Hah! This is
a record for me! I wrote this in about an hour and a half... probably less.
This was just something that
popped into
my head.
It's The Way It Should Be
by
Quaxo
Roll over
Monotone,
I've got
somethin to say to you
I can't
speak in stereo,
And I don't
want you to be confused...
Hermoine sighed
as she saw Draco pass the Library window, alone this time, without his
goons, Goyle and Crabbe. She'd
sat her about
a week, after classes, and she'd seen him pass several times without his
'friends', so to speak. Sometimes
he would just
sit on the bench outside the window, reading a textbook or scribbling notes
on paper, othertimes he'd just
pass the window,
which was in the main hall leading down to Slytherin's tower enterance.
She didn't
know what had happened to her that drove her suddenly to be posessed by
the urge to find out what exactly
was his problem.
Despite Ron and Harry's thoughts that, 'He's just a git, plain and simple.
His father's a git, he's a git,
that's all.'
she didn't think she could believe that.
He struck her
as sort of a 'tragic' person. She shuddered as she thought of his father
and his mother. They didn't look
like the loving
OR the approving types, not to mention the fact that they were two racist
dogs. She held back slightly, she
didn't KNOW
Narcissa was anti-Muggle... but if she'd married Lucius Malfoy, she undoubtably
was.
Draco always
acted so proud of them... but even that seemed a little phony... a little
TOO enthusiastic. Anyway, weren't
most teens,
especially boys, be starting to rebel against their parents about now?
She remembered she'd had a doozy
or two of
an arguement with her parents over the summer.
She shook her
head and pulled out her journal (She despised the word 'diary'), and opened
it to the page after the
latest entry,
dipped her quill in it's ink, and began to write.
Dear Journal,
I saw Draco
pass in the halls today, again he was without his thugs. The more and more
I look at him, the more and
more I think
how horrible his life at home must be, and how much of his hatred for me,
Harry, Ron, muggles and
muggle-borns
must be from the years he's been taught it at home. How can you ignore
something your parents have
taught you
since you were in your mother's uterus practically?
As I've said
before, I think Lucius and Narissa Malfoy are horrible people. It doesn't
surprise me that Draco has turned
out the way
he has. I think he could be a lot worse, considering. I pity him greatly,
I mean, his father's an ass (pardon
my French),
his mother doesn't look like she wants to touch, let alone look at him.
I just feel so sorry for him, he's been
set on the
wrong path since birth.
He's like a
trainwreck, you can see it happening, and you can't pull your eyes away
from it.
Hermoine sighed,
and closed her journal. She began to pack up her books, since it was almost
dinner, and she would
prefer to
drop these off in her dorm, than haul them to dinner.
On her way
through the hall, she slammed directly into the two goons who didn't share
a brain between them. Crabbe
and Goyle.
She gave a loud 'umph' of air as she tumbled backwards, head over heels
her bag dumping her books as she
went.
She scowled
mightily at their stupid faces as she began to collect her books as they
guffawed loudly. With a strangled
scream of
frustration, she stormed off.
"Hey..." Goyle
snorted, still laughing at Hermoine's fall, as he picked up a book with
his big sweaty hands. He flipped it
open and saw
the heading. "It's her diary!"
"Let's show it to Draco, he should get some kicks out of it."
There's
no need to analyze,
No need
to form an affliction.
You're
so bored and paralyzed,
As you're
making another excuse.
Draco frowned
slightly as he slowly read each page of that, he shivered, mudblood's diary.
He reminded himself to scrub
his hands
furiously after reading this.
He thought
that these entries would be about petty personal things. Like embarrassing
things that had happened, that
he hadn't
had the glory of seeing, or if she'd secretly failed a class, or who she
had a crush on, but couldn't tell. But it
was about
none of these.
It was about him. Almost all about him.
Right now he
was glad he'd dismissed Crabbe and Goyle, his faithful stupid lackeys,
from his prescence. They'd be
begging like
hounds for anything interesting right now if he hadn't.
Many emotions
exploded through his mind all at once as he finished the last entry. Hate,
anger, and... in the bottom of
his gut, the
smallest inkling of admiration. Some who'd 'cracked' his code, it filled
him with fury also. He shook his head.
This couldn't
be allowed for chrissake! He'd be dead! He hated her! With his heart and
soul!
Or did he?, a niggling voice added into his mind.
He gave a sharp
yank to his hair to clear his treacherous thoughts. He needed to focus
on what he was going to do in
this situation.
I can't
handle it, I'm intolerant. I rip off my shirt and I deal with it. I won't
throw a fit, I don't give a shit. I fall flat on
my face
in the back of this one. Draco
repeated steadily in his mind, as he stared at the next page, completely
blank.
