"Lights go out and I can't be saved,

Tides that I tried to swim against.

You've put me down upon my knees,

Oh, I beg, I beg and plead."

-Clocks by Coldplay

Malfoys do not cry. No, It's not in our genetics, you see. It's something you grow up with in our family. I once remember going to the funeral of one of my extended family members…It was someone my Mother was close to. But I don't remember who…See, we never speak of those who die, It's another Malfoy rule. Never grieve, Seek revenge.

I remember the day clearly, however.

I was eight years old. My mother had gotten one of the house elves to dress me in a neatly pressed black ensemble, perfect for a day of mourning. My mother was beautiful, in my eyes, for the first time that day. Dressed in a black dress to her feet, hair tightly wound and head held high. She was beautiful, like a ghost. Of course, these days I recognize her demeanor as beautiful still, if not uptight and wary.

But the look on her face is what got me.

We walked to the ceremony, passing through gates of solid cast iron, polished to a shine. Nothing better for a pure-blood heir, you see.

I remember, even at my young age, thinking of how our walk through the gate might signify something darker. I thought of it as an omen, something I'd read all about in my fathers library. And from then on, I was terrified of death.

We passed tombstones, grand and opulent, home to those regal enough to lie in death here.

I took my place beside my mother and stared up at her face as her gaze fell upon the casket.

Her eyes shone, like molten silver. Her eyes…were glassy.

Her bottom lip was shaking and her eyes were glassy.

I looked towards the casket, masked in fine green silk lined with silver ropes. Even in death, Slytherins know how to treat themselves. Of course, I didn't think that at the time.

I thought of how constricting it must feel, to be holed up in a box. To have what would seem like a mile of the finest silk money can buy, stretching by your face, and resting underneath your feet. To be mere feet away from other resting bodies..Ones that could be crawling with maggots and worms this very second.

The thought made me wretch…made me cringe and shake.

The thought also, apparently, made me feel a bit sick.

And that is how I puked all over a grand, many galleon casket made of the finest willow on this side of Britain. We left the ceremony minutes later, My mother worried, eyes still shining. And my father chastising me, because Malfoys do not do such inscrutable things in public, such as emptying your stomach all over fancy, expensive coffins.

As we got home, my father left in an angry haste.

I looked at my mother and gasped. There in her eyes was something I had never seen before.

Love.

And if I didn't know better, It was directed at me.

And the words she said next will always stick with me.

"Draco, Never let anyone tell you how to feel. Often we make up these rules, to set our lives by. But rules….are just that. Rules are breakable. Rules are for safety. So often, we follow them, even if we see no need in it. We are protecting you sweetie…from this world. But sometimes….You can trick life…Sometimes, Rules are meant to break."

And with that, my mother left the room.

That day, I saw the beauty in my mother, that perhaps my father used to see.

I saw love in my mothers eyes. And she was right, We obviously don't always follow the rules.

Because…

Malfoys Rule 1.…We do not love.

"Sir? Mr. Malfoy, sir…Are you alright?", The healers voice wrung clear in the air, like that of a bell in the chill winter air.

Draco did a double take, still not believing.

"Oh…yes, Sir…Umm..Could you reread that last part,", He said, Laughing nervously as he did. " I don't believe I heard it right."

The healer heaved great sigh, "Due to the curse that rebounded onto you in the final battle, Owing to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You are under the influence of a lethal Travidorus curse."

"And…What exactly does this curse do?" Draco asked in a low tone, already exactly what it did.

"It decays you, from the inside. But not entirely in a nasty way. It shuts your organs down, one by one.", The healer spoke, voice shaking slightly.

There was a pause in the room. The tension was sharp in the air.

"How long do I have?" A voice said. One that sounded much like a small boy, with platinum blonde hair and sharp features. Not like a strong grown man at all.

The healer cleared his throat, almost awkwardly.

"6 months."

Draco drew a breath, deep. He exhaled and clenched his eyes.

Reciting the words in his brain.

Malfoys do not cry.

Malfoys do not cry.

Malfoys do not cry.

But sometimes, Rules are meant to break.

My new story. :) its gonna be sad, I'm warning you.

Warnings: SLASH M/M Character Death, Dirty language, and Smex:P

Disclaimer: Oh i do not own hp or coldplays lyrics, I am not that awesome.