Weathered

Weathered

The dark sky that blanketed the Earth --during the mild summer of that year seemed unreal, as if it was a black velvet blanket. The moon shone full, giving the grass on the lawn an eerie effect. It gleamed and rolled as if it was a sea. A cool breeze blew by, causing some movement in the trees as well; but it was the stars that had many people wondering. For none of the stars shined brightly on that night.

Draco Malfoy was standing out on his balcony, looking upwards towards the heavens, trying to see anything beyond them. He had matured, now soon to be a 6^th year, and his birthday was growing closer and closer with each second of the clock. At midnight, he would be 16 years old, and faced with the decision of his life. He had to choose between the Dark or the Light.

"I lie awake on a long, dark night

I can’t seem to tame my mind

Slings and arrows are killing me inside

Maybe I can’t accept the life that’s mine

No I can’t accept the life that’s mine"

The cool breezed ruffled his hair, and caused the bottoms of his robes to softly billow out. He leaned against the rail, and continued to look upward.

‘Well,’ one voice in his voice began, ‘have you decided? For once you’ve made it, you’ve made it. There are no more second chances, no more "next times". There wasn’t one for your Father, and there will not be one for you… This is it.’

"Yeah, I know," he said to himself, as the words were taken from his mouth and given to the wind. "I know." His eyes stared at the constellation of Draco, and he faintly remembered the stories he made up about himself being a dragon, and all of what he would do. Those days had ended many years ago, though part of him yearned for it still. Maybe it was the fact that the majestic dragon controlled everything, or that he wasn’t just a troubled soul, but something else.

Faint, dull, footsteps echoed in the corridor nearby and Draco stiffened, ‘Father’. He didn’t move, he only breathed, and those few breaths were shallow, as Lucius drew closer and closer. The sound of his boots hitting the cold, stone floor and the slight ‘swish’ of his robes as he took each step grew louder and louder with each passing second; all of it leading up to the final one.

"Simple living is my desperate cry

Been trading love with indifference yeah it suits me just fine

I try to hold on but I’m calloused to the bone

Maybe that’s why I feel alone

Maybe that’s why I feel alone"

Lucius looked over at his son, Draco, standing there on the balcony, wearing the traditional forest green robes, with the pendent of the Dark Mark hanging from his neck. It reminded of him of himself, so many years ago, when he has joined the Dark Lord.

"Draco, it’s almost time for you to become a man."

Draco flinched as if someone had struck him, and paused for a moment, before responding.

"Father, I need more time."

"You’ve had more then enough time. I joined his ranks when I had just turned 15, not 16 like you are now," he barked.

‘Yeah, you also are a bloody git who doesn’t give a damn about what others think either,’ Draco thought to himself.

"I do not feel well."

"You may retire after you meet your future Master," Lucius coldly replied, looking into Draco’s dropped eyes. A passerby would have thought that they could have been twins; with the same pale skin, stormy grey eyes, and silvery blonde hair, they could easily pass for them. It was only their voices that truly showed the difference; Lucius was cold and hard at all times, while Draco’s still sometimes held the laughter of his namesake, the stars.. Probably in a couple of years, even that would be the same.

Draco raised one eyebrow at Lucius, as if challenging him, "I do not want to make a bad impression on him, Father. I think that he would rather have a healthy follower, than one who is sick and causes everybody else to get sick."

"The reply is the same. Now, let’s go," Lucius ordered, his voice as cold and strong as steel, as he took a few steps back and waited for Draco to go first, then he too, entered the room and began to go forth into the Meeting Room.

Draco pulled up the hood of his robes as he entered the room, hoping that nobody would take to much notice of his appearance, though he reckoned that Father would make a big production about it, like he always did when Draco did something that was worthwhile. He retreated into the back of the room, into a dark and isolated corner, which was covered in dust and cobwebs, to watch and maybe find some way to get out of this situation, to get more time.

