Summary: It's hard watching someone change from the person you've come to know them as, losing the vibrancy and fading into a shadow of themselves. I watched him from a distance that year, and still to this day wonder if I could have saved him. Takes place during HBP. Very slight AU.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I just took artistic liberties. Harry Potter, characters, names, and all related indicia are trademarks of Warner Bros. and came from the genius mind of Queen Rowling. The song Colors is performed by Halsey and is © 2016 Astralwerks.
Colors
Long-Shot inspired by Colors by Halsey
I entered the train compartment and tossed my satchel into the overhead storage. Letting out a deep sigh, I allowed my body sink into the welcoming cushions of the seat nearest the window.
It's hard getting onto the train every year, but harder this year than ever before. There's been a shift in the air that I can practically feel vibrating in every public space inhabited by the wizarding community. Platform 9 ¾ is most noticeably wrapped in a heavy cloak of anxiousness and paranoia, leaving my muscles tense.
Reaching a hand up, I began to knead my fingers into the stiff muscles of my shoulder as my eyes wandered out the window. Despite the fact that the train would be heading out in the matter of minutes, many students lingered to say goodbye to their families. Young children, undoubtedly incoming first years, were promising to write their teary-eyed parents, while older students greeted their friends from across the platform after a long summer apart.
Interspersed in the crowd were Aurors, which could be seen surveying the assembly for any suspicious activity. It wasn't unusual to see them lurking in background these days, as I'd noticed them frequently over the summer. The various Death Eater strikes across the country had left the Ministry of Magic on edge and clearly the appointment of security was their way of making people feel safe and to prevent an attack of substantial proportion. Lot of good it did protecting wizarding England, when muggles were the target more often than not.
Toward the back of the platform, away from the families saying their frantic farewells, I observed a glimmer of sunlight on bright blond hair. Draco Malfoy was standing along the brick wall accompanied by his mother, Narcissa. The pair looked increasingly uncomfortable near the crowds of people, and no words were exchanged among them. My brow furrowed as I remembered that the Daily Prophet had announced Lucius' imprisonment at the end of the last school term.
Draco stood rigid as a wand, with a look of dark concentration on his face that was a far cry from the haughty scowl that normally graced his features. My eyes slid to his mother, who had a light grip on her son's arm while her gaze rested blankly in the distance, unseeing of what was happening around her.
Hovering just under the surface, was a gloomy grey haze that I'd never seen before. The Malfoy family had always carried themselves with a self-important poise that demanded attention, yet the pair stood now as if trying to blend into the shadows. Her aristocratic beauty turned hollow, and the normally proud set of his shoulders was slumped almost indiscernibly. Their appearance made me certain that the events at the Department of Mysteries and the last months of the summer had affected them as much as the rest of the wizarding world.
In previous years boarding the Hogwarts Express, I'd glimpsed Malfoy's family and not once do I remember warmth accompanying their farewells. While Draco's departure may have been stiff and formal before, today they seemed disconnected from one another, haunted in their solitude.
Draco looked to his mother, ready to depart, and she appeared shaken from her thoughts. My heart clenched painfully as I watched Narcissa step forward and wrap her only son in a fierce embrace while he stood unresponsive. It was as if she were clinging to him and trying to convey a silent sentiment through a moment of tenderness clearly not meant for public eyes.
I ripped my gaze away from the scene before me and set my eyes determinedly on the seat across from me. It was hard, yet not impossible, to imagine that Narcissa cared for her son dearly and despite the overwhelming evidence that the Malfoy family was in league with Voldemort, she feared for Draco's safety.
As the Hogwarts Express lurched forward and began picking up speed, I turned to the window again and waved at the families still on the platform. The compartment door opened and several other students entered donning their Prefect badges and exchanging pleasantries. With the chatter of the other prefects increasing around me, I stood to retrieve parchment and a quill from my bag before the meeting got underway.
With the Head Boy and Girl handing out the patrol schedule, I found myself staring at the grey eyed boy across the compartment. He wasn't paying attention to the announcements and scoffed as he received a copy of the timetable. I scowled.
