"I am a monster."
She shook her head. "You are perfect...to me."
~ooo~
A/N: I found this in my computer archives. It's my FIRST EVER FANFIC! It started as a one-shot, but became a multi-chaptered fic that was never finished (that's why I took it down from ff). It only has 5 chapters. It's a songfic, and I've decided to share it with you guys. I've re-read it, and of course I've seen TONS of mistakes – however, I decided to keep the mistakes there, to keep the essence of it being my first fic ever.
Chapter 1: Perfect
"Here's another shot," the bartender said, sliding me another shot of the strong alcohol.
I nod in thanks, placing a few Muggle bills on the counter top. "Keep the change."
I gulp down the shot in one swallow, feeling the typical "alcohol burn" down my throat – like swallowing liquid fire. My mind clears. My vision blurs.
In a second, I feel light. Nothing else matters. For a second, I am just a man in a bar, drinking his billionth shot of beer, getting drunk because I lost my job, my girlfriend dumped me, and my family hates me.
I chuckle. Out loud. The alcohol is finally taking it's toll.
I will never be just a man. I will never be getting drunk because of some fucked up reason such as work, a woman, or a family.
If only life could be as simple as that.
No, I will never be "just a man".
I will always be Draco Lucius Malfoy, son of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy. Death Eater. Servant of Voldemort. Murderer. Traitor. Pureblooded Hypocrite. Arsehole. Fucking bloody git.
The word "former" that goes before "Death Eater" wouldn't matter. Because no one would, in fact, care. Nor would the word "forced" that goes before "Servant of Voldemort", "Murderer", and "Traitor" matter, either.
It wouldn't matter that I didn't want to be a bloody Death Eater, that I didn't want to serve Voldemort, nor did I volunteer to point my wand at innocent by-standers and torture them to bloody death. I didn't enjoy their cries of pain as much as my aunt and uncles did.
Their faces and screams still haunt me in my dreams, even if it has been 3 years since then. Their pleading voices, asking me to spare them. Their cries of horror as I keep my face twisted up into a blood-thirsty grin, seeking out blood.
In my mind I still see them, looking at me with fear, my face reflected in their eyes – I, too, am afraid of myself.
What a monster I have become.
After the 12th mirror that I have broken, and numerous fractured kunckles, I have stopped looking in the mirror as much.
It wouldn't matter that I was raised by my family to believe in Pureblood superiority, that I didn't ask to be raised that way.
All children think their parents are gods. What they say is the law. What they do is correct. I was the same. I was a child. I was a normal child by obeying them.
They practically brainwashed me all of the Malfoy beliefs. Whether it be concerning Wizarding blood, Malfoy honor, or Voldemort Supremacy, I believed and took it all. I was a child. I thought it was right.
It wouldn't matter that now, I don't believe in those beliefs anymore, that I know now that they are wrong, because for people, the fact that I believed in them in the first place makes me a monster.
I am a monster...
for simply being a child when I was one.
For listening to my parents – I am a monster.
For wanting their praise – I am a monster.
Another filled shot glass slides in front of me. "On me. Drink up. It's not the end of the world."
I raise my gaze to the voice that interrupts my thoughts. "Thanks," I mumble, doing just as the bartender instructed.
He smiles.
I don't smile back.
His smile is warm, but my heart has long since gone cold. So cold, that it never melts.
Cold and broken.
I don't think I even have a heart anymore.
"Family problems?" The bartender asks, drying some glasses with a towel.
I chuckle. "I don't have a family."
I see him raise an eyebrow.
"No wife or kids?"
I close my eyes and try to imagine myself as a father and husband.
Nothing.
I open my eyes. "No. I'm single."
"How the hell did that happen? With your looks, a lady's bound to throw herself at you at least thrice everyday!" The bartender jokes.
I laugh out of courtesy. "I'm not interested, that's all."
I see the bartender look around the bar. He leans across the bar to whisper to me. "Well, all of the ladies in this room are."
I raise my eyebrow, shrugging in indifference. "They can all fuck themselves."
I'm not in the mood to get laid tonight. I had some fun last night, already. As always, drunk in doing so.
