Cliché

chapter 7: Sweet Poetry

Harry entered and was greatly surprised. The long, House tables had been replaced by small circular ones-at least two dozen or so- and filled with students.

A lot of them were Hufflepuff and Harry couldn't help but snort. Poetry and Hufflepuffs walked hand and hand.

Luna Lovegood was there as well, in the back and Harry assumed she must have sent the note so he took a seat next to her.

"Oh, hello Harry! I wouldn't think this was your scene." She spoke, her enchanting voice immediately calming the Gryffindor.

"Didn't you invite me here tonight?" He asked, confused. He flashed her the note, before tossing it in the trash bin.

"No, I didn't. It could've been Seamus." She pointed to the fellow Gryffindor who was holding hands with Ernie Malcom, the Hufflepuff boy.

Harry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, confused.

Luna, Seamus, Ernie and several other people Harry recognized but didn't know their names began to stand.

"What are we doing?" Potter whispered, following their lead and looking around.

"We stand each time someone goes up to read." Luna whispered.

A small Ravenclaw girl shuffled up and received an applause. After she took the center stage, everyone else sat.

Introducing herself as Carrie Flamore, she read from a crumpled note, sweat beading her forehead.

Harry felt a sort of sympathy for her, knowing it took bravery to expose herself through words in front of her peers. He could never.

After she was finished, everyone clapped, and she sat back down with her table.

The next person who took stage caused Harry's heart to stop for a moment.

Tall and slender, yet muscular. Captivating, soft-looking hair, fringed around his sharp face.

"Malfoy?!" Harry hissed to no one in particular.

The blonde smiled absentmindedly at the crowd, "You all know me as the Slytherin bully who probably tormented you last year. I'm trying to see myself as more than a mistake. More than a fuck-up. Well," He smiled to himself, "Some know me as Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. We all have that famous catchphrase. Mine just happens to be, "My father will hear about this.""

Everyone chuckled, and Harry remembered that those were some of the first words he had said to him.

The tall boy huffed slightly, putting his hands out, "Isn't it stupid how some people are easier to love than others? Some wonder why they aren't loved while others are wishing that they weren't. And as for love?" He chuckled, flexing his hands slightly, "Well, love isn't a word; it's a story. Some stories end better than others. Some end with a kiss, and some end with a heartbreak. Romeo and Juliet loved each other so much that their affection was so extreme one couldn't live without the other..."

There were murmurs of agreements and Luna sighed, "He's right."

Malfoy smiled, shrugging, "Haven't you ever just wanted someone to try? Everyone needs someone to try. To try to find out who they are behind the foundation and popularity. To try to find out who they are on the inside. Someone to try to discover who he or she is behind the mask. Who the broken boy is or who the lonely girl is. I'm a puzzle that no one can seem to figure out. Which is fine because I don't really let anyone in." He chuckled mirthlessly, "Some of you also know me as a rich Malfoy. But wealth is pointless. Money is an object and like most objects, at the end of our lives it won't make us happy."