It's like Draco didn't care to take his duties seriously, as if the task is completely beneath him. Everyone knows it's utterly ridiculous that the Headmaster even let him keep the title. His abuse of the position last year should have been enough to have it revoked.
I tried to force my attention back to the Head Girl as she was speaking, but my breath ceased as silver eyes caught me staring. There was a hard glint in Draco's gaze as he stared me down until I turned my attention to gathering my belongings as the meeting ended.
I wondered, if Draco had followed in his father's footsteps, then it's almost certain that he'd have taken the mark after his sixteenth birthday. Clearly fulfilling the role of prefect meant nothing to him, because his commitment as a Death Eater would have captured his entire attention. But if he had become a fully inducted follower of the Dark Lord, then why even bother coming back to Hogwarts at all?
I could have mistaken it, but for a moment before he'd caught me looking, I could have sworn that I'd seen the face of someone that was desperately lost and fighting against a current that they didn't have the strength for. I saw the fear of someone so far out of their depth that they were certain that drowning was an inevitability. And it made me wonder, how far Draco's father had dragged him in with the Death Eaters and if the tide was pulling him farther out to sea than he'd ever intended to go.
A thousand overhead candles spilled light from the Great Hall as I walked into dinner after my last class. Things were finally settling into routine after the hectic beginning of another school year. The warm yellow glow washed over me and filled me with a happiness that expelled the lingering stress of the Daily Prophet's news. Day after day came, where any update of the world outside of Hogwarts was sure to be grave as attacks and suspicious deaths became more common.
I filled my plate as my friends carried on their conversation next to me, their chatter and laughter including everyone in the general vicinity. This kind of glowing joy was just the distraction that everyone needed after a long week of classes and it was encouraging to see that liveliness extended beyond our table. The next table over I could see a group of first years gossiping, friendships developing, and the Slytherins seemed less serious than normal. Even the likes of Malfoy and his surly companions couldn't deny the cheerful mood that settled over the Great Hall like a layer of golden honey.
A handful of owls entered the room from high open windows to deliver letters that hadn't made it with the rest of the morning post. I hoped that none were tasked with providing more unwelcome news as I glanced around at the recipients. With my eyes drawn to him with the force of a strong summoning charm, I watched Draco accept a roll of parchment from the bird in front of him. Without opening the correspondence he discretely tucked it into the folds of his robe and continued with his meal.
Either the letter was currently unimportant or a private affair that he'd rather leave for later, but as I finished my meal I was aware of the shift in mood that affected the angel haired boy. A dark mist seemed to radiate from his pocket containing the letter, enveloping Draco and extending out to those sitting closest to him. Each person subtly turned away to engage others in their conversation and he was left stewing in a determined melancholy.
What could that letter have contained to cause a shadow of gloom to follow him for the rest of the evening until he left the chattering hall? Perhaps an update of his father's trial before it was splashed across the front page of next morning's paper? Or it may have carried sentiments from his mother, expressing loneliness at being isolated in the manor. Not that it's any of my business, but it is curious to see him shaken back into apathy when he'd finally allowed himself to feel happiness after a time of prolonged despair.
Potions class with Slughorn had come as an ever welcome change from all the lessons that we had to endure with Professor Snape. A few weeks into the school year, I can't believe I actually started to look forward to spending time in the overly warm potions classroom. It was difficult work but thankfully Slughorn avoided making everyone feel their intelligence was equal to that of a troll.
I held my breath as I checked the thermometer, and counted the drops of moondew as they hit the grey liquid in my cauldron. As the last one touched the surface, I quickly moved to stir the contents, which had taken on a silvery sheen. I exhaled as I confirmed with the text that I had achieved the desired result.
"Wonderful work, Harry, m'boy!"
My head whipped up from the instructions to see Slughorn's large frame looming over Harry's cauldron. Since the beginning of term, no one had been able to keep pace with Harry's performance in Potions, and the professor seemed enamored with the impressive display of talent. From around me, I could hear a few groans and grumbles from other students that were hoping to be on the receiving end of Slughorn's praise.
