In the End

by Kalyiel

I had hope. I had dreams. I had no fears, and I believed. I believed in friendship. I believed in childhood. I believed in the world surrounding me. I was a child. tragic songfic; one-shot; R&R

A/N: As already known, characters and all related indicia belong to J.K. Rowling, and the lyrics are copyrighted Linkin Park. So... all the rest is mine. Read and review!

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In the End

(It starts with)
One thing / I don't know why
It doesn't even matter how hard you try
Keep that in mind / I designed this rhyme
To explain in due time
All I know
time is a valuable thing
Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings
Watch it count down to the end of the day
The clock ticks life away
It's so unreal
Didn't look out below
Watch the time go right out the window
Trying to hold on / but didn't even know
Wasted it all just to
Watch you go
I kept everything inside and even though I tried / it all fell apart
What it meant to me / will eventually / be a memory /of a time when I tried
so hard

And got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn't even matter

First year. I had hope. I had dreams. I had no fears, and I believed. I believed in friendship. I believed in childhood. I believed in the world surrounding me. I was a child. I thought a wand could charm everything – I thought it could charm my tears away and I was surprised when it didn't. I thought Harry Potter would be a nice name for a Slytherin. But he went to Gryffindor. I thought mudbloods were some kind of insects to pureblooded wizards – but Hermione Granger out stood me. First year. I learned to be alone.

Second year. I met you. You just stood there, gazing at me with both fury and fear hidden in your eyes. I smirked – blessed smirk, praised be the one who found this ever so icy mask, this shield of coldness. "Leave him alone!" you shouted, a tear sliding down your burning cheek. I smirked – it hurt me to realize there actually were people who cared about other people. But never people to care about me. Second year. I didn't even know it was you the Dark Lord had chosen as a victim. I found out the day after Potter had saved you. You told everybody in your year that he was your hero. Him, not me. But then again, who was I to you? I was just the cold statue in the shadows...

Third year. We were like strangers to each other. You sighed over Potter, I cursed him over you, remaining yet unaware that it was you, that you were the reason I envied him for, and not his fame, his friends, his attitude. It was the fact that by merely snapping his fingers he would have had you at his feet. And he ignored you. You gave him your heart, your soul, you would have given him your body if necessary – you didn't exist... for him. Third year. I learned to freeze my feelings.

Fourth year. It didn't matter to me that he was to be yet again the hero. It didn't matter to me that a Ball was to be organized. All that pained me, that slaughtered me inside was the thought that I had to lie to myself. To kill myself one step at a time. I had to go out with Parkinson – God knows where I came out with this stupid, shaming idea! I should have stayed locked in the dormitory. Why come to the Ball, when I couldn't have you? And yet I came. I knew I had to see you. I had to see whom you had picked. And then, for the first time, you disappointed me. It wasn't Potter, neither some foreign student, as I had expected – it was Longbottom. Neville Longbottom, the dull, foolish and unbalanced being that Slytherins – year one through year seven – constantly laughed of.

Fifth year. I felt I could kill her when I saw how she grabbed you. The sixth year Slytherin girl whose name was of no interest to me had caught you as you cleared the way for Potter and his other friends. I felt something twist and twitch inside me – I wanted to do something that would permit you to escape, and I felt I should bring you more suffering at the same time. You glared at me from time to time, your eyes full of anger – yet not a single tear in them. You were no longer the little girl that had stood up for her crush in Flourish and Blotts. You were becoming a woman – your hair streamed down your face in crimson streaks, your eyes shot furious glares from their sienna brown depths, and your lips tightened into a stubborn, yet suave sort of grimace. I watched your body twist as you fought to escape your captor's grip – it curved so savagely gentle, that I almost tripped over my own robe while heading to Umbridge's office. That day you enchained me – prisoner of my own rules and ideas.

One thing / I don't know why
It doesn't even matter how hard you try
Keep that in mind / I designed this rhyme
To remind myself how
I tried so hard
In spite of the way you were mocking me
Acting like I was part of your property
Remembering all the times you fought with me
I'm surprised it got so (far)
Things aren't the way they were before
You wouldn't even recognize me anymore
Not that you knew me back then
But it all comes back to me
In the end
You kept everything inside and even though I tried / it all fell apart
What it meant to me / will eventually / be a memory / of a time when I
I tried so hard

And got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn't even matter

Sixth year. I watched myself in the mirror and spit in the face of my reflected image. I had no shame anymore, no self-respect. Who in the world would respect a person that lets the ideas of a miserable society intrude his own little universe? I had the answer to that question, though – a decayed person. But as I did not consider myself a decayed person, I decided to burn all past memories, actions, feelings – except one. Except one single emotion that had lingered in my heart for years – except my love for you, Ginevra Weasley. So I went to you – clothes ripped off my body, blood all over my hands, sweat on my face – and I told you I loved you. You froze. Your sienna brown eyes fixed me for interminable moments – for what I had transformed into my eternity – and then you gave me an answer so simple and cruel that it made me shudder: "Malfoy, go see a doctor." I then began laughing and your eyes widened in fear. "Malfoy, you should really get yourself to the Hospital Wing..." you said, your voice trembling. You cautiously approached me and tried to move me away from the spot I stood on. I catched you between my arms and ran my fingers through your hair. You pulled away, startled. "You must be drunk!" you muttered and silence fell between us. Sixth year. The year I tried to have courage.

I've put my trust in you
Pushed as far as I can go
And for all this
There's only one thing you should know
I've put my trust in you
Pushed as far as I can go
And for all this
There's only one thing you should know
I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn't even matter

Seventh year. The second Wizarding War came, as everyone expected. I had to make my choice, as everyone. And I did. I fought as a Death Eater, and called myself in my mind "Decayed Dragon". I was always far from Voldemort's expectations, though, always having second thoughts, always having feelings. That's why he used the Cruciatus Curse on me a great lot. I would scream in pain, and then I would fall into unconsciousness. I learned to love the curse – it would eventually bring me the peace I had not known for years. Days passed rapidly, more rapidly than I would have imagined. The Day came. The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters on a side, Dumbledore, Potter and the Order on the other. Wizards and witches were shouting curses at one another – you wouldn't even know who was the enemy of whom. I stepped aside; no one noticed. I stood to watch as the massacre took place in front of my eyes, as limp bodies fell one by one, as blood stained those hills in such a way as it erased all color from the earth. I saw George Weasley fall first. Fred followed him with no regret. Then Charlie and Bill Weasley fell together, as they tried to stop the Death Eaters from reaching their parents. Then Percy Weasley fell right in front of Ron, who, awestruck, didn't see the Avada Kedavra curse coming from right in front of him. I stood. And watched. Then I heard a cry. Arthur and Molly Weasley had been stroke by the curse right in front of their daughter. She almost shared the fate her bigger brother had. But I was there for her. I pushed her out of the green light's way. And, ignoring her struggles, I kept her tugged to the ground... I kept her at the safety of my body until the battle came to an end. Dumbledore – dead, right next to Voldemort, Granger – dead, right next to Longbottom, my own mother – dead, next to Lupin, my father – dead, next to the Lestranges, dead, of course... Potter – dying, holding Chang's frozen hand... frozen by death...

She will never forgive me now, never forgive me that I let her live. Never forgive me that I lived myself, proof of all the deaths I have witnessed. Never...