Emeralds and Roses
Disclaimer: I no own, you no sue.
This will probably remain a one-shot. No real pairing, except some Harry X Draco if you squint really hard.
Emerald light flashed, while I stared, keeping my eyes on the rose. The green glow made the dew glitter for a moment, tiny emeralds. I didn't dare look away. I knew what I would see. A pale form sprawled on the ground, skin a shocking white contrast to ebony black hair, with no color at all save the thin trickle of blood spilling from his half open mouth… I turn. It is just as I imagined. The only thing I didn't imagine was how wrong it would feel. He was my enemy. I hated him. He hated me. That was more than anyone else bothered to feel.
I woke in a cold sweat, shaking in my own bed in the Slytherine dungeon. The thick velvet of the drapes seems to trap and hold heat, and despite the undeniable chill in the dungeon, I feel like I'm burning up. I threw off the blanket and dressed quickly, and made my way down to the common room. That wasn't the first time I had dreamed that. What bothered me was not how real it was; it was my reaction. I had realized a long time ago that I didn't want to kill anyone. That night, on the tower, staring down my wand… I couldn't do it. I had been lowering my wand when Snape had burst through the door. Still, it was impossible to grow up a Malfoy and not have seen spilt blood, even your own. My father was not a kind man, nor a gentle one.
My thoughts returned to the dream. It was not that I liked Potter. We had nothing in common, from his almost impossible relaxation and his easy smile, to my cold arrogance and colder eyes. He hated me. But in doing so, he thought more of me than even my own blood. That was the root of the problem. I was used to being shunned and ignored, the useless child of people you wouldn't care to meet in a dark alley, the arrogant brat, the student who falls just short of being the 'best'. Even Crabbe and Goyle, for all that follow me around, wouldn't know me from Potter if he looked like me. But in hating me, Harry had looked harder at me than anyone else had ever tried. At first, I had hated that. I had brought out my coldest, cruelest side, and driven him away. After a time, though, I had wanted to stop. But I didn't. Stopping would be showing weakness, admitting I was wrong. Never let them see your fear. So things had escalated, grown out of my control.
Then, that night...I had stopped. Let my façade fall down like a card house in a hurricane. And no one noticed, not my so-called friends, my family, my teachers… not even my beloved enemy. And that had hurt the worst. I must have drifted off staring into the fire.
A pale form sprawled over dark, wet earth. Paper-white skin a shocking contrast to the dark earth and ebony hair. No color at all, save a fine trickle of blood. Before, I had feared this. Without him, it did not matter if I existed or not. No one would notice. Now, I reveled in my secrecy, the silence. I laughed at it. My mirth sounded hollow even to my ears. Secret. Protected. Hidden. And so very alone…
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I really don't know where this came from. Just reading so many Harry Potter fics where the main characters were so out of character… I can't see Malfoy as a total jerk. I can't see him as an angel, either. I shouldn't be writing this. I should be working on NaNoWriMo, or cynical world. Oh well….
Dyslexic Angel