Author's Note: Yup, another songfic from yours truly. This one could stem off of my other one (Emotionless), as a prequel of sorts, or it could just be a totally different one. It's up to you. As the author, I wrote it to be a prequel (thus it will include allusions to Emotionless), but as the reader, you can interpret it however you want. Also: this will contain slash, however mild it may be. If that is not your cup of tea, then scurry on to the next fic down and don't give me any crap about it.

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns her characters, which, had they not existed, I would be forced to find some other lame fandom to consume my time with writing about. Blink-182 owns the song, which is genius in itself. I own… nothing. Don't sue.

NOTE: FFN users, the formatting screwed up and it will not let me center anything. Believe me, I tried. *sigh* At least it still included the bolding and italicizing…

Let Me Fly Away
by xdistantxmemoriesx
[a songfic]

Draco stood at the windowsill of the Owlery, watching as his prized owl soared off into the distance, a letter gripped in its talons. With one arm resting on the stone of the ledge and his chin propped up on the other hand, he gazed at the sunset. Reds, pinks, yellows, all blended into each other. The mountains were silhouetted against the sunset, black contrasting with the bright colors. Draco sighed to himself. He had never noticed how beautiful the sunsets at Hogwarts were. Probably because he had never bothered to look. Tonight, he was glad he did.

He stared at the horizon long after the sun had disappeared behind the mountains, and the moon had taken its position in the sky, mingled with the stars. A cold night breeze gusted in through the window, sending chills up Draco's spine. He shivered and withdrew from the window, wrapping his robes closer around his body. An owl screeched loudly at him as he turned and left.

I never thought I'd die alone
I laughed the loudest, who'd've known?
I traced the cord back to the wall
No wonder; it was never plugged in at all

The corridors were dark and empty, considering that it was well past midnight, and he was glad. The torches mounted on the side of the wall magically lit themselves as he walked past, providing him with just enough light to walk past before they died down again. The only sound that could be heard was his footsteps echoing quietly down the corridors. Draco wasn't too worried that he would be found by Mrs. Norris. It was his last year at Hogwarts, and Filch tended to be slightly more lenient with the seventh-years, since he wouldn't have to deal with them any longer.

Draco shoved his hands in his robe pockets, enjoying the near-silence, the dark, but most of all, the fact that he was alone. Crabbe and Goyle were nice companions when he needed someone to crack their knuckles threateningly at Potter when he couldn't come up with a comeback quick enough, but the rest of the time, they were like two little (okay, big) lost puppies that follow you around, and, try as you might, will not for the life of you leave you alone. This time, he had managed to escape from the Great Hall during dinner, giving them the typical "I-have-research-to-do" excuse. Not wanting to go anywhere near the library, Crabbe and Goyle waved Draco off and continued muttering to each other incoherently under their breath.

And then there was Pansy. He despised her, but she never really seemed to grab a hold of the concept for longer than three seconds -- strangely enough, the same amount of time as the memory span of a goldfish. This always amused Draco greatly, and he mentioned it to Pansy quite a lot, because it resulted in the Silent Treatment for at least three days: something he hardly minded. There were often times when he questioned the reason he had ever agreed to go out with her in the first place. She closely resembled a hideous breed of dog; she was bossy and repulsive… Ah yes, he remembered why now. The Parkinsons were a highly-respected wizarding family. His father insisted that the two families combined to make some sort of Super Snob family.

His father.

Just the thought of Lucius Malfoy made Draco want to cry, want to vomit, want to brutally murder the next person who happened to stroll by.

I took my time, I hurried up
The choice was mine, I didn't think enough
I'm too depressed to go on
You'll be sorry when I'm gone

At the risk of sounding clichéd, Draco could remember it like it had happened yesterday. His mother had given Lucius a second child, a little girl. Lucius had been hoping for a boy, since Draco had decided not to follow in his father's footsteps, and girls could never go very far as Death Eaters. Fed up with his family -- a washout mother, a failure son, and a worthless daughter -- Lucius had fled to America, the same day as Draco's sister's birth. Draco, only fourteen at the time, could remember looking at his father, into the grey eyes that he had inherited, and pleading, "Don't leave me… please, Father…"

Draco leaned up against one wall and slid down into a sitting position. He brought his knees up to his chest and rested his arms on top of them. It was his father's fault that he had been so cold to everyone when he was growing up. And now, even in his absence, Lucius had caused Draco to become even more distant from those he loved. And even then, the people he loved were a select few, including his mother and… well, that's all he could think of for now.

Draco's father left before he even knew what his daughter's name was. Now three years old, Narcissa cared for the tiny Jaessa all by herself in the Malfoy manor, with only the help of the servants. Much to his dismay, Jaessa inherited the same physical traits that Draco had: his father's shiny silver-blonde hair, his father's cold grey eyes.

Those eyes.

Don't leave me…

I never conquered when you came
Sixteen just held such better days
Days when I still felt alive
We couldn't wait to get outside

Draco buried his face in his arms as tears slipped down his cheeks. Malfoys weren't supposed to cry, but he didn't care right now. His whole body shook as he silently sobbed to himself, all alone in the dark corridor. Why did he have to be Draco Malfoy? Why couldn't he be someone normal? Being a horrid Mudblood would be better than this. Even being dead would make him better off.

Dead.

The word had always fascinated Draco, or, rather, the meaning behind the word. What happened after you died? Some people became ghosts, others didn't. What happened to those weren't reincarnated as transparent versions of themselves? Surely they didn't just vanish.

