hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2004-03-18 03:34 pm
hackthis_archive) wrote2004-03-18 03:34 pm
Damn and blast.
That last time I wrote Draco, was, well, quite some time ago, but I was randomly trawling through other people’s LJ’s when I stumbled upon ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
faith_girl222’s idea that Sark would make an absolutely wicked Draco. I had to keep my eyes from falling out my head at the brilliance. That, ladies, gents and others, is what we call sublime casting. So, who was I to fight it?
Chicken scratch forserialkarma and ethrosdemon
Harry Potter
I Shot Down the Moon For You
The problem with being dead is that it tends to confuse Draco’s circadian rhythms horribly. Not that ghosts need to sleep or eat or have a bath, but that doesn’t mean that Draco doesn’t want to do all these things with a passion bordering on fanaticism. He wants his lavender soap and his cotton pyjamas with the green stripes on them. He wants to fall asleep under feather duvets and wake up long after the sun’s come up. Except he can’t actually feel the mattress when he stretches out, and when he closes his eyes, nothing happens.
He just pretends.
Most days Draco’s full of nothing but urges and cravings and tetchiness over his intangible existence. He contends with phantom hunger for Chocolate Frogs and pumpkin juice, and invisible tics for just one more contraband Muggle fag that he can swap into his Toxixless Ciggies hardcase.
Draco wants to sit in the Leaky Cauldron, hidden in a cloud of blue smoke, and take the piss out of the Chudley Cannons while his lover shakes his head and calls him ‘bloody-minded’.
All Draco wants is to exist for one more day so he can do all the things that he took for granted before he died.
Of course, that’s the thing about being dead -- it leaves nothing but time for appreciation and regret for all those chances that were squandered in life.
*
Draco doesn’t haunt -- he lurks. A Malfoy would never stoop to something so common and vulgar as haunting, and it’s not as though this isn’t his flat, too. He has every right to linger in doorways and stare at the plants that are slowly dying on the windowsill. He’s entitled to muck about and keep his eyes on the remaining occupant -- it’s not as though he’s got something better to do with his undead time. Naturally, he’s free to go anywhere; he just prefers to stay here. This is his home. It’s where he should be regardless of a beating heart or not.
*
There’s an appallingly gilt-framed painting on the far wall of the sitting room that Draco has never liked, and he wonders why he never got rid of it when he had the chance. He vaguely recalls that it was a house-warming present, and he knows he’s tried to set it on fire in the spirit of ‘warming’ the house several times. Clearly the sodding painting is cursed, and Draco’s been having pyromanical thoughts about this painting for the last sixty-eight days -- ever since he woke up in a field in Kent and realised he didn’t actually have to move his feet to go anywhere anymore.
The surrealness of being dead is something that Draco can’t stop dwelling on. The whole disembodied, wandlessness, never-ride-a-broom-again thing is highly taxing on his brain. The floating is flat out odd, and sometimes he attempts to walk even though it’s all pointless exertion of energy he really doesn’t have to start with.
The only non-pointless thing was coming home to his flat, because if he wasn’t going off to the Eternal Garden of Quidditch and Other Happy Thoughts then he was going to go someplace that was close enough.
Except for the blasted painting. He really hates that painting.
*
Draco has memories of what it was like to do be human and wisps of recollection that taunt him nonstop through his endless days. If he closes his eyes and focuses, he can still feel short stubbly hair underneath the flat of his hand, and if he rails hard enough he can taste the damp, earthy warmness of his partner’s skin.
Every time Draco looks at the dark circles under Neville’s eyes he wants to break something.
This was not what Draco signed on for when he agreed to lie for Dumbledore and his ilk, and he’s cursed Snape a thousand times for insisting that he could turn his life around. Draco never wanted to be anybody’s favoured child. He was just a stupid young man who fell in love and made a bad decision.
He should’ve worked harder to convert Neville to his side.
Then they could be living in a lovely chateau in Marseilles right now, drinking merlot for breakfast and shagging in fields of hay, instead of Draco watching helplessly while Neville fades away.
*
Draco Malfoy never intended to be anyone’s hero. He had no intention of saving Harry Potter’s pitiful existence. All he wanted to do was protect Neville from the Dark Lord and a life of looking over his right shoulder. It drives Draco mental that someone else’s blasted hero complex took his life.
