When I'm Gone

When I'm Gone

CheerPrincess

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

There's another world inside of me

That you may never see.

There's secrets in this life that

I can't hide.

New Years at Hogwarts is supposed to be a spectacular sight, an event every student who stays behind for the holidays excitedly anticipates. Not me. New Years is the set date of my impending doom. They are completely oblivious to the fact that it is more than just the beginning of a new year; it is the end of my life.

No, I am not contemplating suicide, though, considering the events planned out for my future, I probably should. However, it is my own personal apocalypse: the end of my freedom, the end of my liberty to do as I please, to answer to no one but myself. Every basic human right granted to me at my birth will be snatched from me in a matter of seconds, replaced with the obligation to serve a man I detest above all else.

Voldemort. Unlike other wizards, I have no fear of speaking his name. All that bloody He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named nonsense is ridiculous. They fear a corpse, who feeds on others to survive, a shadow of a man who uses others to carry out his vicious plans, a man who was defeated by an infant. Sounds bloody scary to me.

Why then am I theoretically "doomed" to serve him when there are other options, such as rebelling? Defiance is not an option, especially when you have a father like mine. Lucius Malfoy, one of the most powerful wizards in the entire wizarding world, and right-hand man to none other than Voldemort himself. He would murder me if I refused.

Isn't it grand when your own father would willingly kill you for disobedience? I'm no stranger to this twisted version of reprimands. Most children receive a spanking or are grounded when they make a mistake. Not me, I get the Cruciatus Curse. Break an expensive vase-- Crucio! Forget to read my daily chapter of the Dark Arts--Crucio! Defeated by Gryffindor at Quidditch--Crucio! Not beat Muggle-born Granger in marks--Crucio! Notice a pattern?

Granger. Now that girl really is clueless. For someone who was supposedly so well-read and intelligent, she is quite daft. She strolls along, Head Girl badge gleaming, pretending everything is just so wonderful. You would assume, because she has The Boy Who Lived for a friend, she would be as paranoid as Mad Eye Moody about Voldemort's movements. But no, she just carries on spell casting and reading, not a care in the world.

Granger believes everyone is good deep down. How can she be so naïve? She has bared witness to as many evil, horrid events as I have, yet she still maintains this sunny disposition. I suppose I will never understand that girl.

Somewhere in this darkness there's a life that I can't find

Maybe it's too far away

Or maybe I'm just blind

I remember one week ago, walking through the corridors one evening, when the Wonder Trio passed me by. Potter and Weasley glared in my direction, but kept their traps shut. Good thing too, I did not feel up to engaging in a brawl with the brainless imbeciles. But what was with Granger? Her eyes cast a look of...Pity? Why in the name of Merlin did she pity me? Could she possibly know about my initiation on New Years? I doubt it. I sent a customary sneer their way, and continued towards the Dungeons.

"Pureblood," I whispered, and entered the deserted Slytherin Common Room. Every Slytherin had gone home for the holidays, so I had complete peace and quiet. Crabbe and Goyle usually were there to offer companionship, but had been summoned home, probably for initiation preparations. Plopping down on a black leather sofa, I decided to take a short nap. Sprawled across the couch, I succumbed to slumber.

I awoke an hour later, drenched in sweat. Malfoys don't sweat...What in bloody hell did I dream about? I racked my brain, searching for any remains of my unconsciousness. It was a presentiment, my brain murmured, about your future.

Great, I thought, now I'm talking to myself about possessing clairvoyance. Hauling my perspiring body up, I padded to the Prefect bathroom. A shower sounded nice right then.

The warm water washed over me as I mulled over my dream. I only recalled pieces, but for the most part, it was about Voldemort. A skull-white face, with menacing red eyes, stared directly into my soul. He raised his wand. I watched his lips form words, but silence reached my ears. From the encompassing shadows, a black figure appeared to Voldemort's right. The figure prostrated himself at Voldemort's feet, nodding his head in compliance as Voldemort spoke. I couldn't hear a bloody thing.

The figure rose, and began to advance towards me, taking slow and tedious steps. The figure wore a hooded cloak, effectively masking his face from my view. The figure paused two feet away, and threw back his hood, revealing silver blonde hair. It was my father.