From the next workstation over Malfoy scoffed at Slughorn's robust praise of Harry, and returned to completing his own potion. His lips moved silently reciting the text on the page before him. It was clear that his concentration was on trying to best his dark haired rival, as I recognized the same determined set of his jaw that he adopted on the Quidditch pitch in matches against Gryffindor.
I couldn't quite place the last time I remembered seeing that spark of purpose in Malfoy. Since I'd been consciously aware of observing him on the train and during dinner several weeks prior, he had seemed to fade into the background among the other students. Not that I paid him much mind before but now it occurred to me that even sharing several classes and mealtimes with him, I only had vague memories of his presence since term started. A far cry from the attention he commanded just by entering a room in years previous.
A new resolve seemed to burn in him, bringing with it a glow of youth that had disappeared in the last months. I could see evidence of the boy he used to be, the one that worked so hard to get under other's skin, fought relentlessly to be top of the class, and reveled in the awe that his last name used to inspire. With this glimpse I could also discern the young man that he could have been, had he not been forced to live under the storm cloud of the dark arts and his father's expectations.
Slughorn's tawny robes swished into my field of view and I refocused on the last several steps of my potion before class was set to end.
"Next class, remember to turn in your essays on the important relationship of moondew and herabia in the potions we've covered. No less than 10 inches!"
With my labeled potion vial turned into to Slughorn, I went to resume packing my supplies. But as I reached my cauldron I noticed the tense set of Draco's posture, and his pale hand clenched into a fist on his desk.
With the returned brightness in his demeanor, it gave me hope that I'd been wrong in assuming that he'd joined the Death Eaters. His darker than normal mood must have lifted now that he was back at Hogwarts and away from the stress Lucius pressed upon him. But, now as I watched Draco sling his bag over his shoulder and discretely clutch at his forearm, I had reason to suspect that my original assumption might be true.
Flashes of brightly colored dresses blurred into the landscape of blue and silver as I spun around the dance floor. Arms were wrapped around me as my partner led me in a series of steps amid the other dancing couples, but only distorted shapes of color registered as we twirled. The band filled the room with music and I am positive that I could see the sound floating through the air.
Stopping abruptly to halt the dizziness, my partner disappeared from beside me. I focused on the snowflakes falling from the ceiling and extended a hand upward trying to catch them before the enchantment caused them to disappear. Tingles met my fingertips and I laughed as the appropriately cold flakes melted against my hand.
From the haze of shapes and familiar yet still unrecognizable faces, he materialized. The contradictory image of illumination and shadow, he stood in crisp distinction to everything around him. In robes as black as the darkest night he radiated pleasure, and I was drawn to him.
The skirt of my dress gently floated around me as if I were walking on clouds to reach him. A dark angel in heaven, he became my sole focus as he exuded a light that I wanted to take for my own. A brilliant silver aura that dulled everything in its vicinity, making you feel inadequate as you desired to belong to it. He embodied a joy that made me weep of never wanting to see it extinguished.
My slow steps brought me before him as the music reached a crescendo and reverberated around us. As all other coherent shapes faded from my sight I reached a hand out. I registered that his skin was warm as my fingers made contact with his cheek a second before I was blinded by a burst of the purest white light.
I paused in writing to wipe at my ink-splattered fingers in hopes that the dark liquid wouldn't stain my skin. It was a fruitless attempt at this point, seeing as I still had half my essay to finish, and tilted my parchment toward the lamplight to reread the paragraph I'd just written.
Movement further down the aisle that I had claimed caught my eye, and I glanced up just enough to see Malfoy thumbing through a thick volume. I checked the time, and as I suspected it was still too early to expect other students attempting to finish a last minute assignment before the deadline. I stared for another few minutes, but he only continued to scribble notes as he referenced the book in front of him.
It was a short while later, after finishing the essay I'd been working on, that I noticed the table he had occupied was now empty.
He appeared the next morning.
And the next.
And again that Saturday.
Even when most would have balked at the idea of studying on the weekend, he was there.
After the second week of finding that I was sharing the library in my predawn studying, I was no longer surprised to see him at a table down the way surrounded by scraps of parchment and sporting a furrowed brow.
