Where I Stand
By: Resident Goddess
Rated: PG
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its corresponding characters and elements belong to JK Rowling and not I. This story does.
Summary: Ignorance is a crime, and Draco Malfoy learns the hard way.
***
It is misty on the hill, cold, too. An impressive figure stands straight, shoulders back, legs apart, face forward at the top of this hill. He doesn't move for a long moment, and the gravestone in front of him sits in silence. He is thinking.
He thinks about happy days and lonely nights, about worrisome winters and exciting summers. He thinks for a long time. He misses the person in that grave. He misses him dearly. He wonders what it is like to be alone, gone forever and buried in earth. He wonders what happens after you die, where do you go, he wonders? Do you open your eyes and wake up again, or are you gone forever, never to return?
He weeps. A single tear falls down his face and onto the ground in front of the stone. It mingles with the plants and dirt there, and it seeps into the ground, and is never seen again. He cries for a long time.
He is alone on that hill, and he crouches down to stare at the gravestone closer. It is new, and moss has just started to crawl up its base.
The war is over. Voldemort is gone. Many are dead. He does not weep for them. Instead he cries for the man in the gravestone. He cries for himself, too, alone.
He is sad. Sadness is not usually one of his emotions. His emotions wither and die before the gravestone, and he is filled with an overwhelming sense of fear. He is alone.
School will start again soon. He will meet his peers in the giant halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He will be called a product of the war, and he will be pitied. But for now, he stands alone, atop a hill, staring at a gravestone that will haunt his memories forever.
He ponders. He thinks about the war, and he thinks about viewpoint. He thinks about his take on things, and Voldemort, but most of all, he thinks about his family. His broken, little family, with their broken, little son. I was ignorant, he thinks. I took for granted what I had. I am a bad person.
The war is over. Voldemort is gone, and the world is a happy place. So many are dead. He does not cry for them, he does not cry for them. He cries for his broken soul, and he cries for his family.
Soon he will return to school. Many will be gone. They will look at him and wonder, why too, is he not gone? Does not he deserve to die? He was a bad person. A friend will touch them on the shoulder and shake his head. No, this boy does not deserve to die, he is bent and broken, can you not see? He is being punished for his wrongs, and the wrongs of his family. Death would be a release.
He stands up. What defines the lines of good, and the lines of evil? Is it not what side you are on? If you are on the evil side, do you see yourself as evil, or do you see yourself as good? And if you are on the good side, then, mustn't the other side be evil? Ignorance, his mind cries, ignorance is the culprit.
He stands tall and straight, legs far apart and head forward. He weeps for his father in his grave, he weeps for his mother in her St. Mungo's cell, and he weeps for himself, alone. Alone.
No one will cry for you, my love, no one will cry for you. So just disappear like the feathers of the dove, and fly to a place that's true. Fly to a place for you alone, fly to a place for you.
[End]
A/N: O how depressing, and rather dumb, as well. Please review anyway.