"Draco, you disobeyed the Dark Lord. Now, you must pay."

He lifted is cane, and pulled it apart. Inside, he had concealed his wand. However, that's not what he held to my throat. Cold metal met my skin, the point of his fencing sword. With a flick of the wrist, my flesh split in two, and I felt the warm, moist blood trickle down my neck.

That was when I had awoken. I ran my hands through my hair, lathering the soap. Pausing momentarily, I checked my neck. It was still in one piece.

I released a sardonic laugh. I was lucky that time. I knew bloody well my father would do anything for that maniac. He would not miss me if I was dead, he would probably throw a party. I doubt my mother would care either. Would anyone care?

Sometimes, I wonder what it would feel like to have someone care. Hell, I want to be in love. Yes, I, Draco Malfoy, the stonehearted Slytherin, would like to experience love. Sure, I've had plenty of girlfriends, but they were based on physical attraction alone.

I wonder what Granger would be like as a girlfriend...Did I just ponder that? Merlin help me, I must be going insane. Sign me up for St. Mungo's. She's nothing. A Muggle-born know-it-all. She would probably lecture you to the death, with her condescending tones of "You didn't finish your homework early enough" or "You don't spend enough time in the library."

Then again, Potter and Weasley put up with her. Most students and staff genuinely adore her. Maybe she isn't so bad...

So hold me when I'm here

Right me when I'm wrong

Hold me when I'm scared

And love me when I'm gone

Shutting off the faucet, I grabbed a fluffy, white towel from the counter top. Wrapping it around my waist, I stood before the mirror. I avoided my own gaze, unable to bring myself to see what I had become. My eyes traced over my pallid complexion, angular facial features, and down my toned chest. Quidditch certainly had a positive affect on me. I had certainly grown up from the skinny twit I once was. Back then, I was full of arrogance, impenetrable to the world.

I know now that is not the case. I can be broken like anyone else; my life can be shattered as easily as a mirror. I am nothing more than any other boy my age; an ignorant, over-presumptuous youth who has finally realized the truth: He is not untouchable.

Unable to endure further self-deterioration, I pulled away from the sink, and proceeded to my bed chambers. After changing into a crisp, new robe, I made my way down to the Great Hall for dinner. Upon entering, I discovered instead of the usual five separate tables (Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and the staff table), one large table sat in the center.

Inwardly groaning, I slid into a vacant chair next to the sixth year Ravenclaw prefect; I realized too late that I had unfortunately sat myself across from the Wonder Trio. Avoiding eye contact, I shoveled food into my mouth. The Ravenclaw attempted idle chat, but quickly shut up when my responses were little more than grunts.

After my meal was finished, Professor Dumbledore struck up conversation. Of course, he included me.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you looking forward to the New Year's celebration?"

I nearly choked on my pumpkin juice. Glancing up, I found soft, cinnamon eyes on me. Keeping my gaze trained on hers, I answered with a curt "Yes sir."

Her eyes flashed. She knew I was lying.

I quickly averted my gaze, finding the silver trimming on my plate quite fascinating. Dumbledore must have sensed my distress, for he did not involve me in further discussion.

Through the rest of dinner, I sensed Granger's penetrating stare. She knew something was amiss; that girl rarely missed a detail when it came to people's moods. But she'd never understand.

When we were excused, I briskly strode towards the exit, eager to return to my peaceful solitude. No such luck. A hand grabbed me by the elbow, and tugged me into an alcove.

I spun around, and met cinnamon eyes.

Curling my mouth into my characteristic sneer, I addressed her.

"Can I help you, Granger?" I bit out, desperately wanting to be left alone.

She drew back a bit, then straightened up. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, she evenly matched my gaze with determination.

"Malfoy, I didn't stop you to have our customary repartee, so quit the tongue lashing."

I arched an eyebrow, intrigued. She interpreted my casual interest as a signal to continue.

"I've witnessed your behavior lately, Malfoy, and it isn't you. You act even more aloof than usual, but without the sarcasm. You haven't initiated a fight with Harry or Ron."

