My Computer is on a Save Fail so I have been unable to save the beginning of a fic I began. So I'm posting it here just to have some kind of record of it.
He had no idea what to say.
There she sat, in her white linen hospital bed, engulfed by a gaggle of her red-haired offspring. Some of them had straight hair like the rest of the carrot-topped family. Some of them resembled their grandmother, and like Gryffindor lions and lionesses they sported unruly, recalcitrant manes. All of them were Weasleys, of varying generations. Her children and grandchildren, of course.
Speechless, he had every damned intention to pivot one-hundred and eighty degrees and march straight back to the nearest apparition point. For Merlin’s sake, what was he doing here?
“What are you doing here?”
Good question.
Draco sighed, and carefully turned on his dragon-hide boots – fresh from the box – to face the pride of crimson-maned lions gawking pointedly at him. Their gazes were almost accusatory as though he was an unwanted guest, and most likely, he was. The older of the Weasley children, the adults, were quick to judge with menacing glares sealed with bequeathed suspicion and hereditary enmity. They looked upon him with slight condescension as though he were the inebriated neighbour who occasionally stumbled drunkenly through the white picket fence and into the yard, crushing the meticulously trimmed gardenias. Or at least that’s what he assumed the Weasley hovel – correction, house – looked like. In all his years, he had never gathered the courage or the audacity to check.
“What are you doing here?”
The question repeated. It was the older Weasley, her son, the one with the horrid misnomer. Ah, yes. Hugo. Scorpius had mentioned Hugo a few times in the Ministry. Pain in the arse, that one. Like his father.
“I was invited.” Draco stated promptly, allowing a hint of his customary drawl to permeate his speech. Naturally, as a Malfoy he harboured an exceptional aversion to being unwelcome, or looked down upon. No one looked down upon a Malfoy. Especially not the Weasleys. Hugo responded with a dubious look. However Draco Malfoy was being far from mendacious. He was invited, by the only other person in the room that did not boast red hair. Hugo’s oceanic eyes immediately shifted towards his mother and her frail lips moulded themselves into an upturn quiver. Despite her feebleness, she accomplished the traces of a reassuring smile and an expression that conveyed it was safe to leave.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded solemnly and clasped his hand in hers. Reluctantly Hugo turned from his mother and led the herd out, meanwhile granting Draco a contemptuous front of bravado. Draco gritted his teeth to prevent himself from scowling at the boy.
“I don’t care if you’re Scorpius’ father. You hurt her and you’re dead,” he whispered as he left.
Like he said, pain in the arse, that one.
So the Malfoy patriarch and the Weasley matriarch remained staring at each other across the gulf of standard issue hospital linoleum and the silence that spanned in between.
He decided to break the silence.
“What, Granger?” He couldn’t bear to associate her with that name, and refused to call her anything else other than the name that was hers. His voice was gruff, clearly uncomfortable. At this, she broke into a genially radiant smile.
Monday, 29 December 2008
Wednesday, 24 December 2008
Life Kicked Me in the Proverbial Balls. Again.
I swear. If I were a male living in metaphor-land, I'd either be developing some serious Prostate Cancer OR would have already lost my ability to father children.
Regardless.
I am much more intelligent and far more stupid than I previously thought.
What a wonderful thing it is to discover two days before Christmas. He is now with someone else. There, I said it. There, I am acknowledging it. But am I accepting it? We shall see.
How am I feeling. Odd. I cannot quite define what exactly it is that I am experiencing. It is like being born again, I feel as though every previous experience I’ve had (however limited) should have prepared me for this moment, assisted me in buffering for such a loss but of course, it hasn’t. Nothing could possibly prepare anyone for this, unless they’ve dredged themselves through this predicament before.
I do believe that Kate Winslet’s character Iris in the film, ‘The Holiday’ reiterates my circumstances both succinctly and truthfully.
“I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn't know you had inside you. And it doesn't matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends... you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were that happy. And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he'll see the light and show up at your door. And after all that, however long all that may be, you'll go somewhere new. And you'll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, those years of your life that you wasted, that will eventually begin to fade.”
Kudos to the scriptwriters.
Of course, I wasn’t in love with him. Just highly infatuated. Whether it be love, infatuation, like or a crush, overcoming the adversity of the unrequited requires both time and patience. Love will take deep root in your heart and a mere crush will barely seed. To varying degrees, time will always be taken, wasted, obliterated, in order to make yourself feel whole again. Varying degrees of time will always be taken to get over that impossible someone. But the pain? Oh yes, the pain. The pain is universal.
