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Slept So Long (Part 1 of The Damned Series)

By: Akashavampyr
folder Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating: Adult
Chapters: 1
Views: 1,583
Reviews: 6
Recommended: 0
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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any part of the Potterverse. I do not make any profit from this.

The Concert


Title: The Concert
Category: Harry Potter
Summary: Oneshoot with a little bit of a songfic. Draco Malfoy is standing in the middle of a muggle crowd. Wana guess why?

I've decided to make this into a Serie, using (if I can) all the songs from the soundtrack of Queen of the Damned,and maybe even other songs. You can find the second part in my profile.

 Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any profit from this. Song is "Slept so long", by Jay Gordon of Orgy, part of Queen of the Damned's soundtrack.

 

 

Draco Malfoy stood there, gazing the stage with calculated bore. He stood out in the crowd, even dressed as a common muggle.

 

“Tight-fitting jeans, black silky t-shirt, black boots” he listed, inwardly giving himself a mental check to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. “Silver necklace (portkey), occult wand-holster, un-gelled hair.”

He looked nothing like the Malfoy Heir. He was dark, and mysterious, and his mercury eyes pierced through the crowd making boys and girls alike sigh.

 

But, why would the Malfoy Heir, the mudblood and muggle hater, the death eater in training, be by a muggle crowd just waiting, as he had done for the last four hours?

 

Well, it was all due to the music. He was happy with his muggle-free life until he heard that blasted music. It was enchanting, powerful, and it stirred in him some kind of dark, deep emotion that made him feel both angry and sad, caged and free, rebellious and crushed.

 

He had had to buy one of those bloody mp3 players just to be able to take that song out of his head. Yeah, it was only to put it on his ears, screaming loudly from the magic-powered mp3 –it had actually taken him almost three hours to charm it to work by magic- but it was better than going around singing muggle music aloud.

 

When thanks to the Mudblood Gryffindor Whore he heard that they were –at last!- giving a concert…he couldn’t miss it, could he?

 

And that’s why the Draco Malfoy was standing there, in first line, waiting for the band to reach the stage and start playing.

 

The lights went out and the public started cheering.

A loud voice, augmented by the amplifiers, announced the arrival of the group. The Damned were on stage, for the first time in history, and the crowd went wild.

The spotlights illuminated the musicians, all of them except the singer. He was just in the front, near the edge of the stage, piercing the mass of people with his own bitter gaze, covered by shadows.

 

The music started playing, at it’s own frenzied pace, and Draco felt the rhythm pulsing through his veins. But there was still something missing, he couldn’t lose himself in the music without it.

 

A voice started to sing, dancing along with the music, bracing it, twisting it, talking behind the words it drew, screaming of darkness, bitterness, solitude.

Survival.

The singer, the voice which talked and whispered and screamed to Draco and let him lose himself. The voice that told him nothing was ever right, that the world was cold and harsh, that it hurts so much you wanted death, even thought you were already dead inside. But that also spoke of a broken soul, pierced together again and again, that kept fighting in spite of the darkness and the pain and the sourness.

A voice which spoke of survival.

 

Walking
Waiting
Alone without a care
Hoping
And hating
Things that I can't bear

Did you think it's cool
To walk right up
To take my life
And fuck it up
Well did you?
Well did you?

 

The shadows lifted, and Survival was suddenly the focus of all the spotlights and TV screens.

Draco gasped.

 

Huge, bitter green eyes looked right through the crowd, immersed in the music, unfocused. His whole body shaking with each word.

Dark midnight-black hair fell free down to his waist. Pale skin glowed under the bright light. A faint lightening-shaped scar laid innocently on his forehead.

 

Harry Potter.

 

As Draco Malfoy gasped for air the voice kept singing and his mind dozed off, no longer caring that Survival and Potter were the same person, transported by the striking voice… 


I see hell in your eyes
Taken in by surprise
Touching you makes me feel alive
Touching you makes me die inside


He smiled, a twisted sour smile that had Draco wondering how could this mysterious, dark enticing stranger be the naïve Golden Boy.


Walking, Waiting
Alone without a care
Hoping
And hating
Things that I can't bear

Did you think it's cool
To walk right up
To take my life
And fuck it up
Well did you?

I hate you!

His voice seemed to tease him, rocking his confused mind back and forth, alluring him, leaving him at the brink of destruction…and he couldn’t bring himself to care.


I see hell in your eyes
Taken in by surprise
And touching you makes me feel alive
Touching you makes me die inside

He left himself go with a groan, wishing the song would consume him as it was doing with his lucidity, wishing that tantalizing sound would never end…


I've slept so long without you
It's tearing me apart too
How'd it get this far
Playing games with this old heart
I've killed a million petty souls
But I couldn't kill you

Draco’s whole body was shaking, his eyes moving quickly behind closed eyelids


I've slept so long without you

I see hell in your eyes
Taken in by surprise
Touching you makes me feel alive
Touching you makes me die inside”

 

With a final whisper the music quieted down. 

He whimpered as the song died, leaving him gasping for air and trying to stop the shaking.

He should leave now, before someone saw him, before that tormenting delicious sound started again, leaving him defenceless...

He shouldn’t be listening to that muggle rubbish, so it would be better to turn around now, find a secure alley to disappear into and simply go home...yes...he should do exactly that...

But Draco’s feet didn’t move an inch, his eyes glued to the stage, focused on Survival’s face, which was contorted in a longing, pained smirk, one that nobody else seemed to notice...

And when Survival’s, no, Potter’s lips brushed the microphone, his ragged breath echoing throughout the place, greeting the crowd...he remained on the same spot he had been standing for hours...transfixed, craving for the mesmerizing sound, waiting for it to take him away, to make him forget...

R&R?