PHENOMENOLOGY OF LOVE
By: L.M.L. Alforque
Note: This was originally called " Just One Afternoon" but I decided to change it because I know that I would eventually go deeper into the story but it still started one afternoon, anyway. It won't be too complicated but definitely worth reading. Oh, and don't forget to put in your reviews--- I always appreciate that and as always, enjoy! J
CHAPTER 1: FIRST FEW PAGES
KNOCK! KNOCK!
" Yes?" Draco asked as he packed up some clothes. After all, they're headed to Belgium for a three- week vacation.
" Honey, we're going to be late if you don't hurry. How much longer do we have to wait?" a voice asked from outside his bedroom.
" Much longer," he replied, " Belgium can wait. Just go downstairs… and wait."
" And do what?"
" Anything. Don't bother me… I'm up to my head with stuff."
" Do you need help?"
" No, I'm fine," he began to fold a white polo shirt but didn't quite get the exact look of a folded shirt, as those house elves would've had it. It's just too bad that they're taking a day off.
" Damn those house elves," he muttered.
Then she peeked in, " Can I be of service?"
" Fine. I was starting to give up anyway. All this folding has been ebbing my energy away," Draco stood up from his bed, " I'm going to the closet to check if there's anything else I've forgotten to back like extra boxers or something." Then he gave her a mischievous grin before heading towards his walk- in closet.
He began to go through the compartments and the various closets. Just then he noticed a box tucked away in the farthest end of the area. It was the area that he doesn't quite venture into for it only contained his old Hogwarts uniforms and some clothes that were sizes too small for him that he had just been lazy to do anything with. After all, he's already twenty- five! But somehow, he gave a wry grin as he stood in front of these uniforms. He had only fond memories of the teen who wore those clothes. And, no matter how many messes that those clothes underwent, they still stay immaculately clean which was probably just an external compensation for the fact that, internally, the wearer is not as " pure". Well, what with his schemes and hare- brained ideas?
Suddenly, he noticed something of a faded red color sticking out from one of his school pants. He went over to it and took, upon closer observation, out a dead red rose.
" Now," he wondered, " How on earth did this thing get here? I never had any intimate rel---" Then, his gaze averted, once again, to the wooden box lying around the corner.
" Damn! Perhaps," he went over to it with the dead rose in one hand and opened the box, " You hold the cumbersome answer to this."
Then, he took out something that was probably long forgotten by anyone who chanced upon it. Even himself. It was a journal bounded by black, expensive leather with a metal lock that, as he now remembered, only unbolts when he says the password while peering straight into the hole like how it is with a Muggle eye scanner. The front cover bears: DRACO MALFOY, written in high- quality, gold ink and his name vanishes every time someone (excluding the owner) chances upon the journal even from a mere distance of two meters and replaces this with some boring, often incredulous, book title such as: THE WAYS OF THE CHEETAH or 101 RECIPES FOR COTTAGE CHEESE or AN IDIOT'S GUIDE TO CLEANING UP HIS REFRIGERATOR. Of course he changes the password from time to time.
" What's the password?" he asked himself.
He shook the journal as if it would give him some answers.
" Harry Blunder?" he tried.
" I'm Draco Malfoy, a Slytherin from Hogwarts," he tried again.
" Yes, it's me. I own this so open up you bloody thing!" he almost yelled.
" Now we have the mysterious leather- bound journal of the elusive wizard, Draco Malfoy. We're starting this off with a million galleons," he said, " Do I hear a million and one? A million and fifty? Sold to the person wearing a ridiculous floppy hat with a stuffed pelican on the side!"
" Draco," she asked again, " Have gone mad in there?"
" No," he guiltily replied, " I'm just boosting my self- esteem."
" Seems to be working?"
" Rather well. You might want to consider booking me to the psychoprogist or something like that in the Muggle world. I hear that they deal with patients effectively."
" Psychologist," she corrected, " Yes, that Doctor Michelle Go is an excellent one."
" Sorry, dear," he said, focusing his attention back to the journal, " I was just being sarcastic."
" And I was just playing along. This trip might do you good."
" What's the password?" he whispered. Then, a little light went up in his mind. Just a little…
" Something to do with a state in United States of America?" he inquired to no one in particular. That's when the light went totally bright!
" Kansas… New York… Milwaukee… Massachusetts…Boston… Harvard--- that's not a state. I got it!"
The he peered into the hole and whispered: " Virginia."
Suddenly, the lock unbolted and presented Draco to the first entry he had written in that journal way back in his seventh year at Hogwarts.
