A/N:
Disclaimer: Sorry I'm not Jk Rowling and I own nothing out of or from Harry Potter.
I, however, own my character. My made up custom characters.Which you shall not use at all, so don't even ask.
-Grim Land
aka
Grim On Loose.
Title: When You're Smiling
Chapter Three: 14 Shades Of Gray
--People walk past me, never know me, never see me. I was like the gray wilting passions in the middle of a rose red field. You could see me with out seeing me, yet no one saw me. I was the ghost, I sang black sorrow lullabies. I was the halo of thorns. --
The years were gray, passing in a haze of muted monotonousness. A white spot on a canvas of color. I ran the tip of my fore finger against the handle and down the side of the leather that made the suitcase before me. It was a coarse leather, the shade of walnuts in spring and the smell of it was light, almost like a room that was never opened, always kept privet. Hogworts again. I was going back. It was my sixth year. In Sytherin, with all the other Slytherins. In all the same lackluster places and all the same hostilities and all the same blaming games. It was humdrum in Hogwarts. Slytherin clash with Gryffindor, Gryffindor gets their panties in a twist and Slytherin has a hissy fit. Its how it works. I looked at the clock on the sickly pink wall, 7:39 AM the numbers flashed neon. I was at my aunt Lola's house. She was muggle like mum was. (dad was wizard, mum was muggle, I was adopted) Lyra Harpen adopted me at seven and remarried when I was ten (car crash, died on impact) to a wizard. Adam was a nice man, he had a sense of humor and hansom smile and cooked like a prize chef, but sadly horrible at magic. So, he decided to elope to the muggle world and met Lyra, hence why she is Lyra Jorgenson. As much for my biological parents, I have no remembrances of them. I can't remember them, like all memory was wiped clean but my dreams. I looked at the clock again, 8:45AM. I was late. I ran, called the night bus and left. Bye mum, I guess you won't say good bye too.
I could see it the train was still there, resting there like a toy, waiting to be moved by the player. It never left. Shit, I'm an idiot. I was early, like an hour early. Shit, I am idiot. I could have lost a hundred ponds running like that and there was only a rounded twenty people there. Shit. Shit. Double shit. I ran into some one, his cane dropped, my laptop fell. Shit. Shit. Bloody fucking hell shit. "I'm sorry," I lifted myself up, picked up his cane on the way, shoved it at him, got my laptop and walked away. Son of a bitch, god damn, bastard. It broke. Fuck. And I have to fix it. Fuck. I despise the world and the anger and rage and shame pored out of my mouth like venom. Pause. Who was that? Turn. Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy. A man so graced by the angles to look so heaven sent, flawless and beautiful like a memento of undying moon glow. With hair like the color of a beam of light and eyes so clear gray it was just roughly white and skin so pale you could more or less see the blue of his veins. Ah Lucius- whom the angels bestowed a Malfoy. Malfoys were touched by the same beauty, a dark foreboding beauty, pricked by greed and hate and pride. They want what they can't have and so they want it. He was with Draco and Draco had that moon beauty like all Malfoy men do, but he had more blond hair like his mother and darker eyes like his mother. But, he had the same temper as his father, the very same. Lucius didn't looked fazed, he only wiped off the part where I held it with a green silk handkerchief embroidered "LM" in threaded silver. I couldn't help but think did I make a mistake. I sat down a few meters away from them, got out my tools and started to fix my computer. I looked back at them. Just one look. Only one. I took my CD player out and fished for a MCR record in the messenger bag I brought. It made me sad, the way he sang, soft at first then louder and more desperate, longing. He sang like he never knew how to sing, like he felt it killing the pain. He had a voice like I've never heard, like he was angry and sad and confused all mixed in one and thrown at you. Like he had to face life like we all have to. I would listened to the heavy guitar toned melody, a sad slow melody, the way I like it to be.
You could relate to it. You could take it in. It was like you broke all my walls and took my moments and strung them together into sounds and words and lined verses. You could feel it vibrate. It was alive. And like a heart it throbbed.
A long extended horn was blown at that moment. My eyes were up then. My feet were moving then. The songs still echoed off the walls of my mind. Still there. It echoed "still there." I turned around again. The last time. Just once. The last time and she'll be there. But, she's not. Just once. Only just once. bye mom.