As I said, I am more intelligent and far more stupid than I previously thought. When I initially embarked on this fortuitous and educational expedition, I knew that all we could be was friends. I KNEW. I had harboured the insight and intellect in which to predict this. Thus, I am more intelligent than I initially perceived. But of course, I’m a romantic, maudlin pathetic individual. Did I listen to myself? No. Because I decided to fall head over heels and because despite our differences, despite the distance and all the circumstances creating a gulf of separation between us I refused to believe that love would ever deprive us in such a way. In my naivety, I desperately hoped to believe that love would work the way we all wish it work, that for once, it would be my turn. I desperately wanted to believe that God and whatever fated being that governed us all would grant me just this once chance, this one opportunity to really feel, to really love and be loved like so many others have before me. I created a picture of beauty and perfection, something that omitted or condoned all flaws. I clung to it, convinced myself that one day he would see me, acknowledge me and somehow by some unspeakable magic, he would call and say that he felt the same. I clung to that picture with blinding hope, with every will and fibre in my body as a drowning man would commit to his last breath. And now, as a bubble, I watch it rise and float away.
I first responded to this tidbit of information quite positively actually, I surprised, curious, amused, even. It was morbid fascination that compelled me to discover more about her, and yet it was my defence mechanisms which had ceased such actions altogether. I refused to torture myself by comparing myself to her. If he couldn’t see me, well then, I suppose that’s his loss. I could then feel the resentment creep in, burgeoning a deep obsidian within my psyche. And then, finally it really hit me, like a slow but heavy sledgehammer it hit me. It was then that I snuggled into my quilt, closed my eyes and pretended that I couldn’t feel the droplets of moisture roll down my cheek. I wondered, pondered, perused and analysed every memory, everything we shared, simply wondering how, or why, where I could have read it wrong and misunderstood. It was exhausting, I assure you.
To tell you the truth, we’re still getting to know each other, he doesn’t know me. And nor I him. Thus I know that I could have never have loved him. My previous affections for other guys have been mostly of pure lust. However, with him how can the lust exist if I’ve only ever seen him twice this year? I actually began to fall for his personality. That isn’t at all as shallow as lust, this, this begins to take root in your heart, while lust may be perfunctorily swept away. When I needed to get over AA, I merely yanked that plant out and that was the end of it. While this, I may sweep this away with my curiosity and amusement, I may ignore it, I may yank 95% of this plant out. But, I know, that there will always be that 5% left remaining, the piece of root that had dug in the deepest. It lies there, behind everything that is me, and waits as it grows and festers, poisoning everything in the darkest of all midnight shades.
I likened the loss of him to when your computer crashes and all your important files are deleted. I can live without him, I know I can, I simply don’t want to. I suppose it isn’t the loss of him that hit me the hardest last night. It’s once again coming upon the dawning realisation that life simply doesn’t ask you what you want. It hands out all the gifts to everyone else and hands you the dodgy leftovers. I can’t say that I’ve liked anyone more deeply, and it is because of this that I walk away wounded, a mobile casualty. I walk away a little more wounded, a little less complete and a little more cynical – and that my friends, is the pain. Pain, undoubtedly, is difficult - but getting used to that pain, growing accustomed to that festering ball of darkness in your heart, that’s simply sad. Here I stand, a beacon of it. But now is not the time to wallow in self-pity – it’s Christmas, and quite frankly, although that five percent of him will always be there, I know that I’ll be okay.
I will be okay, and that’s a fact that I well and truly am aware of. It’s not the end of the world. However, that too is a source of pain. Because for some unknown and masochistic reason, I don’t want to be okay, I want to feel, I want to know that heart-wrenching unequivocally life changing pain. Why? I don’t know, perhaps it’s because for some pathetic reason, you’ll know that you truly have loved someone enough, and in that way, to make your life paradoxically yet blissfully complete. To feel that pain is to know that you have loved someone with every fibre in your being, and that perhaps, in return for loving someone with such fervour, potency and intensity, they may just love you back.
It’s stupid, I know. That’s my hopeful self talking.
Enough with the angst. I’ve been caught in a whirlpool caged in a prison for nine months now. I’ve been emotionally tossed and turned, I’ve been high and low. I refuse to wallow in my own sorrow. I refuse to think of myself as inferior. I refuse to feel sorry for myself anymore.
I wish to see this as an opportunity, as a gift.
What is that gift, you ask? Well my friends, this is the gift of freedom.
=)
Regardless.
I am much more intelligent and far more stupid than I previously thought.
What a wonderful thing it is to discover two days before Christmas. He is now with someone else. There, I said it. There, I am acknowledging it. But am I accepting it? We shall see.
How am I feeling. Odd. I cannot quite define what exactly it is that I am experiencing. It is like being born again, I feel as though every previous experience I’ve had (however limited) should have prepared me for this moment, assisted me in buffering for such a loss but of course, it hasn’t. Nothing could possibly prepare anyone for this, unless they’ve dredged themselves through this predicament before.
I do believe that Kate Winslet’s character Iris in the film, ‘The Holiday’ reiterates my circumstances both succinctly and truthfully.
“I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn't know you had inside you. And it doesn't matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends... you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were that happy. And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he'll see the light and show up at your door. And after all that, however long all that may be, you'll go somewhere new. And you'll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, those years of your life that you wasted, that will eventually begin to fade.”
Kudos to the scriptwriters.
Of course, I wasn’t in love with him. Just highly infatuated. Whether it be love, infatuation, like or a crush, overcoming the adversity of the unrequited requires both time and patience. Love will take deep root in your heart and a mere crush will barely seed. To varying degrees, time will always be taken, wasted, obliterated, in order to make yourself feel whole again. Varying degrees of time will always be taken to get over that impossible someone. But the pain? Oh yes, the pain. The pain is universal.
As I said, I am more intelligent and far more stupid than I previously thought. When I initially embarked on this fortuitous and educational expedition, I knew that all we could be was friends. I KNEW. I had harboured the insight and intellect in which to predict this. Thus, I am more intelligent than I initially perceived. But of course, I’m a romantic, maudlin pathetic individual. Did I listen to myself? No. Because I decided to fall head over heels and because despite our differences, despite the distance and all the circumstances creating a gulf of separation between us I refused to believe that love would ever deprive us in such a way. In my naivety, I desperately hoped to believe that love would work the way we all wish it work, that for once, it would be my turn. I desperately wanted to believe that God and whatever fated being that governed us all would grant me just this once chance, this one opportunity to really feel, to really love and be loved like so many others have before me. I created a picture of beauty and perfection, something that omitted or condoned all flaws. I clung to it, convinced myself that one day he would see me, acknowledge me and somehow by some unspeakable magic, he would call and say that he felt the same. I clung to that picture with blinding hope, with every will and fibre in my body as a drowning man would commit to his last breath. And now, as a bubble, I watch it rise and float away.
I first responded to this tidbit of information quite positively actually, I surprised, curious, amused, even. It was morbid fascination that compelled me to discover more about her, and yet it was my defence mechanisms which had ceased such actions altogether. I refused to torture myself by comparing myself to her. If he couldn’t see me, well then, I suppose that’s his loss. I could then feel the resentment creep in, burgeoning a deep obsidian within my psyche. And then, finally it really hit me, like a slow but heavy sledgehammer it hit me. It was then that I snuggled into my quilt, closed my eyes and pretended that I couldn’t feel the droplets of moisture roll down my cheek. I wondered, pondered, perused and analysed every memory, everything we shared, simply wondering how, or why, where I could have read it wrong and misunderstood. It was exhausting, I assure you.
To tell you the truth, we’re still getting to know each other, he doesn’t know me. And nor I him. Thus I know that I could have never have loved him. My previous affections for other guys have been mostly of pure lust. However, with him how can the lust exist if I’ve only ever seen him twice this year? I actually began to fall for his personality. That isn’t at all as shallow as lust, this, this begins to take root in your heart, while lust may be perfunctorily swept away. When I needed to get over AA, I merely yanked that plant out and that was the end of it. While this, I may sweep this away with my curiosity and amusement, I may ignore it, I may yank 95% of this plant out. But, I know, that there will always be that 5% left remaining, the piece of root that had dug in the deepest. It lies there, behind everything that is me, and waits as it grows and festers, poisoning everything in the darkest of all midnight shades.
