For Regret

[lunesque]

Grrrrrr....you got the last word tonight, Regret, but I'll get you back....I swear I will.. :) Why is this for Regret, you ask? Because she's a FUCKING BITCH and I love her utterly. :)

And she wouldn't EVEN BE a FUCKING BITCH if she didn't ARGUE with me so damn much! You were saved by the market, Regret. I was wearing you down...I just know it... :)

Ah, enough of my bitchiness. Here's one of the presents that I promised Regret. I hope you like it, dear! :) I wrote this in, like, 15 minutes...I'm sorry in advance for it probably not being up to par. :)



I'm always so cold.

I remember when I was a child, standing outside my door as snow began to fall, staring up into the gray sky as the frost scattered across my nose and rested on my cheeks. My father came out and watched me, his coat wrapped around himself as he shivered oh so slightly.

He always hated the cold.

I would stand and watch the snowflakes melt in his hair and disappear against his cheeks, wondering why the snow never disappeared from my skin, covering me in a thin armor of ice. At moments such as these, he would place his hand on my shoulder.

“The ice is you, Draco,” he told me. “That’s why it doesn’t melt. You are the same as the ice.” Father turned and walked back into the mansion, letting me remain in the snow, one at home amongst my own.

I was content to be alone.

Until you came.

You were like the sun after a storm, fiery and passionate, blinding all who looked upon you.

I felt myself melting for you.

Even then, I wanted you to rip me apart and create me anew. If you melted me, I knew that you could make me something special, something worth your friendship. Something warm.

But you couldn’t understand the chill of my actions. No--you were of the stars.

You couldn’t understand what it meant to be the storm.

And so I have been reduced to this. Snarling and disdainful, begging for the smallest moment when your emerald eyes would be fully on me, when I would be the center of your focus, when your heat would burn through me and rip away the last vestiges of the rawness inside me.

But you always leave me behind.

And the ice always comes back to reclaim its own.

I lounge against a tree on the edge of the Quidditch field, watching the Gryffindors practice, watching you soar through the heavens as if you don’t have a care in the world. You are vibrant scarlet and gold against the ashy sky.

I think it’s going to snow.

You never understood me, Golden Boy. You think I envy you, that I want to be you. But you’re wrong.

I simply want to be inside you.

The Mudblood turns and sees me watching you…I look at her for an instant before tilting my head up against the frozen sky.

I want to cry.

I feel the first snowflake rest against my skin and remain, a cool stain against my wintry flesh.

I’m always so cold.