" Whoa," he gasped, surprised at himself, " The password is " Virginia"? As in Ginny Weasley? Who, in his damned mind, would think of that? That's bull---" He arched an eyebrow thinking that he was just talking about himself, and he'd have to watch what he's going to say then because he wouldn't want his wife to overhear.
" Virginia…Ginny," he whispered gently as if letting the wind take a message to the heavens. He looked at the rose which he had dropped to the floor upon trying out some passwords. With his two hands, he took it and held it delicately.
That explains it, he thought.
Then he scanned the entries he made, which isn't much since he only five entries. He remembered that, for some inevitable reason, he got pissed off and discontinued writing down his thoughts but instead chose to taunt some people until their noses bleed but, back then, before he pursued to hurting people again there was something in the middle that made him hold off to that pastime momentarily. But just what was it? What was it?
" You'd better be of some use this time," he threatened the journal. When it didn't reply, naturally, he began to read the first entry he had written back in the spring of his last year in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Journal,
Today is the first month of SPRING. That is the main reason why everyone's bloody kissing up to each other. Keeping each other cheerful. Literally. But I didn't join in that mushy scenario. Hell, why would I be in that kind of activity when I have no one to share the goodness of this season? Well, I did date some girls and even went as far as to have a make- out session with a girl I've been dating for four months which, by far, beats the record as the longest relationship I had. As a matter of fact, I'm out here in the grounds, sitting in one of the benches. I'm surprised to even be out here. Was it the sunshine? No. It's stinging my back! The atmosphere? Hell no! I'd rather bore myself in the library than bore myself watching the monotony of the display. Well, there are some people playing around and make a fool of themselves but mostly, couples are holding hands, kissing, whispering sweet nonsense, giggling and say to the other that he or she is the most wonderful person they've ever met. Even Crabbe and Goyle are nowhere beside me but I don't feel relatively alone but still GAG ME!
I'm being damn negative about all this? Jealous perhaps? Perish the thought! I'm not jealous. I could make a million girls go head over heels over me in a span of seven days that what that freak Potter would ever make in a lifetime. Maybe I'm not the only one who's without someone to hold hands with today. I gave a quick but thorough scan around the grounds. And I found out that I was right.
Well, well, it looks like wee, red- headed Virginia Weasley is all by her wee, red- headed self too, sitting cross- legged in the middle of the pavilion just on the far east side of the grounds. And it seems as if that she's…meditating? And what logical reason I have to care if she's meditating herself to death? But I knew, journ, that I was curious. She has a book in front of her--- probably, about meditation. And she has some food with her, which will probably be to my dislike unless it's gourmet. And the Spring Festival is only a week away. The hell… I think I'll introduce myself. Cancel that. I think I'll make known to her as to who is the most evil boy in all of Hogwarts. I'll write on you later. What time is it? It's time to buy your own watch! Really, I think it's time for the weasel to meet her match.
DRACO MALFOY
….
Journ,
Well, I did talk to her. Sort of. We spoke some words… Fine, we did talk and communicate but I really didn't have a civil conversation with her. All we did was engage in some childish exchange of insults and threats. There's also that one- word exchange or two- word exchange and the loveliest of all, the three- word exchange. She pisses me off! And look at my handwriting. Scrawls and jagged lines! Yes, that's how angry I am. Really, I was just trying to be civil. Does she have to redefine the word?
This is how it went: I approached her and asked, " Weasley, are you trying to stop breathing? If you are, you're doing a damn good job at it. Or are you reflecting on all the unconfessed sins you've done? Tell me about them… Tell me ALL about them. I'm open, and I'm listening."
Then she said, " Well, now, Mr. Malfoy can't leave people alone? Where is your parade of girls?" Was that an insult, journ? I'm telling you that it is.
Then she told me that I was disturbing her and admitted that she's relaxing at the same time focusing, which, she added, I " ought to do rather than do something destructive."
Then, I had the very sudden urge not to be talked to like that, which isn't usual.
" FYI, destructive may be right," Then I whipped my wand out at the same time giving her a mock- innocent look. " Which do you prefer? Gentle, moderate or intense? Take your pick."
" Are you out of your head? BTW, you'd be seen." She actually looks quite panicked to the point that she stopped meditating. I almost felt that I've gone too far and that I should stop. Almost. My eyes instinctively tightened as I said: " I could do that, you know," I arched an eyebrow, " But I'm not foolish. Why…you're honestly scared."
She smiled humorlessly, " Is that what you're here for? Is that what you're here in Hogwarts for?" For a moment, I was put off. Though her smile, humorless it may be, was quite charming, her words were casually heartless. Just as I am…
I knew I had to change my tactics. But I didn't know then how pathetic and futile it would prove.
" You like Potter?"