Seconds after he had found his corner, Lucius entered and took his place next to the older versions of Crabbe and Goyle, and Draco hoped that Father wouldn’t look over at him, and just presume that he was one of those with the hoods up, as well wearing the pendant.

Draco was in deep thought when the arrival was made, clearly missing a glimpse of the Dark Lord, as he entered the room from a portal-like hole. It was probably best for him that he did not see the Dark Lord, for in the past year, Voldemort had aged dramatically. His skin had become loose, gaining a few wrinkles on his usually tight face; but his fierce eyes were of a deeper red this time, blood red.

"Me…I’m rusted and weathered

Barely holding together

I’m covered with skin that peels and it just won’t heal"

Draco watched in both amusement and wonder as the Dark Lord lowered his hood and greeted the Death Eaters that were in attendance. Draco only listened half-heartedly to him. He had enough going on in his own head.

‘You have to join him, there is no other choice.’

‘Yes there is!’

‘Yeah, getting killed sounds like a real winner there.’

‘It’s better then joining him, for Merlin’s blood.’

‘Don’t you start up on that again.’

‘I still say there has to be another way’

‘When you think of it, do let us know….’

"The sun shines and I can’t avoid the light

I think I’m holding on to life too tight

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust

Sometimes I feel like giving up

Sometimes I feel like giving up"

"Draco, Draco," hissed a voice in Draco’s ear. Draco jumped, surprised, but his shock quickly changed to anger. It was him, Father, calling for Draco again. Draco looked upwards , up to the Dark Lord, and surveyed him with his eyes.

‘Not the most handsome bloke of this lot, that’s for sure,’ Draco thought to himself, as Lucius, shoved Draco forward, taking him closer and closer to the one wizard that changed the Wizarding World for eternity.

Draco stared at him, and the Dark Lord returned the gaze, as if he too was evaluating Draco.

"Young, Mister Malfoy, I’m glad that you finally have decided to join us."

‘I what? I did not say so, oh dear Merlin, I’m going to die tonight,’ he thought to himself as the Dark Lord closed the gap between them and extended one long, cold, finger and made a line of Draco’s clenched jaw line.

"Lucius, have you explained everything to him?"

"Of course, my lord," Lucius said in a humble voice that was reserved for only the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord alone. He would never have used it to another person.

‘That’s sickening,’ Draco once again thought to himself. He never thought of his Father the type that talked like that to the Dark Lord. Sure, maybe he spoke with respect, but never sounding as if he feared him. Was he afraid of the Dark Lord?

The Dark Lord bore his eyes into Draco’s, causing un-easiness in all of the Death Eaters. Not to mention Draco himself.

"Mister Malfoy, are you ready enough to join the winning side?"

Draco looked at him and just wanted to run away, somewhere far away; to a place that was unmapped, unheard of, where nobody would ever find him there. Draco paused for a few moments, before stepping back, out of the Dark Lord’s reach.

The Dark Lord smirked, one that showed pure amusement and wonderment, as if asking if the boy knew what he was doing, and what would happen to him after it did.

‘Okay, think, think, think, find some way to ask for some more time,’ Draco thought to himself, panic growing rapidly inside him and adrenaline started pumping through his veins, preparing him for the fight of his life.

"Me…I’m rusted and weathered

Barely holding together

I’m covered with skin that peels and it just won’t heal"

Draco’s mind faintly remembered what happened a week ago, when he had told Father that he needed more time to think about his status on the sides of the war. Part of him just wanted to forget that it ever happened, but his mind wouldn’t let him. It was as if his mind wanted to show him what the life would be like, if he did join them; the reflection of his Father.

"Father," Draco’s voice sounded in Lucius’ office. "I need to speak to you," he slowly said, and remained standing.

Lucius looked up from his paper, up at Draco, "Sit," he uttered, partially rolling his eyes.