*
Draco keeps the most hideous hours ever what with watching Neville prepare for work and watching him sleep and floating about in a general state of ennui. Draco doesn’t regret the dying thing, he regrets the leaving Neville thing. It’s hard for him to watch Neville be unhappy. It was harder than anything else to leave him behind. This is not to say that Draco regrets his decision, he’d do it again in a heartbeat. He just wishes that Neville realised that he was still around and looking after him.
Every now and then Neville will say something that will make Draco think he can sense him and then he’ll realise that Neville’s just talking to make sounds, and it breaks Draco’s undead heart to see him this way. It makes his chest tight when Neville curses him in the middle of the night, and he has to remind himself that he’s dead and the pain isn’t actually there. It just feels like it is.
*
Draco misses having someone to talk to. He misses having someone who called him on being an insolent brat. He misses the way Neville’s eyes crinkled around the corners when he smiled, and he misses hearing Neville laugh. When Harry Potter starts popping around to visit; he wants to stick a wand in his eye, but the ghost thing prevents him from anything more than going into an apoplectic rage.
*
At night, Draco watches Neville prepare for bed and floats down next to him as Neville lies back and counts the tiny stars that Draco magicked onto the ceiling one night. He can’t take Neville’s hand or make him pass on messages to Potter to 'piss off' as though they were still in school, but more than anything, Draco just wants Neville to feel him and know that he’s still there.
Draco wants Neville to know that he never lied to him. He’s kept his promise. He didn’t go anywhere. He’s still right by Neville’s side. That’s not going to change, ever.
-end-
Notes: Improv (free, hunger, cotton, sing, gilt, smoke ) fromserialkarma. Title taken from the new Gomez single ‘Catch Me Up’
faith_girl222’s idea that Sark would make an absolutely wicked Draco. I had to keep my eyes from falling out my head at the brilliance. That, ladies, gents and others, is what we call sublime casting. So, who was I to fight it?Chicken scratch for
serialkarma and ethrosdemonHarry Potter
The problem with being dead is that it tends to confuse Draco’s circadian rhythms horribly. Not that ghosts need to sleep or eat or have a bath, but that doesn’t mean that Draco doesn’t want to do all these things with a passion bordering on fanaticism. He wants his lavender soap and his cotton pyjamas with the green stripes on them. He wants to fall asleep under feather duvets and wake up long after the sun’s come up. Except he can’t actually feel the mattress when he stretches out, and when he closes his eyes, nothing happens.
He just pretends.
Most days Draco’s full of nothing but urges and cravings and tetchiness over his intangible existence. He contends with phantom hunger for Chocolate Frogs and pumpkin juice, and invisible tics for just one more contraband Muggle fag that he can swap into his Toxixless Ciggies hardcase.
Draco wants to sit in the Leaky Cauldron, hidden in a cloud of blue smoke, and take the piss out of the Chudley Cannons while his lover shakes his head and calls him ‘bloody-minded’.
All Draco wants is to exist for one more day so he can do all the things that he took for granted before he died.
Of course, that’s the thing about being dead -- it leaves nothing but time for appreciation and regret for all those chances that were squandered in life.
Draco doesn’t haunt -- he lurks. A Malfoy would never stoop to something so common and vulgar as haunting, and it’s not as though this isn’t his flat, too. He has every right to linger in doorways and stare at the plants that are slowly dying on the windowsill. He’s entitled to muck about and keep his eyes on the remaining occupant -- it’s not as though he’s got something better to do with his undead time. Naturally, he’s free to go anywhere; he just prefers to stay here. This is his home. It’s where he should be regardless of a beating heart or not.
There’s an appallingly gilt-framed painting on the far wall of the sitting room that Draco has never liked, and he wonders why he never got rid of it when he had the chance. He vaguely recalls that it was a house-warming present, and he knows he’s tried to set it on fire in the spirit of ‘warming’ the house several times. Clearly the sodding painting is cursed, and Draco’s been having pyromanical thoughts about this painting for the last sixty-eight days -- ever since he woke up in a field in Kent and realised he didn’t actually have to move his feet to go anywhere anymore.
