Summary: HBP spoilers! The last year has approached, but with a shocking revelation during the summer when Draco appears in a field bloody and battered. What will happen when he appears in the field of the Burrow?
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or his friends.
Spoilers: Half Blood Prince, OoP, GoF, PoA, CoS, PS
Broken Window
The Anger at the Clashing Beds
The boy seemed to always be lying in the hot, twisted bed sheets of itchy orange wool and as he stared at the ceiling he couldn't help but think about all that had happened in the past and all that had occurred in just the past few days. That feeling kept on appearing when he looked at Harry and he couldn't stop thinking about him, right now he was contemplating the boy and the feeling that he had no idea what it was. Staring at the brown spot still above his bed his eyes narrowed as he heaved a heavy, sleep-ridden sigh, but despite his drooping eyes, and tired, sore body he couldn't get to sleep. After a few silent minuets the blond swung his legs over the side and walked to the broken window that creaked in the breeze emitting from those fields. Staring at his heavily scarred hands he ran them down the crack in the window – he couldn't help but remember that window he had jumped out of all those few days ago. It had been nearly a week since that fateful day, but he couldn't help but wonder what would've happened if he had never jumped out and ran. Shuddering as he turned away the boy rubbed his tired eyes hard making sparks of colors appear, although his eyes were tearing up. He damned puberty for the emotions he couldn't control, first he was crying then he had that feeling now he was crying again the blond couldn't help but ask the question of: "What's wrong with me?" once again, but this time out loud for the other teen to hear.
"Maybe it's the fact you won't lay down and sleep, Malfoy. For heavens sake boy sit down and stop wandering you're giving me a bloody head ache." Startled the blond turned around sharply that damnable feeling showing itself once more in the pit of the blonde's stomach. It was like a knife was stabbing at him.
Draco couldn't explain to Harry why he ran away, and the boy before him wouldn't stop asking him 'why'. Opening his mouth to say something, the boy sat at the edge of his bed and slowly stated "Don't you dare tell me what to do mister I'm-so-mighty."
Draco could practically hear the boy roll his eyes as he said "All I said was that you were giving me a head ache, stop dramatizing your situation. You know what Malfoy? It's your own damn fault that you have those scars all over your body and you need to stop moping about as if it's some tragedy."
That hurt the blonde far more then what he was willing to admit; he couldn't help but sit in silence, unable to grasp what the black-haired boy said to him. The blonde could feel Potter's gaze on his back, the back that he knew was scarred and still wounded. "How can you say that?" muttered the blonde as he turned his head to look over his shoulder at Potter's wide-eyed, childlike, naïve expression.
"How can I not?" Potter said as he narrowed his eyes, "How can I not say it when you are sitting there, pitying yourself, and crying." Malfoy's expression turned to ice and he spun his body around, "Sure, I haven't see this horrible tragedy that is your body, but I'm sure it can't be that bad. I mean you are here, you are alive."
Draco crawled to the other edge of the bed, closest to Potter and stood up, placing his warm, pale, scarred feet onto the cold floor. "You wanna see it? Do you really want to see what I've been as you say 'pitying' myself about." Closing his eyes the blond lifted his t-shirt off his body, while his mind screamed at him to stop, he couldn't help but think: 'You haven't shown anyone your scars voluntarily, don't start now!'
Daring not to open his eyes the blonde just stood there for what felt like ages, but he never expected hands to reach out and touch a deep scar only to recoil as if he had been burned as his eyes snapped open. Potter sat there his eyes wide and hand outstretched, then the boy closed his eyes tight as if trying to block the offending body out of his sight.
'My offending body.'
The blonde turned on his heel and pulled on his shirt as he ran out the room, he could hear foot steps behind him and words that were yelled, but he didn't comprehend them. 'He doesn't want to see my offending body… he thinks I'm hideous… I am hideous…' The blonde couldn't stop the images of that night from bursting into his vision, the night his body was ruined.
"Malfoy!" someone shouted as Draco's shoulders were grasped, "These don't mater! The scars aren't' what make you, despite what you think looks aren't everything." But this wasn't what Draco wanted to hear because this just proved that he was an ugly, foul, hideous creature. Draco couldn't help but flinch and spin around leaving Potter with his arms to drop, limply at his sides with an irate look etched into his face, "You know what Malfoy? Fuck you!"
'My offending body… I'm hideous.' The blonde's eyes closed tightly, 'Just like Father said.'
"Son… my son… what are you doing up? I told you I'd be late home and to go to bed, you ungrateful brat." The little boy barely reached his father's mid-thigh, he threw his hands up to be carried by his father. "Get out of here brat! Look at you! You're hideous! Your hair is matted with sweat and you smell like horses. Did you play with the horses again? Like I told you not to? Those are filthy beasts only to be there for your mother, they are for feminine men and you are not feminine, Malfoys aren't girlish!" The man picked his son up by his hands and threw him hard to the stone ground only for the little boy to fly back and hit his head against the grey, stone wall.
"You see where you are now? On the floor, that's where ugly filth deserves to be! Like the mudbloods and blood-traitors! If you dare to do something that is for women or servants again Draco… you will be among the filth!"
The boy had taken his father's words to heart, but yet he couldn't, in his later years, stop the images of him in a 'woman's' position, with his legs propped up on the shoulders of elder, stronger men. Draco knew he was not a masculine man despite what a 'Malfoy' was suppose to be, he couldn't get into the role, he couldn't play the part. If one was to simply look at the boy they would see how effeminate he was by his hair and facial features. Many state that he looks like a carbon copy of his father, but this is untrue. His flowing hair is similar, yet it is somehow more feminine then the cold-hearted man that is Draco's father. Piercing steel eyes describes Lucius Malfoy's eyes, but yet a storm, winter-rain grey is the color of his Son's eyes. Delicate, and smooth are words that their tailor used to describe Draco's face, yet the father was depicted as pinched, and jagged.
The two men are completely different, yet many call them one in the same… And the blonde couldn't help but think the same way as the media…
Soon the blonde was curled up, once again, but his place was different and he didn't even remember how he got on the filthy, orange roof. Opening blood-shot eyes to a blinding, fluorescent scene the blonde stared at the now rising sun, the bright oranges, yellows, and pinks seemed to mock him, the slivers of silver clouds that marred the beautiful scene reminded him of his own body, but instead of those lines of silver marring something gorgeous, it was marring his revolting body. Questions formed in his mind as he stared at the sun despite what his mother had warned him about all those years ago.
"Draco if you stare at the sun for too long your magic slowly depletes, that's what gives the sun it's glow." The little boy stared at his mother with wide, loving eyes as she continued with her tail. "All the wizards and witches that stare at the sun for too long soon have no magic left! And then guess what Draco… they turn into mere muggles! You don't want that to happen do you?" The elegant woman shifted the small boy on her lap and kissed his head after he shook it violently, "So whenever you look at the sun remember that it's all the magic of witches and wizards that were too captivated by the glowing magical ball to look away." She pulled him into an embrace, the smell of lavender overwhelmed his nose as his face pressed against the bosom of his mother. "Draco, I love you so much and never," she briefly paused to pull back and look into the eyes of her son, "never forget that because no mater what happens I'll love you. You'll never need a second chance with me, my love."
Holding onto his own quaking hands his eyes flew open, this was his second chance.
'I am not my father…'
