Name: In the Name of Light
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: Malfoy makes a decision that will ultimately sway the war, and with it makes the final and biggest sacrifice.
Emptiness filled him like a black hole within his stomach through which all his strength and hope drained as fast as they welled up. He felt terribly, terribly old and weary as though he had been alive so long that nothing mattered anymore. His bones creaked and a slight ache suffused them, as gently he leaned forward to get the cup of tea that he'd placed places on the floor, moments ago. He clutched the cup to him, holding it first to his hands, and then holding it against his arm, as he crouched even closer to the fire. He never felt warm anymore, no matter how high the flames roared, or how many layers he was dressed in. The room was a bleak one to be sure. Small and stone, it resembled more a cell than a bedroom, but the door was unlocked and he was obviously free to come and go as he pleased.
Slowly he began to tremble and shake as a wave of pain shattered through him, which crested for several moments in unbelievable agony. It left him weak and damp and cold, with a bitten lip from not crying out. His hands, he noted detachedly were sweaty, his forehead clammy, and his face was gaunt. It would be soon. Slow tears forced their way from his eyes, and he brushed at them angrily, hating himself for this final weakness. Even slower he stood and with leaden steps made his way to the door. He knew what he had to do, and his hand caressed his wand, as a sour little smile crept onto his lips. He'd never thought he'd turn out to be the hero type after all.
Harry was tossing and turning in his bed, unable to sleep, unheedful of the odd silence around him, that was usually disturbed by Ron's sighs and movement in his sleep. Thoughts were running through his head. The dreadful realisation that not only did they not know anything more about the Horcruxes, but that Voldemort was gathering troops daily and they still didn't know his position. His eyes drooped shut slowly, and he was almost asleep when he was disturbed by something wet falling on his cheek. Blinking a little sleepily he sat up, and almost screamed. Standing there in a dripping cloak was bloody Malfoy. Harry groped for his wand instantaneously, only to see it clutched in Malfoy's hand. He got an even bigger shock, when Malfoy started coughing, deep hacking coughs that seemed to wrench themselves from his throat. When he took his hand away it was speckled with tiny droplets of blood. "Don't bother shouting," he said briefly. "Two reasons. One there is such a thing as a silencing spell, and two I don't intend to harm you. Quite the opposite actually. And as a token of good faith," he paused and threw Harry's wand back. "Now listen because I have little time. I'm dying Potter. Voldemort has chosen me to be his newest vessel for his part of the Horcrux, and it bloody hurts. Tomorrow night, it will be finalized, and the soul transferral will be complete." He looked at Harry and winced. "It hurts every fibre in my body to say this, but I need you to do me a favour ."
There was silence then Harry spoke. "What is it?"
The answer was brief and simple. "Kill me."
There was a hint of laughter in Harry's tone as he replied. "Gladly."
Malfoy tutted. "I am serious Potter. I've tried killing myself, and it doesn't work. Nothing does, not spells, not physical weapons. With spells nothing happens. It goes through me like I'm not even there- no scars no nothing. I kept on studying and looking and working, and I found a way. It's based on a muggle device called a bomb, except its magic of course. I literally become the detonator, one spell and I explode. Every cell dies with no exceptions. But it must be instantaneous, the moment Voldemort enters me, before he can erect more barriers and defenses."
Harry stared, as Malfoy sunk down onto his bed. "How do I know this is not a trick?"
"How could it be? The charm can be activated from anywhere, even if Voldemort changes his mind, it will still kill me. There's no trick to it."
Harry leant forward and looked straight at Malfoy, staring into wide grey eyes that for once were devoid of malice, and was amazed at what he saw. Malfoy was afraid, deathly afraid. Fear screamed out of his eyes. "Why are you doing this? You die either way."
"You wouldn't understand my reasons," was the bitter answer.
The return reply was simple. "Try me."
"I've always been destined to be his vessel. He chose Lucius and Narcissa because they were beautiful, pureblooded and rich, everything he wanted and needed in a vessel. Then he raped Narcissa repeatedly, and forced my father to do the same. Then one of his servants, a wizard who specialized in molecular magic, manipulated the DNA of the fertilized egg so that Lucius's genes emerged mostly as dominant, but with a few of his own, it helps to ease bodily transition if you are related you see."
2You mean Voldemort is your father?"
"No, not in any sense of the word. I just accepted a few genes, nothing important at all, no special talents or anything. The rape of my mother was his idea of fun, a way of rewarding my mother for her devotion. But the thing that broke my back, the final straw was when father told me that I must die for the cause. To have my own father willingly sacrifice me. He wasn't much of a father, but then I wasn't much of a son I suppose. Enough talking. Do you agree?"
"Why me?" asked Harry, feeling slightly foolish for asking.
"Because you hate me. Anyone else might weaken, decline to sacrifice my life. Spout nonsense about not killing innocents in a fight. You're a soldier now Potter, in your own private war, and you know damn well that people die. I'm telling you that I refuse to have my body live as Voldemort's vessel. That does not mean though I'm not afraid of what might come after death. I'm no angel Potter, and I've done things that I'm not proud of in the slightest. Si I suppose I'm afraid of finding out there is a hell."
Harry could have laughed. He was sitting with Malfoy debating theological problems. "I don't like you Malfoy, but I reckon if we pull this off, you'll have cleared your debt with God well over."
Malfoy almost smiled then stopped. For the next fifteen minutes, Malfoy coached him in the wand movement, and the charm that needed to be cast. When he finally decreed Harry ready, he stood by the window and clenched his teeth. Harry took careful aim, and said it. A thin beam of silver light hit Malfoy and was absorbed. Malfoy shivered, then pushed a piece of paper over. "There is the trigger charm," he said roughly. Harry merely stared at him, then bent his head, steeling himself to what he knew must be done. As Malfoy made to go, Harry stopped him.
"Draco," he said, and the word felt odd on his tongue. "Where is it going to be?"
"You don't need to be within a certain distance, you can trigger it anytime."
"Yeah, but how will I know what time if I don't see you?"
"Stroke of midnight. The fool loves dramatics. But if you really want to it's Crooked Tree Hill in Buckinghamshire." He turned and then held out his hand. Harry looked at him, and then purposefully took it and shook it, noticing in passing how small and cold it was. Despite his bravado, Malfoy was only a little older than Harry. Then he was gone.
Only a short fic. One more chapter. If you'd like to know the ending, please review, though I might post anyway.
Thanks for reading