"I thought that's what you wanted. No more squabbles."

She eyed me curiously. "Yes, that is what I would like, but somehow I doubt my wishes are the cause of your change in behavior."

I chortled. Boy, she's bloody good...

"Right on target, Granger. Have you ever considered my schedule doesn't revolve around those two gits? That I might ignore them for a day or two because I have better things to do?"

Granger began twirling a lock of hair, a sign of her uncertainty. I took these few moments of silence to survey her appearance. She certainly had grown-up. Her bushy hair had become manageable. Her robes were snugger across the chest, and were form-fitting. She had touches of make-up; light lip-gloss and a dab of eye-shadow. She finally decided to become a girl, and what a girl she was. I wondered why I never noticed before. My keen sense of observation was always right on target, especially when the target was the opposite sex.

"Malfoy, even now you're distracted. This isn't usual."

I brought my gaze back to attention.

"Who are you to presume what's usual and what's not? I have better ways to spend my time than stand here and listen to your analysis."

I spun on my heel, and headed towards the Dungeons. I was blocked by a small body. Granger's palms pressed against my chest. My gaze flickered to their placement. She seemed to realize their awkward position, and snatched them away.

"You're not leaving yet. Malfoy, I know deep down, somewhere inside of you, there's a part of you that's troubled. I think you've realized how much hurt you caused, and are trying to redeem yourself."

Inwardly, I burst into hysterics. Merlin, Granger's so naïve. She thinks I might have actual good inside me...

Everything I am and everything in me

Wants to be the one you wanted me to be

I'll never let you down, even if I could

I'd give up everything if only for your good.

I opened my mouth to retort, but made the mistake of looking into her eyes. I found I could not bring myself to tell her otherwise, to shatter her illusion. She was the first person to have a positive perception of me.

Her eyes held so much honesty and hope, such light and kindness. I found myself unable to break her spirit. So, protecting her from the truth, I turned away, and disappeared into the Slytherin Common Room.

How could she think so highly of me? After all I've done, the pain I must have caused her, calling he Mudblood all those years...Her heart must truly be made of gold. Hermione has to be an angel.

Hermione. I like the sound of that.

She is so pure, like a unicorn, untainted by all the evil that surrounds her. No wonder she's admired so.

I wonder what it would be like to have her hold me...

So hold me when I'm here

Right me when I'm wrong

You can hold me when I'm scared

But you won't always be there.

I shook my head, clearing those thoughts. I could never...My darkness would swallow her light. If I do only one thing right in my life, it will be to protect her from me. She doesn't need to be getting mixed up with my problems, trying to help. Potter needs her. And, as much as I dislike the idiot, helping him would be more productive in the struggle against evil.

That is another topic I've never seen eye-to-eye with. Why are they so bent on destroying Voldemort? Wouldn't it be easier to pretend he hasn't returned, like Fudge and those other Ministry idiots? It would be simple; they would save themselves the agony of fighting day after day, in an infinite war.

Groaning, I ran my fingers through my silky locks. I really needed to clear my head. All this mental debating over ethics had to be straining my conscience. Snatching my Firebolt (I had finally been given one), I leapt out the dorm room window.

I felt so exhilarating to free-fall. Adrenaline surged through my veins, and I momentarily disregarded my battles. An inch from the ground, I pulled up the handle of my broom, and shot forward into the pitch.

Flying was always wonderful. No matter the problem, I could always find an escape in zooming through the fresh air. It was a relaxant; it brought me to a place where all my troubles were tiny ants, thousands of miles below me on the ground. While flying, I was untouchable.

I spent a good thirty minutes, looping in circles, diving, and ascending straight upwards. I almost felt free.

I landed, feeling rejuvenated, temporarily. Swinging the broomstick over my shoulders, I gazed up into the starry sky. The moon shone brightly, illuminating the Quidditch pitch, transforming the pit into my personal heaven.

Rustling cloth reached my ears, and I whirled around towards the direction the sound approached. Standing before me, was an angel. Her features were blurred, hidden by the darkness of the night. The moon's glow reflected off her locks and robes, creating an ethereal air. My jaw dropped. A real angel had come for me...

