Draco and the Darkness
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter stories, or their amazing contents
Rated for sexual content, violence, gore, and language.
A/N: Alright before I get started there are a couple of important issues I would like to address. My other novel, Emerald Fire, took me a great deal of work to create, and still it is not perfect. This story is almost a test of my creativity, a way of seeing how well I can use my imagination. I take great time and care in my writing, and would very very much appreciate any feedback that you may have for me. This feedback is what will make me the author that I long to be. When I am satisfied with my writing, I will begin my novel, and hope to one day get it published!
And if this fic gets a little tedious for you, because it is an experiment, please just take the chance to read my other fic, it may be more up your alley. This story is going to be dark, dismal, and graphic in all aspects, including romance. If you are not into these sorts of things, this is not the story for you.
So, and feedbacks, reviews that you have, please, they will be very very much appreciated. I work hard to create these stories, so taking a second from your reading to review would just make my day!
This is a story about the truth of mankind, and the constant battle for survival. In the true world, the reality is that nothing is as simple as in the books we read and cherish dearly. Being human means that every day there are new challenges awaiting us, new darkness's to fight. For some, this darkness may just be the vicious dog down the street, snapping and chasing while a little boy struggles to complete a paper route. For some, this darkness is much worse then that, and determines the borderline between life and death for thousands.
When admiring the world witchcraft and wizardry, we never really take into consideration the hardships for some set individuals. We read of Harry Potter and his great triumphs and battles, but what of the others who are caught amidst the toil and the turmoil? We do not think of the hearts of others, fighting for the dark side, protecting their loved ones. When we think of Harry Potter, we think of the greatness of the Boy Who Lived, rather then of the despair and never-ending perseverance of the ones fighting on the other side, torn between what is right and what is wrong.
In a world where everyone lies, where everyone steals and cheats and deceives, we find ourselves trapped. Trapped in a world where nothing seems fare, and nothing seems right.
For Draco, this world was far more dark and far more deadly then ever told in stories. Underestimated and undermined, he was described as cold, wicked, and cruel. The description of Draco Malfoy was only of the perspective of another, and not of Draco himself. If we were to look into the mind of Draco Malfoy, what would we see? The truth of the matter is that we would see something horrific, a story of violence and pain and ongoing suffering, without the chance of having the time to enjoy life as it should so often be enjoyed. He was a miserable, depressed person, with few hopes and no dreams to keep him going when he awoke every morning. Draco Malfoy used the pain of others to make up for the lack of joy in his own life, and he did it well. The fact of the matter was, that no matter how hard he tried to make himself happy, the always dwelling and stabbing memories haunted him day by day, night by night.
No one would ever understand the complex diversity of his mind, and no one would ever dare try. The ones he loved were few, and the ones who loved him, loved him out of fear and fear alone. The truth was, he was alone, forever trapped in a world of unforgiving blackness and regret, and nothing in his world or any one else's would convince him otherwise.
This is a story unlike any you have read. This is the true story, from the eyes of Draco Malfoy. A lonely, bitter boy, who spent his days serving under a name he did not agree to, or find any satisfaction. This is a story of love, disseat, and pain.
This is Draco's story.
Draco Malfoy, at the age of twenty, sat alone and miserable that night. It seemed an eternity ago that he, a young and unpleasant student, attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, along with many others. It had been almost three years since the battle. In the stories, they tell how the great Boy Who Lived finally destroyed Voldemort for good. The truth behind the children stories is that, Voldemort did not die that day at Hogwarts, and Harry did not triumph. The real story is that, in fact, the Dark Lord had conquered all the world of wizardry, along with his loyal subjects and cowardly servants. Harry was the one who had fallen that day, along with so many others.
The rest of the greater good side, had been taken to stay in the slave castle which now occupied the school of Hogwarts, where the people who had stood for what was right were tortured and made into slaves. Any and all who defied the Dark Lord's wishes were banished here, guarded by mobs of Dementors and Trolls, and dark creatures that had been unknown to the wizarding world before Voldemort had reigned supreme. Voldemort had become so powerful, that the entire world and all of its muggles, on every continent and every small portion of the globe, were subject to his will. He had become so strong and now had so many followers, that the possibility of ever destroying him, seemed so distant that not one person dared stand up to him now.
So there he sat, the blonde boy who had once played quidditch and studied so hard in school. Malicious and cold, he did his masters bidding. He had killed, laid eyes on the crimson of human blood staining his own hands, and he had done it well. His face was still the same porcelain pale it had always been, but now, instead of beautiful silver eyes, he had empty dull ones.
He never smiled. He never laughed. He never enjoyed a minute of the day. His father told him over and over that some day, their service to the Dark Lord would be rewarded, and that they would be the most powerful family in the entire world.
My father is a foolish, ambitious man.
Staring out the window at the Malfoy Manor, Draco found this was the first time he had actually had the chance to have some time to himself. Though in his life he almost wished he had someone to talk to, anyone. He hid his unhappiness by being mean to others, and he knew this was a cowardly thing to do. He knew he was cruel, and a terrible person. He did not agree to the things he did, or the crimes he committed, but to save the lives of his family and friends, he did them all the same.
He did not have complete knowledge of who was alive and who was dead. He knew that Harry Potter was dead, he had seen him fall. Voldemort seemed to have a desire to keep as many alive as possible, as though he wanted them to suffer even more. Weasley was alive somewhere, trapped in one of the many rooms of Hogwarts. They were all trapped there, and had been for almost three years.
Draco shivered at the thought, though in some ways he felt he would rather be trapped in there then killing and doing wrong out of those stone walls he once called home. He did not feel it was fare for the muggles and mudbloods to be punished, they had done nothing wrong.
Suddenly, a loud banging sounded off the oak door of his bedroom.
