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Post by DRACO MALFOY on Mar 13, 2012 19:09:03 GMT -5
Had she really heard that? Spoken so quietly, in such an undertone he had almost complete faith in the fact he wouldn't be heard. Had the wind paused just to hear him admit it? Had the night silenced itself in awe at the fact Draco Malfoy had finally lost his mind and uttered something so important to someone who meant nothing to him. Had even their hearts paused for a beat to listen to the Deatheater admit to the fact that he was indeed one. He could brush it off like nothing, he could stand up and bolt, pretend she was the insane one. In fact, that's what all his instincts told him to do. Run and hide, lock himself away and let the terror of it all morph who he was even more until Draco was literally hollow, his heart scraped out and his lungs sunken down into the pit of his stomach, all of his muscles and skin painfully rotting until it fell away from the bone, leaving him to be no more then a skeleton. Yet Draco didn't move. Didn't let himself decay or fall apart or run. Ice spread through his veins at such a rapid pace not even the warming charm he had cast could fight it off, because this freezing feeling was not one that was physical. It was all in Draco's head. But that was the worst pain of all.
He felt his head turning slowly and agonizingly to watch her face as no doubt emotions surged across it, yet she had angled her head away from him. And Draco knew why; it was for the same reason he had turned away from her. So he couldn't see her face, couldn't see the thoughts running along in her eyes and projecting expressions into her features. Though he couldn't help but imagine was was there nonetheless: surprise, and probably overwhelming amounts of disgust. Plenty of disgust, yes, because even Draco was disgusted with himself, what he'd came to be. He didn't want to be a monster, a murderer. He didn't want to kill or maim or torture for pleasure. That wasn't who he was. Draco just wanted to be able to live, and was that so much to ask for? But with the way things were going, each day that passed seemed like he was ticking closer and closer to his death. And one day the thought had came to him he was dying. Everyone was, really. From the moment you were born, you began to die. Not a pleasant thought, to say the least.
The young Deatheater eventually focused his eyes on the navy black sky before him. Was it, too, dying? Or was it living despite everyone else's intentions? Why should day be classified as life and darkness as death, why wasn't it the other way around? Was it because nighttime and darkness brought the unknown, and the overwhelming fear for the unknown out did every other emotion that came with it? Because truthfully, darkness was beautiful. But even now Draco was afraid of it... not it, precisely, but the things that came with it, the nightmares and screams in his mind. Such thoughts brought his breath to a shuddering halt, as if they were trying to suffocate him. He slowly regained his breathing pattern, and only then did he look back to Verity, and was surprised to see he could meet her eyes. She was looking at him. For the first time in a long time, Draco felt like he was being seen, and by a girl he hardly knew at that.
Her words surprised the Slytherin; of everything he had been expecting, that hadn't been it. The amount of control in her tone was one she should be thanked for, and he was somewhat grateful for it, though the feeling wasn't one he welcomed normally. It took very little time before he felt a response spilling over his lips like blood searching for any way to get out of him, but his tone also held the careful control. Though he couldn't help the words from coming, Draco had managed to regain some of his shield back, "You'd choose death over life." His words were barely over that of a whisper, his murmur being blown through the air with the wind, "Even if it was the worst life in the world, the worst thing you could never even imagine, your worst nightmare times a thousand while knowing the fact you are wide awake... how could you choose death over life?" Draco's silver eyes searched hers for some answer. All he wanted was to live, and it was impossible to think someone would choose death over any sort of life. Even his, which was barely a life at all.
[[OOC: I thought it was pretty good. Mine is just ramble-y, so sorry about that]] |
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Post by Verity Valentine on Mar 15, 2012 15:11:15 GMT -5
 She barely heard the next words he spoke as he was so quiet and the wind so loud that for a moment she thought she had been hearing things but he was definitely talking to her and the words he spoke was like little daggers piercing her. His voice might not hold anything in it but she imagined him to be silently despising her for what she had said. She had meant it thought. She would choose Death over a life following the Dark Lord and although she had never wanted such a thought to ever pass her lips she had told this boy about it at the drop of a hat. What was she doing? She had said so much in so little time! The words had spilled from her lips before she had been able to stop them and somehow she had found a kindred spirit in the Slytherin Prince and she hated herself for it. They should not be here like this. They should be living their seperate lives...instead they had stumbled upon one another and had done and said all this. She knew it wasn't a good idea as things like this never ended well but she hadn't wanted to hurt any more and talking had been so stupidly easy. And suddenly she had ruined it with her confessions.
She frowned at herself, displeased she had done such a thing but even so, she was not sorry she had gotten it off her chest and although she felt better about herself just a little he was not the best person to confide in. It was a little late now of course. She sighed and immediately her legs were back up in front of her, heels on the bench and her arms wrapped about herself- her physical shield right back up to where it had been before. She needed to protect herself. Even he wasn't safe to talk to and if she had learnt anything in her short life it was that one simply didn't trust people through one conversation...no matter how much it helped ease the pain and fear she felt.
