The End Is The Beginning Is The End

The sound of laughter and drunken celebrations filled the night air.  Many a witch and wizard recounted the triumphant vicotory of the Malfoy family.  Laughter drowned out even the few sobs of those less fortunate; members of the so-called resistance reduced to little more than playthings of the winners.

Draco did not take part in the festivities.  He brooded in a corner, ignoring the few brave enough to approach him with a simple 'congratulations' before scurrying off.  He was in a foul mood, and his father was the source of his fury.

Lucius sat in his great hall, his serpentine smile dancing across his face as witch and wizard alike bowed down to kiss his hand, the bottom of his robe, as if he were some kind of god.

He had reached his breaking point.  Draco wanted to wipe that smile off of his smug face.  He wanted him to feel the same sense of powerlessness and pain that he felt. 

After all, Veatris had been much more than a lover.  He was a dear friend.  The one person he knew he could trust to have his back, and when you lived in a world filled with back-stabbing, envious demons that was more than worth its weight in gold---and almost impossible to replace.

He was alone now, everyone sought his father's good favor when it was he, not Lucius, who organized and led the attack that toppled the resitance.

'My my, how cheerful you look,' came a familiar sarcastic drawl.

Draco did not acknowledge Blaise Zanbini's presence.  He was a useless, untrustworthy ass. 

When Zanbini realized his comments would give him nothing, he merely shurgged his shoulders and sauntered off, whispering in the ear of a pretty blonde.

His father curled his fingers and he saw that as an indication that he was needed.  He bit his cheek and stalked towards him, determined to keep up appearances until he had the energy--and the time--to get his revenge.

'Draco, Lord Blight, Blight, Draco.'

Draco managed a stiff bow and stood rigidly, waiting to see what this was all about.  'Lord Blight has a lovely daughter, a little younger than yourself.  Why don't you go dance with her.'  His father pointed to a girl with red head, very similar to Veatris's.

Son of a bitch.

The fucker was actually taunting him. 

Alright.

Draco gave his father the most sickengly sweet smile he could muster, 'How thoughtful of you to bring her to my attention. I promise to return the favor.'

His father responded to this thinly veiled threat by lightly touching his shoulder, 'Since you looked so lonely I thought I could play matchmaker,' he leaned forward and softly whispered in his ear, 'that is, if you can even get it up.  But she has red hair, so close your eyes and pretend she's one of the boys and I'm sure you'll do the job slendidly.'

Oh, he was going to pay.

And Draco knew just how to do it. 

His father didn't know he was more than up to the task; he might prefer men but every now and then a girl came along who drew his attention. 

And he knew a certain brunette who he couldn't wait to pay a visit.

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