A/N: This was inspired by Pink Floyd, and a rp I'm currently a part of. The rp took place in the late 70's because we made the adults in HP all around the same age group, thus changing the times a bit and setting it in the late Marauder era. Song lyric comes from Pink Floyd and they are: Remember A Day, Us and Them, and The Wall. I don't own a damn thing, sadly. HP characters belong to J.K. Pink Floyd stuff belongs to them.
xxx
Remember a day before today
A day when you were young.
Free to play alone with time
Evening never came.
Sing a song that can't be sung
Without the morning's kiss
Queen - you shall be it if you wish
Look for your king
Why can't we play today
Why can't we stay that way?
Us, and them
And after all we're only ordinary men.
Me, and you.
God only knows it's not what we would choose to do.
Forward he cried from the rear
and the front rank died.
And the general sat and the lines on the map
moved from side to side.
Black and blue
And who knows which is which and who is who.
All alone, or in two's,
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall.
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands.
The bleeding hearts-
Make their stand.
And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all it's not easy
Banging your heart against some mad bugger's wall.
Isn't this where...?
xxx
The waning evening sun seemed like threads of fire within tousled red hair, and it seemed to make a pale freckled face, awash in deep thought, glow in a way that made Lucius's heart ache. Arthur's blue eyes, like deep oceans, were serious behind the lenses of his glasses, which had slid down his nose. Lucius knew what was coming, and he had probably known from the start. What he and Arthur had shared for one amazing year of their lives—the best of times for Lucius—was meant to be short lived, as most dreams are.
They were so different, and at least for Lucius, that was what had first drawn him towards the other boy. Arthur was everything Lucius could not be, Arthur was everything Lucius had been too afraid to think about. Arthur did not hide his liberal opinions of blood status, despite a war going on where forward thinking wizards such as Arthur were in danger from darker opponents. Lucius should not have been associating with him, but he had, one of the few daring things he had pushed himself to do in his young life. He had not regretted it, even though he risked the threat of his father finding out where his preferences lay or worse—The Dark Lord with whom Lucius made himself more and more familiar might find this one hole in Lucius' allegiance.
The Dark Lord was gaining followers everywhere, and to a young pure-blood wizard who had been raised to believe his birth and blood status loftier than most, who was a proud member of the Slytherin House which valued such things, and to a young man who was afraid for his future, the propaganda spread by Lord Voldemorts Death Eaters seemed increasingly like a safe haven. Within those ranks Lucius would be protected; he would be valued as the heir of the noble and pure bloodline of Malfoy. As such, he hardly should be receiving his education at a school which accepted those of diluted blood status and even worse—Muggleborns. According to Death Eater propaganda, that magic had been stolen from pureblooded wizards; those who were really the only ones worthy of wielding such power and passing it down through their unblemished ranks.
His mindset and Arthur's could not have been more different. Arthur was willing to embrace all of them no matter how dirty their blood was. Arthur was over-interested in Muggle things, which meant absolutely nothing to Lucius—or at least, they hadn't until he had been set up on a blind date with Arthur Weasley, a date that was meant clearly as a practical joke as surely the proud and beautiful Slytherin prefect would rather crawl into a hole than be forced to spend an evening with a Gryffindor who thought the Muggle post was far more interesting than Transfiguration. Lucius had picked his date out from the others by what he wore on his lapel—a crimson rose, which the redhead had accidentally dropped and trampled. Shock did not begin to cover what Lucius felt, and he had been sure upon first instinct that the nights date would be a waste of his time. The thing that had made their date one worth having after all would not be found in The Three Broomsticks, but later when the two went back to Hogwarts, and stole away to the Room of Requirement, which Lucius had found the previous year when he had sought out a quiet place for studying.
The room had appeared with warm tone flower-patterned walls, the carpet a thick brown shag, with a worn-out-orange corduroy covered couch. Arthur sat what appeared to be a brown case onto the shag carpet, but when he opened it, the insides were some sort of machine. Next Arthur took his Advanced Charms book from beneath his arm, and opened the back cover to reveal four tiny flat squares which had been hidden inside. He laid them on the carpet, and tapped each one with his wand, removing the shrinking charm he had used on them to conceal them inside his book.
"They're records." Arthur said simply, picking one up and wiping a thin cover of dust from off the cardboard sleeve. "They have music in them." He went on, and slipped the round, black, disk out of the case. The vinyl winked like a conspiring eye as Arthur tilted it first this way and that, looking at the tiny grooves etched into the black surface. "I'm not sure how it works, but I do enjoy listening when I can. I'd love to know how they get the music into the records, and how this player gets it back out again. Maybe I will, one day. I know you're not interested in such things, Lucius, but I do think you'll like this."
Arthur placed the record onto the player, moved the slender arm into place, and with a small scrape the needle began its path along the circular tracks, and the music swelled out and into Lucius Malfoy. The first Muggle music Lucius ever experienced was that night lying on the shag carpet with Arthur. The band was something called 'Pink Floyd' and their album was black with a triangle prism which refracted a beam of light into a rainbow. It was titled "Dark Side of The Moon" and it was the most magnificent thing Lucius had ever heard.
By the end of the night, the boys had listened to all four of Arthur's records: Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, and Janis Joplin. The night had grown late, and the two would be lucky to get back to their towers without being caught and punished for being out at such an hour. Despite all of that, neither was very eager to leave the other. Lucius knew two things, as he lay feeling blissfully fulfilled and blown apart by that music, playing with the fiery mop of Arthur's hair, and that was this: He wanted more of this music, and he wanted more of Arthur Weasley.
And he had much more of both, but now he was losing them, just as the evening was losing its' light to the approaching onyx night.
"Does it really matter?" Arthur asked, quietly. He didn't look at Lucius but he looked out over the darkening grounds of the school. "If I were not a pureblooded wizard, would that change the things you like about me? Would it change the moments we've shared?" And now Arthur turned to Lucius, his hand gently cupped the pale wizards face, tilting it slightly up so the silvery eyes met his passionate ones, a thin gleam of tears forming over the blue irises and fathomless black centers. Arthur's heart and soul were bared in his eyes, and he did not care who saw it.
"Would it change the way you look at me?" Arthur asked in soft voice, his thumb lovingly caressing Lucius' smooth cheek.
Lucius said nothing, he couldn't. His throat was choked closed and he felt cold, not on the outside, but in places that couldn't be warmed by a freckled body pressed to his. No, these were places he feared Arthur could not reach, and he feared that more than anything. Arthur's hand strayed down to rest on Lucius' shoulder for a moment, before he held his hand out between them, and curled his fingers into his palm.
"When the Dark Lord tortures, do you think it really matters to him what sort of blood flows beneath the skin? He kills Muggles, Muggle-borns, and any wizard who opposes him irregardless to the purity of their blood." Arthur's fingernails dug into his palm, harder and harder as he went on. His short nails bit into his flesh, finally drawing blood, his knuckles white as he dug even harder. "I'm a pureblood wizard as much as you are, Lucius, but we both know that my body would be among the dead at his hand. When he tortures them, when he murders them, do you think they bleed mud?"
Arthur opened his fist, the tips of his fingers, his nails, stained with red. Four crimson crescents welled and dripped blood down Arthur's palm.
"They bleed the same as we do, and we die just like them." Arthur wiped his palm against the knee of his jeans, watching as the dark blood smeared into the coarse fabric. Lucius was silent, a tear trickled down both sides of his face, one stopped midway and just hung against his cheek like a suspended diamond, the other slipped away into the corner of his mouth and tasted bitter against his tongue.
"This war, this mindset, it isn't about blood, it isn't about magic. Do you know what it's really about, Lucius? It's about hate, fear, and ignorance. It's about a group of people who would rather kill than accept the truth that neither their blood nor their ability makes them gods. If any of us are filthy, then it is they who have been defiled by their own twisted ideals of superiority. Please Lucius..."
Arthur took Lucius' hand in his own, still sticky with his drying blood.
"Please don't tell me that you are one of them. I've known your heart..." Arthur's eyes filled with tears again, and he pressed his forehead to Lucius' cupping the back of the blond head. The soft strands Arthur loved so much were smooth against the stinging palm of his nail-bitten hand. "I've known your heart."
Arthur closed his eyes, and tears spilled over his lashes. Lucius squeezed his eyes closed tight, salty drops falling from his too.
"Arthur...I was afraid." Lucius sobbed, softly.
"I'm afraid too." Arthur's voice came out in barely a whisper.
"My Father...my name...my heritage...my obligation as a pureblood wizard..." Lucius choked out.
Arthur grabbed Lucius shoulders, squeezing them.
"Death is no man's obligation!" Arthur shouted, his eyes panicked as the thing he dreaded the most was descending upon them. Arthur's heart pounded painfully hard in his chest, as Lucius reached for the sleeve of his robe. The fabric rustled as Lucius' long, beautiful fingers, gripped it. Lucius' lips trembled in a silent cry of grief and a deep pang of regret, before he slid the material up to reveal the mark that would require him to carry out the Dark Lord's horrible demands, the mark that would require him to deliver up the very man he loved to the door of death. Lucius' fingers curled into messy red hair as he fell forward onto Arthur, weeping against his Gryffindor crest. Arthur did not hold him, and Lucius wept harder, clutching at Arthur's hair and clothing. Arthur gently pushed him away, his own face blotchy and tear-streaked, his eyes pink and full of pain.
"I'm s-so sorry, Arthur." Lucius said numbly, the hurt of Arthur's non-embrace writhing inside his chest.
The two of them sat there in silent moments, their tears steadily falling, their hearts breaking together. Arthur at last broke the white silence with one word which trembled from his lips.
"Why?"
Lucius looked down at the snake and skull forever blackened onto his previously flawless skin. A thin finger traced the curve of the serpant.
"I'm afraid." Lucius answered, in a sandpapery voice that sounded not like his own. "When this is all said and done, would you rather be on the winning side, or the losing side, Arthur?"
Arthur straightened up, and his impassioned blue eyes held Lucius' gaze. Lucius had loved Arthur's eyes—the way they smiled easily, the warmth in them, how they glittered child-like when he was excited or curious—but now they were no longer young eyes: they were the eyes of a man who knew where he stood, and would not be moved.
"I'm not afraid of falling, Lucius." Arthur looked long and hard at the man he loved. He knew he would never stop loving him, but he could no longer stand beside him. "I would rather fall with the right side, than to stand with what's left. In the end, Lucius, I would rather have done my best to try and tear down these walls, than to have been one of the bricks in them."
And with that, Arthur did stand. His tears had stopped, but he knew they would come again. He said no more, and Lucius made no move to stop him, as he turned and headed back towards the castle. Arthur pulled the enchanted rose from his lapel, and held it in his hand, feeling the petals wilt and wither before he dropped it onto the ground, leaving it behind. Lucius was left alone, staring down at the mark on his arm through his tears. His nails tore at the snake-wrapped-skull, but it was too late. Beneath his ravaging fingers crimson sprouted and stained his pale skin with warmth. Lucius Malfoy saw no magic in it. After all, it was only blood.