Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the song "Safe Place" by the wonderful Staind. That is all.
~-Safe Place-~
Another day
inside my world
The blonde woman sighed as she brought the half-empty coffee mug up to her lips, drinking its contents absentmindedly. She hated the bitter liquid with a passion. But she was addicted to it. It was her salvation.
Setting the now empty mug upon the mahogany dining table, she stood, drifting out of the room. She paused at the doorway, one hand gripping the perfectly white wooden frame. She looked behind her with blue, vacant eyes. The room was perfectly polished, as if no one ever used it. And hardly anyone ever did. The room was too big, she noticed. The table was too large, with too many unoccupied seats. But she always noticed this. Everyday. It was routine.
I'm married to
you and this road
She passed him in the hall. He ignored her, as usual. She watched him as he passed; his gray eyes too cold, his blonde hair too long, too shiny, too perfect. He was too proud, she noticed. Yet, she always noticed this.
He had promised her things. He had promised her happiness. He told her she would never feel pain, she would never feel sad. But he lied. He had promised her that she could have forever with him. He kept that promise, she noticed.
He had once begged her to follow him. Because he needed her, loved her. So she wandered down the road, mimicking his footsteps. Because she thought she needed him too. But the road became too narrow, too long. He didn't need her anymore, she noticed. But they would never admit it. Yes, she noticed this too. Maybe she always had. Maybe it didn't matter.
A road that never lets
me sleep so there's
no way to escape the
demons I am
forced to keep
She knew she could never venture off the road. And she couldn't go back. So she kept on walking. She hoped that maybe one day she'd reach a destination. But she knew she never would. And still she prayed because she had to believe in something.
She could never escape. The blond demon held her bound to him. The identical gold bands they wore on their left hands signified this. He was her master, her lord. She belonged to him, and him to her. They didn't want it that way, she noticed. But they wouldn't change it. They couldn't. So they ignored it because they were forced to.
She sighed and walked up the seemingly never-ending marble staircase. The steps were polished, too shiny for her liking. They were rarely used, she noticed. Only three pairs of feet ever used them. Except two of them were hardly ever around anymore, so really, that made it one pair. Her own. But she was too delicate, too careful. She knew she would never tarnish their pearly white perfection. But maybe she wanted too.
And then I find you here
Through your eyes
everything's clear
She reached the top and moved down the hallway. The large white door at the end of the hall called to her. Just as it always had. But he didn't want it to, she noticed. It confused her. When did he stop caring? Maybe she had stopped first. But she hadn't.
She paused before the door, contemplating. Eventually, she reached a thin, pale hand and seized the doorknob, turning it slowly. She hesitated. Perhaps he would be angry.
But he never was, she realized. Even if he pretended to be.
She opened the door and peered inside. The room was white, like everything else. It was too perfect for a boy his age. The bed was already made, the curtains drawn allowing the sunlight to pour in. He hated the light, she knew. But he let it in anyway, because he was told to. She sighed. He always did as he was told. Perhaps he was afraid. But he wasn't. Maybe he should be.
He whirled around to look at her, red paint dripping from the paintbrush in his hand. They watched together as the crimson drops marred the perfect white carpet. His blonde head whipped up, stormy gray eyes pleading an apology. She sighed, and snapped her fingers, the mess suddenly disappearing. Perfection was a necessity, she noticed. Maybe it had to be.
She met his gaze. His eyes were so old. Too old for his sixteen years. He had seen too much, learned too much. She liked it that way. Maybe he did too. They shared something. Was it love? Perhaps. But neither of them would admit it. They couldn't. His eyes told her that much was clear. Maybe she hated him for it. But she could never hate him, she noticed. Because he was too much like her.
And I'm home
inside your arms
but I'm alone for now
He always left at the same time each year, and each year he changed. Just a little. Maybe it was for the best. But with him she really couldn't tell. He was too proud, she noticed. Just like his father. Too perfect, too conceited. However, he was different. He was compassionate, she knew. Even if he did long to be cold and calloused, just like his father. He never would be. He wasn't hateful enough. But maybe he had a reason to be. Hopefully he would never find it.
She hugged him before he stepped aboard the train. He didn't like it, she knew, but he didn't resist. She smiled sadly. He felt so good. So much like home. And maybe he was. But she knew he never could be. She would never let him. She loved him too much.
The train disappeared into the distance and he was gone. For now. She knew he would return, only to leave again. Perhaps he would never come back. She knew he wouldn't. Maybe this would be the last time she saw him. It was.
