The evil in me

Author's note: This may go a little OOC because Draco fell in love with a Muggle...but I justify it by saying, Love is blind. This is my second fanfic, another short story. Please review, it means a lot to me, or even flame, but as I say, if it's very evil, I have a pretty little knife in my kitchen.
This is a repost. No changes, just proper format.
Love and angst,
Vivica

Rating: R...because most people like to look under R...sexual reference and death, although not too graphic...keep an eye out for a truly R-rated full-length fic by yours truly later on.

Summary: DM/OC indulgence. One-shot. Draco speculates on the love he felt for the Muggle girl he tortured and killed.

Disclaimer: I woke up and said to myself, Well Joanne, I'd better get to work on editing my fifth Harry Potter novel. Then I went crazy thinking, Where are my children? Why am I trapped in the body of an adolescent? Why do I suddenly have a crush on Tom Felton? Well, it seems that I am NOT JK Rowling, therefore I do not own Draco Malfoy (or Lucius Malfoy or Voldemort, but who wants to own them?) I do, however, own Jessicka (name inspired by the lead singer of Jack off Jill, so maybe I don't own that either.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The evil in me

My name is Draco Malfoy. Silver prince of Slytherin, cruel, beautiful, dangerous. To sum it all up, evil. And I don't try to deny it anymore. Because I know that it's true.

Every morning since that fateful day when I destroyed the very essence of my being, father wakes me with praise for the calm and cold entity that I have become. The ability to put aside emotion to do the will of others is something that the Dark Lord values above all else. You will do well with the Death Eaters, my son, he tells me.

And certainly I did just that. I put aside the purest and most wondrous feeling I had ever experienced to do the bidding of one who would never love or care for me. Not the way she did.

* * * * * * * * * *

I despised using the Muggle realm to get to Diagon Alley, but father had suspended my flying privileges for poor marks and losing every Quidditch game the previous year.

I couldn't explain to him that I was permanently distracted by a feeling that had been suddenly plaguing me without respite. I felt empty, and even the pleasure that flying generally brought was lacking. I couldn't help but speculate why, and it dawned on me one day as I watched a Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. The obvious emotional tension experienced by both Seekers was quite endearing, and I was perhaps jealous of being devoid of this emotion for my sixteen long years.

The Muggle street was quite plain and dirty. The lack of magic in their lives was apparent. I couldn't help but feel disgusted and a twinge of pity towards the souls leading sub-mediocre lives.

Lost in thoughts that would have quite embarrassed me if any Muggles had chanced to hear them, I didn't notice the girl walking hurriedly down the street. Even if I had, I probably would have continued walking straight, letting her be the one who had to veer off course to avoid collision. However the girl, being as immersed in thought as I, collided with me. A cage filled with mice crashed to the ground and the wire mesh dented enough to send all the mice but one running free through the streets. I stifled a rare laugh, thinking of the plain, dirty, and now rat-infested streets of the Muggle realm.

She bent over to inspect the damage done to the cage. The girl was livid, but in a fairly calm and controlled voice, impressively poisonous, she spat, I expect you to pay for every mouse that escaped from that cage!

Of course, not only did I not have Muggle money, I refused to let a Muggle speak to me in that tone, let alone give me orders.

I was on the verge of a cutting response when she straightened, and for a moment i completely forgot the hateful glare that was aimed my way. She was as tall as I with skin as pale, eyes a brilliant intense blue, and long raven-black hair. A deadly combination, I thought in admiration.

Then of course, reality adjusted itself and I remembered that the beauty was in fact an out-of-line Muggle. With the Dark Lord monitoring the activities of every potential Death Eater very closely, it was best not to even think of one pleasantly. Without a word to the girl, I kept on walking, wondering what she would do next.

Her reaction rather disappointed me. She did not run after me or insist that I speak to her in that beautiful poisonous tone of hers. Instead, she muttered a, stuck up fuck, and let it be. I cringed at her language, although her tone was almost enticing.

Reassured that I would never encounter that creature again, I walked on, taking a few paces before feeling a twinge of regret. Perhaps I'd like to see her again?

* * * * * * * * * *

I wake up in a cold sweat, a scream formed in my mouth, but I force it down. I feel tears sliding down my cheeks, drawing a salty pattern, some landing in my mouth, others hitting the silky sheets of my bed. The dormitory was dark and Slytherin House was fast asleep. I alone was awake, left with my memories of the beautiful girl that I would meet again, under terrible circumstances.

* * * * * * * * * *

Draco, as you know you are a highly regarded potential Death Eater. As such, to prove your faithfulness to the Dark Lord, you must participate in Muggle torture. Since your fourth year of Hogwarts, my Lord has been asking after your participation in these...routine activities. He feels that now is the time that you begin.