My body thinks getting fucked will keep my mind occupied. It helps for a while. But after, my mind just gets worse.
The bartender laughs. A hearty-laugh. He claps me in the back. "I like you, you're fun. All of my other customers are pains in the butt. They throw up all over me, too."
I smile weakly, turning the shot glass in my hands around. I feel him stare at me.
"No wife and kids, huh. Mother and father, then?"
I almost laugh and say "I don't have any real parents," but I hold my tongue.
I hesitate a bit. "Father..." I begin, tasting the word on my mouth. It's been too long since I've said it. "Father's dead."
I see him nod, telling me to go on.
I am thankful that he's not like those saps, telling me he's sorry and what not. I never understood why anyone had to apologize for something that they did not cause. It's ridiculous.
But the fact that I'm here sharing my life to this random man is even more ridiculous. Maybe the fact that he's random is what allows me to do so. Besides, he's Muggle. He doesn't know me. Never will. Maybe that's why I decided to go to a Muggle bar.
"I don't talk to my mother. I don't know where she is," I say, matter-of-factly. It's the truth. After Lucius' death in Azkaban just 2 years ago, my mother went crazy and disappeared. I assume she is dead.
The nights she spent missing were nights I spent even more sleepless than before. After a month did I finally give up, now being able to sleep somewhat, but am being waken by my nightmares.
My thoughts are again interrupted by a high-pitched wailing sound piercing the air. The bartender flinches at the sound, and I do the same. The other customers around the bar protect their ears by covering them with their hands.
I turn around from my seat at the bar to find the source of the sound.
And then I find myself gawking at the beauty in front of me.
No, observing.
Malfoys do not gawk, they observe.
Even if I have turned away from the Malfoy beliefs, I still hold my pride and dignity, simple because it's the only thing that keeps me sane. It is the only proof I have, that I am the son of my father.
Why I want proof of that, I don't know. Half of me wants to burn anything that has to do with my...father, but half of me wants to desperately hold on to him.
I don't even understand myself.
The sound comes again, and I snap out of my thoughts and resume my...observing...with my jaw hitting the floor.
"Hullo, and good evening to everybody. I'm your musical entertainment for tonight. Sit back, relax, and I hope you enjoy the songs," says a woman, who is perched on a bar-top chair on top of a elevated platform in front of me, holding a...what do you call that...
"So that's what's making that blasted sound – the microphone,"the bartender behind me mumbles.
Ah, yes, a microphone.
While the woman continues to ramble on, talking about her choice of songs for the night,I continue to observe her. She is wearing a white dress. A sun dress, if I'm not mistaken. I thought she might be a hooker, but then the dress is not even revealing in any sense.
In fact, it's innocent.
" ...-song is one of my favorites. Because -" She stops suddenly. I realize she is looking at me. Her eyes on mine.
In the few seconds we lock gazes, it seems a silent conversation is passing between us. One where she quickly draws out every single one of my thoughts from me.
She slightly tilts her head to the side, still locking gazes with me. Hullo, why are you here?
I am startled a bit. I don't know this woman, and yet...
I shake my head, breaking our gaze for a second. Nothing, don't mind me.
I return to looking at her.
She smiles, almost laughingly, her eyes twinkling brightly. How can I not?
I shake my head again, but this time I do not break our gaze. I narrow my eyes and try to muster all my thoughts of the night into my eyes – this one explanation to keep her away from me: I am a monster. Stay away from me.
Her eyes widen, as if indicating she got my message. I hope she did. She needs to stay away. I don't need company, I want to be alone.
I...am a being of solitude.
I don't need smiles and comforting hugs. I don't need love.
"...I think there's going to be a song switch. Let's skip that first one. I'll be singing another one instead, because...well, this song summarizes a lot of what I feel sometimes, and what I believe others feel as well," she says into the microphone, this time addressing the crowd in the bar.
When she said "others", I felt her gaze linger on me.
Our silent conversation was mere seconds – yet it seemed like forever.
"I know that a lot of people feel like...well...like they're crap," she laughs.
The crowd laughs as well.
I find myself raising my brow. So the angel curses. I smirk at the thought.
