Blank
By, Tarawen
He sits – and as he sits he does not understand.
Blank, he cannot understand because of that damned blank space at the front of his head. To many sleepless nights, confused pain, nothing makes sense anymore to the man…and so he sits and watches and doesn't understand.
"Draco," the thing in front speaks, a girl, dark hair and cruel eyes. Pansy.
"What?" emotionless, nothing there doesn't care about her, his only thoughts are elsewhere, they are trying to fill the blank.
The girl slides closer bushing his hair back softly with one hand, he ignores, ice-cold eyes focused elsewhere though she does not stop. She bites his ear, a buzz – a bug, an annoyance.
He shoos the annoyance away.
Tonight something important happens, he is steeling himself – it is hard because of the blank spot it isn't an empty place, simply filled with a blank.
He stands, now is the time – and he walks out of the room.
A quick walk…though not hurried, they can wait – god he hopes they get lost, but he goes anyway and opens the door to allow in the dark. Good boy…good boy Draco…blank, all so blank.
He holds the hand of glory and remembers a poem – a muggle book, the only one he'd been allowed…a ring…how he'd wanted to be Aragorn…
Home is behind
The world ahead.
He stares cold…so cold, he wants to go back to his youth, so much simpler then.
And there are many paths to tread.
But he hasn't a choice has to go on through the blank wall and into the pain…the pain and the spiraling darkness…
Through shadow,
To the edge of night
Until the stars are all alight
Burning stars – like a fever, a fever that you can't escape…
Mist and shadow
Cloud and shade
Fighting, the clashing of spells – screaming…pain, he reaches the door and opens it.
All shall fade
An old man stands weakly in the tower, it all disappears, so unclear now…so unclear but for the blank…the old man speaks and he responds unaware even as he is alert of all…
All shall...fade.
Even the blank dissolves, shouting…and a green flash – and dark shadow grasps his hand, they run as the old man falls.
He falls, an angry dark young man screaming at the shadow now…grass against his cheek, the shadow turns now, it is angry at the dark young man.
"Run…"
So vague of a command but he does as told and runs, mentally and physically now, he runs through blank fog, uncaring…falling again, then the shadows back. Crack, they dissaperate a house…dark like the shadow.
Then the fog splits…so clear now…failed…failed, he is going to die…
A/N: Please R&R - oh and incase you didn't get it the poem is Lord of the Rings.