The surrealness of being dead is something that Draco can’t stop dwelling on. The whole disembodied, wandlessness, never-ride-a-broom-again thing is highly taxing on his brain. The floating is flat out odd, and sometimes he attempts to walk even though it’s all pointless exertion of energy he really doesn’t have to start with.
The only non-pointless thing was coming home to his flat, because if he wasn’t going off to the Eternal Garden of Quidditch and Other Happy Thoughts then he was going to go someplace that was close enough.
Except for the blasted painting. He really hates that painting.
Draco has memories of what it was like to do be human and wisps of recollection that taunt him nonstop through his endless days. If he closes his eyes and focuses, he can still feel short stubbly hair underneath the flat of his hand, and if he rails hard enough he can taste the damp, earthy warmness of his partner’s skin.
Every time Draco looks at the dark circles under Neville’s eyes he wants to break something.
This was not what Draco signed on for when he agreed to lie for Dumbledore and his ilk, and he’s cursed Snape a thousand times for insisting that he could turn his life around. Draco never wanted to be anybody’s favoured child. He was just a stupid young man who fell in love and made a bad decision.
He should’ve worked harder to convert Neville to his side.
Then they could be living in a lovely chateau in Marseilles right now, drinking merlot for breakfast and shagging in fields of hay, instead of Draco watching helplessly while Neville fades away.
Draco Malfoy never intended to be anyone’s hero. He had no intention of saving Harry Potter’s pitiful existence. All he wanted to do was protect Neville from the Dark Lord and a life of looking over his right shoulder. It drives Draco mental that someone else’s blasted hero complex took his life.
Draco keeps the most hideous hours ever what with watching Neville prepare for work and watching him sleep and floating about in a general state of ennui. Draco doesn’t regret the dying thing, he regrets the leaving Neville thing. It’s hard for him to watch Neville be unhappy. It was harder than anything else to leave him behind. This is not to say that Draco regrets his decision, he’d do it again in a heartbeat. He just wishes that Neville realised that he was still around and looking after him.
Every now and then Neville will say something that will make Draco think he can sense him and then he’ll realise that Neville’s just talking to make sounds, and it breaks Draco’s undead heart to see him this way. It makes his chest tight when Neville curses him in the middle of the night, and he has to remind himself that he’s dead and the pain isn’t actually there. It just feels like it is.
Draco misses having someone to talk to. He misses having someone who called him on being an insolent brat. He misses the way Neville’s eyes crinkled around the corners when he smiled, and he misses hearing Neville laugh. When Harry Potter starts popping around to visit; he wants to stick a wand in his eye, but the ghost thing prevents him from anything more than going into an apoplectic rage.
At night, Draco watches Neville prepare for bed and floats down next to him as Neville lies back and counts the tiny stars that Draco magicked onto the ceiling one night. He can’t take Neville’s hand or make him pass on messages to Potter to 'piss off' as though they were still in school, but more than anything, Draco just wants Neville to feel him and know that he’s still there.
Draco wants Neville to know that he never lied to him. He’s kept his promise. He didn’t go anywhere. He’s still right by Neville’s side. That’s not going to change, ever.
-end-
Notes: Improv (free, hunger, cotton, sing, gilt, smoke ) from
serialkarma. Title taken from the new Gomez single ‘Catch Me Up’
no subject
I don't get it! I don't like it either, but um, well, a) pretty and b) Sark and c) they have buzz cuts together and did I mention the pretty thing?
Hee! I can just see this, Ghost!Draco hopping around trying to throw things at Harry and generally having an ectoplasmic temper tantrum. *loves*
Exactly! He'd be fucking livid.
I'm so pleased you liked it *hugs*
Also. Um. I had this whole weird idea in my head about the reason Draco has Sark's buzzcut -- because Neville had to cut bits of somebody's brain out of his hair after they were killed next to him. You know, twisted Death Eater motivation. It's very wrong. I don't want to write it. Right? Right?
no subject
*dies*
I want you to write it! Because a)it's gross and b)it's sexy. I am sick and twisted, I know. what?
And also there's Neville being all strong and stoic and Draco trying but really kind of freaked out, even though he'd never admit it even under Imperio. Also there could be hair-washing.
no subject
no subject
*prods*
*bribes*