Summary: Harry's not himself. Will Draco's blackbird take flight again?
Disclaimer: All of the characters, places, and names mentioned in this story belong to J.K. Rowling, AOL Time Warner, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, and the other important (not to mention, very rich) people involved in the Harry Potter franchise. No copyright infringement is intended, and certainly no money is being made from this piece of fiction.
ALSO note that the song Blackbird belongs to The Beatles, and was actually taken from the Across the Universe Soundtrack. So they both sort of take credit for it, I guess.
I'm just a poor college student with a slight creative streak. All I own that has some sort of value is Sorry, the laptop, and my iPod. So please don't sue me...I'm saving my pennies because I graduate soon (AH!!!).
Rating: PG for slight language and slash undertones.
A/N: Right…this is a really weird fic. I've been obsessed with the music from Across the Universe since I went to see it, and every time I listen to Blackbird, I think of Harry. So I wrote a little something. You should really listen to Evan Rachel Wood's version of Blackbird though…it's beautiful. I hope you guys like it!
Blackbird
The sun rose against Hogwarts Castle, just as beautifully as every other day, and life began to make itself heard all throughout the grounds.
Ever since the war had ended, life had been good to Draco Malfoy. He'd finally come out as a supporter of the light, and joined the ranks of the winning side of the war. His courageous deeds had earned him recognition beyond anything the Malfoy name ever could have.
He was still as haughty as ever, but that would never change. Just like life in the castle.
Even after the daunting experience of a war, everyone in the wizarding world was happy as could be. They'd been freed. Finally.
Well…that wasn't true of everyone.
One particular person acted like the end of war had brought an end to his life. But Draco never understood…Harry Potter had everything after the war ended. All of his friends had made it by just fine, and he'd won for Christ's sake! He'd received an Order of Merlin First Class and every other bloody honor in the bloody book. So why was he walking around like he'd rather be dead than celebrating with his friends and the Weaselette?
Draco sat down at the Slytherin table, ready for breakfast before his first class of the morning. His grey eyes immediately went to the doors of the Great Hall, correct in assuming that it was Potter and his posse who'd been about to walk in.
He would never admit it to anyone, but he'd been observing Potter since the beginning of term and he'd been slightly concerned about him…only slightly. The heavy bags under his eyes and his too-skinny form led Draco to believe that Potter was suffering from some sort of post-trauma after the war. And none of his idiot Gryffindor friends were doing anything about it. No doubt due to orders from Potter himself, but still. It was the principle of the matter.
Because of his slight (slight!) concern, Draco had taken it upon himself to watch on Potter, from afar. Even if only registering the slight changes in appearance, like how long his hair was getting and the times when he wouldn't button his shirt correctly (although that could just be Potter being his regular idiot self).
And as the days passed and Potter's appearance worsened, Draco's concern increased from slight, to seriously concerned. The day that Potter officially gave up Quidditch and his subsequent absence to the first game of the season made Draco feel a need to make sure the other boy was doing alright. From afar, the best way he could.
Potter's friends went about their business as usual, making sure to smile at Potter more often than normal. His girlfriend soon found a new bloke to talk to and that eventually turned to more. And the Weasel and Mudblood soon became more than friends, paying more attention to each other than their clearly hurting friend.
The Gryffindors' lack of action on the matter spurred Draco into finally giving in and taking action himself.
I can't believe I'm doing this. For Potter of all people!
Draco left the Owlry with a nervous bubble in his stomach. He had never sent any kind of consoling…well, anything, to anyone, in his life. He wasn't sure about opening his secret writings to Potter of all people, but something in him told him it would help. And Potter needed some kind of help.
That night was sleepless. How would Potter react to his letter?
The next morning, as the owl post arrived, Draco's eyes immediately found his once-rival's slouched form. A school owl landed in front of Potter, as he had expected.
Potter seemed surprised and even that simple emotion made his eyes seem that much better. Surprise was good…it meant he'd stirred something in Potter.
Draco watched, nervous bubble still in stomach, as Potter opened the note. He knew what was written within, in plain black ink, no heading or signature:
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.
Black bird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
all your life
you were only waiting for this moment to be free
Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.
Potter's eyes scanned the page several times before his reaction finally surfaced.
He smiled. For the first time since the end of the war.
And Draco smiled. Because he knew his blackbird would take flight again.