"I don't want to," She spoke softly, trying desperately not to allow any tears to form. Crying was not going to help matters and she had already done that tonight. There was no need for a repeat performance. "Life is so precious...so fragile..." She turned her head slightly so she was looking at him and suddenly found herself drowning in his own silver ones and with a slight gulp found herself speechless for just a second before she remembered how to talk again. "All I want is to be free and a life under Him I would never have that. I would be a slave to both him and whoever I am forced to marry. That is no life. Death would offer me that freedom." Her own eyes were pained as she admitted it before she turned her head away from him, not daring to see the disgust he might show now that she had confessed such a thing.
"Besides, to live you need something to fight for." And she was trying, really she was! She wanted to be free, to live and love like those she saw about the school who had barely a care in the world. She wanted that. So badly. It just all seemed so hard to achieve and she simply wasn't sure she had the willpower to go against anyone so powerful and she was so afraid of her mother that the thoughts she had entertained of refusing and trying to live her life were soon dashed against the rocks. She wasn't strong enough on her own and she was well aware that she sounded so weak and useless right now. She hated herself more for it.
Notes: Its so...whiny XD I really don't know what my muse is doing! |
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Post by DRACO MALFOY on Mar 19, 2012 18:27:26 GMT -5
Suddenly, Verity's eyes met his and he felt his heart surge up it his throat with the realization of what he was doing. The shock at it all flitted through his handsome face for a brief moment, displaying his emotions clearly. He had told her he was a Deatheater. He had told her he was a Deatheater. If anyone else was to find out... if his parent's. If the Dark Lord...
What had he done? Overwhelming fear pumped through his veins, and he felt a shudder raise up from the bottom of his spine, goosebumps assaulting the back of his neck with unnatural ferocity. This fear pained him in such a way he'd never imagined. Had he just ruined everything he'd worked so hard for all year?
But as quickly as the emotions morphed his expressions, ever quicker were they gone, leaving behind Draco's mask that finally seemed to have perfected itself- or at least for this moment. Because right now, with Draco's internal battles at an all time high, he would need much more then his normal self-control to be able get past all this. It'd taken only a late night, a Slytherin outsider, and an exhausted Draco in a weak spot for him to let his cracked mask slip just to far. Now he had to fix the mess he had made, and fix it quickly because the consequences for what he'd just done could be severe if he allowed them to be.
Draco rose to his feet, what she was saying coming to deaf ears until the last sentence processed, to which he responded in a newly sharpened tone, like the blade of a new knife just being tested out, "Life is worth fighting for." He'd realized then that she had looked away from him, so he took a side step to stand in front of her, looking straight down at her eyes, willing her to look up at him. The youngest Malfoy had a cold, icy clarity in his silver eyes that had been lost for a while now, and now it had came back full force. He intended to get his message across as strongly as possible, "You can't tell anyone," He murmured in something that could be mistaken with a growl, "Anyone, about this. About anything. Understand?"
It struck him that he wasn't in any position to be demanding things from her. Though she too had shared things with him she probably wouldn't have wanted to, he didn't have much on her. She could ruin his life- perhaps even end it- if she wanted. With this, he felt his breath leave him again and his glare softened with the pain and weakness that plagued him, and when he spoke, his tone came strangled despite himself, "Please, Verity?" Draco couldn't even believe he was being forced to ask this. He felt as if he was only digging his grave even deeper.
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Post by Verity Valentine on Mar 22, 2012 9:26:54 GMT -5
There was a part of Verity that now wished she had not come up here tonight, that Draco had not intruded on her solitude and that she had been so weak to have stayed sitting next to him even after everything that was being shared between them. They had both given confessions of such serious natures as to leave her nearly breathless. How could she have told him that she had no wish to be forced into any sort of slavery and how could he have told her -confessed!- that he was a Deatheater? Perhaps her own confession was not quite so serious as his own but it was enough to make her wish she had never opened her mouth as who knew what he would do with such information? If her mother ever found out...! She did not wish to think about it but it was an inevitable thing, for Morgain would know...She always knew and Verity would be punished quite severely for her actions. Verity could live with that for her mother needed her alive in order to make the marriage between families work but if the information about Draco was ever found out, well, that would make things very difficult.
Her heart heavy with this sudden burden she found herself staring into his face once again as he physically moved himself to stand in her line of sight and she blinked as he spoke. He was afraid. That much was obvious. Was he afraid that she would tell his secret? Maybe so. He didn't know her and really had no reason to trust anything she might say or do and frankly it was quite the same the other way around. She didn't trust him and was afraid of what he might say but that didn't matter now, her problems were so insignificant compared to his own that she would deal with her terror another time. Right now she had to stop this side of the boy she was seeing as she did not like watching the Prince of Slytherin house beg her to keep him safe. It wasn't right and made her uncomfortable. If anything it was meant to be the other way!
