(Fic) The Deconstruction of Draco Malfoy
Because I've finally decided to go through my old fics on fanfiction.net and correct the mistakes that I see.
Title: The Deconstruction of Draco Malfoy
Rating: PG
Warnings: Fluffiness
Genres: Romance, a bit of Hurt/Comfort (I suppose)
Length: 829 words
Summary: Draco reflects on how Harry changed his life. No dialogue, lyrics taken from Regina Spektor's Fidelity.
The Deconstruction of Draco Malfoy
I never loved nobody fully
Always one foot on the ground
And by protecting my heart truly
I got lost in the sounds
I hear in my mind
All these voices
I hear in my mind all these words
I hear in my mind all this music
Fidelity, by Regina Spektor
Sometimes Draco wondered how different his life would have been without Harry.
He only allowed himself to think about this on particularly dark and stormy days, when Harry was running late.
Draco was not one of those unfortunate people who are inclined to make poetry out of anything, but he saw definite similarities between his old life and the dark, cloudy sky.
He had been brought up to be the quintessential Slytherin. Ambitious, cold, and sly he had been brought up by introverted and often un-caring parents. His father’s idea of praise had been to set a harder task the next time, while his mother had been unable to break the walls that had formed around her emotions from childhood enough to show her love for her son. Draco had learnt to never question his family’s views and beliefs, to obey without question. He had been brought up to believe that his family was above nearly everyone else, and had learnt how to manipulate people by using his name.
When Draco looked at the cloudy sky it reminded him of his life back then, the calm before the destruction of the storm.
Draco liked to think of his young life as the calm before Potter, the orderly black and white contrasting vividly with the myriad of colors surrounding his life now.
By the age of sixteen Draco had begun to reconsider his life. Forced to try to kill the Headmaster of Hogwarts in return for his parent’s lives -parents that, once they found out he was gay, would surely hate him- he had begun to wonder if this was really what his life was supposed to be. His father had told him that gay men were unnatural, freaks. But Draco didn’t feel like a freak (and he was quite sure that-as a Malfoy-he was unable to be a freak.) If his father had been wrong to call gay men unnatural, what else could he have been wrong about?
Draco had begun to write-not prose, as that required ordered thoughts and sentences- but an odd sort of mismatched poetry. Usually it was full of one word sentences, but sometimes it became structured verse. It had begun as a way to clear his thoughts, to create an escape route for the words in his head, but soon turned into a way to understand the things he couldn’t say aloud.
Draco had begun to break down the barriers around his heart and mind, to notice the colors, words, and music he had never allowed himself to notice before.
Draco sometimes wondered whether he would have lost himself in the new senses if Harry hadn’t befriended him, kept him grounded. Though it hurt his pride to admit it, Draco knew he owed a lot to Harry.
Harry had been the one to break through the remaining walls on Draco’s heart, to show him what it meant to love and be loved.
Harry sometimes jokingly referred to that period of time as the “Great Deconstruction of Draco Malfoy”
Draco always thought of it as the coming of spring, the coming of warmth and new life. It was, he sometimes allowed himself to muse, like the rainbow that always appears after a storm, the first reminder of warmth and light after the harshness of the wind and rain.
Draco never told Harry what he was thinking of when Harry returned home to find Draco staring out the window at the storm, but Harry seemed to guess because whenever Harry returned home to find his husband once again staring out the window he didn’t say anything, but rested his head on Draco’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around the thin frame of his husband. They would watch the last of the storm fade until the rainbow appeared and then Harry would kiss Draco’s cheek and go and start dinner, leaving Draco to gather his thoughts.
The rest of those nights were always quiet, both men withdrawn into their own thoughts. Draco always spent the time basking in the sheer realness of Harry, colors, words, and sound.
There wasn’t really a need to wonder what would have happened had Harry not forced himself into Draco’s life, but sometimes, especially on rainy days, it was nice to fully appreciate what he had. His life was different then what he had expected, certainly, but a thousand times more real.
On those nights, after dinner was done and the dishes washed, Draco would tell Harry he loved him, and as Harry reciprocated the sentiment and pulled him into an embrace Draco would look at the darkening sky where the rainbow was still visible and he would smile.
Draco Malfoy had his own rainbow now.
