His head was full of thoughts of Quidditch when he heard it. The sad, slow, mournful melody. It was coming from the Quidditch pitch. Or, rather, the structure within the drainage ditch.
"Look at me and tell me who I am—
Why I am—what I am.
Call me a fool and it's true I am.
I don't know who I am.
It's such a shame—I'm such a sham.
I don't know who I am…"
He mounted his broomstick and flew to find her, the girl who was singing. It was one of his favourite songs and he didn't think anyone else in Hogwarts knew it. Except maybe Hermione Granger. But he'd prefer to never talk to her unless he absolutely had to. He rounded a corner and saw her. It was her, and she looked absolutely beautiful as she slowly walked through the wooden inner-structure of the pitch and sang.
"Once there were sweet possibilities
I could see just for me.
Now all my dreams are just memories
Fated never to be.
Time's not a friend—hurrying by.
I wonder… 'Who am I?'
Am I the face of the future?
Am I the face of the past?
Am I the one who must finish last?"
She wore her school uniform robes that displayed her House—Ravenclaw. Her fiery red hair was pinned up off her neck in a messy bun. Her silver watch glinted as the sun light hit it as she moved in and out of it. Hers was a small, lean form compared to other witches at the school. He wished he was close enough to look into her eyes. The look she could generate with the when she actually looked in his direction was intoxicating.
"Look at me and tell me who I am—
Why I am—what I am.
Will I survive—who will give a damn
If no one knows who I am?
Nobody knows…
Not even you.
No one knows who I am…"
He landed and dismounted his broomstick as he said, "I know who you are." She turned to face him, but didn't speak. He was once again hit by her enchanting gaze. "At least, I know your name. Cora. But, if you would let me, I'd like to know your person. Please."
She remained silent for a moment. "It must be the apocalypse," she commented. "Draco Malfoy is being kind and used the word 'please.' Should I find shelter?" Her voice was positively dripping with sarcasm and her eyes were cold and dark, but still brilliantly emerald green.
Draco ran a hand through his white-blonde hair nervously. He really did like her. She just never gave him a chance to be the kind of guy he wanted to be towards her. "Cora, honestly," he said. "I'm not that horrible to you, am I?"
"I wouldn't know," she snapped. "You've ignored me all through school until today." She began to walk away. Draco grabbed her small wrist. She stopped and looked at him. "Some say you've become a Death Eater, Draco. Following in your father's footsteps. Have you?"
He shook his head. "No. After what happened last year, I couldn't," he said, seeing the white stone grave that stood on Hogwarts ground and as a constant reminder of what Snape risked to carry out Draco's mission in his mind's eye. "My father was a fool for following You-Know-Who so completely."
She looked like she wanted to smile, but didn't. "Very noble," she said. "And I must say that I'm impressed. You've chosen to follow Albus Dumbledore after complaining about his actions so often. Good bye." She kissed him lightly on the cheek, then walked away.
From that moment on, Draco Malfoy decided to be a little more like Harry Potter and less like his old self.