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Immiscible by Foxtrott
Chapter 1 : Immiscible
 
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 11


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A/N:
Hey there! This story is done in response to MagicWriter's Colour Challenge. The challenge was to write a story, revolving around the colour green, about Laura Wilsonburg, a Seventh-Year Gryffindor.

Disclaimer: Jo's got the power, yo. 







Immiscible

Green.

            Seventh year Laura Wilsonburg tightened her grip on the heart-shaped vial filled with a green liquid. The gift was from the very person who perfectly embodied the colour – Draco Malfoy.

            His eyes were of the deepest hue of green. She found herself often captivated by their intensity. The robes he donned was green – especially the Slytherin crest. The crest often exuded a majestic aura that emphasised its colour.

            As for his personality – there was no doubt. He was cunning and smart. Laura often used to find herself mesmerised by him – by the way he carried himself, by the way he spoke, by the way he concocted potions. She thought he was absolutely brilliant. And unlike most people in her house, Gryffindor, Laura longed to know Draco Malfoy better than the pretentious layer he shows the world.

            She knew there was more to him than what the Gryffindors described as pure evil. But she was wrong, and she learnt it the hard way.

            Draco Malfoy almost perfectly embodied the colour green.

            But his heart… was black. 









“Laura…” he purred.

            Laura grinned as he stroked her hair. His gentle touch never ceased to please her. She looked up at him, and gave him an innocent smile.

            “Yeah?” she asked, as his hand snaked across her waist. She leaned over and kissed him on the nose. She gazed into his deep, alluring and captivating eyes, that always seemed to possess a bright sparkle when they were together.

            “I love you,” he told her, and his genuine voice stunned her.

            “I… I… don’t know what to say,” she stuttered, trying to search in his eyes a sign of confirmation that he was telling the truth, and that he wouldn’t break her heart.

            He put a finger to her lips. “Then don’t. Just believe,” he urged.

            She bit her lower lip. The Gryffindors all told her that she was mad to have been with him. They all told her that he was nothing but a liar. But the question was – would he lie to her?

            He cupped her face, and she was instantly lost in his eyes. “Laura?” he repeated, prompting her for an answer.

            “I believe.


 





Stupid, stupid, stupid! 

            Laura shook her head infuriately, trying to remove the flashback from her mind.

            She sometimes wondered if Draco even had a heart. How he so ruthlessly broke her and tore her apart seemed to prove that he was just a compassionless creature. Yet when he turned his back on her, on the rest of the world, there was another side of him that, surprisingly, did have a heart.

            That side belonged to Pansy Parkinson.

            She gave the vial a hard squeeze, as if she was attempting to crush it. It was as if she believed that if the vial was crushed, time could be turned, and she would never have taken that step that caused her to have her heart ripped out.

             But here she was, sitting on her bed among a heap of mess, looking dishevelled and alone, feeling nothing but pure rage and hurt.

            She felt horrid. She was an idiot to have ever believed that Draco Malfoy could be something more than that cold, icy exterior everyone knew. So she had taken the step.

            Regret lingered in the cold, stale air.

            She sighed solemnly. If only she hadn’t…

 







“We’re over.”

           Her affectionate grin was immediately swiped off her face by the seriousness in his voice. Her cheeks started burning, and Laura shook her head furiously in denial.

            “You’re kidding,” she said desperately. You’re joking. It’s just a sick joke, isn’t it, Draco?

            Draco barely even threw a second glance at her, before shoving her off his arm, and swiftly wheeling around. Laura fell back from the force – both from his push, and his words.

          “You can’t just end this!” she bellowed. “What about the vial? What about everything you said?” Did they never happen? Are you just going to shrug it off?

            So was she just some substitute, to take his mind away from matters when Pansy got a bit too difficult?

            But never once did he hesitate; never once did he stop; never once did he turn around, and caress her in his warm hold. He just sauntered out of the room, and out of her life.

            Just. Like. That.

           
 





Laura glared at the vial, and attempted to crush it in her steely grip.

            “It’s all a lie,” she mumbled. Them being together was just his sick joke. Dropping her like she was nothing was just a new way of proving to the world that he, Draco Malfoy, was what they all thought him to be.

            She still couldn’t believe she fell so easily for his lies and cheap gimmicks. How could she believe that he really had loved her? How could she believe that the vial was really a genuine and sincere gift from him as a representation of their love?

            How could she have been so stupid?

           Instantly, the glass of the vial shattered, and cut her skin. But this pain was nothing compared to her emotional agony.

            She looked as the green liquid seeped through the gaps between her fingers, and onto her lap, and she watched as her crimson blood flowed down merrily like a stream. Her eyes flew to the puddle formed on her legs, and a sudden realisation struck her.

            Laura screamed, an ear-piercing scream that vowed to shatter the silence of the night.

            Her blood floated on the green liquid.

            They didn’t mix.

            They were immiscible.

            Just like the both of them.  

            So it had been his sick joke after all.

            Green – the colour of Draco Malfoy. But black was the colour of his heart.

           





A/N: I know, I know, his eyes are grey. 

This is my first attempt at a fic that doesn't involve Oliver, so it would be great if people could give me pointers. Was it too cliche? Was it too short? Should I have been more descriptive? Would another flashback aid the plot?



 




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