I'd be hard pressed to not spot him each morning, seeing as when the sun crested the horizon it inevitably illuminated his bright blond head. And each time it did, I allowed myself to be reminded of my dream of the Yule Ball, wondering if he still harboured that same light I remembered.
Malfoy's arrival and departure always seemed to pass without my notice, but without fail every morning that I was there, so was he. Always at the same table, always wide awake and groomed to perfection, and always with attention fixed on the task before him.
I set my school bag on my usual table in the library and rubbed my eyes to remove any remaining traces of sleep. Last night I just couldn't seem to turn my brain off long enough to fall asleep. I lit the lamp next to me and began pulling my texts and notes from my bag.
Yesterday, Katie Bell had been cursed when we were all out visiting Hogsmead, and it was severe enough that she ended up in the Hospital Wing. Speculations and worry just seemed to run through my mind, shouting over one another to be heard as I lay in my four-poster until late. Dumbledore and the other professors were keeping a tight lip about the situation, and that led to rumors running rampant among the students.
The brightness of the growing dawn brought me to the realization that I hadn't gotten any work done. I couldn't figure out just how long I'd been sitting here twirling my quill and flipping pages, but my essay remained unfinished. Heading back to the common room seemed a good idea, and I could take a break from one morning of studying.
Once my bag was repacked I navigated through the stacks and was almost at the exit when it hit me. I'd been lost in thought staring in the direction of his usual table and Draco never appeared.
Days passed as normal, but my mornings before dawn in the library were spent alone. I continued my routine in solitude as Draco's table remained vacant.
Eventually, I began to notice his increasing absence from the classes I shared with him. I'd never been so aware of someone before and now I found myself glancing around the room at the start of class to see if I could spot his telltale alabaster complexion.
Today he arrived late to Astronomy, sneaking in the back as the professor lectured. With just enough light to see by from the slide projector in the dim room, I watched him discretely from several tables over. He didn't bother pulling out his books, rather he stared ahead with a manic look in his eyes.
The glint they harboured was disturbingly familiar and immediately brought to memory the front page of the Daily Prophet from three years ago showing the image of an infamous mass murderer. Dark circles were prominent under his eyes and his appearance seemed slightly ruffled, something that was unusual from the pureblood prince of Slytherin.
The blue glow of the projector only served to heighten Draco's disheveled look, and I instinctively recognized the look of a drowning man. The stress covered him like dark ocean waves beating a man against a rocky cliff face – unrelenting with brutal force. He had two choices in the nearly hopeless situation; to try to swim his way out of it or allow the waves have their way with him.
And from what I could see, he was losing his will to fight.
I was running late.
Normally I'm not a forgetful person, but distractions as of late had me leaving my textbooks in my dorm or managing to miss entire meal periods. And here I was running down the corridor digging in my bag to find my most recent Transfiguration assignment, late for a meeting with McGonagall.
I finally found the parchment and shuffled my way quickly past several classrooms. Entering the Transfiguration room, I headed toward her office and I almost knocked until voices drifted through the cracked door.
"This is the third assignment you've missed this month," McGonagall's authoritative voice reached my ears. "And I've spoken with Professor Slughorn, and you're struggling in his class as well." There was a pause as if she was waiting for the student to respond, but nothing came.
I looked around the room trying to decide if I should leave and come back in a few minutes, because this was a private conversation. But before I could turn to go, the professor continued.
"Mr. Malfoy, I'm not sure what is going on, but know that if you are having troubles you are more than welcome to seek me out." The kindly professor's face swam in my memory with a look of worry that I'm sure she was directing at Draco right this moment from across her desk.
"If there was anything going on, which there isn't, I'll be sure to speak to Professor Snape," Draco's voice came through the door with clear indifference colouring every word. "Was there anything else, Professor?"
In a moment of panic, I rapped my knuckles sharply on McGonagall's office door and pretended to be arriving in the room.
"Professor?" I asked poking my head in the room. "I hope I'm not interrupting. You said we could meet at 4:30."
"Of course not," the gray-haired woman said, standing from behind her desk. "I'll see you in class, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco stood stiffly from the chair, and lightly brushed past me without a backward glance, and I shut the door to the professor's office behind him.