He reached
into his chest of drawers and pulled out his quill and ink absently. Biting
his lip, he dipped the tip into the ink.
Listen Beaver
Wench, you're wrong about me. My heart is pure and clear, pure evil that
is. So stay the hell away
from me bitch,
quit writing about me. I hate you. You don't know me, and I DON'T want
you to. If you ever to give your
sympathy to
me in public, you won't live long enough to regret it.
If this is
some sick way of you trying to get me to start LIKING you, forget it. You're
ugly, you're too smart for your own
damn good,
and you conjure up images of slashed wrists at the mere mention of a relationship
with you. They're MY slit
wrists, lengthwise,
to the elbow, if you didn't know.
I don't see
how stupid you could be, to even THINK I was good. You're nuts, Beaver
Wench (And unlike your idiotic
friends, I
noticed immediately that you changed your teeth were changed. I guess my
opinion really DOES matter to
you.), plain
nuts.
I won't talk
about this little farce of yours to anyone, as long as you oblige to do
the same.
Draco signed
it, his face red with fury as he finished. He dusted it quickly, so it
wouldn't smudge, then snapped it shut.
He looked
to the clock, which told him it was time for dinner. He marched down the
hall, and into the dining hall, he'd give
this to her
there, instead of risking giving to her via messenger, and having the find
out.
Collect
me Monotone,
'Cuz I
think I'm fallen to pieces.
I'm so
strange you should have known.
While I
lick all the salt off of these wounds.
Harry blinked
as he saw something he swore he'd never see standing infront of him at
Gryffindor table. Draco Malfoy. A
very peeved
Draco Malfoy at that.
Ron was immediately snarling, but his mouth was full of steak, so it prevented him from saying anything.
"What do you want Malfoy." Harry said flatly.
"Nothing with
you." Draco sneered. His eyes fixed on Hermoine, who'd frozen in mid-bite
of a chunk of potato. "This is
yours." He
spat, before throwing a book down at her plate.
Hermoine's face instantly paled, and a sick look came across her face. She grabbed the diary.
"Did you read it?" She asked in a strangled voice.
"Of course,
you stupid mudblood. Now I want you to read my response." He hissed, his
arms crossing over his chest, and
legs spreading
apart, taking a defiant posture.
Hermoine desperately
flipped through to the latest entry, and read it, her face becoming even
whiter, and tears glittering
in her cinnoman
eyes. She looked up at Draco pitifully. Draco's eyes merely flashed menacingly.
Hermoine sniffed,
before tearing away, clutching the journal desperately to her chest, tears
slipping down her cheeks.
Draco snorted,
before heading over to Slytherin table.
Hermoine tried to prevent the sobs that were beginning to rip themselves from her throat.
How could he?
How could he just look at her so coldly, and say such things about her,
when he read how she felt about
him? Didn't
he have the least amount of pity or mercy?
She threw herself into a dark corner, huddling within it's sheltering depths. Taking a shallow breath, she closed her eyes.
"It's alright,
I'm okay. I think God can explain. I believe I'm the same, I get carried
away. It's alright, I'm okay. I think God
can explain.
I'm relieved, I'm relaxed, I'll get over it yet. I'm so much better than
you guessed. I'm so much bigger than
you guessed.
I'm so much brighter than you guessed..." she muttered to herself, the
words spilling out of her mouth with
no control.
Bitterness bit into her heart, sucking any sympathy for that *bastard*
out of her heart, as a jilted lover.
She sucked
in a deep calming breath, her tears drying on their own. She stood, and
returned to Dining hall, as if nothing
had happened.
I'm can't
handle it, I'm intolerant.
I rip off
my shirt and I deal with it.
I won't
throw a fit, I don't give a shit.
I fall
flat on my flace in the back for this one.
I'm hating
myself for I want nothing more.
We have
such a strange design.
Draco sat in
the common room, staring at the fire burning brightly before him in the
saftey of his common room. He hadn't
had any stomach
to eat tonight, so instead retired to Slytherin, alone with his thoughts.
He'd made a
mistake... and then he didn't. He shook his head. As soon as Hermoine (Oh
god, he was referring to her by
her FIRST
name...) had run out of the room, in tears, a sinking feeling over took
him... like he was drowning.
But it hadn't
been a mistake. She'd be much happier with some idiot like Weasley or Potter.
Some dope, who could
handle her.
Still, the guilt was curdling his guts at the fact he'd made her cry. He'd never made her cry. Never. That was a surprise.
But it was past, and it was going to stay in the past. It was the way it should be.
"For rain that's
fallen halfway down the sky, I appologize. For sunlight burning holes into
your eyes, I appologize. You
float like
an angel, but then I wipe your cloud, and I throw you out." He sighed drearily,
before opening his Charms
textbook,
he had a test to study for.
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