By Evan Malfoy (asuka sange)
Malfoy had a family code to live up to, a code he could never break. It was a code that had been passed down from generation to generation. This code consisted of three rules.
One: Mudbloods were disgraces, Malfoys do not associate with muggles. Two, Malfoys always are cold, cruel, and Slytherin, though Ravenclaw is also acceptable in certain cases. Three, Malfoys do not love.
Draco Malfoy was the perfect Malfoy. His father never told him so, but Draco Malfoy knew he was. He was sorted into Slytherin. Every time he crossed paths with Hermoine he never failed mock her. Even though the taunting was immature, he never stopped calling her a Mudblood. Sparing no one, he was cruel, arrogant, and selfish. Even his own 'friends' were not exempt from his cool, calculated persona. Draco Malfoy did not love. He especially didn't love Harry Potter.
I walk down to the lake, my legs are moving mechanically beneath me. They move as if frozen by the snow that I walk upon. I know that is a lie. My heart is frozen, or a least that is what I like people to believe. Their ignorance astounds me sometimes, how easily they accept stereotypes and how they conform to others beliefs to fit in with the so-called 'popular' groups. My appearance helps them believe my lies. Grey eyes, they call icy. Blond hair, they call silver. Pale skin, they call luminescent.
I move closer to the lake, leaving small footprints behind me. I am supposed to be in bed. I doubt anyone will follow me, except him.
It's snowing, and I don't care. I like the snow. I like winter, when everything is dead. It's gorgeous in its barrenness.
I like the fall even more. Fall is melancholy. The sky turns grey, and the rain falls heavily. Winds rage, catching the leaves and sending them scattering across the ground. Rain is beautiful, it is the best form of precipitation, I believe. Truth be told, I have never cried before in my life. As a baby I whimpered and threw fits, but I never shed a tear. I can not count the thousands of times I have stood in the rain. I stood wishing my grey eyes could cry like the grey clouds above me.
I am not heartless, no. I would not be alive if I had no heart. My heart is not made of stone, nor is it cold. My heart made of muscle, it is just flesh, and it's filled with hot blood. The blood that courses through the intricate veins in my body, keeping me alive.
I sigh and sit down on the snow, taking in my surroundings. The lake is frozen. I hear snow crunch behind me. I turn and look up to see him. He shivers, and rubs his arms, he looks at me like I'm crazy. I might be.
"Bloody hell, Drake." He whispers as he crouches down by me.
I shrug and keep staring at the cold expanse before me. I feel him wrap his arms around me, and I sigh. I lean into his warmth silently, letting him hold me. He smiles and leans down to kiss me on my lips. I meet his lips halfway. I run my gloved hands through his soft black hair, and deepen the kiss. Our tongues wrap around one another, soft wet noises barely heard above the wind. He breaks the kiss and smiles at me.
I look at him blankly. Something like desperation flashes in his eyes and he pushes me down in the snow. I shiver and look up at him, drinking in the subtle fire in his green eyes. His eyes narrow and he looks at me, trying to discern my emotions. It is hard to do, especially for him.
I look away from his face and up into the sky. I watch the small snowflakes fall down. It glistens and falls on my hand, melting away almost instantly. Such a short pitiful existence, but without brevity snowflakes would not be so beautiful. A man who is completely cruel and callous is looked down upon. That man not beautiful as well.
He speaks, "I love you."
I glance at him expressionless and my voice lacks emotion as I reply, "I don't."
He glares at me and stands up, he paces, before kicking the snow. My heart aches, as I watch him. You must be confused if you think it's because I love him. I do not love. I especially do not love Harry Potter. He is a fool. He loves the snow, he told me so the other day. He loves snowflakes. He also loves a cruel and callous man. I am that man.
He cries. Tears fall down his face and I am jealous. (Yes, I do have some emotions.) I am bitter, because he has all I do not have. He is a fool, he wastes his love and someone who cannot return his feelings. Why doesn't he follow the crowd and hate me like everyone else? I do not understand.
He presses one last kiss to my lips and he walks away. I turn my head and watch him slowly make his way back to the castle. I look back up at the snowflakes when he disappears. I smile to myself. He will forget me now, I know it, but still my heartaches. I look around, everything is white. I wish I were someone else. If I was someone else, I could love him.
The End.