Draco stood and opened one of the double-doors across the corridor from him. These doors led to a balcony that overlooked the lake, high above the grounds. He leaned on the railing, staring downward. He stood there for several minutes before it finally hit him -- this was his chance. This was Draco's chance to end everything that had gone wrong with his life. His heart beating a mile a minute, he clambered onto the rail (not an easy task) and carefully balanced himself.

Draco had always wanted to fly. Not the artificial flight, aided by a wooden broomstick, but true, unadulterated flight.

And now he could.

The world was wide, too late to try
The tour was over, I'd survived
I couldn't wait 'til I got home
To pass the time in my room alone

He closed his eyes, the wind whipping through his hair. It began to rain, just a drizzle, but enough to quickly soak through his robes. His arms outstretched, parallel to the ground as though he were being crucified, he prepared to take the plunge and end this nightmare he was living. He took one final breath, which was quickly knocked out of him as someone shouted "NO!" and yanked him backwards by the back of his robes. He landed hard on his back, sending pain shooting up his spine.

"Fuck," he muttered, his vision blurring for a moment. He blinked once or twice before staggering to his feet. As his eyesight came back into focus, he realized who it had been that had pulled him back. He sighed and glared.

"What the hell are you doing, Potter?"

"I think the question is, what are you doing?"

Draco fell silent.

"I hope it's not what I think it is," Harry continued, scowling from behind his signature round glasses. The lenses were becoming dotted with raindrops but he didn't seem to care.

"Why do you care? You hate me," Draco snapped. Harry's face softened a bit, looking almost… hurt.

"I don't hate you."

I never thought I'd die alone
Another six months I'll be unknown
Give all my things to all my friends
You'll never set foot in my room again

"If you say so." Draco rolled his eyes and pushed past Harry to go inside, but Harry grabbed him the arm. The two glared at each other for a long moment before Draco said coldly, "Would you mind letting go of me?"

"Why are you out here?" Harry asked, ignoring his question. "What were you doing?"

Draco sighed, closing his eyes. He ran one hand through his rain-soaked hair.

"Look, Potter--"

"It's Harry."

Draco stared for a moment, as if assessing him. "Potter, Harry, Mary Lou Jefferson, whatever the hell you call yourself these days, it's been a long day, and apparently, it's looking to be a longer night. Goodbye."

Draco's heart stopped as Harry looked at him with pleading, emerald eyes. He sighed.

"Fine. But can we go inside? It's bloody freezing out here."

Harry gave Draco a grateful smile, and the two boys traipsed in through the French doors, dripping water all over the stone floor.

Haha, Filch'll love that, Draco thought.

"So what were you doing outside, on that rail?" asked Harry. He remained standing while Draco slid down into a sitting position against the wall again.

"Why are you up in the first place?" Draco queried, cocking one eyebrow in an oh-so-Malfoy-ish way.

"Couldn't sleep," Harry replied instantly. "Now stop avoiding the question."

Draco eyed Harry. He could tell Harry all about how he his father left, how he had nothing left anymore. Or, he could continue being a brat.
"Why should I tell you?"

Being a brat definitely was appealing at the moment. He smirked to himself as he watched Harry take a seat in front of him and fidget uncomfortably for a long moment. Finally, Harry looked up at Draco and uttered the most beautiful words Draco had ever heard.

"Because I care."

You'll close it off, board it up
Remember the time I spilled the cup
Of apple juice in the hall
Please tell Mom this is not her fault

"You… what?"

"I care," Harry repeated. "Is that so wrong?"

"You're my archrival," Draco said faintly.

"Oh, please," Harry scoffed. "Archrivals are so childish. I prefer to think of it as competition."

"I thought we hated each other."
"You might hate me," Harry said quietly, trying to hide the fact that he hoped Draco didn't hate him, "but I don't hate you."

Draco stared at Harry in silence -- the boy whom he would have done anything in his power to make miserable.

"Draco--"

"Malfoy."

"Please talk to me. I know you hate me with a passion, but just talk to me. Maybe I can help," Harry pleaded. "And even if I can't, I bet it'll feel good to get it off your chest."

Draco sighed.

"I won't tell anyone," Harry promised.

All the emotions that had been bottled up within Draco spilled forth just then. He fought back tears as he told Harry about Crabbe and Goyle, about Pansy, about his father, about his mother and sister. A single tear cascaded down his cheek as he told Harry about how he was going to jump off the balcony.

"And that's why you were up there, on the railing," Harry observed. Draco nodded.

It was at that moment when Draco realized that Harry was looking at him in a way he had never seen before. Harry's emerald eyes were filled with sympathy and affection, two things he had never seen -- and never expected to see -- directed towards him.

I never conquered, when you came
Tomorrow holds such better days
Days when I can still feel alive
When I can't wait to get outside

Draco fell silent and stared at the opposite wall for a long while. Harry leaned back against the wall, silent as well. Neither one said anything for a long time. Finally, Draco broke the silence.

"Harry?"

"Mary Lou Jefferson," Harry corrected with a completely straight face, not looking away from his fixation on the opposite wall.

Caught slightly off his guard with that one, Draco snorted, almost cracking a smile. Harry looked over, grinning broadly.

"All right, then, Miss Jefferson," Draco amended.

"Yes?"

Draco hesitated. "I… I'm glad you're here."

Harry gave Draco a tiny, appreciative smile. Draco's heart gave a leap as he felt Harry place his hand on top of his.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

Draco gripped Harry's hand, forgetting all his worries for the time being, even Pansy. Harry leaned his head on the Slytherin's shoulder.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't leave me."

The world is wide, the time goes by
The tour is over, I've survived
I can't wait till I get home
To pass the time in my room alone…

"I won't."