"A lot of us feel like...the world hates us. Like...there's nothing worth living for. Like we want to die, but at the same time we are afraid to, because we're trying to search for something. May it be forgiveness or love or something else, we just want to feel like...somebody cares...somebody loves," she says, as she looks her audience in the eye.
I look at her eyes, and I sense that she knows what she's talking about. It's in her eyes.
She's looking for someone to love her.
...just as I am doing the same.
"So without further ado, our first song for the night," she smiles at the crowd one last time, before a guitar starts playing and she starts singing.
"Made a wrong turn,
once or twice.
Dug my way out
blood and fire."
As she sings, images flash through my mind. Joining the Death Eaters for my father – the biggest mistake of my life. Everything I had to go through, just to do my tasks...
"Bad decisions,
that's alright.
Welcome to my
silly life."
Murdering Muggles.
Murdering innocents.
Plotting Dumbledore's death.
Snape.
Cursing Katie Bell.
...it's...alright?
"Mistreated, misplaced,
misunderstood,
miss 'no-way-it's-all-good',
it didn't slow me down."
My father beating me as a child. Slapping me around, punching me, cursing at me.
Getting sorted as a Slytherin. The pressure of being a perfect Malfoy. To make my father proud. Anything to make my father acknowledge me...
I did it all.
"Mistaken,
always second guessing,
underestimated,
look, I'm still around,"
Wizards glaring at me as I walk down the street, eyes full of condemnation and hate.
That's right, I killed your wives. Your husbands. Your children.
You want to kill me? Go ahead.
...why am I still alive?
I'm suddenly aware that the angel on stage is looking at me – ever since the song started. Is she trying to tell me something?
"Pretty pretty please,
don't you ever ever feel,
like you're less than,
less than perfect."
My eyes widen.
She keeps her gaze at me.
"Pretty pretty please,
don't you ever ever feel,
like you're nothing,
you are perfect...
to me."
She smiles at me.
My eyes stay wide.
I clutch the bar table behind me for support.
My knees feel weak. It's a good thing I'm seated.
"You're so mean
when you talk
about yourself,
you are wrong."
I am a monster.
A monster that cannot love.
A monster than no one could love.
It's not mean – it is the truth.
In my mind I reason with what she's telling me.
I am a monster.
I don't know who she is, and it scares me. Does she know? She has to know. The way she looks at me – she knows.
I shake my head at her again. I told you, I am a monster.
She just smiles.
"Change the voices
in your head.
Make them like you
instead."
My eyes widen again.
The voices...in my head ?
Just when I question that, there are voices in my head that pop up.
You are a monster. Murderer. You killed children in front of their own parents, wives in front of their husbands, just to torture them.
I close my eyes shut. I squeeze them shut.
No, no, NO. SHUT UP.
"So complicated,
Look happy, you'll make it!
filled with so much hatred,
such a tired game."
I start shaking my head, trying to get a grip on myself.
Monster.
My hands fly to clutch my head. My eyes remain tightly shut.
"It's enough.
I've done all I can think of.
I've chased down all my demons,
I've seen you do the same."
I feel warm streaks on my cheeks.
You're a monster.
I continue to clutch my head.
Cold-blooded Murderer.
I grip it tighter.
Back-stabbing traitor.
I squeeze my eyes shut even harder.
You should be in hell.
A new warmth flows on my cheeks.
MONSTER.
Right now I don't care what it is.
That's all you'll ever be – a monster.
If I'm dying, good. Just make the voices stop.
"Pretty pretty please,
don't you ever ever feel
like you're less than
less than perfect."
I wait for the voices.
None come.
It's quiet.
I open my eyes.
She is still looking at me.
"Pretty pretty please,
don't you ever ever feel
like you're nothing
you are perfect...
to me."
She gazes into my eyes – my soul.
I want to run. To cover myself. To hide my soul.
Your filthy, black, monstrous soul.
Yes. My filthy soul.
I wrap my arms around myself, as if covering myself from her.
"The whole world's scared,
so I swallow the fear.
the only thing I should be drinking
is an ice cold beer."
She shakes her head. No, don't hide.
She looks at me deeper. Let me in.
My arms around me tighten.
