Draco's Song

Blink-182 owns the song "Adam's Song".

Draco Malfoy looked out of his bedroom window and out to the surrounding countryside. The sun was fading into the horizon, and the sky was blood red. His eyes gleamed silver, an unusual contrast of color.

He held the knife in his hands, with emeralds decorating it's grip. On the hilt was the Malfoy crest, a large, silver M with two snakes underneath. His shaking hands held this, his only way to freedom and peace.

I never thought I'd die alone,
I laughed the loudest, whod've known?
I trace the cord back to the wall,
No wonder it was never plugged in at all

Draco ran his finger along the edge. It slit it, and liquid, matching the sky, started to come forth. He started to shudder, but quickly stopped. No, thought Draco, I will do this. I won't back out. It's too late now.

Draco put down the blade, and proceeded to his desk. It was of the finest furniture, mahogany with silver handles. He pulled out a luxury quill and a few rolls of parchment. He would have a lot to write to everyone.

I took my time, I hurried up,
The choice was mine, I didn't think enough,
I'm too depressed, to go on,
And you'll be sorry when I'm gone

He thought about himself, the boy who seemed to have everything but had nothing. He was one of the most popular boys at his old school, Hogwarts, but he knew that almost everyone had harbored a deep hatred for the blonde-haired boy in their souls. The enormous amount of gold he had was of no value of him, and he instead wished that he could have a family. No love, no friendship, and soon, no life.

I never conquered, rarely came,
But sixteen just held such better days,
Days when I still felt alive,
We couldn't wait to get outside

His father was one of the reasons that his life was a wretched shell, beautiful on the outside but nothing within. His father, an older, smoother Draco, dabbled in the Dark Arts, and was determined to teach his son in the very same way. But Draco was not a son to Lucius. He was an ugly, stupid, weak boy, who would never amount to anything. So Draco did everything he could to be the apple in his father's eye. He practiced the Dark Arts diligently, and practiced Quidditch daily. Though Draco tried his hardest, nothing was ever good enough.

He remembered the beatings. Beatings for being in the same room with his father when he was drinking the morning tea. Beatings when he had accidentally touched him while walking with him in the corridors. Beatings for stupid little things that he shouldn't have been punished for. And Draco never knew when he was going to strike next.

The beatings always took place in Lucius' closet. Lucius would put a soundproof charm in it, so no one in Malfoy Mansion could hear his own screams.

Lucius would conjure a large, black leather belt our of thin air with his wand. He would beat Draco senseless with it.

Draco touched a scar on his arm. He shuddered.

But, worst of all, Lucius would practice curses on Draco, in the most dreadful ways. He would cast the Imperius curse on his son, and make him tear at himself. He would practice the Cruciatus Curse on Draco for hours on end. And once, only once, had Lucius come close to Avada Kedrava, thank God.

The world was wide, too late to try,
The tour was over, I survived,
I couldn't wait till I got home,
To pass the time in my room alone

Draco remembered the first time he saw his arch nemesis, Harry Potter. It was in Madame Malkin's Robe Shop, and Draco had not recognized the small, skinny, green-eyed little boy that had defeated his father's god. He had been arrogant, though at that age, he thought nothing of it. Then, the Malfoy name was a sacred thing, and Draco was far above any little boy.

He recalled his first ride on the Hogwarts Express, and when he had barged into Harry's and that filth, Ron Weasley's, compartment. He had offered his friendship...but Harry had turned it down, coldly. Draco's pride was hurt, the first time it had ever been. He was a Malfoy. It meant something then, but not now.

School, was, well, school. It had bored Draco immensely. No Dark Arts lessons, he was not allowed to fly his own broomstick, and he had to look at Potter and his happiness, Potter, and his Mudblood friend and Muggle-loving companion.

It had been that way, until she had walked into his life in his sixth year. A beautiful, smart, humorous girl with a heart of gold. He remembered her soft skin, her straight, red hair, velvety brown eyes, and the way she made his stomach melt and his knees give away. Ginny Weasley.

I never thought, I'd die alone,
Another six months, I'll be unknown,
Give all my things, to all my friends,
You'll never set foot in my room again.
You'll close it off, you'll board it up,
Remember the time that I spilled the cup
Of apple juice, in the hall,
And please tell mom this is not her fault.

It had been in the library, when they first met. Ginny had asked Draco to help him with her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework, because, of course, it was Draco's best subject. He had realized who she was, and had not liked her for it, and she actually didn't seem to happy about asking for a Malfoy's help, but he helped her (with snide remarks in between). They had continued doing this for a few months, and little by little, Draco forgot that she was a freckle-faced Weasley and a Muggle-lover. And she, as well, forgot that he was an arrogant, stuck up Malfoy.

They started to enjoy each other's company in private, though not in public, for it was preposterous to even think that a Slytherin could be friends with a Gryffindor.

Draco thought of his first kiss with her. Since he was handsome enough, with his silver eyes and blonde hair, he had kissed plenty of girls, but had never been kissed first by one. It was Ginny who had done it, Ginny, who in the middle of his explanation of the creation of the Veela, had kissed him on the mouth and had tucked his hair behind his ear. The kiss was long, and Draco's mind had raced. He actually enjoyed kissing Ginny, her lips as soft as rose petals, and her sent of morning dew.

They had started to meet in secret all over the school, in the Astronomy Tower, out on the Quidditch Pitch, and behind statues. They had even shared a most intimate love, a love that felt so right, that Ginny wasn't an enemy of the Malfoy family. She was simply his lover, who he caressed in the dark and kissed in the moonlight.

