Festivus!
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
4,210
Reviews:
11
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
4,210
Reviews:
11
Recommended:
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.
Present Day: Nox Aeterna
Now, at the end of his seventh year, Lord Voldemort destroyed again, Draco found himself running the conflict with the insolent chit, Isabelle, over and over in his mind. The annoying girl had been right. He should not have supported the Dark Lord. His parents were now dead as a result and most of his friends were dead as well in the aftermath of the battle. He was one of the few Slytherins left in the school, mainly due to the facts that survival instinct had kicked in as the wind changed and his mother had warned him that he would surely die if he remained in the war on His side.
He had made a mistake. He, Draco Malfoy. That git Potter and his loathsome Mudblood friends had had the right of it.
He didn\'t let the guilt and anger show, of course. He tried to take some pleasure in the deaths of the Weasel brats and the many others, but his own losses weighed too heavily on his mind. Vincent Crabbe. Gregory Goyle. His beloved mother. His distant father.
The adulation of the few remaining Slytherins wasn\'t enough, either. He had volunteered to lead them into the last battle, full of self-loathing, secretly hoping it would all end then and there.
He\'d earned the hatred of far too many people during the War, either due to his family\'s actions or his own. Here at Hogwart\'s, he was safe from death, but there were still whispered threats, \"accidental\" hexes, and pointed snubs to deal with.
He had been wrong. There was no potion, no charm, no spell that could remove the sting, remembering that.
He had been wrong and that miserable ass Potter had been right. As a result, his family was dead and he was alone, with no one who cared if he lived or died.
He stuck his nose in the air and retreated from the nearly empty Great Hall slowly, gracefully, to his single room in the male Slytherin dormitory. The common room was quiet. More than half the rooms were empty in Slytherin these days. There was no problem getting a single room in his House these days. A bitter laugh escaped his lips as he undid his wards and opened his door.
He sank onto his elegantly made bed, fell to the soft and silky pillow he had always demanded, and began crying quietly. He tried to ignore the picture of his mother next to his bed, burying his face in the slick pillowcase.
No one else could know that he had been brought so low. He was a Malfoy, the only Malfoy left in the British Isles, to his knowledge. He muffled his sobs in the pillow, rolling so he could be on his back, wishing for the end of exams.
The end of everything.
He had made a mistake. He, Draco Malfoy. That git Potter and his loathsome Mudblood friends had had the right of it.
He didn\'t let the guilt and anger show, of course. He tried to take some pleasure in the deaths of the Weasel brats and the many others, but his own losses weighed too heavily on his mind. Vincent Crabbe. Gregory Goyle. His beloved mother. His distant father.
The adulation of the few remaining Slytherins wasn\'t enough, either. He had volunteered to lead them into the last battle, full of self-loathing, secretly hoping it would all end then and there.
He\'d earned the hatred of far too many people during the War, either due to his family\'s actions or his own. Here at Hogwart\'s, he was safe from death, but there were still whispered threats, \"accidental\" hexes, and pointed snubs to deal with.
He had been wrong. There was no potion, no charm, no spell that could remove the sting, remembering that.
He had been wrong and that miserable ass Potter had been right. As a result, his family was dead and he was alone, with no one who cared if he lived or died.
He stuck his nose in the air and retreated from the nearly empty Great Hall slowly, gracefully, to his single room in the male Slytherin dormitory. The common room was quiet. More than half the rooms were empty in Slytherin these days. There was no problem getting a single room in his House these days. A bitter laugh escaped his lips as he undid his wards and opened his door.
He sank onto his elegantly made bed, fell to the soft and silky pillow he had always demanded, and began crying quietly. He tried to ignore the picture of his mother next to his bed, burying his face in the slick pillowcase.
No one else could know that he had been brought so low. He was a Malfoy, the only Malfoy left in the British Isles, to his knowledge. He muffled his sobs in the pillow, rolling so he could be on his back, wishing for the end of exams.
The end of everything.