God knows you're lonely souls
God knows you're lonely souls
God knows you're lonely souls
Yeah Yeah
I believe there's a time and a place
To let your mind drift and get out of this place
I believe there's a day and a place
That we will go to and I know you wanna share

I shiver in the moonlight. The wind blows my hair about my face, a few strands sticking to my lipgloss. I gently pull them away, tucking my hair into the scarf around my neck. Refolding my arms, I step back a few steps and sit, leaning against the wood of the quidditch stands. Dark times produce dark people, and I am certainly known to be one of those.

Life is so lonely. There is no one that knows me, save one person. But we cannot be seen to understand each other. Sometimes, when I remember how far I've gone, I suffocate. The guilt and fear weigh down on me like a landslide. Each time I recall, more and more rocks are added to the pile.
Soon I will be crushed.
And no one will miss me.

There's no secret to living
Just keep on walking
There's no secret to dying
Just keep on flying

I know he has come for me when I feel a shadow fall on me. Had my eyes been open, I would have seen him a long way off. But with my eyes closed there is nothing; nothing to disturb the peace of the empty darkness behind my eyelids.

A cool hand reaches down to clasp mine. I open my eyes and silver meets brown. Empathy appears to radiate from him for a few moments while our eyes are interlinked. He gives my hand a small tug to prepare me for the stronger one seconds later. He helps me up and, keeping my hand in his, we walk slowly over to the cool, reflective surface of the lake.

I'm gonna die in a place that don't know my name
I'm gonna die in a place that don't hold my fame

Standing on the edge, I imagine I am on a cliff. To just lean forward, further, further. A graceful fall into the dark abyss below. Drowning would be a peaceful death. It is just holding your breath, but for a very long time. And then you are asleep. Forever. Nothing to worry about or hide from. Just peace, in the darkness.

My right arm shakes slightly, telling me I let my imagination run too far again. I open my eyes and step backwards, away from the temptation before me. Still walking backwards, my arm stretches as far as it can still joined to him. He hasn't moved. A sigh escapes me, and this time it's my turn to give his hand a gentle tug. He turns to face me, blinks once and begins to walk in the same direction as I am, back towards the dark structure ahead.

God knows you're lonely souls

The silence is comfortable. There are things we could share, but nothing needs to be said. Comfort is the main reason for our union. His thoughts and mine intermingle subconsciously as we ponder the same thing: What would it feel like to jump?

The comfort of the darkness and silence allows me to shrink as I walk. Confidence to be afraid, no pressure to stand tall. Curling up in the recesses of my mind, I feel like I am walking on air. Flying. I am free outside. At times like these I feel safe. His hand, feeling his pulse against mine, walking in the night with the cold air stinging my face. Just how I like it. This is when I stop wishing for death; the only way to escape from the terror in the world I live.

God knows you're lonely souls

Death would welcome me with open arms, God knowing my heart. It would be a peaceful death, not caring who did it or how I came to be in that situation. Only that it's happening. No one knows me. No one knows what I suffer every hour of the day.
Of course, he knows. But he shouldn't. He cannot say. Unimaginable suffering for anyone who did. But I can tell he does, by the look in his eyes and the gentle squeeze of his hand at the moments I need it most. He is the safety net. If I fall, he will catch me before I hit the floor, then lower me at a more manageable speed. He has always been there. He always has to be.

I believe there's a time when the cord of life
Should be cut my friends

Sooner than I could care for, we reach the front doors. Walking through and down the stone steps to the left, I think of us walking towards the noose. Those waiting to hang us with sadistic smirks on their faces and an evil glint in their eyes. Each step closer to them means I must stand a little straighter, walk a little prouder, drift a little further from him, 'til we are walking two feet apart, no longer touching but for the tips of our fingers.

Reaching the door we turn to look over each other, checking for any signs of weakness. We are both satisfied with the others' apparent confidence and arrogance. It's fake. Every bit of it. But they cannot know.
Muttering a word, and placing his left hand on the small of my back, we step through the entrance together.

I believe there's a time when the cord can be cut
And this vision ends

My sister, their eldest, is how they wish for me to be. Hair and eyes as light as her heart is dark, and with a magical capability to match our parents'. I'm supposed to be just like that. And for all they know, I am.
They see my dark hair as an outward reflection of the darkness within. My eyes are hard and a dark coldness, filled with hate and loathing. Self loathing. Hating them. I am the opposite of who they want me to be. But I appear perfect.

Three steps on, and his hand drops from my back. They can't see any emotion, any touching. They are the wolves and we are the sheep. One can slip past unnoticed, but a flock would grab the attention of the pack. And wolves don't stop after just one.

They watch us as we come closer. The fire reflected in their eyes, flickering flames between the boy and girl approaching them. He takes the armchair, to watch over us all, like the prince and leader they see him as.
I sit tall on the settee, the right end furthest from him. We won't be able to meet eyes again.

Our 'friends' begin talking once more, content now that their prince is back. The pack are creeping, trying to prove their worth to him. They think he will put in a good word for them, but I know that he won't say a thing. He can't. People like him have no power in the real world. They don't realize that yet.

I'm gonna die in a place that don't know my name
I'm gonna die in a place that don't hold my fame

Maybe, it was fortunate for them that I am like this. Dead inside. Maybe they needed a child with a broken spirit. Or maybe having no spirit has saved my life. Speak out of turn and you're tortured in this place. Mentally, emotionally, physically. No one is safe. Especially if you don't do exactly as you are told.

I imagine what people would say if they found me dead. I could burn alive, at the stake a few hundred years ago. If only I could. Black ash, and charcoal skin would be all that's left. No more than that. No echoes of screams long dead. How could I scream dying when I welcome it? Welcome the release.

