A/N– My first song-fic! It is angst-y as usual. This is based on 'The Bomb Song' by Darwin Deez.
by grey chemistry
Warning– Major character death, Angst
Edited- 11.02.15 [Thanks Mertice.]
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oOo
the sky's green
it's been that way since they dropped the bomb
the clouds are brown
the city's a ghost town
the city is dead
the river's a bed now
the hair on my head came out, it fell on the ground
none of the sunlight is safe
litter is blowing all around the sidewalk
oOo
He walked on the empty street. The few people present there were glaring daggers at him and it felt odd to him. But he didn't let them get him. He walked on, ignoring their stares, sneers and silent jeers. His steps led him to his second-most favourite shop in Diagon Alley– Flourish and Blott's. Feeling highly relieved that the store was open, he went in. The girl at the billing counter looked at him with an air of hostility but didn't say anything; he was an old customer after all, reformed Death Eater or not.
The place was empty like the rest of the market. Most of the people were still affected by the recently ended war and were therefore, still careful of their every move. The death eaters hadn't been wiped away fully and the streets were still haunted by mysterious deaths. It was only good that the people didn't venture far away from the safety of their homes.
He was a target for both the groups. The dead Dark Lord's followers wanted him dead for betrayal, the light side wanted to kill him for just who he had been. But it didn't matter. He knew he had to die someday. Life just simply didn't hold any more meaning for him now. It was true that he was still snarky or irritating, but only in front of his mother, never outside the confines of his home. It was almost as if the old Draco Lucius Malfoy had died.
He was feeling calm after a very long time. The atmosphere around him was very placid and for a while no one was around to torment him. He enjoyed this peace for then; after all he been deprived of it in the last two years. He looked around the shop for any signs of trouble; people didn't exactly welcome him those days. He sat languidly in an armchair and got his hands on the first book he saw sprawled on the small table. It was a dictionary. He opened it in a random fashion and his eyes stumbled across a word that had come to mean much more to him in the past few weeks.
Change– v. (intransitive) To become something different
He closed the tome with a quiet thud. No one was around to scold him on his appalling treatment of books, or so he thought. He didn't like changes. He wasn't the one to reject accepted ways and follow the road less traveled. But he had changed. All of them had. They had been changed forever. It wasn't only the dark spells and the physical damage that had brought about this change. No, it was much more.
It was the battle cries, the whizzes of dangerous green light running narrowly past their hearts, the sight of death and the sorrow from it all that had scarred them and their memories forever. He had been affected the brutality too; except that the way in it had happened was vastly different from those of his classmates. They could never understand that the only thing that was worse than being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange was being taught by her. According to his gruesome late aunt, teaching equaled torturing.
They couldn't even begin to comprehend what he had gone through just to stay alive, just to watch her warm hazel eyes again...
oOo
say you love me now
maybe you will say you love me now
say you love me please say it now that
the sky is green...
oOo
She didn't remember anything of course; he had made sure of it. But he remembered. He remembered each and every moment in vivid detail. Fifth year had proved to be interesting; very interesting indeed. The post of a prefect and the power that it brought, being a member of the inquisitorial squad, the freedom to roam around and the feel of her lips on his had been a heady combination. The lips part had happened by a mistake, and what a beautiful mistake it had been.
Such a beautiful mistake...
He closed his eyes as his mind led him back in time. Behind the curtain of his hooded eyes, hid some memories and he traveled in them. He sat on the soft armchair as his mind took him to the corridors of Hogwarts.
He had been doing his rounds with her. To avoid any possible scuffles with each other, they had taken up opposite parts of the castle; she the west wing and he the east wing. All had been going well until Peeves began chasing her, throwing the occasional splash of water or mud ball in between. After being unsatisfied with her troubles, the lousy ghost had the nerve to chase after him. He had made him run until he had literally ran into her dripping wet self.
Together, they had stumbled to the ground; he on top of her, his arms around her. Her clothes had soaked his and his muddied ones had soiled hers. He should have gotten up then. But he hadn't. No, he had stared straight into her hazel eyes and she had stared right back into his bright grey ones as if sifting through the depths of his soul, as if challenging him. It was almost as if her eyes had been saying– "Can't look away now, can you? Maybe you've realised that I am girl in addition to being a mudblood." They had remained locked in that stare for a seemingly long time. Peeves had thankfully vanished away.
