AN/ Well, this is interesting. A drarry songfic, to Powderfinger's new song, Poison in Your Mind. IT made me think of Draco. I know I should be writing my other stories, but this is on a new laptop and I just don't have either my files nor my notes . Sorry. Anyway, this was written in the car. I don't own the song or the Harry Potter Series.
Who's gonna follow you into the night?
He watched as the two 17 year olds advanced on him, cracking their knuckles and flexing muscles, wands lying discarded on the floor after disarming that platinum-blonde, himself. His two only friends, if they could even be called that, were against him. They had sworn loyalty.
Never trust people's word.
Who's gonna dilute the poison in your mind?
There he goes. They one true friend he had ever had, the only other person with him in this place. The rest were not people. The rest were monsters. But there he was, going, gone. Taken yet again. How was he to live? How could he survive? He couldn't. He wouldn't. He had to give in.
Never rely on that one person.
Who's gonna drown in those blue eyes?
There. There she was. He had gotten to her. Finally. But no … no, that wasn't her. That couldn't be her. Not his Susan. She was good, grey! No, she wouldn't. She couldn't.
No. They had found her. Not her, please, not her. But yes. Gone. Gone. Gone. And now, I will be gone.
Nothing is your own.
Did you ever feel like a call in the night, a good idea laid to waste or left untried?
Maybe, just maybe. If he had listened to him. To the all of them. He would have turned out better. But he hadn't. He had been wrong. So, so wrong. Maybe, if he had listened, to his mentor, and not his father, he would have been good. Liked. Happy. Oh, please, please forgive me. Please I made a mistake. He had tried! He had been who Dumbledore wanted him to be, his puppet and his spy, just like his mentor. But his mentor had said no. HE should have listened to Severus.
No matter how good you are or how hard you try, you will never be good enough.
Now the pillar of dust that is holding you up is crashing down around you and poisoning your mind.
Hope. Hope was all there was left. But he had no hope. Not for himself, not for his mentor, not for life, not for the people in the cell next over. He would never be out of there. He had no hope left, no goodness left, no chances left, no life left. He was tainted, poisoned. No. He would die there. Must die there, in this cell, in front of the beast, at the hands of people once so kind to him.
There is no point in hope.
Who's gonna bridge every river you cross?
No. No, he was out. He couldn't be. They couldn't take him away. IT was all that was left. But no. They were dragging him, out, away from oblivion.
They took him, said he was safe. It was silly. He was never safe.
But that one. The dark one. Like his old mentor. Him. He was good. Hopeful. There was no point in hope, but it was nice for him. He was helping. He was making him better. He was making him like him, making him love him. It was hard not to love him.
It is hard not to love when they love you, when you have never been loved before.
Who's gonna loosen the grip of your loss?
Harry had made him better. He was back again, and he was glad. They were happy. He loved him, so much. He would never forget, but Harry was helping him heal, helping him forgive. He loved Harry. So much. What was better, was that Harry loved him, too. He had made him back into the good Draco, the one inside, the one that could love.
You can love, with time, with healing, with forgiveness, with help.
Who's gonna colour your blue skies?
It had been several years, and he lived. He lived for life, for love, for hope. For Harry. But he lived for himself. He was happy. He was hopeful. He was no longer tainted. And his love for Harry grew stronger and stronger. Until that one day.
They had been walking around the graveyard for the first time since he had been well. He had stopped at the grave of Severus Snape, his old mentor and first real family. Harry had stopped at the graves of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, his own first real family, and both had shed tears. But in front of both graves, after both had smiled together, Harry went down on his knee and pulled out a ring.
And he was happy. Oh so happy, the happiest he had ever been. And he had said yes, and kissed him, the most passionate kiss yet. He had pulled him up, and both had faced the sky, and they both talked to their family in heaven.
AN/ Well, that was very angsty and then very sappy and cheesy. Ah well. It spent some of the time, and people get an update, even if it's the wrong update. By the way, the bolded writing is what Draco thinks, or learns in a way, after each little piece. Its more his kind of state of mind after each paragraphs, kind of.