How the War Was Won

[A/N - This is to become a dumping ground for drabbles. The following is completely unrelated to the preceding, I'm a poor starving college student and don't own jack, et cetera.]



There was no way this can go wrong. No bleeding way.



It's almost over, you know. This travesty of a war.



I'll admit, things have been more difficult than we anticipated. If I had only had more faith in our Lord the bloodshed might have ended months ago, and I have been punished for my mistakes. But my failure to kill Headmaster Dumbledore has had it's upside too.



Harry must have seen me. It's the only way I can account for the way things have turned. He must have seen me fail, and it makes my blood boil. But he thinks I was strong, the fool. He believes that Dumbledore was swaying me from casting that curse, that I would have turned to them, to him, in the end.



Asylum is a beautiful word.



"Asylum!"



Enter the Diggorys. Poor pathetic fools, they have made their last mistake with this open door, this hurried teacup. The Veritaserum tastes stale. I suppose they've had the potion sitting there for weeks now, waiting for such a dire emergency as this, the young Malfoy in their door seeking refuge.



"Who're you?!" Amos Diggory is terrified. I can smell the fear.



"Draco Malfoy. I need to get inside, quickly." All the truth. Every word.



---



I hope that the Dark Lord reveals the small things to Potter before he kills the prat. I hope that Potter will know, in the hour of his doom, how many innocents he condemned by endorsing me. He went so far as to have posters set about Diagon Alley declaring I was to be protected, and the Diggorys have paid for his foolish hope.



It was too simple to take their lives, and I've rather jumped my mark. You see, It's only a quarter till, and the Dark Mark won't be set till midnight. At least there'll be no fuss from Mrs. Diggory about a Death Eater on the sofa - she's quite lost her head.



---



Five till. There's a picture of Cedric on the mantle. I've been toying with it for a few minutes, considering casting a smaller Mark above the picture's head. He must be about seven here. Missing some teeth.



"Malfoy."



There's something pressed against my back. Small, round, hard. I don't remember Potter's wand tip being quite this wide, but it's possible he's using a spare. There's rumor in both camps about the twin wands flaring dangerously.



"You did this."



"Oh, this? Yes, I did."



You see, it will be over soon. My card can be turned. Potter has sworn off Unforgiveables, and my skin is safe.



Four till.



"The others too?"



"The others too, Potter." I wish I could see his face, the fall of despair must be beautiful.



"I thought -"



"Wrong. You thought wrong."



"Monster." He's crying, I can hear it in his voice. Immaculate. "You bastard. You fucking monster." His wand is pressed painfully into my back, just behind my heart and gouging at muscle. I'll have a bruise for sure. "I'll fucking kill you, Malfoy."



"Hmph."



Three till.



"I will!"



"Where's the back-up, Harry? Or are you all alone?" I'm only smirking because Death Eaters don't grin. He's alone. There are only a few of them left, these noble combatants for good, and they can't afford to stay together any longer least one attack decimate every hope.



"I'll kill you."



"You are alone, aren't you. Poor thing." He is silent, and I find the reason a moment later in the brush of his shaking left hand into my hair. "No."



"Why not? Why shouldn't I touch you? We're alone, aren't we? You, me, and them. And you made sure they wouldn't tell."



Two till.



One or two harried liaisons and people will take all sorts of liberties. "Fool."



"Why, Draco?"



"Why what? Why give up groping at the Boy-Who-Lived to take my rightful place? Why kill these insolent fools for my master? Why help destroy every single thing you hold dear with a song in my heart?" He really wants to know why I don't love him. He loves me, you know. But not as much as he hates me.



I wish I could see his face. "Because you touch yourself at night, Potter."



One till.



---



The soft whump rang into the Diggory's sitting room like a bell.



Harry Potter had sworn never to use an Unforgiveable in the war, yes. But he had never sworn not no kill.



The silenced bolt action Mauser he had been holding Malfoy with smoked quietly.



---



Everything would be over soon, one way or another.