Waiting (To Tell You)
by Miaka Kennyuuki
(Songfic) slash - Draco/Harry PG-13
Summary: Harry contemplates how his life and the lives of those around him have been lived, and the reason he has decided to change.
//It's not the falling of the temperature That's making all our bones run cold It's the breeze you make, The presence felt when you're around me And it feels like I'm at an all time low//
"Head on Collision'', New Found Glory
*Harry's POV*
Madam Malkins Robes for All Occasions. The place where I first met Malfoy. I was with Hagrid, buying my school supplies, awed at the magical world around me. Those blasted Muggles back home had kept me sheltered for a whole ten years of my life, fearing my magic and considering it, and me, disgusting and beyond redemption. Personally, I just think their jealous that I can do things easier than they can. I mean really, if Uncle Vernon hated magic so much, why'd he marry Petunia, who I know for a fact is just a bitter squib?
Anyway, I walked into the robe shoppe, my oversized sweater slipping off my shoulder, my thin frame just visible through the neck. One hand held up the oversized jeans I wore, and the other pressed my glasses onto my nose. I looked around the shoppe and smiled shyly, hoping my bedraggle appearance didn't put anyone off. I was alone, Hagrid off to get my owl, and I didn't know what I was doing.
But then I saw him, the strangest looking creature I had ever seen. A small boy, a bit taller than me, with hair so blond it was almost white, a pointed chin that lent to his feminine features, and eyes so light a blue they looked grey, like tempered steel. He was standing on a raised platform, being measured by a buxom woman wearing dark blue robes. He stood tall, regal, scanning the room as if he owned it, and looking down at the woman as if she were below him. Technically, she was, but you know what I mean.
He looked up then, and our eyes met. One thing I'd accepted about myself a long time ago is that I had the most beautiful green eyes many have ever seen. I don't mean to be conceited or anything, but my eyes were so nice looking, I sometimes got out of punishment because of them. But the eyes I met that day were by far overshadowing mine. They were deep, swirling pools of contradiction and disdain, and they drew me in like a whirlpool. I almost didn't here him speak.
I don't think I was very homosexual at the time of this encounter, but I know beauty when I see it, hear it, touch it, whatever. And the voice that came from that miniature version of Malfoy was cute, high, and melodious. Nowadays it flows like harp music, instead of tinkling like a little bell, but the effect was the same either way. I was fascinated.
Until I heard what he had to say. He asked my name, and I told him, carefully avoiding my last name. It seemed to elicit weird reactions in the people around me. At the time I didn't get the whole famous Boy-Who-Lived crap, but I knew what was setting them off, and I wasn't about to set him off.
He told me his name was Draco Malfoy, and that he hoped he'd be in Slytherin. Irrationally, I hoped so too, if only to be around this boy. I was brought up to stand on a raised platform beside him, and as I was fitted, Malfoy explained the four Houses. By the end, I was on equal uncertainty with Gryffindor and Slytherin. Both sounded smashing, even in his disdainful terms.
I was about to ask him something else, when Hagrid knocked on the window. I turned to him and saw him hold up two melting icecreams, the reason why he couldn't come in. I smiled and waved. Malfoy sniffed and turned away. He then proceeded to denounce the one person who had been nice to me since I was one. Right about then was when all that 'good will towards me' shite flew right out the window. But before I could deck him, the woman working on me announced that she was done and I could go. I left, my impression of Malfoy would forever be bad. Or so I thought.
The second encounter was just as bad. I met Ron Weasley on the train, and he told me all about Malfoy's and the Houses you didn't want to be in. Or what his father says about the Malfoys' and the Houses. By the time Ron was done, I hated Slytherin and had a strong dislike for Malfoy. Now that I look back on it, I sometimes wish Ron hadn't managed to corrupt me like that. As Malfoy would say, Ron was a simpleton. No offense to him or anything, but he sat there for hours after his 'hate Malfoy, hate Slytherin' speech, staring at my forehead.
Malfoy entered our compartment, and I wasn't too happy to see him. Damn Ron. Anyway, he held out his hand to me and asked me to be his friend. Not in such nice words, or course, but I understood where he was going with it. Unfortunately he had to mention something about knowing who the right sort are, completely falling into the web Ron had spun in my mind. I immediately lashed out, refusing his friendship along the way. I regret that to this day. I love Ron like a brother, but his dumbshit ways ruined that chance for me.
The last time I met Malfoy before our rivalry really got going was on the Entrance Hall stairs after the Welcoming Feast. He asked for my hand in friendship again, but moments before that he'd insulted Ron. Now Ron was okay and all, but the only reason I ever get upset when he is criticized is because Ron's mother helped me out, and since she wasn't there, I had to cling to Ron, my link to her. As a result of all this complex thinking, I refused him a third time. Third times the charm, right.
I was beyond right. That third time sparked a rivalry so vicious, so brutal, it would go down in Hogwarts history forever. It was thought to be even more intense than the one between Lucius Malfoy and James Potter. We really shook up this old castle. I can think back on it and smile now. Before I would grimace and kick something.
Malfoy had always managed to draw such strong reactions from me. It was most likely his aura, the presence felt when he was around me. Whenever I was feeling at an all time low, Malfoy would do something, say something, that would revive the fire in my blood.
Despite how much of an arsehole he is, Malfoy isn't have bad, is he?
