But no worry he'll be mine soon enough.'
And with a smirk of his own, Blaise turned back to the roaring fire, a lopsided grin plastered on his face. As he stared into the flames, the light illuminated his face making it seem once again intimidating as slightly psychotic.
Author's Notes
Well how utterly bad was it? I'm not too pleased with how it came . . . Blaise creeps me out a bit, but I think that's what I was going for. shrugs I think Malfoy's character needs a bit more fin tuning though . . . Initially, Draco wasn't going to be writing or anything, the entire chapter was going to be in his POV, but I changed it last minute. So it may have sounded a little odd . . . hehe . . . ah well. shrugs Harry will most likely be in the next chapter, and more of Draco's 'journal' entries (or whatever the 'little black book' is to him), and of course, more freaky, obsessive Blaise. I doubt I'll update very quickly, but I'll try my hardest. Well if you're bothered enough feel free to drop a review. Praise, constructive criticism, flames, I don't really care. I like feedback so I know what I can do to improve. Anyways, thanks for reading, even if it was most likely a waste of time . . . heh.
Rage and Sunshine,
The Slash Faerie