After my encounter with a Muggle that I, for once, could not despise, I was slightly taken aback and could not accept right away. A brief mental conflict reminded me that the girl was one Muggle among thousands, and the only one I had met that I could admire. Therefore, I responded with an enthusiastic, Certainly, father.

It was then that father led me down to the dungeons, promising me a Muggle already captured, unconscious but in fine shape, at my disposal.

You have a month, Draco, and I understand if you do not want to kill her immediately. Amuse yourself. Torture her slowly, letting her die a little more one day at a time. I have always found that the most satisfactory method.

He took out a large skeleton key and opened the door which blended into the stone wall, concealing a large area with cells embedded into the walls. All were empty but the furthest one. Before we approached, father smirked,
You have always been a perfectionist, my son. I know you will do a meticulous job. I chose, for your amusement, the least flawed Muggle I could capture. Enjoy yourself.

And left me alone to approach the cell.

* * * * * * * * * *

Every single spell I cast to delight her, every word that she spoke to comfort me when I despaired of ever helping her escape, every movement her graceful body executed as I sat in the cell with her for hours, haunts me like a deadly and pleasurable plague. I have never felt so alive as when I sat in the cell, promising her escape. I still recall that our beautiful relationship began with a spell to bring the life back into her unconscious eyes.

* * * * * * * * * *

Enervate.

I pointed my wand lazily towards the girl, her face still covered by a shock of black hair. Her garments, which I should have recognized, were already tattered and dirty beyond repair.

Her head lifted, and I gasped as the eyes brightened and her face came into view. She brushed strands of sweaty ebony hair out of her face, and as her eyes met mine I saw her stiffen. She opened her mouth and I anticipated the light but hateful voice that hissed, You.

She was clearly not afraid. Her eyes remained glaring as she straightened herself proudly. Her slender hands balled into fists, and if it weren't for the barrier of iron bars between us, she would have tried to strike me. Her mouth twisted into a snarl,

You bloody asshole! You were following me, weren't you? I guess that you liked what you saw, didn't you? she spat sarcastically, I know that you're not fucking human. You want to kill me? Go ahead! Get it over with!

I expected her to fly into a rage, or burst into a fit of fearful tears, but she looked me in the eye and waited. Once again, I was intrigued by her actions and reactions. I found it harder to be joyous about torturing the Muggle when it was the one Muggle that possessed admirable qualities. Instead of pointing my wand at the girl and casting a perfectly executed Cruciatus curse, I put my wand away, signaling a cease-fire and asked her name.

This time, I anticipated a brave action, like spitting in my face, but of course she was too logical for that. She acknowledged my gesture for a temporary truce and sat down, suddenly appearing tired.

Jessicka.

I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy.

She looked up at me with a slight grin and a twinkle in her eye.

Interesting name.

Save it, girl.

I told you my name for a reason.

Save it, Jessicka.

That's better.

She was the one in control somehow.

I decided that, because it was the first day of capture and I needed to sort out my emotional turmoil before beginning a torture session, I might as well get to know my victim. We talked for a long while. She told me how my father had captured her, alone in an alley, a shortcut back to the shop where she needed to buy a new cage and several live mice. But you should remember that, shouldn't you, Draco? She asked, bitterness coating her voice once more.

I changed the subject, casually asking why she needed live mice in the first place. Jessicka was certainly more than she seemed.

I have a snake, she answered, I found him one day and simply took him home by the neck. He wouldn't bite me, although he certainly is poisonous. He's green and silver and he refuses to eat anything but live mice.

My school House's colors are silver and green, I mused, and the word Destiny dislodged itself from the recesses of my mind.

* * * * * * * * * *

I despise Destiny. It brought me the most wonderful feeling of my life, and just as quickly ripped it away from me. No, I correct myself, I ripped that wonderful feeling from myself. Everything that happened was my fault. It was my fault that I fell in love. It was my fault that I got close. It was my fault that I was too weak to defend my love.

* * * * * * * * * *

Jessicka was cradled in my arms. We had discovered a mutual passion for each other not so long ago, and fulfilled our desires as often as possible. I spent most of my waking moments in her cell, in her arms, in her narrow and stained cot. I found her more endearing with each passing day, each passing moment of bliss, with each bead of sweat that trickled down her narrow face every night that I spent with her. For once, my father's belief in my inner evil proved a blessing, as he never ventured into the dungeon, leaving myself and Jessicka permanently alone.

I was still too afraid to declare my love for her, however.

Jessicka was never afraid of me.

