Draco Malfoy shifted his weight quietly along the branch that he was sliding down. He rested his back against the thick trunk of the tree, watched, and waited for something to happen. He heard Ron Weasley heave a sigh over by the lake. He had been watching him for the past half hour, by his wrist watch. Draco had a kind of obsession with watching people. He watched their lives pass by and wondered if they knew how amazing it was to be them. Even to watch them. Not to have to deal with parents who didn't care, or trying to be a different person in order to please them, or not having any real friends, or just wanting to bleed. To be anyone but Draco Malfoy. He had already analyzed Ron carefully before, by every aspect, and the only way that Draco could think of to truly describe Ron was that he seemed to be the still point in the midst of so much motion. He could tell that Ron saw things. Really saw them for what they were; Draco had seen him once stand for ten minutes admiring the way the leaves fell off off of one of the trees on the grounds.

Draco sensed rather than saw Ron shiver. Ron rubbed at his prickling neck, but didn't move. 'He must be freezing,' Draco thought, still trying to get comfortable in his tree. Draco, at least, had his thick black scarf wrapped around his neck. He checked his watch again out of curiosity. Realizing just how analytical he was being, he took his watch off and shoved it in his shirt pocket. His problem was that he thought about things too much. His watch could become just a blob of digital plastic, counting down something called time, and for some reason, it's passage had previously been important to him. But now, sitting on a rather uncomfortable branch in a tree and watching emotion, he realized that he could make his own time.

Lost in these thoughts, his body had untensed and become languid. The hand holding onto the branch he was sitting on slipped slightly and a twig snapped beneath his crushing fingers. In the unnatural silence it seemed like a firecracker. Draco grimaced and watched the eternity that was Ron's movement turning to face him. Upon seeing Draco clutching the tree, Ron's face contorted from peaceful to rageful. Ron's eyes connected to Draco and burned into his flesh vengefully. Ron watched Draco's every cat-like movement as he jumped from the tree and rustled the leaves below. "What," Ron said quietly, "were you doing up there"
"Wishing I wasn't here," Draco said indifferently, in a monotonous voice that wasn't his own.
"Well, that makes two of us," Ron snarled, turning away.
"What reason could you possibly have to be unhappy with being here?" Draco asked sardonically.
"That's none of your business, you fucking prick."

Draco said nothing, but sat on the shore and let the waves lap over the tips of his shoes. He sat there feeling his toes go numb, yet doing nothing. He looked up at the moon, then looked back down at his lap, returning to his feelings of rage and depression. Accepting for the hundredth time that he wasn't good enough for anyone, he bit his lip hard and dug his nails into his palms. He could feel none of this. The only thing he could feel was that his scarred heart was ripping open all over again by just the slightest cruelty. His natural impulse to fight back kicked in. Then the invection not only of Ron's words, but also simply of his life caused a change in him that made him want to let go. Releasing his voice, his pain, he screamed. He screamed a peircing scream that made the forest come alive: birds twittered and flew, leaves rustled. Then, just as abruptly, Draco's scream echoed and died. After Draco had quieted, Ron could still hear a ghost of Draco's scream ringing in his ears.

Draco gritted his teeth and covered his face with his hands. Everything went silent again, stayed silent for a seeming eternity, until Ron whispered,
"Why did you do that"
Draco looked up slowly. His eyes were red and swollen, injected with tears. He brushed at them angrily. Then he said,
"Because I'm sick. Sick of people in my House thinking I'm some kind of God, when they don't even know me or appriciate me for myself. Sick of people in your house hating me for doing things I don't want to do. Sick of my parents hating me and making me the way I am, forcing me to live up to their immaculate reputations. Sick of not being good enough. I'm sick of life"
Ron stared. Was this truly the Draco Malfoy he had known for four years? The Draco Malfoy that was so sure of himself, so cruel, seeming to revel in the attention he got? This new Draco that sat before him, this mystery, was screaming and crying as if none of his former personality was relevant or true. This Draco could be human, could be more than the propoganda that Ron had created in his mind. This Draco could feel. "I...didn't know," Ron conveyed weakly.
They both knew that Ron meant to appoligize, but years of hatred had kept him from doing so properly. Draco looked away, still wiping at his tear stricken face.
"I know it's hard to forgive some of the things I've said or done to you...but I want you to know that it wasn't truly me. It was my parents, my friends. I was too weak and scared to stand up to them and tell them that I didn't want to be that way, that I wouldn't. Just because you're different, they see that and they're scared...I've never seen the point in it," Draco said quietly.

Ron became aware that his mouth was hanging open and he shut it quickly. Was this a joke? Were these words truly coming out of Draco's mouth? Those tears running down his face? That pain delicately etched into his features? Ron didn't know how lost Draco had been until he went looking. Draco broke the silence again, asking himself,
"Am I mad"
Draco's personality had begun to transform his face and reroute his expression. Thinking this, Ron replied, "The only proof that you're actually mad is the inability to ask yourself that question"
A moment passed, and then they looked at each other. They laughed. For the first time in a long time and for no reason in particular, they both laughed.