Draco, of course, still acted the same way towards Potter and his Gryffindor friends. He covered his relationship up with Ginny well, by insulting and fighting with Potter and Weasley more than he had ever done. It was so no one would suspect, that no one would find out that he, Draco Malfoy, a pure-blood Slytherin, was in love with Virginia Weasley, a Gryffindor and Muggle-lover, who he shared his body and soul with.

I never conquered, rarely came,
But sixteen just held such better days,
Days when I still felt alive,
We couldn't wait to get outside

Draco could remember only one other person that had loved him. His mother. She was a kind woman, a woman who tried to stand up for her son, though she was hurt in the process. He remembered when he was fresh out of Hogwarts after his third year, and his father had, once again, gotten box seats to the Quidditch World Cup. The night before the Cup game, Lucius had decided to beat Draco for not practicing the Cruciatus Curse on a cat properly. Draco's mother had pulled her beloved son aside, and had begged Lucius not to hurt him. In return, he punched his wife in the face, and had grabbed Draco and left her on the cold, marble floor, unconscious.

When Draco's mother had woken, she had tried to repair her broken nose with mediocre healing charms, but had not succeeded very well. This had been apparent to Draco at the Cup game, for his mother wore an expression of utter disgust.

His mother was the only one who had dared to protect him, dared to keep him out of harm's way. She had died only a year ago, and Draco knew that the misery of his father had killed her, his persistent beatings, the depression was too much for her, as for Draco...

We'll be together soon, mother.

The world was wide, too late to try,
The tour was over, I'd survived,
I couldn't wait, till I got home,
To pass the time in my room alone.

Draco had been unable to keep his precious relationship with his beloved Ginny. He knew that one day he would hurt her, even if it was not of his own will, and that he was destined to be a Death-Eater. He knew that he would never truly be a good person, as he was in Ginny's eyes. His fate was towards the Dark.

It had been in an empty classroom, when it had been their last time together. She tried to kiss him, but he grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Ginny," he had said, "We can't do this anymore."

She had given him a puzzled look. "Draco, what is it? There's something wrong. It's in your eyes."

Draco had shaken his head and continued, "I'm not what you think I am. You see a lie before your eyes. I can only harm you, not love you. I'm stepping away before it's too late. Good-bye, Ginny."

"Draco! Wait..."

But it was too late. Draco had already walked away from the room, tears stinging his eyes. It was the first time he had cried since he was a small boy, before Lucius had corrupted his soul. It was just too hard to let Ginny go, but his hands were tied. He couldn't hurt his love with his Dark Arts, it was for her own good.

Draco had walked past an empty classroom, but had passed a mirror. He stopped, for out of the corner of his eye, he saw more than just his reflection.

In the mirror, he stood with Ginny, his hand around her waist, pulling her close to his lips...

He looked at an inscription engraved on the top of the mirror, Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt woshi, but was so overcome with grief that he could not make sense of what it could mean, and simply fled down the corridor.

Draco finally started to write. The first note was to his father:

Lucius,

Tonight I was supposed to be made a Death Eater. It would have made you happy, Lucius, but tonight, I'm not thinking about what would make YOU happy, but what would make ME happy. And that is only rest, mind, body, and soul. You, Lucius, have caused my destruction. You made my life a living hell. Do you remember the beatings, Lucius? Do you remember the cries of agony, which you caused? Do you remember? Well, I do. And no more, will they haunt my life. I curse you, Lucius, and I hope that when YOU go to Hell, which you surely will, YOU will suffer what I have in my life. Good-bye Lucius.

Draco

He folded the letter, put the name "Lucius" on one of the blank sides, and laid it on his bed. When one of the servants found Draco's body, they would surely give it to him.

Draco thought of writing to Crabbe and Goyle, but for only a second. They weren't friends, he thought, they were just there to feed off of my power. And they probably wouldn't be able to read the note, anyway, the dumb gits.

Draco wrote to Ginny next. This note was shorter than the other one:

Dear Ginny:

I loved you with all of my heart and soul. Please visit my grave.

Love,

Draco

He put it aside. He was done. Now there was nothing left to do than to do the act itself...

Suddenly, Draco had a strange urge to write to Harry Potter. Potter, his enemy. He didn't know why. But Draco pulled out another piece of parchment, dipped his quill in black ink, and began to write:

Potter:

This is Draco Malfoy. Yes, Draco Malfoy. I don't know why I'm writing to you. I think it may be because I feel guilty, and since these are my last hours, I would like to say sorry. I know, it is strange that I, who you have always thought to be an arrogant pig, am apologizing for the times that I made your life hell. But I am. And I apologize.

You and I are alike, Potter. We both bend the rules, we both have pride, and we both are hurt inside. I could see it when we were in school together, Potter. You always seemed happy, yet I could tell that you felt there was something missing, in both our cases, family. I saw that in myself, and I didn't wish to see it, so I tried to get rid of it, the loss that was in you. It was stupid of me, Potter, to hurt you, when there was nothing wrong with you, but something wrong with me. And now, no one will hurt you anymore, Potter, as I have. We are on the same level. I wish you a happy life Potter, and I hope you accept my apology.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy.

Draco addressed Ginny and Harry's notes, and gave them to Emeric, his owl. Emeric flew off into the crimson sky, and Draco watched him until he was no more than a black dot.

Draco went back towards the windowsill, where the knife lay. He took it into his hands, and turned it, so that the sharp, silver blade was pointed towards his own heart. Draco took a long, deep breath, and pushed.

He hardly felt the pain, and many things swum into his head. Lucius, beatings...His mother....loving...Ginny...kissing....Ginny....love.....

The Dragon's spirit soared into the heavens, and to it's creator.

I never conquered, rarely came,
But tomorrow holds such better days,
Days when I can still feel alive,
When I can't wait to get outside
The world is wide,
Too late to try,
The tour is over, I've survived,
And I can't wait, till I get home,
To pass the time in my room alone.