Alaotsikko: H/D, angst, misery, bitterness, K13, ensimmäinen englanninkielinen ficcini.
Title: Despair-ridden
Author: Draconette
Beta: None
Rating: S
Pairing: H/D
Genre: Angst, misery, bitterness = black and sad.
Disclaimer: !Rowling omistaa hahmot ja tapahtumapaikat. Minä vain vähän lainailen näitä vailla rahallista korvausta. (:!
Summary: Everything's black and there's no way out for Draco.
A/N: This is my first fic ever in English, so please be gentle. And, well.. I just wanted to create something about grieving and sadness; I'm to say about some of my feelings, but I don't think I succeeded.. : D
And, err.. I also tried to make this to be a moment of ambiance; I didn't mean this to have, well, any plot really, just some thinking.. (:
Juu, eli på finska: tämä on ensimmäinen englanninkielinen ficcini, joten älkää tuomitko minua: en ole hyvä prepositioissa, ja varmasti löytyy kohtia, jotka tökkivät enemmän tai vähemmän, mutta tämän oli tarkoitus vain olla pieni tunnelmapala, joskin surullinen ja angstinen sellainen. Halusin vain kirjoittaa joitakin tuntemuksiani, purkaa pahaa mieltä ilman juonta tai tarkoitusta: vain pohdintaa ja sellaista. En ole kylläkään varma, että onnistuin siinä. : D Mutta joka tapauksessa, tässä tämä nyt on (pikkasen hirvittää laittaa tämä tänne, kun en tosiaankaan ole varma kielitaitoni virheettömyydestä). Ainiin, tämä on myös FF10-ficci sanalla
03. Kyynel ja osallistuu
Synkät vuodenajat-haasteeseen:
Despair-riddenWhy I'm the one who makes him feel miserable, the one who is a little bastard without feelings, sympathy? Draco Malfoy walked, walked without any idea where he was, what time it was, and most importantly, what he felt. He had just left his house full of rage and hatred, bitterness. He and his boyfriend Harry had had a huge fight that had been ended by Harry. Harry had thrown a plate towards Draco's face, Draco had sidestepped and given a really nasty glower.
How come I succes every time to ruin my chances, drown them for good? "Jagoff!" Draco had screamed angrily, "Do you have any idea what might have happened, if it'd have scratched my face?" Potter had just watched the other man with stony expression on his own face and hadn't said a thing.
"You would've ruined my looks! My
perfect looks!" Draco had tried again, he had wanted to provoke Potter so that he'd have said something, anything.
Why it is me, the cruel, the Evil. But it didn't seem that Harry would say anything at all so Draco had dashed out of the front door into the dark suburb of London. It was particularly cold December, almost the Christmas Eve, in every window there were candles glowing jeering flames, they were mocking his pathetic demeanour, and he deserved it.
Though I've tried not to be mean, cold, still, every passing moment I've succeeded to spoil my happiness. It was freezing, too, and Draco swore with low voice he hadn't taken a jacket, or even a scarf. But then again when he thought for a longer while he remembered that the scarf was an early Christmas present from Harry: it was startlingly adapted for Draco with green eyed shining silvery dragons and black background, Harry had also given a matching bobble hat.
And it hurts to admit, but I don't even deserve happiness. At that time Draco couldn't have been happier, now he just spat bitterly on the frozen ground, but only managed to add insult to injury by hitting his high-classed shoes with spit. He tried to wipe them clean, still swearing.
"For Merlin's beard I hate Potter!" Draco cursed and felt so misunderstood that he wanted to kill some Muggles even though he had promised Harry not to do any dark magic or even think about dark thoughts.
Because I've hurt you, offended you: simply been a real shit towards you, I'm sure you agree. But now,
now Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, the Cute And Sexy And Oh So Handsome And Brilliant Potter was at home, possibly in front of the fireplace and warming up, roasting marshmallows, while Draco was in the middle of nowhere, he had the chills, his breath kept rising up as vapor spirals.
I know you do.So why wouldn't Draco indeed go and kill some of those useless, worthless Muggles who didn't deserve to live nor be happy if Draco wasn't?
Now I've nothing more to say than I hate me, what I've become and what I've decided. And Draco wasn't content at the moment, not at all. And the dissatisfaction increased even more when he finally chose to stop for a while and noticed he had gone lost. He tried to check where the hell he was, but he couldn't regocnise any familiar houses or landmarks. He got upset, he wanted to go back and fight, solve out the stupid problem with Harry. He wanted, but couldn't. And there was no other to blame but himself.
I made the wrong decision, or, at least, that's how I feel. Why was he so, well, if not cowardly, but stubborn? Why wasn't he able to admit it was Draco who had messed things up? Why didn't he accept the fact that he was an asshole, now and forever? He wasn't meant to be with a good and noble Gryffindor like Harry was, he deserved the leftovers like Pansy.
I don't know about you. Was it just a stupid act? He thought maybe Harry had just been on loan for Draco. Maybe Draco's time to have a happy life had run out and there was nothing more to expect but whoring and loneliness. Draco didn't want to know the answer. It might always have been affirmative.
We might never get the chance to be sure of it.