I likened the loss of him to when your computer crashes and all your important files are deleted. I can live without him, I know I can, I simply don’t want to. I suppose it isn’t the loss of him that hit me the hardest last night. It’s once again coming upon the dawning realisation that life simply doesn’t ask you what you want. It hands out all the gifts to everyone else and hands you the dodgy leftovers. I can’t say that I’ve liked anyone more deeply, and it is because of this that I walk away wounded, a mobile casualty. I walk away a little more wounded, a little less complete and a little more cynical – and that my friends, is the pain. Pain, undoubtedly, is difficult - but getting used to that pain, growing accustomed to that festering ball of darkness in your heart, that’s simply sad. Here I stand, a beacon of it. But now is not the time to wallow in self-pity – it’s Christmas, and quite frankly, although that five percent of him will always be there, I know that I’ll be okay.
I will be okay, and that’s a fact that I well and truly am aware of. It’s not the end of the world. However, that too is a source of pain. Because for some unknown and masochistic reason, I don’t want to be okay, I want to feel, I want to know that heart-wrenching unequivocally life changing pain. Why? I don’t know, perhaps it’s because for some pathetic reason, you’ll know that you truly have loved someone enough, and in that way, to make your life paradoxically yet blissfully complete. To feel that pain is to know that you have loved someone with every fibre in your being, and that perhaps, in return for loving someone with such fervour, potency and intensity, they may just love you back.
It’s stupid, I know. That’s my hopeful self talking.
Enough with the angst. I’ve been caught in a whirlpool caged in a prison for nine months now. I’ve been emotionally tossed and turned, I’ve been high and low. I refuse to wallow in my own sorrow. I refuse to think of myself as inferior. I refuse to feel sorry for myself anymore.
I wish to see this as an opportunity, as a gift.
What is that gift, you ask? Well my friends, this is the gift of freedom.
=)
Sunday, 7 December 2008
CHRISTMAS CONCERT!!!
The Christmas Concert last night was awesomeness!! It was such an amazing experience, both in spiritual growth and within the maturing of our characters, and of course indeed in the utilisation of our talents!
OASIS rocked their socks off :) It was so awesome-o. I can't believe how nervous I was though. In order to relieve my tension I began to play piano as I find it a highly cathartic experience :) Then Tim comes along on the drums and we had a brief Jam session lol! Who knew that drums could actually meld into Yiruma's "River Flows in You"? I certainly didn't!
The Christmas Concert was so awesome though! Being an MC is so exhilarating, fun and yet sooo stressful at the same time! It was developmental experience, one which had "brought me out of my shell" I suppose, or in Pat's words: "You really came out of yourself." Singing "Lean on Me" with the crowd was amazing! Especially acapella where everyone can be heard. The sense of community truly evoked the Christmas Spirit!
OASIS was awesome of course, I had to run around dancing, singing and MC-ing. All in all it was an awesome night. Saw Chris there too!!! The dance was so funny though, I really thought that I was going to fall off the stage. ALSO MY HAIR WAS SO WINDSWEPT I LOOKED LIKE A MADWOMAN! I should have put it up! argggh, but anyhoo. Meeting the Councillors was also something I'll always remember! I was so honoured! Thank the Lord that it didn't rain!!!
:)
I want to say more, but I need to study!
Bye bye!
OASIS rocked their socks off :) It was so awesome-o. I can't believe how nervous I was though. In order to relieve my tension I began to play piano as I find it a highly cathartic experience :) Then Tim comes along on the drums and we had a brief Jam session lol! Who knew that drums could actually meld into Yiruma's "River Flows in You"? I certainly didn't!
The Christmas Concert was so awesome though! Being an MC is so exhilarating, fun and yet sooo stressful at the same time! It was developmental experience, one which had "brought me out of my shell" I suppose, or in Pat's words: "You really came out of yourself." Singing "Lean on Me" with the crowd was amazing! Especially acapella where everyone can be heard. The sense of community truly evoked the Christmas Spirit!
OASIS was awesome of course, I had to run around dancing, singing and MC-ing. All in all it was an awesome night. Saw Chris there too!!! The dance was so funny though, I really thought that I was going to fall off the stage. ALSO MY HAIR WAS SO WINDSWEPT I LOOKED LIKE A MADWOMAN! I should have put it up! argggh, but anyhoo. Meeting the Councillors was also something I'll always remember! I was so honoured! Thank the Lord that it didn't rain!!!
:)
I want to say more, but I need to study!
Bye bye!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)