"Father, I need more time. I want to think it over some more." He slowly said, fear rapidly growing in his voice, fearing what could come next.

"You want…more time?"

"Yes, Father."

Lucius stood up, pushing the chair back and put his arms down on the desk, leering over at Draco. "There is nothing for you to think about. You are my son, and my son will not betray me or our Master! Why, Draco, have you gone soft?"

"Of course not, Father," Draco quickly replied, trying to anticipate a violent reaction from his Father.

"One week, Master will come here and you will join him. You will not get another day…"

It was during those few seconds that Draco made his decision, one, which sealed his fate. He did what only a few others had only attempted when it was their turn to choose their side…He ran.

He ran from the Dark Lord, turning around and bolting from the room, only to be followed quickly by the numerous Death Eaters that were in attendance. His heart was pounding in his chest, the blood shooting through his veins, and the beats only became louder and louder. He could barely hear the shouts of the Death Eaters’ curses, as they shot right past him, and hit him.

He fumbled in his robes for his wand, causing him to lose some of the precious distance, which was aiding him in keeping alive, from the other side. He pulled it out, and dropped it. The sound of his wand hitting the floor echoed in his ears as he continued to run. Now, he was defenseless; a lamb ready for slaughter.

He continued to run through the corridors and past places in which he thought he was safe, and that no harm would come to him there. He now regretted ever thinking that he would be sheltered for his entire life. Now, he would be lucky to get out of this alive.

"The day reminds me of you

The night hides your truth

The earth is a voice

Speaking to you

Take all this pride

Speaking to you

And leave it behind

Because one day it ends

One day we will die

Believe what you will

That is your right

But I choose to win

So I choose to fight

To Fight"

He ran into another corridor, one in which that he had never seen before. It was full of old paintings and things that only a historian would even have an idea on what it was and what its purpose was. He ran down and faced the wall. He was trapped and now, he would be punished.

He turned around and looked at the Death Eaters, panting with their wands drawn out, and with their masks on, concealing their faces. His throat tightened as they closed in on them, and he frantically looked for some opening in which he could escape through; but alas, there wasn’t one.

One of the Death Eaters removed his mask, to reveal a disappointed Lucius, who quickly covered that emotion with fury. "This is not my son," he hissed to Draco, and the Death Eaters changed their grip on their wands. "My son would honor me, not run away like a fool. This is not myson."

Draco faintly remembered a small talk that he had shared with his Mother, a month or so, before she went to go and visit her family. but Draco knew better. His Mother was dead, and now, he would most likely join her in the eternal after-life or he would wish that he would.

"Draco," his Mother began, sitting down on his bed, her sapphire eyes large as she looked at her son. "I want you to think about this, and think about it hard. Think about it everyday, and don’t let other thoughts overcome it."

"What is it Mother," Draco asked, confused on his Mother’s tone and her expression.

"I’m going away for a while, Draco. My Aunt is sick and needs another family member to take care of her," her eyes began to shine with tears as she uttered those words. "I’ve already discussed it with your Father, and he has…granted me permission to do so.

"I’m going to be proud of you no matter what side you join, Draco. For that side that you will choose, I will join you as well. You don’t have anything to prove to your Father or to me. You just have to be you, and enjoy your life," she then smoothed a place where the sheets were not even.

"You can do whatever you want to, and I’ll be proud of you," she almost whispered and got off the bed. That was the last time that he would ever see her.

Draco looked at the Death Eaters, fear growing in his eyes, but were soon replaced by calm as the memory finished playing in his mind. He looked over himself, cuts and bruises over most of his exposed flesh, sweat drenching his hair, and defenseless.

Lucius put his mask back on and raised his wand level with Draco’s heart. "Avada Kedavra," he whispered, as the green light then shot out of his wand towards Draco, with amazing speed.

Draco slightly smiled as the light was about to hit him, ‘I have won’ he quickly thought, before the light in his eyes dimmed and he fell to the floor; free at last.