I feel myself start to tremble.
I...am scared.
"So cool in line,
and we try try try,
but we try too hard
and it's a waste of my time."
She continues to look at me. You don't need to try so hard anymore.
I am surprised. I don't understand.
She sees the bewilderment on my face.
She smiles. I accept you.
"Done looking for the critiques
'cuz they're everywhere.
They don't like my jeans.
They don't get my hair."
I still don't understand.
She smiles wider. I accept you for who you are.
"Exchange ourselves
and we do 'it' all the time.
Why do we do that?
Why do we do that?
...Why do I that?"
I almost laugh. I shake my head vigorously. Preposterous. You don't know me.
She stops smiling. She looks at me hard. Oh, Don't I?
I freeze. Who are you?
I scrutinize her. She is familiar.
And then it hit me.
So hard that my arms relax and I almost fell out of my chair.
She sees this, and she smiles.
And this time, her smile holds so much more. Hullo, Draco Malfoy. I know you. Well. So please, listen to me.
"Pretty Pretty please,
don't you ever ever feel
like you're less than
less than perfect."
My eyes are wide.
I gawk at her. What are you doing here?
Her eyes twinkle, pleading. Please, just listen to me.
Hesitantly, I nod. For now, I will.
""Pretty pretty please,
don't you ever ever feel
like you're nothing,"
I shake my head again. But I am nothing.
This time she shakes her head. No, you're not. You..
"You are perfect to me,"
Her song is finished.
The audience erupts into claps and whistles.
I can only stare.
She does the same.
She smiles.
I just stare.
"Draco?"
I whip around to the voice and see Theo, my best mate, beside me.
Concern fills his face. "Are you alright, mate? You're...crying."
I lift one hand to my cheeks in a daze. He's right – I am crying.
I will myself to stop.
I can't.
"Draco? Say something. I've been looking for you all night. Pansy told me you'd be here."
I wipe the tears off quickly and stand up with him. "I apologize. I just wanted to...be alone."
Theo smiles at me. "Of course. Let''s get you home then, mate." He pats me in the back.
I am grateful he doesn't question me. He understands. Maybe that's why he's my best mate.
Before we leave, just right before I step out of the exit, I stop and peek at the singer on stage. She is facing the crowd in front of her, as I am looking at her sideways. The exit is beside the platform she is on.
"That song was dedicated to a friend of mine."
I feel Theo beside me stop as well. He is looking at her, just as I am.
"He's had...a difficult life. And we used to fight a lot as kids, so my other friends and I hated him. But we were kids then. Now that I look at it, he didn't have a chance to be a kid at all. He was always pressured to be an adult." She shakes her head slowly.
"But he's changed now. He's done some terrible things, I know, but he's changed. And now he's hurting, because the world refuses to accept him - to understand him,"
I feel myself tense. Theo feels it as well.
For the second time tonight, tears uncontrollably fall.
"So wherever he is...no, wherever you are,"
Theo places a hand on my arm gently.
She is not facing me, but I know, somehow, that she is talking to me.
"...wherever you are, Malfoy..."
Theo's hand tightens around my arm.
"...I forgive you. Most of us do. I think it's about time...that you forgave yourself."
My knees buckle.
Theo catches me, by supporting my upper body with his arms. He tries to drag me to sit down on one of the bar's tables.
I can't feel anything, so I let him do so.
I try to stand up.
Nothing happens.
I have to sit until I get a grip on myself.
I try to focus on anything else aside from what she said, and what's going in me, but I can't.
Anything, anything else. The sound of people talking, glasses clanking together, the bar's door chime tingling, signaling that a new customer has arrived. – anything.
"Weasley."
My head snaps up to look at Theo. "What?" I ask.
He scowls. "Weasley's here."
I follow his line of gaze, and sees that he is right – I see red hair, approaching the platform where she is about to step off.
"What's he doing here?" Theo growls.
I continue to look at him, at the same time willing my legs to work.
He's opening his mouth – he is about to say something. I lean forward so I can hear.
"Hermione!"
My eyes widen. He has said the one word I've been trying not to say.
