Can Anybody Hear Him?
Hiya folks! Sorry about my inexcusable tardiness on all my other stories(Draco: You're telling me. Honestly woman I don't know why you can't think of SOMETHING to write. I am dying here, and you made me sound sappy and wishy washy!)(Me: I hit writer's block okay! It's not something I can control and turn on and off. I am trying hard enough as it is to go to Cosmetology school and come home still awake... and like it or not Draco you ARE just like I write you and you know it.) ,but I finally got inspiration for some more Draco fluff. So without further adieu I give you my songfic. All rights to Casting Crowns for their song Can Anybody Hear Her? and to Good Ole J.K. Rowlings for her beautiful book series.
He is running a hundred miles an hour in the wrong direction.
Draco stood in front of the dark lord staring into space as he talked. Draco didn't even know why he was doing this anymore, he could run away like his Uncle Sirius, he could turn tail and run, but here he was. He was standing beside Crabbe and Goyle waiting to receive his dark mark. To finally be accepted somewhere, to be an equal. Somewhere in the back of his mind though, he was screaming, he didn't want this he wanted to have real friends, and to do as he wanted. It was too late; he had made his choice the first moment he stepped into Hogwarts the moment he chose to follow what he had been taught by his parents; to hate.
He is trying but the canyon's ever widening in the depths of his cold heart.
He honestly tried to change, but every time he saw the glare Potter gave as he approached he would go on the defense doing what was easy to him. He insulted Potter and his friend's, and in return his parents and his friends would beam at him approval clear in their sickly smug looks. He hated it; but he hated it even more when his they looked at him with cold disapproval, ice shot at him through their eyes, freezing him, making him want to cry, but he couldn't Pureblood men never cry.
So he sets out on another misadventure just to find he's another two years older, and he's three more steps behind.
It was his third year in school, when he was teasing Hermione and Ron by the Shrieking Shack, not that he would ever call them by their names out loud. He was jealous, jealous that they had real friendship; he wanted to apologize for everything he had ever said and done. To make amends, but he couldn't, he wasn't courageous like his Aunt Dromy who left her family to be with the man she loved. So he dug a deeper hole and the rift between him and the Golden Trio widened just that much father.
Does anybody hear him? Can anybody see? Or does anybody even knows he's going down today. Under the shadow of an archway, with a lonely singing songbird, searching for the love that's tucked away in you and me. Does anybody hear him? Can anybody see?
Draco sat underneath one of the numerous archways looking over the grounds, he was looking at all the people either sitting by the lake or chatting on their way to class. It was one of the few times he had managed to shake Crabbe and Goyle for the day, complaining that they were being clingy. In reality he just wanted to be alone. Draco turned to his other side seeing a blue songbird fluttering around the other side of the archway. If only he had wings, he would fly as far away as he could, he turned to leave, and as he left one tear fell from his face. Mourning for a life that he could never have.
He is yearning for shelter and affection that he never found at home.
Draco stared at the Weasley family gathered in front of the train, Mrs. Weasley crying fluttering around her children giving out hugs and kisses and warnings of what would happen should any trouble arise this school year. He looked at Harry, her adopted son being treated as one of the family. He wondered what it would be like, to be a Weasley, to be loved like that. His eyes started to water as he turned to his parents and their stone faces. He said a cordial good bye and a promise to write to his mother. No hugs or kisses were exchanged. He stepped onto the train.
He is searching for someone to ride in, ride in and save the day, and in walks a dark lord and he knows just what to say; momentary lapse of reason, and he gives himself away.
Draco looked into Voldemort's eyes as he desperately wanted to believe that he could make everything better. That Draco would be loved and adored and that his parents would be amazed. He would never want for anything again. Like a fool Draco believed.
If judgment looms under every Great Hall, if lofty glances from lofty people; can't see past his dark mark's story and we never even met him.
Harry looked at the article containing Malfoy's obituary, he thought of their school days, and how Malfoy saved him that day in Malfoy manner. Harry felt sad that he never got to know the real Malfoy, the one underneath the status, and the rude insecurity. As he thought of this, he turned to his beautiful wife of thirty-nine years as they watched their grandchildren ascend the train. He smiled as he remembered what he had told Albus on his first year; not all Slythrins are evil.
She is running hundred miles an hour in the wrong direction.
As he turned to leave the station Ginny's hand in his, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. A little girl walking with her stern faced mother. She tugged her mother's hand and pointed at Harry, her mother looked at him whispered in her daughter's ear and kept walking. In turn after her mother's whisper the girls face turned from curiosity to disgust and hate.