The Truth Behind Silver-blue Eyes

Disclaimer: You really think it's mine? oO" Weirdo. And Behind Blue Eyes by Limp Bizkit isn't mine either.

Summary: I wish that it didn't have to be me. … I see the people I used to call friends standing here next to me, none older than eighteen, just waiting with happiness to become a Death Eater. … How can they be happy that we're going to die in the end?

Genre: Angst/Drama

Pairings: None at all. ::gasp::

Warnings: Angst, tiny mention of rape, one swear, a tear-jerker (hopefully), OOC (or very deep) Draco (but not at such a bad rate that it's like "What the hell?")

Author Notes: Got this great idea for a story. I haven't written anything in SO long, just been role playing, and an idea for a story barely comes along now. (Let alone gets written.) It's a song fic, and it's first person present. It's centered around Draco and his views, thoughts, wants, needs, etc. It's written like, "I stand here" and "He says to me" and the like.

More Author Notes: People who read My Guardian Angel – OH MY GOD, MAJOR WRITER'S BLOCK!! I like… can't focus and… I MANAGED TO WRITE TWO PARAGRAPHS TODAY! --" It's currently 2,634 words long and my quota for chapter fics (not one shots like this) is 4,000 so… I'm still working. And! The first break isn't working with me! It either does like four enters or none, so I just went with none. Gr...

Key:

Text - normal
"Text" - speaking
Text - Song lyrics


Standing here, I don't know what I want. All I know is that he's coming for me, he's going to brand me for life. I should have expected it though. Being born a Malfoy means this. It means to be a Death Eater, to give your life up for a crazed lunatic.

Wincing under the cold, red eyes as he comes closer to me, I just wish that it didn't have to be like this… I wish that it didn't have to be me. Turning my eyes slightly, I see the people I used to call friends standing here next to me, none older than eighteen, just waiting with happiness to become a Death Eater. Blaise, Goyle, Crabbe, Pansy… How can they be happy that we're going to die in the end?

No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
And no one knows
What it's like to be hated
To be fated to telling only lies

All those years in Hogwarts, they were nothing. Just little snide remarks, a few flicks of my wand, and then the Gryffindorks were terrified of me or hating me. It wasn't like I wanted this, though…

No, I had to do it all for pride. That's what it was in every Slytherin, pureblood family. Pride. Ignore what your child wants, or the love he needs, to drill it in that he needs to follow in his parent's footsteps. Nothing to do with care, nothing to do with love. It's just watch out for one person: yourself. And at the same time, try to brainwash your children into believing that Voldemort is the supreme ruler of everything and if you hate him, then you deserve to die.

But my dreams they aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free

I had dreams. Maybe they weren't much of anything – just a simple want to run my own business, to run the Manor with no worries, to become as popular as bloody Potter. But now I have nothing. Not even the sweet knowledge of knowing I own myself tomorrow when I roll out of bed. Or of knowing I can pick who I want to live the rest of my days with.

No one knows what its like
To feel these feelings
Like I do, and I blame you!
No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through

The main reason for this is my father. We have to keep up our "honor". This is what I've been hearing since I was able to listen and remember things. There were so many things I've had to listen to. How Malfoys were superior, how we deserve the best, how we must kill the "tainted", how every one of us are born Death Eaters whether we like it or not. It's all a load of crap, said by gits who love to kill for fun.

But we're forced, I guess, by birth to become this. It isn't that we all want it – no, it's that if we don't, we will get killed for "supporting the other side." I remember all the beatings I got for saying that this was wrong during the summers and other times.

But what do I know? I was just a child… and still one.

But my dreams they aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free

At least I can say I've had experience. To keep our honor, my father would always tell me, we had to torture Half-bloods, Muggle-born, Muggles, and Muggle-lovers. Those cold dark nights in the dungeons still haunt me. I had to watch those people who I now realize were innocents that we had never even seen before but simply picked from a random street sidewalk screaming in pain. And it was all because they were born to the wrong side.