She steps off the stage, her white dress flowing around her. Her hair, perfectly wavy and brown, drapes over her shoulders. Her caramel eyes are twinkling brightly.
She looks my way.
She gives me a soft smile.
Oh shit.
I stand up suddenly, trying to look away.
I see Weasley put his arm around her, grinning, leading her to the bar across the room. He has his back turned to me, turning her as well.
She glances at me from over her shoulder, her gaze piercing into me again. Malfoy...
I don't know why, but I am angry.
Weasley kisses the top of her head.
I want to smash something. Something red.
She's still looking at me, as if sensing my anger. She shakes her head. No.
My eyes widen. How come you know? Whatever I'm feeling? How come we can understand each other?
She just looks at me even more. Because I understand.
Those three words are my undoing.
I run – no, walk briskly – to the exit, with Theo following beside me.
But before I leave...
I risk a glance behind me. To where she is.
She's still looking at me.
Her eyes...seem like she is pleading with me. ...Malfoy?
I shake my head. Goodbye...Hermione Granger.
I don't wait for her inner response. I don't look at her anymore. I step towards the exit and continue walking around the alleyways, Theo following behind me.
I walk and walk until I can't feel my legs, and they give out under me.
And then I cry.
I bury my face in my arms and I cry.
I cry because tonight, my cold heart has melted.
I cry because tonight, I have understood myself.
I cry because tonight, I am forgiven.
I cry because tonight, I feel alive.
I cry out all my pain. All my sorrow. All my mistakes, and all my regrets.
I cry them all out. I let them all go.
I cry because tonight, someone has died.
I have died.
Draco Lucius Malfoy, son of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Death Eater, Servant of Voldemort, Murderer, Traitor, Pureblooded Hypocrite, Arsehole, Fucking bloody git, has died.
And all that's left, is Draco Lucius Malfoy. No names and strings attached.
I cry because tonight, I am forgiven.
I am forgiven.
I am not unforgivable.
I am not an unforgivable monster.
Because I am forgiven.
So now...
I can finally...
Forgive myself.
I sit there and cry, for what seems like an eternity.
Theo stands beside me, silent. My best mate.
I finally stand, on my new feet.
No more are the feet that have brought me to many murders. Feet that have knelt to the Dark Lord. Feet that have walked somebody else's life – my father's.
Right now, I walk on feet that would walk a new path – my life.
I start walking with Theo.
I feel a smile on my face.
For once, I am smiling for real.
I am not on a stand-still anymore. I am not lost as to what I need to do. I am not captive of my own mistakes and regrets.
I am free.
I am forgiven,
and I am free.
As we walk, I close my eyes for a bit.
Thank you, Hermione. For tonight. For...accepting me as me. As I am – perfectly imperfect. For forgiving me. Have a happy life with Weasley.
And it hit me then.
Hermione and Weasley.
Even if they're not married now, the future would be Hermione Granger Weasley.
I shake my head. Willing the tears back.
Since when have I been such a cry baby?
I laugh. Theo is surprised. He looks at me, but he doesn't say anything.
I slap Theo on the back.
"Ow! What the bloody hell, man?" He glares at me.
I laugh harder. I am happy.
Theo's glare softens to a smile. He laughs with me. "Are you loony now, mate?" He sniggers.
I whack him on the head lightly. "No. Just..." I drag on, trying to pick an appropriate word.
"Happy?" Theo supplies, grinning like a bloody idiot.
I grin back. "Yeah."
We walk together, to god knows where.
Who cares? I feel great.
I am free.
I close my eyes again.
Goodbye, Hemione.
A/N: Well that's the end! I stopped writing this fic in order to give way to TLOA (which of course is now finished!) This was written in April 2011. I must say, I'm a bit proud of myself. I've come a long way from my writing, and..yeah. I'm just happy. Hahaha! Even if this was a year-old work, do tell me what you think! Was it angsty enough? I thought it was pretty angsty. I wonder how my 15 year old mind thought of that ._. I must have been THAT depressed.
If you want the other 4 chapters uploaded, do tell me! If you're interested to know what happened next, that is, though it's not an "ended" story! :))
Well, go press the review button! And if you're a new reader of my works, do check out my profile. :)