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Fade to Black	By : Georginna Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 851 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Fade to Black
- 1
Disclaimer: I don�t own it.
I�m not making any money from it. Let�s call it a wash.

Fade to Black

by: darke wulf

I.

We are the hollow men

We are the stuffed men

Leaning together

Headpieces filled with straw.

Alas!

Our dried voices, when

We whisper together

Are quiet and meaningless

As wind in dry grass

Or rats' feet over broken glass

In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without color,

Paralyzed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed

With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom

Remember us--if at all--not as lost

Violent souls, but only

As the hollow men

The stuffed men.

~~~*~~~

There is a darkness in Him now; a shadow in His emerald eyes that
wasn�t there before.

I seem to be the only one to notice, though. I watch as the Holy Trinity
approach the train; the Weasel and Mudblood are chattering obliviously at each
other, arguing over some irritatingly pointless matter while He trails quietly
after them. They haven�t picked up on His reticence, or else are trying
to ignore it. I�m guessing it�s the latter option. Those two have
always tried to ignore what they weren�t quite sure how to deal with.
When confronted by troublesome situations they have always turned to Him for
leadership, letting Him take action while they stood back and watched.

Griffindors, hah. It�s easy to be brave when someone else is doing all
the work.

I study Him openly through the window of the compartment I have claimed on the
Hogwarts Express. None of my compatriots have arrived as yet, which
leaves me free to do as I will without fear of word leaking back to my father.

His footsteps drag and He falls farther and farther behind his so-called
friends; He fears to board the train, He fears what the coming year will bring.

As well He should. For even if the You-Know-Who decides to break with
tradition and does not try to kill Him this year, a prospect I do not find
likely, this is going to be a difficult year for the Golden One. Even now
it has started; a hushed silence precedes Him as our schoolmates stare with
suspicion, disappointment and, in some extreme cases, hatred as He passes them
with his head bowed, unwilling to meet their accusing glares. When He has
safely passed the whispers start, poorly hidden behind raised hands.

It�s been over three months but the school, the entire Wizarding World for that
matter, is still reeling. The unthinkable has happened: the Savior, the
Chosen One, He who was to save us all from Evil, has turned out to be nothing
more than a mere mortal. He failed, and because of His failure a boy died
and the Dark Lord has fully returned. Who else is there to blame?
Who else can we possibly hold responsible?

Certainly not the great Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft
and Wizardry who, in spite of being the most powerful wizard alive, repeatedly
sent a pre-teen to fight You-Know-Who. Nor let us blame the Minister of
Magic, even though he refuses to so much as admit that
He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named has returned; nor the many Aurors, so-called defenders
of the Light, who have done nothing to stop the Dark Lord�s steady rise.

~~~*~~~

II.

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams

In death's dream kingdom

These do not appear:

There, the eyes are

Sunlight on a broken column

There, is a tree swinging

And voices are

In the wind's singing

More distant and more solemn

Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer

In death's dream kingdom

Let me also wear

Such deliberate disguises

Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves

In a field

Behaving as the wind behaves

No nearer--

Not that final meeting

In the twilight kingdom

~~~*~~~

No, instead let us blame a child who didn�t know that magic was
real until he was eleven, who never protested when responsibility for the
safety and well being of the world was placed solely on his shoulders, who actually
allowed himself to be convinced that he should be held
responsible.

Naturally, it is all His fault. It is His fault that Diggory died; it is
His fault that You-Know-Who has returned; and, even worse, it is His fault that
everyone is now left searching for answers to questions they hoped to never
ask.

He protected their little realms of make-believe for longer than I�d
anticipated. Time and again he defied the odds, arising victorious when I
would have wagered my soul that he wouldn�t survive. And each time He
did, the world began to rely upon Him a little bit more. Everyone
surrendered themselves to the fantasy that a single child would save them from
evil and now that He has failed they�ve been forced to realize just how wrong
they were.

And yet, of anyone, His failure has hit Him the hardest. He is drowning
in his guilt even as shadow-filled eyes implore those whom He once called
friends to understand that He tried His best. They do not need to accuse
Him, though they do anyway, for nothing they can say to Him can be worse than
the insults that are flying around inside His own head. He believes the
shit that has been whispered into his ear since his first year. He
genuinely thinks that it is up to Him to defeat the Dark Lord, to protect the world
from Evil and harm. And He cannot bear the fact that He was unable to do
so. He hates himself because He could not achieve the impossible, because
alone He could not do what an entire army had been unable to accomplish before
him.

Cedric Diggory was not the only one who was mortally wounded that night.
A piece of Hogwarts� Golden Boy suffered the same fate, though it has taken it
longer to die than it did Diggory. But it is dieing, none the less; His
more Griffindorish half, that part that made Him leap into battles He had no
real chance of winning, just because He thought it was the right thing to do,
that part that asked, �How high?� instead of �Why should I?� It is slowly
withering away, while His other half gradually takes control.