I can still remember when I was seven, when I first watched my father torture someone. He made me sit in a chair, showing me different whipping techniques, or different spells, as if it was a class. And it enthralled me. It had me like a curse, unable to look away. Whether it was from horror or, and I pray to any God that may exist that it was not this, interest, I forget now because I have done such a good job of blocking the memories out. But the one thing I remember is seeing the girl, no older than thirteen, bleed red life-giving blood so similar to mine. It was then that I realized my father lied. He had simply said that all none-Purebloods (and he didn't mean the Weasley type of Pureblood) bled brown, dirty blood, especially Muggle-born which was why they were called Mudbloods. He also said that if I did not call them that, then I would dishonor our family. But in the back of my mind, I knew that the lie he had told me wasn't going to be the last, yet I still listened. How naïve I was…

Discover l.i.m.p. say it
Discover l.i.m.p. say it
Discover l.i.m.p. say it
Discover l.i.m.p. say it
Discover


Everything at school was a lie. I acted tough, I acted as if I hated everyone and had no other feelings but on the inside, I was hurting. I could never talk to my parents unless they owled me first, my mother never owled me, Severus who (my father appointed as my godfather) was always busy, and then my "friends" at school were just around me because of my wealth. To put it bluntly, I was… no. I am lonely.

But at least those times that I sat there, staring at the fire, I could figure out who I didn't want to be. Then somehow, the anger of how my father was a supporter for Voldemort always led to me hating Po-- Harry more. It became apparent, at least in my own little world, that if Harry had stopped to exist, then Voldemort would be in control. This was mostly true, but the part where I thought then that my father would give more attention to me made no sense then and makes no sense now.

So I kept up my façade, and I continued to hate him. But now, now I know that if he wasn't existing or if he had died that night so long ago, then I would have been wishing for the savior – which is simply him. Maybe in the end, tens, even hundreds will die but we'll get the freedom we want… we need. Well, at least they will.

No one knows what its like
To be mistreated, to be defeated
Behind blue eyes
No one knows how to say
That they're sorry and don't worry
I'm not telling lies

He's on Pansy now, only three down from me. I look straight ahead though, trying not to show my fear, my hatred, my remorse for whatever sin I did to deserve this.

But it helps a bit to know I'm not the only one here who doesn't want to be here. My silver-blue eyes that are probably clouded now with emotions I'm usually not allowed to show meet dark eyes, belonging to my godfather.

Severus told me many times that he didn't like being a death eater. First, he joined for the promise of power, wealth, knowledge… And none of it ever came. It never fucking came, but the slaughtering, the slight insanity, and even the want to die to avenge those he was forced to kill or rape came. Correction – slight knowledge came. The knowledge that joining the Death Eaters was the worst thing he ever chose came, and that he was in for his life, as if he were some inmate at Azkaban. Only this is so much worse…

But my dreams they aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free

Finally getting to me, the red eyes just watch me for a second. I am looking right back at him, yet I can feel my father glaring at me. Maybe the fact that I don't want this is showing. Maybe I can get away with my life and my happiness…

All those thoughts are washed away, though, when he asks, "Do you promise on the blood of your family, and your life, that you will follow me from now until your death?"

No. No, I don't. I can't. This man is a lunatic, he isn't anything else. He wants world domination, and when he gets it, he'll probably kill all those who disagree with him, and force his "followers" to become his slaves. But aren't we already?

And don't ever ask about if we would promise it on our family – only ask about our blood, which means our wealth. Because all pureblood Slytherins don't have a family. They have owners; people to watch over them until they're old enough to join Voldemort. And if we disagree, we get beaten. It's unfair, but life is unfair, right?

It is especially unfair that now I know who I don't want to be – stupid Purebloods blinded by vengeance for things that are perfectly fine – I can't do anything to change it. I was born a Malfoy, and I must die a Malfoy.

I want to tell him this. I want to tell this all to him so badly, but I swallow it back, nearly choking on the words that stick in my throat, burning it in a way that small cuts all along it would. So, instead of getting killed now, I look him in the eyes still. "Yes, I do."

No one knows what its like
To be the bad man, to be the sad man
Behind blue eyes.

Standing here, I still don't know what I want. All I know is that he's coming for me, he's going to brand me for life. I should have expected it though… That's all I can remind myself of so I won't scream when his wand is put to my left arm and a simple flick of his wand followed by immense pain brands me to him for life, so I won't disgrace my father by crying out in pain. All I know is that I don't want this. I never wanted this.


Was it good? ::hides:: It sort of sucks, to tell the truth. At least by my standards… Well, no. I LOVED the beginning and ending but I got confused for the rest and then (curse my mother), I sort of… went too angsty. Heh. Oh well. ::goes off to beta someone's story::

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