My notes seemed jumbled and I could hardly concentrate on the questions I had for Professor McGonagall regarding the latest assignment. Try as I may, I couldn't keep my thoughts from drifting to the conversation I'd overheard. Despite the guilt that itched at my neck, I was glad to see that others were noticing the dark stress that was affecting Draco.
I focused my blurring vision on my watch and yawned.
11:38 PM
Almost done with patrols, and I couldn't wait to crawl into bed. Course work had been increasing despite the fact that as Sixth Years we didn't have any exams to prepare for, and it was becoming difficult to stay ahead of it all.
I rounded a corner on my route and through a window I could see a figure at the balustrade of the next tower over. I'd already caught some Second Years out of bed, and didn't want to have to deal with anyone else out for a nighttime adventure. Resigned to my duty as Prefect, I quickly worked my way through the halls and up the stairs.
The staircase spiraled upward, opening to a landing and I found myself staring at the back of a distinctive blond head. I was suddenly wide awake in his presence. He didn't move at hearing my footsteps when most others would have tried to avoid being caught.
"You're not on patrol too, are you?" I asked into the darkness.
He didn't respond, only continued to stare out to the cloud covered horizon. Spring was right around the corner and we'd finally had a break from the showers, but not the blanket of dark clouds.
I stood there awkwardly behind him for another moment. We'd never spoken outside of classes like this before, and I'm sure that he was ignoring me with the hope that I'd disappear, but he didn't say anything. Nerves caused my throat to become dry and my hands sweaty as I shifted my stance trying to figure out something to say.
Draco shifted his arm, and I spied a lit cigarette between his fingers, as he brought it to his lips and took a deep drag. With a long exhale blue-grey smoke slithered through his parted lips and disappeared into the night air. With this breath it seemed he was trying to expel his troubles along with the pungent smoke.
The thick smell of burning tobacco filled my nose and I took a step forward.
"Did you know there are over two dozen different varieties of tobacco?" I immediately wanted to snatch the words from the air as I felt my face flush from embarrassment. "Sorry."
Still, he didn't say anything, and I took another tentative step forward to come up beside him. I allowed a couple of feet to remain between us as I rested my elbows on the rail.
"My grandad used to smoke," I tried to rationalize my stupid comment. "And I seem to pick up bits of useless information, so…" I trailed off feeling the heat in my cheeks intensify as he took another drag.
We stood in silence for several more minutes, and surprisingly, it didn't feel all that uncomfortable, it was just… there. Draco finished off his cigarette, uncaringly flicked the end over the edge of the tower where disappeared from sight, and gracefully reached into his trouser pocket to withdraw a silver case for another. I watched discreetly as he snapped the case shut, returning it to his pocket, and with practiced ease used his wand to light the new smoke.
The wisps of smoke swirled around him before disappearing, and in the darkness I wondered if he'd disappear the same way. Standing beside me in the shadows he seemed to be made of smoke himself. His skin had taken on a grey tinged pallor, his hair now a dull imitation of what it'd once been and his outline was blurred and tattered at the edges. This grey aura had penetrated him to the very core and I was sure that one good gust of wind would have him dissolve before my eyes.
I couldn't figure out why I was still standing here in the chilly night air when my bed was surely calling my name, and there were classes first thing tomorrow. Draco hadn't given me the impression that he'd wanted me to stay, but at the same time neither did he make it clear he wanted me to leave. So, here I was. Just like our mornings in the library, though they felt like a lifetime ago, we existed in companionable silence.
I'm not sure when I starting thinking of those predawn hours as "ours", but ever since he'd stopped appearing at the table down the way, I'd found myself distracted over his absence, constantly checking to see if he'd decided to reappear. It had seemed that during the wee hours of the morning, with his mind focused on the parchment before him, he was existing outside of the world where Death Eaters and his father tried to control him, and I liked him that way.
It occurred to me, as he neared the end of his smoke that I wanted to do something for him. Maybe help him find a way back to the man he could've been before he'd become this shadow of himself. I had to say something quickly, or I may never get the chance.