"Malfoy?" her angelic voice called, and I snapped out of my reverie.

"Granger, what are you doing out here?"

She took a tentative step forward, her face coming into clear view. Merlin, she was beautiful...

"I'm not giving up."

Puzzled, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Look Granger, I know I'm irresistible, but stalking is very creepy. If you wanted to have a nice snog, all you need is ask."

Glowering, Hermione stomped up to me, poking her index finger in my chest with each word she bit out.

" How. DARE. You!"

Huffing, she stepped backwards, her features screwed up in indignation. Crossing her arms over her chest, Hermione raised her chin, glaring at me.

"I came out here, trying to be humane, and figure out what's wrong with you, and you do this!" she cried, throwing her hands up for emphasis.

I nearly chuckled at the scene she was making. Hermione looked so adorable when she became angry...But she had no idea.

"You think you can figure me out? Solve me like some bloody puzzle? Sorry, but it's not that simple. All your books and knowledge will do you no justice, Granger. It's not that type of problem, where you can go look up the answer in the book. And I'll be damned if I ever go to you for the answer, because you don't have it."

When your education x-ray

Cannot see under my skin

I won't tell you a damn thing

That I could not tell my friends

There, I had said it. But the moment those words left my mouth, I regretted ever uttering them. Her eyes watered, and Hermione scrunched up her face. Turning away, she attempted to hide her tears. My stomach sunk. I hated it when girls cried...Hey, even though I'm a Malfoy, and commit such horrendous acts; I think it is rather low to make a girl cry.

Hesitantly, I placed a hand on her small shoulder. I could feel her sobs racking her delicate frame. Gently turning her, I lifted my thumb to her cheeks. I wiped away her tears, calming her with soothing tones. At first, she stood rigid, flabbergasted by my softer side, but she relaxed. The tears stopped flowing instantaneously.

I let my hand drop away from her soft skin. I lifted my discarded Fireblot from the sand, and proceeded towards the castle.

Once inside, black corridors greeted me. Not a soul was about, with the exception of the Hogwarts ghosts and (of course) Filch and his stupid cat. My journey down to the Dungeons was long, and lonely.

I fumbled around the dorm, readying for bed. Muttering "Lumos," I lit a pathway to my bed. Crawling under the sheets and extinguishing my light, I lay there, motionless. Shadows of the light danced along my wall, further alerting my senses. I hated the dark. It represented what I was to become, what I was already supposed to be. Maybe that was why I loathed it so.

Now roaming through this darkness

I'm alive but I'm alone

Part of me is fighting

But part of me is gone.

I tossed and turned, submitting to my inner turmoil. Demons ransacked my brain, corrupting everything their malevolent hands touched. Chaos took hold of my mind; Light against Darkness, raging war inside my head. One side screamed to me to succumb, the other side whispered to fight. I felt my skull split in two. Grabbing my forehead, I threw the silk sheets off my body. I bolted upright, breathing unevenly. My heart pounded in my chest, ready to burst out of my ribcage.

That's what I hated most about nights. All the silence and darkness fashioned the perfect atmosphere for my tribulations to unleash their worst. During the daylight hours, I had various topics to keep my mind busy, those troubles locked away.

Lessons, lectures, practice; all served as a distraction. But at night, there was nothing. The war was inevitable, no matter the circumstance.

Somehow, I managed to lie down, and drift off to sleep. More nightmares, all the same: my impending doom.

Breakfast that morning was the same as dinner the night before; idle chat. I could feel Hermione's eyes, following my every movement.

As I had predicted, the moment I exited the Great Hall, she pounced. More questions, more retorts from me. I evaded her, and headed to the Library, thinking that would be the last place she would search.

I was wrong.

She stumbled upon my small refuge, finding me engrossed in a Potions text. Soundlessly, she perched on a nearby chair, and gently pried the book from my grasp. That was the last straw.

"Granger," I bit out, causing her to shrink back, "I've been nice so far. Now I'm not. I'm putting it in plain and simple terms, terms you can't even twist to mean some deranged cry for help. Leave me the bloody hell alone."

