Strychnine

A/N– My first song-fic! It is angst-y as usual. This is based on 'The Bomb Song' by Darwin Deez.

by chemicalflashes [aka me on fanfiction.net]

Warning– Major character death, Angst

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oOo

the sky's green
it's been that way since they dropped the bomb
the clouds are brown
the city's a ghost town
the city is dead
the river's a bed now
the hair on my head came out, it fell on the ground
none of the sunlight is safe
litter is blowing all around the sidewalk

oOo

He walked on the empty street. The few people present there were glaring daggers at him and it felt odd to him. But he didn't let them get him. He walked on, ignoring their stares, sneers and silent jeers. His steps led him to his second-most favourite shop in Diagon Alley– Flourish and Blott's. Feeling highly relieved that the store was open, he went in. The girl at the billing counter looked at him with an air of hostility but didn't say anything; he was an old customer after all, reformed Death Eater or not.

The place was empty like the rest of the market. Most of the people were still affected by the recently ended war and were therefore, still careful of their every move. The death eaters hadn't been wiped away fully and the streets were still haunted by mysterious deaths. It was only good that the people didn't venture far away from the safety of their homes.

He was a target for both the groups. The dead Dark Lord's followers wanted him dead for betrayal, the light side wanted to kill him for just who he had been. But it didn't matter. He knew he had to die someday. Life just simply didn't hold any more meaning for him now. It was true that he was still snarky or irritating, but only in front of his mother, never outside the confines of his home. It was almost as if the old Draco Lucius Malfoy had died.

He was feeling calm after a very long time. The atmosphere around him was very placid and for a while no one was around to torment him. He enjoyed this peace for then; after all he been deprived of it in the last two years. He looked around the shop for any signs of trouble; people didn't exactly welcome him those days. He sat languidly in an armchair and got his hands on the first book he saw sprawled on the small table. It was a dictionary. He opened it in a random fashion and his eyes stumbled across a word that had come to mean much more to him in the past few weeks.

Change– v. (intransitive) To become something different

He closed the tome with a quiet thud. No one was around to scold him on his appalling treatment of books, or so he thought. He didn't like changes. He wasn't the one to reject accepted ways and follow the road less traveled. But he had changed. All of them had. They had been changed forever. It wasn't only the dark spells and the physical damage that had brought about this change. No, it was much more.

It was the battle cries, the whizzes of dangerous green light running narrowly past their hearts, the sight of death and the sorrow from it all that had scarred them and their memories forever. He had been affected the brutality too; except that the way in it had happened was vastly different from those of his classmates. They could never understand that the only thing that was worse than being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange was being taught by her. According to his gruesome late aunt, teaching equaled torturing.

They couldn't even begin to comprehend what he had gone through just to stay alive, just to watch her warm hazel eyes again...

oOo