" As a friend, yes but as someone more than that, no and the thought alone don't occur to me."
" You liking this conversation?"
" No."
" Why are you still talking to me?"
" Why do keep questioning me?"
" You have a date for the Spring Festival?"
" Not planning to."
" Me either."
" I wonder why…" she said in a sarcastic tone.
" You want me to go out with you?" I said as I sat down in front of her.
" Hell no! I'd rather go with Neville or the Creevey brothers. Why did you wish to talk to me? That's a new headline:"Malfoy Opens Up to Weasley." That'll hit the racks."
" Let's just say that I'm testing the waters."
" You're just plain bored. That it?"
" Peasant," I told her.
I still sensed that she is finding it hard to talk to me as I am to her. Putting it mildly, it seems that we're forced.
" Why are you mean, Malfoy?"
" Me, mean? Perish the thought! I'm---" I halted not because I didn't know what to say but because she gave me a very unconvinced smile as if she already knew what I was about to say. Besides, I was denying.
She shook her head, " You're never going to change for the best, Malfoy, are you? People have probably tried to rear you just right. Not your father, of course but what about your mother? I know that she's okay for a mother because I've seen her around the Ministry thrice, delivering orders from your father whenever your house elves sneak a day off or two." She took a deep breath before continuing, "I even heard her say that she's been to loose with you, that you've been gaining independence in your own precarious way as you grow up. And that what's left for her to do is to guide you because she sensed that you don't love her anymore… that you're not the boy she once knew. Of course, I was probably ten going eleven that time she visited and I'm probably getting it all wrong."
Hold it! She went too far with that one. I looked at her as if she's some sort of certified lunatic but as I stared deep into her eyes, I knew that she isn't telling a lie. So it was too defensive of me to even almost shout at her that she lies.
" I lie? I'm not you, Malfoy. And nobody in his or her right mind would wish to be you. Even if you're rich."
" That's right, Weasley. I'm not you, either so just leave me to be."
" I was merely giving a suggestion."
" Well, it's non- therapeutic. It seems that you're implying something. Or perhaps holding on to an opinion that you've given a bet to with your nonsense friends."
" I don't gamble."
" Oh yeah, you don't commit any vice. You're so holy."
I stood up, whipped my wand out and said a spell that turned her book into ash.
I returned my wand in my pocket and brushed the dirt off my pants, " I brush myself clean of this mess." I expected her to jump at me and say some curses or act like a savage but she has proven me wrong. I knew I lost. I knew that by not sinking down to my level, she won. What aggravated me the most was that she just sat there, all the while winning.
" You had it coming, Weasley, and you knew it. Once thing: Get off my case, and you'd better do well to observe it." I gave her an almost angelic smile before I turned to go but what she said next stopped me.
" You may have chosen to ignore the issue, Malfoy, but I knew why you're here in Hogwarts. It's because someone believed that it wouldn't be too late to open your eyes truth's path. You may be in Slytherin now but that doesn't last forever, does it? You may encompass values that marks you as a Slytherin or may look like one but all in all, it's merely a group. You may have a characteristic that marks you a Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, for all you know."
" That's just it: you don't."
" I know I don't but there's only one person who does, and that's you."
" Weasley, don't preach. Believe me," I whispered, " Because it doesn't suit you."
" I'm only telling you. Besides, I don't think they placed you here because you have nowhere else to go."
" Here we go again. Just drop it."
She sighed, " You're right. I'm just going to drop it."
" And pretend that we never had this sick conversation."
" That one, too."
" Keep it that way."
" That I can do but I can't replace my aunt's book."
" Don't go begging, all right?" I gave a laugh and went my way.
Inasmuch as I knew that she's right, I also felt that she's right. I hated that. What she may have said may be vague but I knew it sank. Then, journ, I went back into the Slytherin Common Room and released my anger in many destructive ways. The house elves would have one helluva time cleaning after my mess. What really got me the most was that I somehow wanted to prove her wrong. Of all people, I have to prove her --- a Weasley--- wrong. Just how low can I sink? Vanish the thought! Why am I wasting pages on this issue? I should be writing about the many dastardly deeds I've done, right? Besides, I already solved my identity crisis ages ago. I don't want to brood on that matter right now. It'll only make me grow old quickly. Better go torment some poor demented soul. Not literally. I wish that she were wrong…I wish that she were wrong.
DRACO MALFOY
…
3 a.m.
Why does the conversation keep playing itself all over my head? At least it's not as bad as having to learn the Dark Arts during vacation time at my place. Or to a faraway place.
I just hope that I won't be distracted when the day comes.
…
It's only 3.30 a.m. and already, I want to splash my face with water. And I'm going to do just that.