~~~*~~~

III.

This is the dead land

This is cactus land

Here the stone images

Are raised, here they receive

The supplication of a dead man's hand

Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this

In death's other kingdom

Waking alone

At the hour when we are

Trembling with tenderness

Lips that would kiss

Form prayers to broken stone.

~~~*~~~

You can see the signs now, if you look closely enough. Every
so often, even as He shrinks from the angry glares of His fellow students, a
dark sneer appears on His face, partially hidden by His bowed head and black
mop of hair. It is a look that is far more natural to my own face than
His, clearly demanding to know what gives anyone the right to judge Him and His
actions when they know nothing of the horrors that He has had to face. It
is the darker part of His soul; that which caused Him to almost be placed in
Slytherin House, coming to the front.

It is something I have been waiting for since He rejected my offer of
friendship in our first year.

I knew that this day would come. I knew that His �destiny� would
eventually cause a rift between Him and His friends. For you cannot
battle evil and hope to be successful without embracing it, at least to a
certain extent. If you have no understanding of your enemy, you cannot
possibly hope to defeat it, a concept that is completely alien to the members
of the House of Griffindor.

All but one, that is. The Golden Boy realized that truth, though nearly
too late. And so he began to learn the ways of his enemy and, in doing
so, tarnished his own image. He is deeper in spirit now than any of them,
he is no longer like they are, shallow in their �goodness�. They can no
longer understand Him, He has become to complex, and that scares them.

Oh, sure, they flocked to Him when He was their apparent Heir, when they
thought He was pure and noble and perfect, the ideal leader to raise Griffindor
House to new heights of glory while they all settled back and rode His
coattails. Now that he has changed, they have no more use for Him.
He can no longer be simply classified as �good�, he is more than that and so,
He is not to be trusted. He is not the �perfect� Griffindor they thought
Him to be.

You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters, my father included, have also altered their
perceptions of the Boy-Who-Lived since His failure, no longer fearing Him as
they once did. They have become far too overconfident, mistaking one
battle for the war.

It is these misconceptions that will eventually lead to the ruin of them all,
for I am not so easily fooled.

~~~*~~~

IV.

The eyes are not here

There are no eyes here

In this valley of dying stars

In this hollow valley

This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places

We grope together

and avoid speech

Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless

The eyes reappear

As the perpetual star

Multifoliate rose

Of death's twilight kingdom

The hope only

Of empty men.

~~~*~~~

Where the world sees a broken, useless child, I see a young man
full of promise, willing to listen to reason for the first time in His
life. He no longer blindly accepts the words of Dumbledore. He is
questioning what He is told; He is demanding to be shown proof.

~~~*~~~

V.

Here we go round the prickly pear

Prickly pear prickly pear

Here we go round the prickly pear

At five o'clock in the morning.

~~*~~

He has experienced first hand how little difference there truly is
between the �Light� and the �Dark�. He is now looked upon with suspicion
and hatred, just because in His attempt to do the impossible He had to change.
He had to learn Unforgivable Curses, and He had to develop the will to use
them. People recognize that in Him, and it frightens them. And, as
people have done throughout history, what they fear, they soon come to hate.

~~~*~~~

Between the idea

And the reality

Between the motion

And the act

Falls the shadow


For Thine is the Kingdom

~~~*~~~

He is finally beginning to realize how unreasonable the demands of
the world are and that realization, coupled with the scorn of His former
friends, is causing a storm of resentment to brew within Him. A storm
which, while currently contained, will soon grow in strength and fury until it
will be unleashed upon the world at large.

~~~*~~~

Between the
conception

And the creation

Between the emotion

And the response

Falls the Shadow


Life is very long

~~~*~~~

He is not broken, nor is He defeated; He has merely lost His
way.

~~~*~~~

Between the
desire

And the spasm

Between the potency

and the existence

Between the essence

And the descent

Falls the Shadow


For Thine is the Kingdom

~~~*~~~

And it will be I who takes His hand and leads Him back to the path
of His destiny. For, like any good Slytherin, I have my own ambitions,
and a plan through which I intend to turn them into reality.

~~~*~~~

For Thine is

~~~*~~~

And step one in that plan is to bind Him to my
cause.

~~~*~~~

Life is

~~~*~~~

Yes, now He will listen, now He will finally hear.

~~~*~~~

For Thine is the

~~~*~~~

This time, Harry Potter will not refuse the hand of Draco Malfoy
and together, we will be unstoppable.

~~~*~~~

This is the way
the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.

- �The Hollow Men�, T.S. Eliott

~~~*~~~

~el fin~

Author�s Notes: So there you go, my first Harry Potter
piece. Drop me a review and let me know what you think.
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