Even if she had briefly entertained the idea of giving him away (which she hadn't) any thoughts of it would have long gone at the use of her name. "Please, Verity?" How could she refuse him? He was her age! He had been made into this by force and she could not fault him for it despite her very being wanting to be disgusted with him. Verity was stuck between a rock and a hard place but she knew almost immediately what she was going to do with what she had learnt tonight. She only hoped he would appreciate it at the end of the day. She hoped so for she was taking as big a risk as he was right now and that put her in more danger that she had originally thought she was in. Her mother was bad enough she did not want or need his own family against her for she would never be free that way.
She slid off the bench and got to her feet, pulling the shawl that had gotten a little loose around her again. She lightly touched his arm with her fingers but they were only there for a moment or two before she had pulled away again. "I may not value my life very much...but I do value yours." She sighed and ran her hand through the mess that was her hair as she tried to get her words across to him. She was saving herself of course but at the same time she wanted to make him feel safe and that was more than a little weird...afterall, she had never spoken more than a few words to him before tonight and he wasn't anyone she had ever really wanted to know better but still, here she was promising silence for him. She was going mad.
Pulling back completely she stepped back, giving the pair of them some distance as she wasn't sure where to take this. Did she sit back down and continue with her night or did she return to bed? She would not sleep either way, the things floating about her head right now would see to that! Yet, she felt odd just leaving him here after such a thing. She had made her promise, there was nothing else she could do but it was still awkward. Eventually however she made her mind up and pulled completely away from him, putting up her 'Pandora' mask. There was nothing she could say that would make him feel better about all this and she wasn't sure if she was ready to be completely comfortable with him after such a bombshell. It was best to leave it as it was.
"Goodnight Draco," Her voice was kept level, if with a slight hint of icy coldness- back to the slytherin she pretended to be on a daily basis although Draco now knew she wasn't like that, not after what had been said- before she turned her back to him and made her way to the door, turning back to look at him just the once as she did so although it was only a brief glance before she slipped through and made her way down to the common rooms.
Sleep would evade her but it would give her time to process everything.
At least, she hoped it would. |
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Post by DRACO MALFOY on Mar 29, 2012 18:29:31 GMT -5
But if Verity told anyone about what he'd said, the youngest Malfoy had no doubt he would be killed for his words, and would be faced with the same death he was so afraid of. So he had to do what he had to do. That was what he did: survived. And even though he hated himself like this, hated how vulnerable and helpless he felt and surely looked, he had to do it. Draco was practically begging her to help him with her silence, and it sickened him. To be vulnerable was to be weak, and if you were weak you may as well be dead because that was the only path you were heading towards. And once again, everything came back around to one ending in his life. Death. It was no wonder he was little more then a shadow of who he used to be, faced with death at every corner. But he was trying so hard not to be weak. Even the strongest Deatheaters were killed, and weak simply was not tolerated. Cowards and those who were weak would get by for some time, but eventually they always met their end. In that kind of world, it appeared Draco wouldn't be able to last long. But he was a Malfoy, and he would do whatever he needed to do, if only to live.
So he felt himself go numb with painful relief when she responded. At this point, Draco wasn't thinking about how she said she didn't value her own life and how wrong that sounded. Right now, his thoughts were purely and truly selfish- relief that was all for himself. He would be okay, at least for the time being. She wasn't going to tell. The thought sent aching shivers through him, and no thankfulness entered his thoughts. Nothing else mattered then, and even if he was grateful for what she was sacrificing, when faced with a moment of doubt and then the fact he'd be okay, his thoughts automatically directed towards himself. Survival for himself, and for himself only. He was so lost in this sensation, Draco did not process that she had rested an almost... comforting? hand on his shoulder, until after the fact and she'd already pulled away. But that brought him back to the presence, and he watched her for a moment, confusion coloring his gaze in painfully bright tones. But before he could gather the sudden whir of thoughts and even contemplate some kind of response, she was gone, with a simple goodbye and one final fleeting glance. Draco stood in the wind for a long time, watching the doorway she had disappeared into. And he finally realized how thankful he was, and that was what was confusing him so. Why had she helped him, why was she bothering to keep his secret just that, a secret? That was when the thought came to him that perhaps she was just a better person then he was. But that was quickly followed with the fact that he hadn't even considered telling anyone about what she had said, either. But this just confused him more, and he let it all slip away as he stared at the doorway, steadying his breathing. Eventually, he found his feet moving forwards, and he began the descent down to the dungeons. Only once he was there, laying in the silent dorm, did he finally allow his eyes to flutter close with a murmured, "Thank you." Because late was better then never, right?
And then the Deatheater drifted off into a fitful sleep, exhaustion finally overpowering him.
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