Just how I wanted it I'm hating all of this, a harry potter fanfic

I would like to state for all persons concerned with this statement: My name is Alquamor, and I'm an addict. Oops, wrong speech. I do not own Harry Potter characters and I am not affiliated with Nickelback.

Draco Malfoy

WOKE UP THIS MORNING

Song lyrics:

I paid my last respects this morning on an early grave
Already said goodbye... nothin' left to say
A tiny church a tiny town and not a tear was spent
Not how I wanted it... I'm hating all of this

Now I know why I hide my love from you somedays
No I don't mind keeping this bottled inside me
You came along and tore this wall down around me
Looks like you found me... now I know why
I felt like shit when I woke up this morning

I've been a loser all my life, I'm not about to change
If you don't like it... there's the door... nobody made you stay
There ain't a woman on the planet who can deal with it
Just how I wanted it... I'm hating all of this

Now I know why I hide my love from you somedays

No I don't mind keeping this bottled inside me
You came along and tore this wall down around me
Looks like you found me... now I know why
I felt like shit when I woke up this morning

* * *

Draco Malfoy was in his room, or rather his 'secret room.' Everyone in the employ of the Malfoys knew about this room; none, however, knew its location. Even Lucius didn't know that! Well, you could never really tell, but it was a good bet considering the contents of his chamber.

It was not what you would expect of a Malfoy. It was furnished almost completely in a pastel blue-grey leather; easy chairs and couches abounded. Windows on the east wall let in the light of the morning sun. Now it played on Draco: a soft, rippling light that was only made more pleasant by the cool breeze rustling the beige window curtains.

He was lounging in a comfortable armchair, his feet dangling over the right arm and his right arm resting on the back of the chair. Although he seemed very relaxed, he was actually deep in thought.

It was June, and school had been let out some time ago. The sixth year had not exactly been the peak of his existence; what with the pressures his father put upon him to be a servant of Voldemort and the strange weakness that existed in the boy's heart: a caring for others, something which had supposedly been ground out of him in childhood. It did not amount to friendship, nor to loyalty. It was something both less and more, perhaps triggered by relief. The terror that overshadowed his life did not exist there, as it did not exist here, in this chamber. It was everywhere else.

I paid my last respects this morning on an early grave
Already said goodbye... nothin' left to say

At the end of the seventh year, Draco knew, his father would call upon him to join the fatal ring of fanatics that the world knew as the death eaters. Although he had been looking forward to it for as long as he could remember, there was something different about the prospect now. Perhaps it was the new care which he had for his fellow students, the strange comaradarie that united all of Hogwarts? But there was nothing left there for him from them, now; it was all dust and ashes.

A tiny church, a tiny town and not a tear was spent

Indeed, no one would ever care that the youngest Malfoy did not convert willingly. The myth of the evil dynasty had persisted since time beyond memory, and none doubted that Draco was the perfect fit for the part. But parts could be acted. None, not even those who thought they knew him best, would mourn him, or even pity him. They would only fear him.

Not how I wanted it... I'm hating all of this

Where were these words coming from? Surely not the wizard radio on the coffee table?

Now I know why I hide my love from you somedays
No I don't mind keeping this bottled inside me

"For all my life I've managed it, why change now? I know the excruciation of a father's wan... disapproval. Not just any father, but mine, and that is all I know; is it a surprise, then, that that is all you see?" Draco was surprised to find himself talking out loud, ranting to the air. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you the truth, that I don't give a damn about what I pretend to be!"

You came along and tore this wall down around me
Looks like you found me... now I know why
I felt like shit when I woke up this morning

It was obvious that he was not going to escape from the effect of the music now. It had crept up so slowly, and yet now it threatened to tear the very fabric of his existence. The chair no longer felt comfortable; instead it confined him, kept him still while Voldemort tattooed the skull and serpent on his arm. He jumped up out of the chair and began pacing, only half-aware that the lyrics had begun again.

I've been a loser all my life, I'm not about to change
If you don't like it... there's the door... nobody made you stay
There ain't a woman on the planet who can deal with it

Draco was shocked and repulsed to find a tear trickling down his cheek. Music never did this to him; nothing ever did, not even unforgiveables. He was a loner, didn't care what others said, or thought, or did. Why the self pity? "Why you whining little – ferret!" he said, pulling out his wand and pointing it toward himself. There was a second's hesitation, when he thought that he might give way to fear, become even weaker. But no, it was past. He took a deep, steadying breath. "Like father, like son, they say."

Just how I wanted it... I'm hating all of this

"Crucio!"