***TBC***
(Songfic) slash - Draco/Harry PG-13
Summary: Harry contemplates how his life and the lives of those around him have been lived, and the reason he has decided to change.
//It's not the falling of the temperature That's making all our bones run cold It's the breeze you make, The presence felt when you're around me And it feels like I'm at an all time low//
"Head on Collision'', New Found Glory
*Harry's POV*
Madam Malkins Robes for All Occasions. The place where I first met Malfoy. I was with Hagrid, buying my school supplies, awed at the magical world around me. Those blasted Muggles back home had kept me sheltered for a whole ten years of my life, fearing my magic and considering it, and me, disgusting and beyond redemption. Personally, I just think their jealous that I can do things easier than they can. I mean really, if Uncle Vernon hated magic so much, why'd he marry Petunia, who I know for a fact is just a bitter squib?
Anyway, I walked into the robe shoppe, my oversized sweater slipping off my shoulder, my thin frame just visible through the neck. One hand held up the oversized jeans I wore, and the other pressed my glasses onto my nose. I looked around the shoppe and smiled shyly, hoping my bedraggle appearance didn't put anyone off. I was alone, Hagrid off to get my owl, and I didn't know what I was doing.
But then I saw him, the strangest looking creature I had ever seen. A small boy, a bit taller than me, with hair so blond it was almost white, a pointed chin that lent to his feminine features, and eyes so light a blue they looked grey, like tempered steel. He was standing on a raised platform, being measured by a buxom woman wearing dark blue robes. He stood tall, regal, scanning the room as if he owned it, and looking down at the woman as if she were below him. Technically, she was, but you know what I mean.
He looked up then, and our eyes met. One thing I'd accepted about myself a long time ago is that I had the most beautiful green eyes many have ever seen. I don't mean to be conceited or anything, but my eyes were so nice looking, I sometimes got out of punishment because of them. But the eyes I met that day were by far overshadowing mine. They were deep, swirling pools of contradiction and disdain, and they drew me in like a whirlpool. I almost didn't here him speak.
I don't think I was very homosexual at the time of this encounter, but I know beauty when I see it, hear it, touch it, whatever. And the voice that came from that miniature version of Malfoy was cute, high, and melodious. Nowadays it flows like harp music, instead of tinkling like a little bell, but the effect was the same either way. I was fascinated.
Until I heard what he had to say. He asked my name, and I told him, carefully avoiding my last name. It seemed to elicit weird reactions in the people around me. At the time I didn't get the whole famous Boy-Who-Lived crap, but I knew what was setting them off, and I wasn't about to set him off.
He told me his name was Draco Malfoy, and that he hoped he'd be in Slytherin. Irrationally, I hoped so too, if only to be around this boy. I was brought up to stand on a raised platform beside him, and as I was fitted, Malfoy explained the four Houses. By the end, I was on equal uncertainty with Gryffindor and Slytherin. Both sounded smashing, even in his disdainful terms.
I was about to ask him something else, when Hagrid knocked on the window. I turned to him and saw him hold up two melting icecreams, the reason why he couldn't come in. I smiled and waved. Malfoy sniffed and turned away. He then proceeded to denounce the one person who had been nice to me since I was one. Right about then was when all that 'good will towards me' shite flew right out the window. But before I could deck him, the woman working on me announced that she was done and I could go. I left, my impression of Malfoy would forever be bad. Or so I thought.
The second encounter was just as bad. I met Ron Weasley on the train, and he told me all about Malfoy's and the Houses you didn't want to be in. Or what his father says about the Malfoys' and the Houses. By the time Ron was done, I hated Slytherin and had a strong dislike for Malfoy. Now that I look back on it, I sometimes wish Ron hadn't managed to corrupt me like that. As Malfoy would say, Ron was a simpleton. No offense to him or anything, but he sat there for hours after his 'hate Malfoy, hate Slytherin' speech, staring at my forehead.
Malfoy entered our compartment, and I wasn't too happy to see him. Damn Ron. Anyway, he held out his hand to me and asked me to be his friend. Not in such nice words, or course, but I understood where he was going with it. Unfortunately he had to mention something about knowing who the right sort are, completely falling into the web Ron had spun in my mind. I immediately lashed out, refusing his friendship along the way. I regret that to this day. I love Ron like a brother, but his dumbshit ways ruined that chance for me.
The last time I met Malfoy before our rivalry really got going was on the Entrance Hall stairs after the Welcoming Feast. He asked for my hand in friendship again, but moments before that he'd insulted Ron. Now Ron was okay and all, but the only reason I ever get upset when he is criticized is because Ron's mother helped me out, and since she wasn't there, I had to cling to Ron, my link to her. As a result of all this complex thinking, I refused him a third time. Third times the charm, right.
I was beyond right. That third time sparked a rivalry so vicious, so brutal, it would go down in Hogwarts history forever. It was thought to be even more intense than the one between Lucius Malfoy and James Potter. We really shook up this old castle. I can think back on it and smile now. Before I would grimace and kick something.
Malfoy had always managed to draw such strong reactions from me. It was most likely his aura, the presence felt when he was around me. Whenever I was feeling at an all time low, Malfoy would do something, say something, that would revive the fire in my blood.
Despite how much of an arsehole he is, Malfoy isn't have bad, is he?
***TBC***