"I overheard what McGonagall said to you in her office the other day," I said, and immediately knew that it was the wrong thing to say as I saw his shoulders stiffen. "I didn't mean to… It's just, you stopped coming to the library and a lot of classes. You seem to have changed a lot. And I know it's none of my business."
Draco tossed his cigarette along the same arc as the last, turned to go, and I knew this wasn't turning out right.
"I know you don't want help, nor do you need it, but I'm still there, on the same mornings. You know, if you want to study…" I finished lamely, and let the sentence hang.
Without acknowledgement he descended the stone staircase, and I felt my earlier embarrassment return ten-fold. How bloody foolish could I be? Of course he doesn't want near strangers in his business. If I was positive of one thing about him, it was that I'd overstepped my welcome and I'm lucky he didn't hex me for bothering him.
Twenty minutes later I turned down the duvet in my four-poster thinking of the lingering effect his presence had on me. I wanted to absorb the hollowness I'd felt in him. Take it, devour it, destroy it, and make him alright again. No one deserved to carry that kind of darkness on their soul.
I finally drifted off in the early hours of morning, with stormy clouds casting the night blue as it enveloped and penetrated my dreams.
It'd been five days since I'd encountered Draco in the tower during rounds, and he hadn't shown himself in the library but he'd been in every class that we shared. A definite improvement.
Dressing quietly as to not wake my dormmates, I gathered my things and took off to the library.
It was still mostly dark when I entered, and as I navigated to my usual table I was startled to see a lamp lit. When I came around a bookshelf I found it illuminated the work space where Draco was now sitting.
Across the stone floor, my approaching footsteps were most decidedly heard, but he refused to look up. I took to my usual table and began preparing my Ancient Runes notes.
Yes, a definite improvement.
I turned over in my bed trying to block out the flood of memories from that morning. Of course I'd been stupid, but I didn't need to be reminded of it every time I closed my eyes.
Over the last two weeks or so, Draco had made an appearance in the library almost every morning that I was there. Today, I had managed to destroy every bit of progress that had been made.
I screwed my eyes shut as I tried to think about anything other than how royally I'd fucked up.
Taking a break from the chapter I was reading, I looked up to see that Draco had arrived in his usual place several tables down the aisle. From where I was sitting I could practically see the garden gnomes running circles in his brain as he glared at the tabletop.
"You know," I broke the silence, speaking for the first time in our mutual sanctuary. "If you stare just a little harder, I'm sure it'll catch fire."
His head snapped up, flashing eyes met mine and I realized that speaking was the wrong thing to do. I'm sure that his thoughts and anger were seconds from spilling over like a tap flooding a sink basin.
"I'm here if you want to talk about it," I quietly offered in solidarity, knowing that I'd probably end up in over my head if he divulged anything close to what I suspected was going on in his life. Between his father being imprisoned, my suspicions of his family's connections to the Death Eaters, and his obviously fraying psyche, I'm positive that I had very little to offer him in the way of support or help, but again, like a fool, I couldn't mind my overly helpful self.
"I don't even know what I'm doing here," he spat out the words as he shoved away from the desk.
I looked up meekly at him, wishing that I hadn't said anything at all. No matter how I tried, I always managed to say the wrong thing. Everything had been going well, or things were at least on their way to resembling the mornings we'd spent studying earlier in the year, and just I had to open my damn mouth.
I blinked, but couldn't even manage an apology as Draco viciously cleared his belongings into the canvas bag with a sweep of his wand. I'd never been so bold in my life, but something about knowing him changed me and the words had tumbled out before I could think them through.
"This isn't me," he said darkly. "We aren't friends, you don't know me, and your pretty sentiments aren't going to change a damn thing. So, save your fucking pity for someone who deserves it, because we both know that person isn't me."
And as he swept from the room, I knew that his anger was directed at himself more than me, but it didn't stop me from feeling any less guilty.
It's hard to tell yourself that you weren't the reason behind a certain situation happening and believe it, especially, when things seemed to go to shit right after your direct involvement.
