Disclaimer; For all Harry Potter related subjects I have borrowed; I do not own them. The poem 'A simple distinction' is owned by me and only me. All rights to the plot and poem are mine and I don't want to be sued, so don't make me sue you.
Small things made him happy and I could only render myself stupid as I collapsed into helplessness at that smile. I remember his feeble attempts at spelling himself clean with a wand so obviously not his own, and how when I told him he could bathe in the bath I did too use his whole face lit up like the glint on a knife edge; what a fine, cautious balance we had become, he teetering around me like a timid kitten whilst I tried desperately not to think of forbidden things.
"Mr. Potter?" He asked me shyly one day and if it wasn't for the utter fear in his face I would have screamed at him to call me Harry. I had once and it took him days to spend longer than three minutes in the bath.
"Please Draco, call me Harry…" He looked surprised, like he always did and I wondered why on earth the personality inside of him had been replaced with that of a house elf.
"Is there anything I can do?" He squeaked as I silently grit my teeth. I took a few minutes to think because in actuality the house was shiny, the sheets all washed and my clothes organised in a way even the most anal-retentive person would be proud of. Instead of requesting yet another mind numbing job, I beckoned the clawless kitten to me.
"Sit here…" I took his hands in mine and lightly pushed him onto a soft sofa in my study, which is where the conversation took place. He sat like he didn't belong and it broke my heart deceivingly; I pushed away the feelings, my mantra of 'no love, no love' repeating itself in the mind I possess.
"When is the last time you read?" He looked puzzled, as if he didn't understand the word, so I persisted, "A novel. When is the last time you read a novel?" I peered over the top of my looking glasses, and he backed away shyly. Why suddenly did I feel like a professor?
Draco shook his head, backing away with tears in his eyes and oh my, did I want to reach out just then. "Its okay Draco," I pulled him a little closer, "I shall read to you, yes?" I didn't wait for him to answer, instead summoned a book I had been meaning to read for a very long time. "Chapter one." I began, and as I read on I felt a relaxation take over his body, eventually over the hours his body moulding into mine.
A simple distinction,
A farce of the mind,
I'll decompose,
And be the let down in your life.
There was something I had put off for weeks, and the longer I left it the more prominent it became in my life. I received letters, fire calls and even Hermione showing up on my doorstep, which is where I finally admitted to the little secret I had been hiding for the weeks gone by.
"You what?" She hissed on the other side of the door, her voice down with decency. I recoiled in disturbance at my own behaviour and there was never any time after that where I wanted Draco to be out of my life, well except for the incident but I will get to that later.
"I had to do something Hermione," I smiled softly, knowing she would understand and I was thankful for that, because I needed someone to be strong for me as my emotional balance was overloaded with looking after the Draco I was beginning to know all over again. "It was like looking into the deepest darkest prisoners Azkaban managed to break… hell he couldn't even do a jean button up!" I would have sighed, if there hadn't been that reoccurring mewl from somewhere deep in the house. Leaving Hermione at the door to her own devices I rushed towards the sound; the kitchen.
"Harrrry…" Whined Draco, standing by the kitchen isle holding a crisp looking piece of toast (immaculately made) and a knife in the other, the hands holding the items shaking with a mix of desperation, upset and annoyance. I looked between Draco and his hands, not knowing what was wrong and once again before I could utter anything, a string of apology and explanation fought its way to my ears, "You said – and I was- and I don't know how – you said if I was hungry I could eat so I tried to make this like you do every morning – I'm sorry, have I done wrong – I'm so sorry – I was just hungry…"
"Draco," I soothed, making my way to take the items from his hands, "Draco its okay I will help…" Before my hands, my fingertips, made contact with anything he dropped the pieces and gasped, a finger raised and pointed at a wide eyed Hermione.
"What can I do you for Miss?" He asked politely, voice high pitched and recoiling in fear once again.
What happened next would explain why Draco was in bars all over Europe, would make me realise now why Draco looked pointedly when I was half dressed and more to the point why he fought back, when ever that rare moment of life came about him.
So I'll smoke the last cigarette,
In an attempt to forget,
Your pretty face.
To forget the fear in your once so pretty
Face…