My first shot at any Angsty/Dark fic. Hope you enjoy it!
Alone.
One word swam through his mind as he lay on his back, looking at the ceiling. He was alone; alone in a big, cold, empty mansion — alone without his parents. It all came down to this. He was alone. No one wanted to stay close to him, no one wanted to help him through his pain, and no one wanted to have anything to do with him. He was alone.
Cold blue eyes stayed focused on the ceiling as he thought of all the things he had gone through, and of all the things he would have to go through. Yet, not a single sigh escaped his lips, not a single tear formed in his eyes. Draco Malfoy was stronger than that. He was alone, but that didn’t mean he was powerless. He was the same Draco Malfoy he had always been. He was just … on his own.
No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
They didn’t know what it felt like—none of them. The “good” side had been victorious in the war. Potter had conquered all and yet he, Draco Malfoy, was nothing. In the eyes of all the others he was just like the rest of the Death Eaters—heartless, cold, and cruel. They didn't understand anything.
They didn't know what it was like to be looked at with hate—to be despised. They didn’t know that the only thing that hatred did, was push Draco even further, make him do something crazier.
And no one knows what it's like
To be hated
To be fated to telling only lies
Lies. So many lies. But it wasn’t his fault. He would have never… Ah, but it was too late. He had lied, cheated, manipulated, blackmailed and even… killed. He was hated by all, as he should be. Draco knew this, but it did not make him feel any better.
Alone. He was alone with his cold thoughts and feelings. Yes, feelings. Feelings he’d never thought he’d have. Feelings that he’d tried to hide for so long. But still anger and hate filled every particle of his body, obscured his senses, and he could do nothing about it.
But my dreams they aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
He would be alone forevermore. This is what he deserved. He had killed and he couldn't handle it. Draco was perplexed—his conscience had never been a problem before. And now face after face was flashing before him, all the people whose lives he’d ruined, and all the people whose lives he’d taken. He shuddered and placed a hand on his left forearm. It was cold as ice. He wished he could tear it off; he couldn’t bear to see it — a mark— the cause of all his past errors. There was no going back. All he wanted now were things that he could not have. He wanted a normal life, untainted and pure, but he knew he would never be able to live it.
Two words rolled over and over in his mind. Love. Hate. Love. Hate. He couldn't decide which held more power. In the end, would love survive above all? What was love? Had he ever loved? Had he loved his father, his mother, or even Pansy? No, he did not know what love was. He had thought he loved once, but that was only a passing feeling. Certainly love outlasted everything? He only knew one feeling, and that was hate. Hate for everything and everyone. He would leave this world without ever having felt love.
No one knows what it’s like
To feel these feelings
Like I do, and I blame you
He didn’t know who was to blame. But he suspected it all came down to his father: he was the one who had gotten him into this. He should be the one to blame and yet, Draco had never protested. He could have had a more pleasant life, right now he could be celebrating instead of suffering—but he had chosen. He had chosen the wrong path, but he only realized that now. He wished he had been wiser, wished he had realized then what he was going to become. The only thing that consoled him was the thought that he had remained loyal to his father.
Draco could not possibly blame his parents when they were both six feet under the ground. Not when he knew he should have done something to stop them from being murdered. He had not arrived in time to save them. He only arrived in time when it was a question of killing. Now he only had to wait, wait for the doom that would eventually fall on him…
No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through
Draco wished he could shout, cry, destroy something, do anything to vent off his feelings, but he knew he would never be able to. His father had taught him too well.
“Never show your feelings to the world,” he had said.
And he wasn’t going to. He wasn’t going to break down, not even when no one was looking. What good would that do, except prove to everyone that he was sorry, that he was thoroughly regretting all of his past mistakes, when it was obviously too late. When he knew that it would be all over soon. No. Draco Malfoy was going to remain unbroken.
No one knows what it’s like
To be mistreated, to be defeated
Behind blue eyes
Looking back, he thought of what had pushed him to such a horrible, life of bloodshed. It was true that it had started just because of his loyalty toward Lucius, but it had become so much more than that. Even he couldn’t put his finger on it. How he regretted everything, everything he had done, but he was not going to admit it to anyone.
He heard footsteps on his front lawn. They were here. They were coming for him. He did nothing to stop it. It was time to pay for what he’d done, there was no escaping it. He would go and at least he would never feel alone. He would have his life’s most horrible memories to keep him company. Or he would be nothing … he would not feel …
No one knows how to say
That they're sorry and don't worry
I'm not telling lies
There was Potter … and Dumbledore. No doubt the Dementors were right behind them. Draco finally removed his eyes from the ceiling and turned to look at them. Pain he had never imagined was possible, was shining out of Potter’s eyes. Hate was there too. He looked at Draco, trembling. Draco looked back at him without flinching. He was sure Potter would never forgive him for what he’d done. Never. He couldn’t forgive himself.
“I don’t know what to say, Potter,” Draco said not rising from his spot on the floor, tone as cold as ever.
She didn’t deserve death and he knew it. He knew that no matter how strong his hate for Mudbloods, he should have never killed her. He should have given her… and Potter that much. Given her the chance to get away, for old rivalry’s sake. But he hadn’t. And he would never forgive himself.
Looking at Draco, so cold and cruel, was too much for Harry. He turned away, wishing above all that this vermin on the floor was dead and that his love was alive, his Hermione.
“How could you do this?” Harry asked, his voice trembling from rage.
Draco remained silent. There was nothing he could say to Harry to make him feel better. But Harry kept talking, unaware of Draco’s silence.
“You don’t even feel remorse, do you? I used to feel sorry for you, but now … you don’t even deserve pity. What you deserve is what’s coming to you.”
With that Harry turned around and went down the steps of the Malfoy Mansion, heart broken and dreams destroyed.
Dumbledore was left looking at Draco with something more than pity in his eyes. Funny how both of his pervious students were destroyed—one because of love, the other because of hate. How he’d wished it wouldn’t have to come to this. How he’d wished that Draco … and the others before him would learn their lesson from people before them. It looked as though Draco had, but what a shame. It was too late.
More than anything else, Draco wanted his previous Headmaster to tell him that it wasn’t going to be that horrible, to tell him that he had done the right thing by turning himself in, to tell him that after all he wasn’t a bad person—to tell him anything—but Dumbledore spoke only to say, “It is time Draco.”
But my dreams they aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
A swooping, cold sensation filled his lungs and horrible memories filled his mind, but he made no attempt to get away. Harry was right—he deserved all this. All he could think about was the life he had never had, the life he was never going to have, the lives he had prevented others from having. But it was too late now. The past was meaningless and there was no future. No more dreams of loving or being loved, no more wondering if he could have a normal life, no more. He closed his eyes and thought of only one thing, of only one word … alone. He was born alone and he was going to be destroyed … alone, with no one by his side, no one to ease his pain, no one to cry for him, no one to plead for him. No one.
Before his senses were blocked out completely by a woman’s shrill screaming, Draco Malfoy, for the first and last time in his life felt sorry for himself. He felt sorry for everything and everyone and for the final time Draco Malfoy realized what it meant to truly feel. He let a tear escape his eyes, right there, in front of the person he’d thought he’d hated most, but all was lost as his fears and insecurities took over, as pleas for mercy filled his mind, and he felt the Dementor’s putrid breath on his lips … and his blue eyes closed forever.
No one knows what it’s like
To be the bad man,
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes