Settling of my every step, inching off of the earth
He sits in a small cell, awaiting his trial. Twenty-four years old. He knows already exactly how the whole thing will play out. They were cracking down--much harsher than they had been in the past. His fate is sealed.
is magnified by the things I've done;
He is nearly sixteen, and accepting the odd tattoo that now mars his otherwise flawless skin with pride and ambition.
He is sixteen, and he just killed the Headmaster of his school. He flees.
He is nineteen, and he just killed the whole family. He only needs to dispose of the father, but he feels like it.
He is twenty, and he strangles her with his bare hands. Sometimes he likes not using magic.
The thing that I've become.
He is twenty-four, waiting in his cell.
Every lift of my hand
Destruction. It is his specialty. Death and despair. Pain and destruction. He likes the power he holds, and he loves using it for evil.
He touches the stone wall next to him, and his sleeve falls back. He spots the mark that he is supposed to be so proud to bear. Instead of pride, a heavy sickness runs through him.
I chose this? He thinks.
Every coffee cup and back
He sips coffee in the café, watching his target with keen eyes. In five minutes, the man will leave and Draco will follow him. In seven minutes, he'll be dead.
Is magnified by the things I've done
He holds quite a record. Sixty-two dead, forty-eight seriously wounded, countless homes destroyed.
The things I've seen
The woman begs at his feet. His father kills her anyways.
Three Death Eaters enter the captive's cell, strange eagerness lying in each of their eyes. Draco walks away, wishing she wouldn't scream so much.
The Dark Lord has Harry Potter, wandless and battered. He finally gets what he wants. Harry Potter dies silently. Draco secretly respects that.
The things I've caused
Fire, screaming, yelling, curses. Smoke, rubble, death is in the air and the Dark Mark floats high in the sky.
I'm a dead man walking.
Fate sealed, he thinks. Nothing to change it now. Fun while it lasted.
The hammer that I once brought down now hovers over me
He wishes they would get on with it already. He's bored in his little cell. The door opens. He walks out and is chained without a fight.
Casts a shadow, a cross unto me.
His steps fall heavily, the stone is eerily quiet beneath his feet. The person that leads him has purple hair. He recognizes her as his cousin. She's a member of the Order. She's laughing silently at him, he knows it.
The hallways are all mocking me,
What I've become; they're all mocking me,
The door opens into a large chamber. The room is as silent as the stone. Empty people look down at him. They're all blank: the council, the Minister, the audience. Only one person has a face, and Draco's father turns away. Draco sees him frown slightly before he puts on his mask once again.
How did he get out when Draco didn't?
How could he do nothing to help his only son? Had he even tried?
He had, Draco knew. The fortune that had so many times redeemed the Malfoy name to society gave no help in this matter. Draco had done too much damage.
I'm a dead man walking, a dead man walking, a dead man walking.
He is nine, and mounts a broom for the first time. He flies spectacularly. His father is very proud.
He is eleven, and is reading his acceptance letter to Hogwarts. His father says Durmstrang is better, but his mother refuses to send him so far away.
He is sixteen, and is lying on the bathroom floor. He's cold, and covered in his own blood.
He is eighteen, and the Dark Lord is punishing him for something he didn't do. He doesn't correct the mistake--the Dark Lord knows.
He is twenty-two, and his mother is in the ground. He stares at the fresh dirt for hours before his father retrieves him.
He is twenty-four, and he just dropped his wand. Before he can reach it, someone stuns him.
I'm a dead man walking, dead man walking
He is twenty-four, and the Minister of Magic is reading off his offenses. He looks only at his father. The Minister tells him that his crimes are punishable by death. His father finally meets his eyes.
He stands silently. His cousin leads him out of the chamber.
I deserve this, he thinks.
Dead man walking.
Lyrics compliments of Pearl Jam (Dead Man Walking)