Her mouth opened, slightly taken aback. I snatched the text from her lap, and flipped to the page I was previously reading. My eyes occasionally flickered over the spine, observing Hermione's movements. She sat, arms wrapped around her torso, staring at the floor. Her lips moved, muttering (what I assumed were) obscenities. I returned to the passage.

I glanced up again, and found her wringing her hands. She looked so afraid, so innocent, and so pure sitting there in her topaz robes. Her hair was partially pulled back, two twists conjoining at the back. She resembled an angel with a halo. An angel whose soft, welcoming arms I could lie in forever...

So hold me when I'm here

Right me when I'm wrong

Hold me when I'm scared

And love me when I'm gone

Everything I am and everything in me

Wants to be the one you wanted me to be

I'd never let you down even if I could

I'd give up everything if only for your good

Shaking my head, I attempted to clear those obscene thoughts from my head. No such luck. Dropping the book, I drew her hand into my own. Her eyes met mine, and widened. I searched their cinnamon depths, probing for ulterior motives. I could not fathom her genuinely wanting to help me. No one had ever done it before.

But I uncovered none. She seemed sincere in her intentions. But I had to ask.

"Why? Why are you so bent on helping me? Trying to salvage my soul for redemption?"

"Malfoy, I know something is troubling you, be it your soul or something else. I just want to help."

"But why?"

"Because, you need it."

I sighed. I hated when Know-It-All Granger was right. Releasing her hand, I leaned back into my chair.

"New Years isn't going to be a big party for me."

"Because you're not with your family?"

Naïve, so innocently unaware.

"I wish that were the case, but it is a little bigger than that."

Her eyes widened.

"Something is going to happen."

I nodded.

"It has to do with Voldemort, doesn't it?"

I nodded again.

"Is he planning an attack?"

"Not that I'm aware of. But it is ending a life."

She gasped, hand flying over her mouth.

"Whose?"

"Mine."

I looked away, fearing she would find it to her satisfaction, that she would be rid of Heartless Malfoy.

Instead, a hand enclosed m own. My eyes looked up, meeting cinnamon.

"That's awful. They're going to...To kill you?"

"Might as well," I muttered. "No, I'm going to be initiated."

Her mouth formed an "o." I could feel her thumb tracing small patterns on my own.

"Are you scared?"

"Yes. Deathly."

Arms flew around my neck. Warmth spread throughout my body, and my eyes rolled closed. So this is what it feels like to be held...

So hold me when I'm here

Right me when I'm wrong

You can hold me when I'm scared

You won't always be there

So love me when I'm gone

Love me when I'm gone

After a few minutes, I pulled back. I gazed at her, confused.

As if reading my mind, she smiled sheepishly.

"Sometimes, when you're scared, you need a hug."

I chuckled at her antics. So sweet, so innocent.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For helping me find my reason."

I stood up, placed a kiss on her forehead, and exited the library, leaving behind a confounded Gryffindor.

So now I sit, New Years Eve, at the Manor. I watch the clock, ticking away the minutes. My father just entered the parlor. He signals. It's time.

I rise from the chair, and follow. Walking down seemingly endless corridors, it feels like eternity has passed before we stop. My father opens the door, and I enter.

There, in all his serpent-like glory, seated on a makeshift throne, red eyes gleaming, sits Voldemort. I saunter up, my resolve firm.

He raises his palm, and I stop. His eyes survey my composure, noticing my confidence.

Mouth twisting, he opens his mouth to say the eight words I have been dreading.

"Are you ready to become a Death Eater?"

I look out the window, finding the moon. Its glow is bright and calming. My thoughts float to my angel, my personal savior.

I love you, Hermione.

I turn my attention back to Voldemort, and smirk.

"Not a chance in hell."

So hold me when I'm here

Right me when I'm wrong

Hold me when I'm scared

And love me when I'm gone

Everything I am and everything in me

Wants to be the one you wanted me to be

I'll never let you down even if I could

I'd give up everything if only for your good

So hold me when I'm here

Right me when I'm wrong

You can hold me when I'm scared

You won't always be there

So love me when I'm gone

Love me when I'm gone

The End!