They speak of their hate, how much better the world would be without muggles and mudbloods. But they don't understand. If everyone was pure, there would be no one for them to lord over. They would be equal. They would be poor.

I despise the muggles. Not because of their lack of magic, I would only feel a small amount of envy of their simple and uncomplicated lives, but for surviving so well in an unfair world and causing such a skirmish between our worlds. It's not intentional, and they are completely oblivious, but a war without end is raging all because of them.

I shut the voices out. Long ago they stopped expecting me to join their discussions. They would see my silent fury at the muggles and let me be. As long as I believe in what they do, they see no point in pushing me further.
At least, at school they do.

Walking in the cold
Just keep on flying
There'll be a searchlight on the mountain high

At the manor, they never let me leave. A young pureblood woman must always be present, but silent. Speak only when spoken to, don't look the men or higher ranked women in the eyes. Be beautiful. Be strong. Be hateful. Be obedient. But never, ever, be yourself. That is not an option in society.

Family means that someone will always be left behind. Father in charge, Mother following obediently, the offspring that are strong, and the offspring that struggles. I struggle. I struggle to breathe, as every breath is sucked out of me when I see and hear of the atrocities in the world that surrounds me. I am trapped in the cold light that seeks to find any weak link in their family chains.

Here, at school, I am safe from the piercing looks. I have been accepted as a well bred young lady. I hide behind that persona. And I always have him to save me. One of Satan's angels trying to escape the never ending pit of destruction.

God knows you're lonely souls
God knows you're lonely souls
God knows you're lonely souls

I go through the motions every day. I wake and ready, quickly and silently. My dorm mates are noisy and rude to one another. I don't belong with them. I am from a higher class of purebloods, so I associate very little with these three girls.

I eat breakfast with my sister, and we make small talk on insignificant things, like the weather, or a set of new robes we have had an eye on for a while. In class I sit and work. I welcome the distraction. I maintain a good grade and that is an extra thing off my back. I don't have to worry about professors sending letters home to my father. Bringing me to his attention would be a very bad thing. I need to keep off the radar.

I am not a loner, though. Ethel Hightower; same year, same classes, same power, Ravenclaw. It would not do to be seen as friendless, so I appear to have a worthy ally whilst at school. We sit in class and study together, we speak of trivial things and of books. I read and embroider, as a well bred young lady should. Ethel does too, but she loves it. She dreams of being a wife to an older, richer, pureblood and giving him an heir. Her life isn't filled with constant fear. Her family has sons to give, and so the Dark Lord does not require their daughters.
I can never tell her. It would shatter her, and I know how truly desolate that makes you feel.

God knows you're lonely souls
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
I'm a lonely soul

I may spend my free time with Ethel, but Sundays are for family. Every Sunday morning, my sister and I receive a letter and a gift each from Mother. A new set of robes, a book bag, a quill set, books from home. We are expected to spend a great deal of time replying, and we send our letters off after dinner.
Those hours writing to mother with my sister men a lot to me. We speak of happy memories, and discuss our week. During this time, I feel like I belong with her and the other girls. But Monday morning brings back the gloom. At least the structure of the class and Ethel are there to help me through.

I'm gonna die in a place that don't know my name
I'm gonna die in a place that don't hold my fame

My sixth year was the year he wasn't there. As a punishment for his failings, he was not allowed to come back to Hogwarts, but to be kept under the watchful eyes of the Dark Lord and His death eaters. That was the worst year of my life.

The Slytherins became a small army. We were to hunt down the misbehaving students and take them to the Carrows for punishment. As a future death eater, I was expected to open up. No more was silent fury tolerated. Curses, from my mouth and wand, became the norm. If their screams did not last long enough then I was punished instead.

Only Dumbledore's Army were signed up for astronomy. That tower became a place where no one could step foot. The other professors tried to stop it all from happening. But they couldn't. The spell cast to only allow those with the Dark Mark through was put back in place. We couldn't get up the stairs without a Carrow. Snape stayed out of it. I supposed that being the Dark Lord's informant and Headmaster meant that you could rise above such trivial torture.

God knows you're lonely souls
Lonely souls
Lonely souls
Lonely souls
I'm a lonely soul

Arranged marriages are the only way for us. Love, we are taught, makes you weak. Marry for love and your children will be weak. You cannot teach someone important lessons when you think only of keeping them safe. I am grateful. I could not marry for love. This way I will never need to worry about my future. I have a new home, a new family, a new life.

So long little chapel
Sweet is the sound

During the ceremony, my face shielded from view, I remember how my life changed with that flash of green light. I had been ushered out of the way by the professors, but even from the village we could see the spells as they illuminated the sky. The last green light was the one. I knew my family had lost. Ours may have been the safest, the surest path, but all options have a chance. And sometimes the underdog wins.

Pack up your light
Pack up your light

His family were hated. Purebloods despised them for turning traitor. The blood traitors despised them for the damage at the start of the war. Our union was arranged at birth, but hurried by the circumstances. It brought his family up and out of the dregs of our society. It made my family a great deal richer. It meant I never had a seventh year.

Say goodbye to the holy water life

In just under an hour, the ceremony will be over and I can finally have him for myself. There will be no one to tell us how to feel or think. We will finally be able to understand each other, with more than a glance or a soft, hidden touch. I can speak to him.

I may not love him, and he may not love me, but we are the perfect union. Our future is set and we can do nothing to change it but keep a tight hold on one another. I can drown after all. I can drown in him.

Sweet sound
In and out

My last words as Astoria Greengrass were; 'I do'.

And I take my first breath as Mrs Draco Malfoy.

Ahh
Pushing it in

A/N: This is my attempt at a song fic. I don't own the song! It is Lonely Soul by Unkle, and all rights etc go to them.
I hope you liked it!