SOME GREAT REWARD
(An alternate ending for book six)
"Avada Kedavra," he screamed, his wand slashing the air violently as a bright green flash of light lit up the night. Dumbledore shuddered, slouching to the ground. Draco walked over to him tentatively, not sure what to expect. And when he looked into the wizened wizard's face he knew immediately Dumbledore was dead. Smirking, he grabbed a mangled key out of his pocket, and whispering the incantation, the key glowed blue. As he held the small object in his hand, preparing himself for what was to happen, the door behind him banged open, and Snape stalked in.
"You've done it then?" Snape asked proudly, gesturing to the still body of the greatest headmaster in Hogwarts history.
"Yes," Draco answered. "I've got a portkey and I'm going to see the Dark Lord."
"Good, good. I shall contact your mother." Snape answered.
"Thank you," Draco said, knowing the portkey was triggered.
"Yes, Severus?" Draco answered. "Hurry."
The use of his first name didn't seem to shock Snape, after all, Draco was a Death Eater now, an equal, if not higher power, than him. "You have done great things tonight."
Draco nodded, realizing just what he had done. He would go down in history as the only wizard able to best Dumbledore, a feat even Lord Voldemort couldn't do. He was powerful. He was worthy.
And suddenly he felt that faint tug at his navel and, with one last look at Snape, his old professor, his second father, his second cousin and friend, he flew off into the night.
He arrived in front of Lord Voldemort maybe five minutes later, gliding gently to the ground.
"Draco," Voldemort nodded curtly. Draco bowed deeply. "You may rise, Draco. And because you are here, I can only guess you completed your task this night."
"Yes, My Lord, Dumbledore is dead." he answered gracefully; thinking of how he had done something even Voldemort was incapable of.
The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow. "Surely you are not thinking what I think you are, Draco Malfoy," he continued.
"I-I believe you're mistaken, Milord. I was thinking of what an honor it is, performing the tasks you have given me," he lied, gaping.
"You are lying," Lord Voldemort hissed. "Surely you are not implying I am wrong? I am an accomplished leglimens, the best one alive. I can read your mind; test you for your honesty, your faith. And I see now you believe yourself stronger than even I."
"No! I do not sir, I do not. You are the most powerful wizard in the land." Draco answered desperately, probably a bit too quickly.
"You were but a pawn in this game we call life, do you know that, Draco?" Voldemort continued calmly. "What did you expect from me, after you killed Dumbledore?"
"I-I don't know," Draco replied lamely.
"Yes you do," Voldemort said dryly. "You expected to replace your father as my right hand man, to be the youngest, yet greatest Death Eater. But I see those thoughts have changed. You are nothing but a greedy boy who toys with death."
"Don't bother. You believed yourself stronger than me. And for this unfaithfulness you will die."
"No! Sir, please! I beg you, My Lord! I will do whatever you wish from me!" Draco pleaded, falling to his knees.
"You will die. Just like your father before you." Voldemort retorted.
"My fath- he's dead?" Draco asked softly, tears shining in his eyes.
"Yes. On his knees. A coward." Voldemort smiled evilly, a glint in his eye.
Draco bowed his head. He had done what Voldemort had asked; he had been everything his father hadn't. And he would die- on his knees, a "coward", for besting the greatest wizard of all time, possibly greater than Voldemort himself. He would be killed, for a deed that no one else could say they did. And because of that- because he had been a threat to His Darkness, he would die.
Some great reward.