The River

The River

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Chapter One:
Secret Tears

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A gentle shaking sensation drew Draco Malfoy from out of his little dream world and back to reality where the golden rays of the daystar made his freshly awakened eyes water. Slowly, through the beads of glasslike water that were forming in his eyes, a vision Draco had seen one too many times began to become visible. His girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson, stood before him; she had one arm outstretched, obviously on his shoulder, and an irate look on her face.

"What?" Draco questioned in a sleepy voice as his left-hand mindlessly pushed Pansy's arm away from him.

"You slept right through class... again!" the female scolded, "If you're not in class next time, Professor McGonagall is going to royally humiliate you when you finally do show up. That is, if she doesn't come right out here to get you."

"Let her come then, let her voice her worst words. I really don't care," the young teen's voice was monotonous and bland. A rare expression of concern washed over Pansy's pallid face as she dropped her hands from her hips and lowered her shoulders.

"Draco, darling, are you alright? You haven't been acting normal ever since Potter and-"

"God!" Draco exclaimed loudly as he sat up, causing the notebook and quill that were on his lap to clatter to the green earth below, "How many times do I have to tell you not to mention Potter or Weasel or Mudblood Granger around me? How many times, Pansy?"

"I didn't mean to mention him, but since you and he last talked, you've been acting so strangely," Pansy said as she bent down and picked up the fallen book and feather quill, "Honestly," she said slowly as she stood back up, "you've been acting like a five year old!"

"I am not!" Draco said as he turned and walked over to the nearest tree. He leant casually against the woody trunk and sighed while running a porcelain white hand though his blonde hair, "I am sixteen now, Pansy, nearly a man."

"And I'm sixteen as well, nearly a woman. I think I can tell when someone is acting childishly," Pansy's concerned expression had swiftly returned to it's original irritated one.

"Leave me alone," Draco said bluntly, "Just go away, please."

"Fine!" Pansy replied as she dropped the book and quill back down onto the soil, "I'll leave. I'm sick of you anyway, Draco Malfoy." Without one more word or one look back, Pansy Parkinson walked from the clearing, down the dirt path and out of Draco's sight.

Draco sighed heavily; he knew it was over. For the past three years he and Pansy had been the only official couple at Hogwarts. Every one else was always breaking up and getting back together a week or two later. But not Draco and Pansy, their relationship looked perfect - too perfect. Behind the scenes, though, things were quite different and only a Slytherin could say they had seen the true nature of Pansy and Draco's relationship. Bitter fights were the norm and their housemates overlooked the harsh words. No one ever said anything.

Maybe, if someone had mentioned something, anything, Draco wouldn't be holding back the waves of emotion that were crashing on the shore of his shattered heart.

True, Draco had never loved Pansy - not at all. Rather, he couldn't stand her. Draco knew in his mind, as well as in his heart, that there was someone he really did cherish. And now, even when he knew he finally had a chance to seek out whom he loved, he had not the strength. After all, how does one stride up to the inspiration of all his poems, all his art and voice the unspeakable? How does one tell his enemy that he loves him?