October 11th, 1996
Draco was slowly waking up. There was a dull pain in his back and his eyes seemed to refuse to open.
Out of the corner of his brain he could hear Blaise clapping his hands next to him.
- Malfoy! Up you go!
Sixteen years with that name and Draco had never learned to love it - rather, a hatred for it was awakening in him just as he came back to reality. He lifted himself on his elbow, looked at Blaise till his eyesight was steady and asked in a low voice:
- What time is it?
***
Minutes later, Draco was dressed ready to follow Blaise through the dungeon. The dull pain in his back was gone - but he'd have preferred it to the horrible mental state he had now awoken into.
Every day it was the same. He would wake up and for the first ten seconds he would not remember who he was or what it was he had to do.
And then came anger. Anger, fury, hatred towards his parents, always smothered by pain and the realisation he loved them even though they had ruined their own lives and his - before he was even born, before he could even make a choice.
Blaise and he turned a corner and went into the classroom. Snape said nothing even though Draco was five minutes late. Blaise sat down at a different desk. He and Draco did communicate as friends. Draco only needed him to wake him up.
Because lately he could not get out of bed by himself.
Bleak, but bright, the morning rays broke through the glass and illuminated Draco's face, hands and the book he was struggling to get out of his bag.
Throughout the lesson, Snape's drawling voice accompanied him, and the realisation that Snape knew why he was so pale and why he sometimes missed classes altogether was not a welcome one. Everything had changed. All these years, Draco had liked Snape, trusted him - and now he hated him, just as he hated everyone around him.
"Miss Parkinson, kindly step forward and recite the primary incantation..."
He was doing questions now... That meant it would soon be over.
Breakfast. He would have to go to the Great Hall... The two worst moments of his days. Draco steeled himself, clenched his jaw and reminded himself that he had no choice. He'd tried not eating about three weeks ago, but Snape had noticed and had threatened to tell his mother.
Spies. Enemies everywhere. And he didn't have that much time... He would have to try doing it sooner or later.
A dry sob almost erupted from Draco's throat but he coughed to conceal it. Over the last few weeks, he realised he knew how to pray. And now he prayed for what he prayed every time he went into the Great Hall. That their eyes wouldn't meet.
He prayed. What a paradox it was... given that whatever the outcome, someone would have to die because of him.
***
Ron was eating as much as usual. Harry was slowly munching on some bread and Hermione was reading, trying to ignore the sounds of teeth biting into food.
At length she couldn't bear it anymore.
- Will you stop eating! - she lost it, bringing her book with a crash on Ron's shoulder. He looked at her in that same stupid way he'd always looked at her - a mix of dumb passive question and mild surprise.
- Oi, I came here to eat! - he said and as he spoke, some of the food came out of his mouth and Hermione felt sick. She slammed her book shut, got up and ignored Harry's plea to stay.
Go through the Great Hall and not look at him. Go through the Great Hall and not look...
Every time she promised herself this and every time she broke that promise. There he was - sitting with his hand over his face, his eyes looking down. Draco. Her Draco. A different kind of Draco, not the one she'd known and loved throughout her fifth year, the one who so clearly loved her back - but a bad, damaged copy, sick-looking and pale. Hermione had got used to the pain, but every time she saw him, it was like someone pulled at her insides, dragging her down into darkness and fear.
A month ago, he had stopped replying to her mail. When she had tried to confront him, he pretended he didn't know her. A day later she learned Lucius was in Azkaban.
The war had started. And it had started with Draco walking past her as if they had never known or loved each other.
Hermione turned away and ran out of the hall. Always the same. Knowing she shouldn't look - looking and sobbing so hard people she didn't know tried to stop her and ask her what was wrong.
***
That night, Draco opened the drawer he had dreaded opening. Inside, a small package lay, carefully tied with his own hands.
Shivering, Draco took it out and held it for a moment, trying to feel the power his mother had promised would come once he knew he had the license to take someone else's life.
Yet he felt nothing. Nothing except horror, disgust and the need to vomit. Pale and with a contorted face, Draco put it back and locked the drawer once more.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow there would be no going back - there would be no forgiveness and no future.
Goodbye Hermione, he thought - even though he knew he'd said goodbye to her more than a month ago, that fatal day when she came up to him and he pushed her aside... watch where you're going, Mudblood... He didn't want her to try talking to him, he had to hurt her, insult her so she would never talk to him again...She had started crying, right there and then. Blaise had laughed... and Draco had wanted to die. He still wanted to.
And finally unable to hold it in anymore, his legs folded beneath him and he sat abruptly down, crying and sobbing and whispering to himself, knowing that no matter what he tried to do tell himself now or ever after, he would still be a murderer and nothing more.
Remember I said this story was not linear, well, it isn't. Please vote and comment !
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wrong ||| dramione
Fanfiction"How does it feel, Granger? How does it feel to know you were wrong? That all these years, you were wrong about Malfoy?" Cover made by the lovely @HolyDraco