I took a deep breath and tried to run through the last several mornings to determine if there was anything that I could have said to change the outcome. I am sure to be replaying this memory over and over for the next several weeks, if not years, trying to figure the puzzle out. But as of right now, I can see that nothing would have made a difference.
Behind the gloomy exterior, Draco had become Fiendfyre and it was only a matter of time before he destroyed everything in his wake.
The end of term was fast approaching, and between studying for finals, strenuous amounts of homework, and deciding what classes to take next year to best prepare for a career, I was exhausted. More and more of my time was spent in the library, especially in the early morning when it was more likely to be empty. And the more time I spent there, the more I found myself wondering what the summer would hold, not only for myself but for Draco as well.
It had been weeks since that day he left the library and I could tell he wasn't coping well with whatever was going on. The blond had a permanently haunted look on his thin face, and he constantly skipped meals and classes. And when he was seen he never participated and secluded himself with select Slytherin comrades by his side.
I could practically see him coming apart at the seams and he had very little left holding him together. He had lost all the energy and light that had previously given him life, and all that remained was just a fragile shell encasing a soul devoid of colour. He had become the embodiment of the grey smoke I had once suspected him of being.
It was more than just coursework that was tearing the Slytherin apart, that much was obvious. Only last week, rumors spread that Draco had spent time in the Hospital Wing after some sort of duel, but with his all too common disappearances this was only speculation. I was too much a coward to check the wing myself, for fear of unleashing his wrath if he had been there and found out I tried to see him, because like he said; we aren't friends.
My brain screamed at me to leave well enough alone, but I couldn't help wanting to make one last attempt. I guess that is why I made my Prefect patrols longer than normal, in hopes that I'd run into him once more. That's how I'd glimpsed his familiar form in an upstairs corridor late in the evening a couple of weeks before end of term.
Draco's signature dark robes hung loosely on his frame as he came down the hall in my direction. I stopped dead upon seeing him and didn't care if I looked like a crackpot at I stared pointedly at him. This was probably my last chance to say something and my mind went blank.
He swept past me with only the briefest of glances and disappeared beyond the torch light like a wisp of smoke. He was gone, and that was the last time I saw him.
Today dawned blue.
Blue from the hue of overcast clouds blotting out the late spring sun. Blue from the unseasonably crisp air. Blue from the melancholy mood spread among the castle's inhabitants. And blue from the void that Dumbledore's death left behind.
The war had finally reached out and sunk its teeth and claws into Hogwarts in a way no one could have predicted and left destruction in its wake that we, who were merely children, would never heal from. Our childlike innocence had been ripped from us and violated by the infiltration of our beloved home and school.
Some were affected more deeply than others, as many had taken part in protecting the school. Fighting for your life at a young age was sure to shake your soul, but we were all marked by the unexpected loss of Dumbledore during the night's events.
And as we gathered to lay the headmaster to rest, blue dawn light covered the preceding.
While everyone else was enveloped in a world of blue, I was lost in the sea of grey. Only memories of grey smoke and steely eyes, because this morning he was gone.
And while everything is blue, in my memory he'd forever remain grey.
AN:
Hello, all! Thanks for reading.
This is actually my first ever completed FanFiction. Hooray! I got inspiration from Halsey's song one day when I was rereading HBP, and knew it was a song meant for Draco and it had to be written. Personally for this story, I love the feel of the version on YouTube that is 'Stripped' (from her Vevo) or the one she did at the 2016 Nobel Peace Prize Concert, but the lyrics are slightly different.
The POV is meant to be ambiguous, but there are some hints as to who I envisioned the person of being. It seemed that this wasn't her story, and so it didn't matter as much who she was, so you all can fill in the blanks. Let me know in a review how you liked that choice, if there is a character that stands out as who she is for you, and if you might guess at who she is for me!
With this being my first completed FanFiction, I didn't have a Beta so there are bound to be grammatical errors. So, I do ask that if there are things that need to be brought to my attention, please be kind in pointing them out.
Thanks again for taking the time to read my work. Reviews are appreciated!
Best,
Tricia
Completed: 08/08/2017
Edited: 08/16/2017: Removed lyrics to avoid violating TOS.