She had pushed him away and due to that he had been jolted out of his sweet reverie. Somewhere between the run and tumble he had discovered a discreet moment of strange bliss. And he couldn't have had allowed to go that away just like that. So he had held her firmly in her place which in turn had caused her to push harder but he had resisted. He had then continued to stroke her tangled hair. She had looked up at him, very unsure. Truth be told, he had been unsure too.
He had kissed her afterwards; and what a kiss it had been. The feeling of her soft curves underneath him, the sweetness of her mouth, the hazel of her eyes... It had been magical. Truly. But the feeling had been short lived. They had stood up quickly; afraid if anyone had seen them and had then run away as far as possible from each other. None of them had looked back.
His eyes opened as he heard the shop bell ring due to someone's coming in. His pleasant daydream had been broken. He went over to a shelf and picked up a random novel in a desperate attempt to not recall the kiss and the events that had proceeded it. His eyes skimmed over the pages, utterly lost and not at all concentrated. He didn't want to remember any of it. But he recalled them each and everyday of his life. He couldn't help it. He was addicted to her hazel eyes and what was more worse was the fact that he couldn't act upon his eery addiction.
His mother had found him a pureblood girl, Astoria Greengrass and was relentlessly pursuing him to make him date her, saying that he deserved to enjoy once in a while. But he didn't want to. The girl didn't have the hazel eyes he wanted. Instead she had icy blue ones. And he hated blue eyes; they reminded him of Ron Weasley, the man who was loved by the girl he wanted. Life was one hell of a mess for him.
Their kiss induced, short-lived, year long relationship had been like strychnine– effective and lethal. She was his strychnine and he was dying inside because of the effect she had on him. He was dying without her and he knew it. He had been dying ever since he had obliviated her.
oOo
the sky's green
it's been that way since we lost the war
we looted the store we had to eat something
people are sick
the water is strychnine
i heard about sixty nine hundred people have died
the shelter is hell, it smells like shit
nobody knows how long we're supposed to stay in it
oOo
One night she had asked him if he loved her. It was then that he found out that he was in for the deep. Like a fool, he had erased her memories of them. It was ironical that the Malfoy name could afford anything except the girl that he loved. Why, why had he done that dastardly deed? Was it because of what his father would have thought? he thought. Whatever had caused him to do it, didn't matter now that he wasn't happy at all.
The war that his side had lost was of course just another factor keeping them away. Her pained screaming as his mad aunt had tortured her still gave him nightmares and nearly drove him suicidal. He shuddered at the mere thought of them.
Who ever had come in was chatting rather noisily with the billing girl. He knew that voice. It was Granger's. He had to get out of there fast, knowing that if he saw her unfeeling and unknowing eyes, he would kill himself. It was his fault that she had forgotten about him in the first place and he couldn't bear to see her empty, emotionless eyes every time they looked at him. It was such a change from warm hazel ones.
Quickly, he made his way outside but she caught him as he went past her.
"I didn't know you read, Malfoy." She spat his surname with a cruel disdain. It broke him inside. She didn't even have a inkling that many a nights she had called him Draco and stroked his hair as he had put his head in her lap.
"You don't know anything about me." he replied. The truth of the statement and her empty eyes were killing him and he didn't want to live anymore.
"I know all about you. You're a worthless, spoilt prat who everyone hates." The other girl smirked at her reply.
It hurt deeply. Perhaps if anybody else had said that, it wouldn't have hurt as much as it had then. "And I love you Granger." he said with as much sarcasm as he could muster. She didn't know that he had meant it. She didn't know that he was answering a question she had asked him months ago. Before she could say or do anything he was outside and she didn't come after him.
The sky was an eery green tinge and dull brown coloured clouds were soaring in it. His hand quickly found the cyanide pill that he had been in the habit of keeping on his person since sixth year in his trouser pocket. He popped it in and promptly dropped on the cold rocky road, heaving his last breaths as the chemical burnt through him.
She rushed outside. My strychnine, you've killed me at last, he thought as he saw her distraught hazel eyes for one last time. He died with a devilish smirk on his face, the kind found on victims of strychnine poisoning.
Little did anyone know that he had been a victim of strychnine poisoning too...
oOo
say you love me now
maybe you will say you love me now
say you love me please say it now that
the sky is green...
oOo
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