Title: Europe’s Sky
Disclaimer: Unfortunately not mine ~ Illustration pixiv ID 38105390
AN: one of my many unfinished drabbles, also my first Dramione fic.
Summary: Under the Europe sky
Ever since he was all but a little boy, the world had always been broad and far from his reach. He spent his childhood roaming the ground of the Manor, climbing hills and stairs to get the best view of the other world behind the tall steel fences. When he was older, his parents usually took him along on their trips, whether business or vacation, to places; in spite of this, he still felt caged as their watchful gazes always fell on his back. There were still boundaries, his parent’s sight for most occasions, that he should not past.
There always were boundaries, disciplines, rules and the like in the Malfoy household; the annoying obligations that came along with grace and prestige entitlted to the Malfoy name. As he was a child of air, born on the earliest of June, he hated it yet obey them nonetheless, being the heir of an ancient line.
Maybe that was why he loved Hogwarts too much for his own good, maybe. As that dratted castle was the place where he first got a taste of freedom. No more parental guidance, and the teacher’s mindful watches could only do so much. He settled his hienarchy in Slytherin quick enough, so that none of his more omnious activities could reach his parents ears; well, as omnious a teenager could get. However those days soon fade into a string of nightmares and haunting memories.
Even now, for the young men who had climbed the highest mountain, walked through the grandest rainforest and cruised past vast oceans, they still haunted him, more than ever. It was not just the memory but the whole package, the sound, the smell, the burning sensation coarsed through his skin and blood; every night from that day he still felt them, turning his peaceful dreamscape into his personal hell.
Maybe he was not dreaming about them, maybe he was reliving them, everytime he closed his eyelids and fell prey to the hands of Sandman.
He also remembered her, remembered her flowing locks that seemed to imprint with the scent of fresh sunshine and lavender, remembered her honey brown eyes that chaneled the fierce soul deep inside, usually turned frosty when encountered his. He remembered her voice, excited when recounting some facts from textbooks, proud yet nervous answering questions, histerical when deadlines and exams chased up to the Idiot Duo that was her friends, cold and harsh when countered him; he remembered her laughters, her smiles, those that no longer direct to him.
She never had an affinity to journeys and adventures; a vacation or two a year was nice, seeing new places and relaxing was nice, but the yearning, the desire to move around, to go on an endless journey was not there consuming her soul like others. Although the aftermath was not pretty, she always found more reasons to stay rather than leave the country. When her relationships fell short she retreated to her old home, avoiding the Wizarding World until her wounds healed; when her parents passed, she sought solitude within the walls of the Ministry, buried under tons and tons of old tomes and scrolls. Sometimes she felt caged by her own will, sometimes she just wanted to flee the country, discarded everything to start anew.
Just like him.
He was a free soul, unlike her. He took off many years ago after taken his NEWTs which he aced, just slightly behind her, and have yet to return. There were rumors, that he was probably laid dead in some cranny crooks up East, feigning his suicide to accidents; but she knew he was alive, still jumping from country to country, continent to continent. He was just never return home, for he could no longer step foot on the soil of Mother England until the punishment was lifted.
Which was never, the Wizengamot had made sure of that, rendered him an exile prince for the rest of his life.
“Birds are flying over Europe skies,
Tell me please why can’t I?”
[To be continue…]