9. Dust in the the Wind, Kansas (3:26, played twice! Ha! I can write fast, too!)
He gazed over the plot again. It was so lonely here, isolated from all the rest of the cemetery. It was...alone. But he was never really among anyone else, was he? What they had was nothing compared to time. He was nothing compared to time. It seemed like in a blink of an eye they had came, loved, and then...
It was all blown away. He was lonely here, too. He never seemed to grow old, never seemed to get out of that seventeen-year-old mindset of loving him. They were so right, but then...he was gone. It wasn't even the war, that god damn war that killed him, it was...an enemy of the war. They had slipped away...and not even money, or courage, or anything he had could bring him back!
Everything was dust. His empire, his friends, everything they had or did or said or were...they were gone. He could still hear his laugh and feel his touch, but it was just the wind, as usual. He sat. The plot still seemed fresh, although it was seven years since anyone had last seen his face. It seemed like the moment was always just out of his reach. All of their dreams had just...dissipated.
There was nothing left. They were gone. Their love was nothing, just one tiny diamond in a field of stars. He sighs. He never was the best at letting go. Too many scars...even the ones that had faded still feel that sting, of what never was. There was nothing...he kept dwelling on what hardly was, but that hardly was the most important.
He had been told not to hang on. They couldn't have lasted forever. But they could have at least tried, dammit! He lays over where is body is, was, rotting, dust now, too. Worm food. Nothing. But everything...Harry Potter looks up into the stars and wishes his Draco was next to him, instead of in a box underneath him.