That night, as she lay peacefully in my arms, my mind wandered to the events which had brought me to this bliss, this euphoric dream that I prayed was real. I took in the bleak surroundings, knowing that father expected Jessicka's blood to be coating the walls, her fragile bones broken and the fire in her eyes extinguished.

Draco?

Yes?

She gestured towards the tiny barred window situated at the top left corner of the dingy cell, It's all your yard, out there?

Yes.

That is the most beautiful tree I have ever seen.

For the first time, I truly looked at the large tree, the only one in the yard, but providing a large shade under the canopy of thousands of buds and perfectly formed green and yellow-tinged leaves. The bark was brown and unpeeling, delicate green moss sheltering part of the trunk. The grass under the tree was greener and longer than anywhere else. The tree would not have looked out of place in a rolling countryside, devoid of habitation for miles.

It is, I whispered back, entranced by the simple beauty of it, mentally praising Jessicka for noticing such perfection in a place that I would never have searched for it. For me, this home, and the yard, have always been a place of coldness and lack of emotion. My beautiful and brave Muggle lover could look out of a bleak and dirty cell and still appreciate the beauty of that tree. Tears came to my eyes and I despaired of ever saving her from this place, which I had inadvertently brought her to without knowing.

Destiny works in devious ways, I mused, wishing I had never met Jessicka on the street and unwittingly sent her to this cell. Then again, I was ecstatic that I had met her, for she had filled that void inside of me.

I wish I could sit under it, she muttered, drifting slowly into sleep.

It was then that I thought of the perfect gift for her, to perhaps beg forgiveness for her captivity. I drew out my wand, and thought for a moment that it was fear flickering in her eyes, but I quickly muttered my incantation, and a garden materialized around us. Flowers grew from the bed she lay on, and from the dirty cell floor grew fragrant green grass. The walls gave way to blue sky and cottony clouds. The crowning glory was a near-perfect replica of the tree in the yard. I regretted that the spell could only be temporary.

Jessicka cooed her delight and promptly went to sit on the soft grass, under the tree. We had an hour to talk and bask in a cell that was temporarily alight with sunlight and filled with the fragrance of flowers.

I broke a fundamental rule and told her of the wizarding world. I spoke of Hogwarts and Slytherin House, and I even spoke to her of my enmity with Harry Potter, the boy who saves the world yearly. Being the angel that she is, Jessicka managed to quell even my hatred for this boy, softly justifying his actions as fear and the pressure of being the Boy-Who-Lived.

Remember, she said, Appearances are deceiving. Especially for people like us, Draco Malfoy. We hide what we are, but we don't stop being it.

I don't hide anything!

I disagree. It sounds to me that you are a much crueler person at Hogwarts than here, with me, for example.

Yes, but I'm less so with you only because I love you! I promptly clasped a hand over my mouth, stifling a gasp of surprise and embarrassment at what I had promptly let slip.

You love me, Draco? she murmured, moving closer.

Yes, Jessicka, I do.

I love you too.

That night was the first time that I could truly consider our actions making love.

* * * * * * * * * *

Everything fell apart after that.

I sit, alone, staring into space as I don't even have a picture of Jessicka to look at, to trace my fingers over, to kiss and cry on at night. I keep her clear in my mind's eye, but sometimes, like tonight, the lack of any souvenir whatsoever causes a constricting pain in my chest. Sometimes I wonder if any of it really happened, or if it was some fantastic dream caused by the emptiness buried deep inside me. I no longer feel empty, I feel dead. As if a vital organ that I never knew was there has suddenly been ripped out of my body, leaving a feeling a thousand times worse than emptiness.

It is like going blind as a child. You regret not being able to see much more, because you know what you are missing. You long to see rich, vivid color, you wish you could admire the beautiful simplicity of things like flowers, baby kittens, or the intense blue eyes of the girl you loved.

* * * * * * * * * *

It had been two nights since our mutual declaration of love, and I no longer brought my wand with me to the dungeons. Jessicka in fact confessed that the momentary flicker in her eyes was, in fact, fear that the inevitable torture would finally begin.

I would never, Jessicka, you know that. I am going to get you out of here.

But I never brought my wand again, just to prove my words. My stupidity was our undoing.

My father, furious, roared into the dungeons as Jessicka held me in her thin arms.

This, he spat, Is what you have been doing? The Muggle has no wounds, no scars, and here she is, holding you! What do you think you are doing, Draco?

I stood up and exited the cell, quickly locking it to separate her firmly from my enraged father. His face was flushed and his expression twisted and furious.