And suppose I never ever met you
Suppose we never fell in love
Suppose I never ever let you
Kiss me so sweet and so soft
Suppose I never ever saw you
Suppose we never ever called
Suppose I kept on singing love songs
Just to break my own fall
Fidelity, by Regina Spektor
Title: The Deconstruction of Draco Malfoy
Rating: PG
Warnings: Fluffiness
Genres: Romance, a bit of Hurt/Comfort (I suppose)
Length: 829 words
Summary: Draco reflects on how Harry changed his life. No dialogue, lyrics taken from Regina Spektor's Fidelity.
The Deconstruction of Draco Malfoy
I never loved nobody fully
Always one foot on the ground
And by protecting my heart truly
I got lost in the sounds
I hear in my mind
All these voices
I hear in my mind all these words
I hear in my mind all this music
Fidelity, by Regina Spektor
Sometimes Draco wondered how different his life would have been without Harry.
He only allowed himself to think about this on particularly dark and stormy days, when Harry was running late.
Draco was not one of those unfortunate people who are inclined to make poetry out of anything, but he saw definite similarities between his old life and the dark, cloudy sky.
He had been brought up to be the quintessential Slytherin. Ambitious, cold, and sly he had been brought up by introverted and often un-caring parents. His father’s idea of praise had been to set a harder task the next time, while his mother had been unable to break the walls that had formed around her emotions from childhood enough to show her love for her son. Draco had learnt to never question his family’s views and beliefs, to obey without question. He had been brought up to believe that his family was above nearly everyone else, and had learnt how to manipulate people by using his name.
When Draco looked at the cloudy sky it reminded him of his life back then, the calm before the destruction of the storm.
Draco liked to think of his young life as the calm before Potter, the orderly black and white contrasting vividly with the myriad of colors surrounding his life now.
By the age of sixteen Draco had begun to reconsider his life. Forced to try to kill the Headmaster of Hogwarts in return for his parent’s lives -parents that, once they found out he was gay, would surely hate him- he had begun to wonder if this was really what his life was supposed to be. His father had told him that gay men were unnatural, freaks. But Draco didn’t feel like a freak (and he was quite sure that-as a Malfoy-he was unable to be a freak.) If his father had been wrong to call gay men unnatural, what else could he have been wrong about?
Draco had begun to write-not prose, as that required ordered thoughts and sentences- but an odd sort of mismatched poetry. Usually it was full of one word sentences, but sometimes it became structured verse. It had begun as a way to clear his thoughts, to create an escape route for the words in his head, but soon turned into a way to understand the things he couldn’t say aloud.
Draco had begun to break down the barriers around his heart and mind, to notice the colors, words, and music he had never allowed himself to notice before.
Draco sometimes wondered whether he would have lost himself in the new senses if Harry hadn’t befriended him, kept him grounded. Though it hurt his pride to admit it, Draco knew he owed a lot to Harry.
Harry had been the one to break through the remaining walls on Draco’s heart, to show him what it meant to love and be loved.
Harry sometimes jokingly referred to that period of time as the “Great Deconstruction of Draco Malfoy”
Draco always thought of it as the coming of spring, the coming of warmth and new life. It was, he sometimes allowed himself to muse, like the rainbow that always appears after a storm, the first reminder of warmth and light after the harshness of the wind and rain.
Draco never told Harry what he was thinking of when Harry returned home to find Draco staring out the window at the storm, but Harry seemed to guess because whenever Harry returned home to find his husband once again staring out the window he didn’t say anything, but rested his head on Draco’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around the thin frame of his husband. They would watch the last of the storm fade until the rainbow appeared and then Harry would kiss Draco’s cheek and go and start dinner, leaving Draco to gather his thoughts.
The rest of those nights were always quiet, both men withdrawn into their own thoughts. Draco always spent the time basking in the sheer realness of Harry, colors, words, and sound.
There wasn’t really a need to wonder what would have happened had Harry not forced himself into Draco’s life, but sometimes, especially on rainy days, it was nice to fully appreciate what he had. His life was different then what he had expected, certainly, but a thousand times more real.
On those nights, after dinner was done and the dishes washed, Draco would tell Harry he loved him, and as Harry reciprocated the sentiment and pulled him into an embrace Draco would look at the darkening sky where the rainbow was still visible and he would smile.
Draco Malfoy had his own rainbow now.
And suppose I never ever met you
Suppose we never fell in love
Suppose I never ever let you
Kiss me so sweet and so soft
Suppose I never ever saw you
Suppose we never ever called
Suppose I kept on singing love songs
Just to break my own fall
Fidelity, by Regina Spektor