And when I try to sleepthe drug I take
is killing me – I think of you
to ease my pain but you're so far
She couldn't sleep anymore. He'd only been gone for a month, but still the pain was too formidable. It haunted her. She couldn't last much longer, she noticed.
She passed him again in the hall. He looked so tired, so forlorn. And maybe he should be. He was caked in blood again, she noticed. She knew he didn't want her to, so she ignored him. She always did.
The small, blue bottle burned her icy hands. He brought the vile up to her lips and desperately drank its contents. The taste was bitter, much like almonds. It was detestable, she noticed. It could become addicting. But it didn't need to. Maybe it would be her new salvation. Yes, she thought. It most certainly would.
Now it's time to say goodbye
I love you baby please don't cry
Time was running out, she knew. She quickly scribbled a note on a yellowed piece of parchment. With weak, trembling fingers, she rolled up the paper and secured it to the leg of the family raven. Such a pretty bird, she noticed. Black and mysterious, just like death. And maybe it was ironic somehow. Maybe it would be soon.
She passed him in the hall again. Only this time it was different. Their eyes met, and for a moment she thought that maybe he knew. Maybe he regretted it. Maybe she did too. But it didn't matter anymore.
She was getting tired, she noticed. It was too hard to breathe. Her heart was pounding way too fast, way too hard. She collapsed on the floor of his room. It was dark in there. Too dark. Just the way he liked it. And maybe she did too. But it didn't matter anymore. She had reached her safe place. Even if he wasn't there.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The blonde looked up from his plate, startled. A black raven sat in front of him, it's head cocked in expectation. He just stared.
The dark haired boy he always sat with eyed the bird with curiosity. Ravens were a symbol of death, he knew. He looked at the pale-faced boy across from him. His perfect face was etched in worry, in fear. And maybe it should be.
"Draco," the girl sitting on his right drawled. "Aren't you going to open it?"
He gulped. His throat was dry. Maybe it should be. With shaking fingers, he gingerly untied the pale pink ribbon that bound the parchment to the dreaded bird. As soon as the ribbon came undone, the animal took off, a single black feather falling and landing on the polished wood of the table. They stared at it, none of them willing to touch it. It was bad luck, you know.
"Well," the girl pressed, tucking a strand of her ebony hair behind her ear. "Go on."
The boy frowned, picking up the parchment. "Shut up, Parkinson."
He stared at it. Did he want to know what it said? Maybe he already knew.
The dark haired boy groaned impatiently and snatched it from his fingers. "Honestly. I'll do it since you're obviously too chicken."
He scowled, but side nothing. Maybe it was true.
The dark-headed boy unrolled the small piece of paper, his eyes narrowing in confusion.
"What is it, Blaise?" the girl asked, biting her blood-red lip nervously.
He shrugged and handed the parchment to its owner. "I don't know. Isn't that your mother's handwriting?"
The blonde took the note unwillingly. He closed his eyes for a moment, not really wanting to read it. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and glared at the paper. Two sentences stared back at him, filling his heart with dread.
Now it's time to say goodbye.
I love you baby please don't cry.
"What's it mean?" the girl asked, leaning over his shoulder.
He didn't answer, but he knew. Maybe he didn't want to know. It was a little too late for that, he thought bitterly.
His gray eyes flickered, a storm raging in their depths. The dark haired boy noticed this, but said nothing. He never did.
The blonde haired boy stood suddenly, his pale face twisted in pain and resentment. He crushed the parchment in his hand, flinging the yellowed ball across the Hall.
Heads turned to look at him. He didn't care.
He was alone, he noticed. Just like she had always been. Even amongst the crowd, he was alone. He was the only one who knew at that moment. He was the only one who understood.
But if they looked close enough, they could see it.
His normally stoic silver eyes filled with tears. But he wouldn't let them see that. He couldn't.
For in his eyes, everything was clear.
He turned around and stormed out of the Hall. They all watched him leave, he knew. Maybe he wanted them to.
He wiped his eyes furiously once he was out of their sight. He couldn't let them see that. He wasn't supposed to cry. Maybe he wanted to.
And he was alone.
For now.
* The End *
A/N: Yay! I finished it! *sigh*
This fic has been nagging me for a long time. I'm not sure if it turned out the way I wanted it to, but too bad. It's going to stay this way. ;P It's not that great, but…whatever. I'm not in the mood to fix it. Maybe I will later…someday.
I hope the transition between Lucius and Draco wasn't too confusing. Their just wasn't any other way for me to write it without using names. Ugh. Oh well.
By the way, go read my other story, 'Till I Collapse. It needs more reviews. ;)
Please review! I'll give you something special if you do. Maybe a cookie? They're
Cyanide free, I promise!