Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warning: Eventual slash - Beware homophobes.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews! You all have no idea how much I appreciate the comments. Please add constructive criticism; I want to improve so I can make reading it more enjoyable for you. I've been itching to write this chapter all week, but I don't think it came out too well... I'm also really sorry about the length of this chapter. I promise the next one will be longer.
And to answer themoviewitch'squestion -- Yes, I do have a loose plan for the story. I know the length, (10-15 chapters, for all of you who want to know) most of the main events, and the ending. But of course, if you want to see something happen then tell me. You never know, I may put it in the story.
I'm still in need of a beta, so email me if you are willing!
Sorry about the long author's note. On with the story...
"You going to eat that?" Goyle asked Draco over dinner, gesturing to his Shepard's pie, as he roughly shoved the remaining bit of his own in his mouth.
"No," Draco replied shortly, pushing his plate in Goyle's direction. He sat appalled at the way he gorged himself, finishing the second plate in less then two minutes.
"You're disgusting," the blonde stated with an intense look of distaste on his face.
Goyle obviously had to suppress the urge to growl at Draco. It was common knowledge that Grabbe and Goyle were like well-trained dogs.
Draco eyes were transfixed of the bare portion of table in front of him. His thoughts drifted to the letter... The stupid letter than never should've been written. Why did I do that? he asked himself a countless number of times. A momentary lapse in judgement, he dubbed it. He was just having a rough day. Yes, that's all. He was merely upset because his father wouldn't buy him those new dragon hide boots.
That was his excuse for now anyway.
"I fancy a broom ride." He stood up abruptly and left the Great Hall.
Broom rides are ideal for thinking. As the cool wind thrashes against your face and ruffles your hair, you are all alone with nothing but your thoughts. It is completely and utterly relaxing, unless of course you are in the middle of Quidditch match. There is no one there to kiss your ass, cower in your presence, or hex you on sight... No one to judge you, make preconceived notions about you, or hurt you.
Just you.
Draco, not paying attention, arrived at the Locker Room before he knew it. He changed into his thicker Quidditch robes to arm himself against the winter weather. He then got his broom out of his locker and headed out.
The ground made a crunching noise as he stepped onto the stale snow. He walked onto the field, not at all surprised to see that he was the only one there. Draco mounted his broom and took off.
He flew at the slow pace around the Quidditch Pitch, observing his surroundings. When sunset came, Draco halted. He stayed perfectly still as he sat suspended in mid-air. Words could not do the painfully beautifully sunset justice. The sun crept behind the clouds, lighting them up as if touched by fire. The rays of sunlight reached into the sky, as if trying to hang on to prevent the sun from being dragged behind the earth. The sky was a mixture of the most amazing colors: reds, golds, pinks, purples, and blues. Draco wondered how something so perfect could be untouched by magic. He could only sit in awe, begging the sublime moment to never end. Inevitably, it did. After spending a few precious moments in heaven, he abruptly came back down to earth.
He looked around, making sure the nobody saw him, theDraco Malfoy, admiring the sunset. He was thankfully, still alone. Draco slowly descended back down onto the snow-coveredground. He walked over to the stands and sat down on a cold bench. For the second time in the past two hours, he began to question himself endlessly.
Since when do I enjoy sunsets? he wandered. He feared he was becoming weak. Draco Malfoy, the heir of the Malfoy fortune, did not talk about feelings and watch sunsets. He enjoyed money and power. Those were the only things that mattered in the real world, weren't they?
Damn that stranger for bringing out a different side to him. Damn him for making him vulnerable. This wasn't him. What was it about this mysterious man that knocked down the facade he had so expertly built up around himself, keeping all others out? With a single letter it was all destroyed. Every thing he worked so hard against was undone with a piece of parchment.
Maybe it was so easy becauseI always wanted it so badly to happen...
Feeling considerably lighter because of what he finally admitted to himself, Draco walked back to the Locker Room to change and get his things. The sky was devoid of all clouds as the stars sparked. The night was crisp and clear. The wind nipped at his sensitive skin, making him hasten his steps.
He hurried into the room, taking his shirt of as he went.
Draco plunged his face into the tepid water; the running tap blocked out the sounds of the door opening and closing.
He looked up into the mirror. His usually gelled back hair was unusually disheveled and the veins in his eyes were red and very visible. He did not look too great. Then he saw a reflection in the mirror that was most definitely not his own. It was none other than Harry bloody Potter. He whipped around quickly.
Draco suddenly felt very exposed without his shirt nor wand.
His naked torso was littered with new and old scars: remnants of his beatings that he was told not to heal by magic. The reminders of the lessons he had to learn was not something that he wanted Potter to gawk at.
Draco looked at Potter's large, emerald eyes; they were eyeing a particularly large and nasty burn that was located on his lower abdomen, descending under the top of his trousers. Upon seeing where his eyes were looking, his hands instantly flung the fresh lesion.
"What the hell are you looking at, Potter?" he sneered, giving him a look a utmost loathing.
"Nothing, Malfoy," he replied, not so venomously. He turned and walked to his locker, pulling out a large bag. He left wordlessly.
Who does he think he is looking at me like that. It's none of his business... The stupid mud-blood lover.
A very exhausted Draco walked back up to the castle. He intended on heading in early that night. He got far to little sleep the night before and had fallen asleep in three classes.
Before going to the dungeons, he made a pit-stop at the seventh-floor corridor. He found that the person did reply. With a rare grin on his face he made his way to his dormitory, excited at the thought of reading and replying once again.
A/N: Once again, I am so sorry about the length.I hope you all liked the chapter. Please review!