Disclaimer: I own nothing, although I very much wish I did.
Warning: Will contain slash (boy/boy lovin')
A/N: Hello! Thanks for the single lovely review, I appreciated it. Reviews encourage me to write more. The last chapter was really short so I tried to make this one longer. I don't like this chapter much, but I hope you all do. Enjoy!
Though the sparkle is gone, your smile is in place,
so that everyone watching will see.
You've got them all convinced.
Dashboard Confessional - So Beautiful
A solitary Draco exited the Great Hall, having just finished his dinner. Oddly enough, he wasn't flanked by Grabbe and Goyle. He walked around the castle seeking refuge from his half-wit body guards. Do they not comprehend the word 'alone'? he thought to himself.
Bored of wandering mindlessly, he settled himself in a small niche below a horrendous dragon-shaped vase located on the seventh floor corridor. He was quite invisible to any passerby. Draco stared moodily at the wall across from him while fiddling with the strap of his designer bag. As he shifted positions he heard the sound of crumpling parchment beneath him. He pulled out the parchment and flattened it, expecting it to be someone's lost Potions assignment.
Draco reread the letter for probably the thousandth time that hour. He devoured the contents of the parchment, craving more, as if he were a starving dog who had found a few morsels. People expect me to be a hero... unbeatable and resilient, but they have failed to notice that I'm merely human and already broken, the last line read in barely legible script. As he read the letter, Draco felt not so isolated. There was another person, within these very walls, that was just like him... Someone that didn't wasn't to be what was expected of them... Someone who was sick of it all. He wished he could somehow reply to the person... He wanted to let them know that they weren't alone. But he couldn't, could he?
The blonde stood up awkwardly and headed down to the lake, somewhere where he was sure to get some privacy.
The moonlight bathed Hogwarts' ground in light. The illuminated snow glittered beautifully; the scene looked almost unreal as the lakes frozen surface reflected the moon's light. The trees' naked branches shook tumultuously as the violent winter winds blew.
Draco pulled his expensive, yet inefficient, cloak tighter as the harsh winds stung his exposed flesh. Most people would be seeking an escape from the cold weather, but this was his escape. He pulled a crushed pack of cigarettes out of the back pocket of his trousers, took one out, and lit it with the air of someone who knew what they were doing. This obviously wasn't the first time he came down to the lake for a smoke. He lifted the fag to his lips for the second time, inhaled deeply, and let the newfound serenity engulf him. After a few more long drags he flicked the cigarette, hearing an audible hiss as the snow put it out.
The usually aristocratic blonde searched for a spot at the foot of the tree that had a miniscule amount of snow. Finding a place, he slowly sat down, readying himself for the cold wetness. However, he still grimaced as the snow saturatedhis cloak.
What kind a person with any dignity what-so-everwould parade around telling his feelings to an unknown person, a person that could the bane of his existence for all he knew? Most definitely not a Malfoy thing to do. He could almost hear his father's voice echo is his mind. Feelings are for weak people. People who wear their hearts on their sleeve never get far. You'll learn soon enough, it is better not to feel. He winced as the remembered the malicious beatings he was forced to endure. Do not cry. Do not let any sounds escape your lips. Do notfeel. He shook his head trying to rid himself of thehorrid memories. I told you not to cry! You will receive another lash for that. You disgust me, you filthy, weak, piece of scum. You are no son of mine. But do I really care? he asked himself. Not anymore...
Draco replied to the letter, forgetting that it wasn't addressed to him the first place. To him, it was. It was meant for him. He needed it.
He was amazed at how good it felt and how east it was to write his emotions down... To reveal his secrets to a complete stranger. Knowing that he was defying his father, made him, in some twisted way, feel elated.
A frozen Draco stood up and quietly moaned at his aching muscles. He slowly made his way back up to the castle, hating making footprints is the freshly fallen snow. He quietly entered the school, not wanting to be caught out bed after curfew. The light was dim in the Entrance Hall; he looked up at the large clock and could barely make out the time. After a few moments up studying it, he came to the conclusion that it was just after midnight. He groaned. Classes start today.
He silently walked to the seventh floor corridor. He placed the parchment where he found it and placed a few charms on it, ensuring that it wouldn't be read by anyone he didn't want to. He had already made the decision not to get his hopes up at the thought of somebody replying. He knew it was likely that what he wrote would never be read. He almost secretly wished it. Although, he did figure that the writer would come back and search for it. If I wrote that, he thought, then I wouldn't want it lying around just anywhere.
As Draco was walking back to the dungeons a wave a regret rushed over him. What the hell was I thinking? he asked himself. I am an insensate coward, just as father always said. He repetitively scolded himself for making himself so vulnerable... so open for scrutiny.
"Damn it!" he cried in rage as he kicked the wall forcefully.
"Oh, that is very sophisticated," said a portrait of a middle-age man with a graying, black goatee, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he raised a single eye-brow.
"Shut up. Excelsior,"Drace replied with a sneer.
The portrait granted entrance to Draco. He walked into the familiar, elegant Common Room. The sofas were made of a deep green velvet, as were the structured arm-chairs.Long, silk curtains covered the majority of the entirely stone walls. The roomed lacked windows, as they were underground, which made it very dark in the day time. The furniture was made of a dark, unidentifiable wood. An array of candles lit the room making it look eery. The room was, in one word, Gothic. Draco gave a small smile at the familiar setting. As far as he could see the room was empty. "Thank Salazar," he muttered to himself. He walked to an armchair near the fire, hoping to warm his numb body.
As if the Gods were trying to punish him for being so moronic, he heard something that made him want to disappear then and there. Footsteps.
"Draco!" A pug-faced Pansy Parkinson screeched in her annoyingly high-pitch voice. He cursed his misfortune.
"Where have you been? I have been looking for you since dinner. I thought we were going to, ahem, go do something." She interrogated in a whiney voice, not forgettinga suggestive wink at the end.
"Although I'm flattered," hegrimaced, "Where I go and what I dodoesn't appertain to you. So get a clue, and fuck off."
She opened her mouth in shock and let out an offended gasp. Pansy then marched up to her dormitory letting out a string of colorful curse words. Draco stared at her retreating back before standing up and heading to his own dorm.
Draco slept uneasily that night. He tossed, turned, andhad anumber of strange dreams.He felt sick to his stomachas he thought of the things he wrote. He showedtoo much of his real self, which is adangerous thing to do.
A/N: You know you wand to review ;) Constructive criticism welcomed. Oh, and please tell me what you want to see happen. If I like your idea, maybe I'll incorporate it into the story.