I venture into your room to find that your wand is lying beside your bed! he shouted, and I couldn't help but think: how is my son torturing the Muggle filth without his wand? And I came to inspect, and I find you in her arms! Obviously these Muggles have powers to make you forget the Dark Lord? How dare you defy my for this...piece of trash! She will pay for twisting your loyalties

Father! I screamed, Jessicka is anything but trash. I love her, and I refuse to hurt her. Punish me, father, but let her go!.

Upon hearing the word love, my father's face regained its usual calm composure, and I sensed that he had an idea.

My son, I would never punish you. Nor will I hurt your love. No, Draco, you will be the one to kill her. Imperio!

* * * * * * * * * *

If it had been Jessicka under the Imperius curse, she could have thrown it off. She was not weak like I was. We would both be here today, had it been her.

I remember her shouting, Kill me, you bastard, but don't make Draco do it for you! and her scream, rising in hysterics as I pointed the wand which father had handed me at her chest, still echoes through my mind, Draco! I know it's not you doing this! I love you Draco! Please, save me!

It was the only time Jessicka had ever lost her brave composure. And yet, as I cast the Cruciatus curse on her over and over, she would not scream, would not brush away the silent tears streaming over and over. Instead, she whispered, Draco, Draco, I love you, I will always love you, I forgive you.

* * * * * * * * * *

I heard Jessicka's beautiful voice rise in terror and I tried to shout back. I tired to shake off the curse but I could not. As her joints doubled in pain and she whispered my name over and over, I screamed inwardly over and over, trying to make my declarations of eternal love heard. I was too weak. I remained under my father's curse, casting Cruciatus on my one true love over and over.

Cruciatus is much more painful when executed on Muggles, for they have no magical resistance whatsoever. The first time I cast the curse, her skin reddened and welted, and a fire seemed to course through her body. She would not scream. Her hair hung in sweaty ropes, but her eyes still retained their life and brilliance. I was screaming, screaming, as loud as possible, but the words would not exit my mouth, they stayed trapped, forever holding back my fervent apologies.

The second time I cast the curse her skin began to tear open. Blood trickled from intricate cuts on her arms and face, and probably the body concealed beneath the tattered clothes as well. Tears slipped silently out of her eyes, but she refused to acknowledge them. After the bout of Cruciatus ended, she still straightened immediately, ignoring the rivulets of blood patterning her eyes and clothes, forming peaceful puddles around her on the dirty floor. Her breath was ragged and her limbs obviously weak, but still she looked at me, with the same adoration as the night that I declared my love. My brave Jessicka.

The final bout of Cruciatus tore her skin until she could barely stand, but she did so anyway. As the final waves of pain tore through her, she refused to double over, and looked me straight in the eye and said, I love you. Suddenly, the light in her eyes flickered off, and she fell to the floor lifeless.

Father then released me from Imperius and left the room, leaving me alone with the girl I had killed, the only girl that I ever loved, the essence of my life. Father had known that this was the worst punishment imaginable, to leave me to survey the damage that I had caused. I kissed Jessicka, I held her to my body, frantically searching for a heartbeat, a breath, a tear leaking from her eye. Finding none, I took her lips in mine once more, cradled her body, and whispered, I love you, Jessicka, I do. I love you, I love you, I love you, over and over. Wanting the words to be with her forever.

* * * * * * * * * *

Father praises me. He tells me every day that he is proud of me, because I could have resisted the Imperius if I had wanted to. He says that the reason I remained under the Imperius curse is because I truly wanted to.

In the depths of my subconscious, I know that he is lying. This is his punishment for me, to make me feel as though I wanted to kill my love. That tiny part of my mind that still retains reason tells me not to blame myself. After all, Jessicka said that she forgives me. But this part of my mind is shrunken and weak, like me. I wallow in sadness and self-loathing for being the evil bastard that I am. I killed my Jessicka because I am evil, because I am incapable of true love.

I buried Jessicka under the tree that she loved so. I carved her name in minute letters at the base of the tree, directly under the large patch of fragile moss. I lay on the spot where Jessicka lies buried every night.

Perhaps father wonders why I sit in the cold, tracing the bark of the tree, tears rolling down my alabaster cheek the same hue as Jessicka's was. When I return to Hogwarts, I vow to take her advice and leave Potter and his friends be. I will send my eagle owl here each night to pick me a blade of grass from this very spot. In the future, I know that the grass growing here will be more lush and beautiful than even now, because Jessicka is buried here.

And this is why Draco Malfoy is evil. Because I too weak to save her. My true love. Because the evil deep inside me somewhere told me not to resist the Imperius curse, told me to enjoy watching Jessicka, the most beautiful, wonderful, and perfect girl, the love of my life, weep and die.

Jessicka, you said that you forgive me.

But I can never forgive myself.