Draco spun around fast from where he sat on his bed.
"Come in." He croaked, turning and staring back out the glass window to the grounds below.
"Master Draco." Croaked an old and feeble-looking house elf. "Mistress Narcissa requests a word with you sire."
Draco forced a stiffened smile, as the creature bowed low before him and exited the room promptly. He hated being called 'sire', he wasn't a king, or an emperor. He was a 'nobody'.
He let out a soft breath, running his long thin fingers through his blonde hair. He stood from where he had been sitting, he felt stiff and sore from all the work he had been doing.
Making his way down the scarlet carpeted staircase, and through the mahogany entrance hall, he passed by many great oak doors, before he came to the door of his mothers private bedroom. She and Lucius did not share a bed, or a room for that matter. She despised him just as Draco did.
Many house elves scattered about briskly, clattering trays and pulling the blankets up around her narrow pointed chin. She was pale and sickly looking that evening, even more then usual, and her hair no longer sparkled yellow in the torchlight.
She was very sick.
She had been sick for almost three years.
In order to keep Draco's service, among many other devious plots, making Narcissa sick was one of them. Draco cared for her more then himself, and loved her more then any. She was his safe house, the kindest, most beautiful woman, forced into marriage at the age of fifteen, miserable and wretched throughout her entire life, until Draco was born.
She forced a weak smile as he walked over to the bed and sat next to her, placing his hand on hers. She was cold as ice, and white as the moon on the fullest of nights. She coughed gently into a handkerchief, elegant and sophisticated as always. She was as classy as she was beautiful, the most beautiful witch in England.
She deserved to be happy.
He smiled back at her, watching is she tucked the handkerchief inside of her palm, stained with blood. Draco pretended not to notice this, and continued looking into her icy blue eyes with compassion and longing.
"My son." She said ever so gently, resting her soft but chilling hand on his face. Draco took his own hand and rested it on hers, forcing another smile. "It won't be much longer before I am gone –cough- and I want you to know that no matter what you have done, I know that you have done it for the right reasons."
She hoisted herself up gently, coughing daintily once more.
"Careful, mother." Draco whispered, helping her to sit up and pulling the pillow up behind her head. "You need rest."
She smiled, her eyes sparkling even through the obvious pain.
"I have something for you, my child."
Draco watched, eye brows lowered as she reached under her mattress, removing a small piece of parchment, and placing it in his hand, her own hand trembling with his touch. His once beautiful mother was now decrepit and dying, with little time left, and there was nothing he could do. And his father, why would his father help? His father cared nothing but for his own ambition and glory. If Draco could run away, he would, but there was nowhere to run. Voldemort was everywhere.
Draco went to open the parchment, only to have his mother stop him.
"Not here, dear." She muttered, her eyelids flickering with drowsiness. "Somewhere private, and secluded, far from the eyes of your father or anyone else."
Draco nodded, watching her as she rested her head back, and let her eyes fall closed.
"You are everything to me, my son." She said softly while falling into sleep. "You are my reason for always fighting to live; you were the only thing that kept me going. I thought that day three years ago, when the Dark Lord thought he had killed Harry, in that thicket, would stop all this. I told him Harry was dead, thinking Harry could finally end all of this, but I was wrong."
"You were amazing, mother." Said Draco, stroking her face. "You did what you could, and for the right reasons."
She let out a stifled sigh, and then her breathing seemed to wither, until it had stopped entirely.
She was dead, Draco knew she was dead.
His eyes began watering uncontrollably, as he leaned forwards to hold her close to him. She felt stiff and frozen.
Tears began falling down his face, like streams of clear salty regret and hatred. He hated his father, and he hated Voldemort. He felt his grip around his mother's waist tighten with rage, as he let out a loud choking sob.
He had not cried for years.
"A Malfoy, never cries."
That was what his father had told him.
He continued clinging to his mother, sobbing louder and louder into her shoulder. The house elves had began to understand what was happening, and were all standing around her bedside, heads bowed in honor of their great mistress.
Draco lifted his head, summoning one of them forward.
"You may go tell my father that his wife is no longer with us." He said coldly, his voice shaking, knowing that theses words would not faze Lucius Malfoy in any way.
The house elf bowed, also wiping away a single tear, as he trotted out the door and into the foyer. Narcissa had always treated the house elves equal.
Draco clung to the piece of parchment tightly, deciding that he must leave the room and take it out of sight before his father came in. He knew what Lucius would do. He would waltz into the room, watch her lying there for a moment, and then leave. He would do this just to make sure it was the truth, and then contact the Dark Lord with the news.
Eyes burning, heart racing, and fists clenched, he made his way back up to his room, shutting the door and locking it tight, before making his way over to his bed and sitting down, staring at the parchment. He wondered what on earth could be so important that it would be one of his mother's last decisions. He took the parchment carefully, taking a deep breath and unfolding it.
It was covered in scribbles of his mother's handwriting, messy and wobbly due to the fact that she was so sick. It said:
Draco, I have found something that may give all of mankind, wizards and muggles alike, a second chance at freedom. I have been using the house elves to explore and spy on everything going on in this manor. There is a plot. This is something I thought you might find useful.
Draco read farther down, realizing that it was a recipe to a potion. It was the most complex potion he had ever seen, with more ingredients and more steps then anything he had learned in Hogwarts. It was called the 'Potion of Second Breath'. It was a resurrection potion, to bring back the dead. Where could his mother possibly have found this, when no wizard had ever successfully resurrected anyone properly? He read over the entire potion, and then glanced at the bottom. In his mothers writing it said:
Find the Granger girl.
"Merlin," Draco whispered, flipping the page over to make sure there was nothing else written on it. "Mother this could never work."
There was something else on the back, though it was very messy and looked as though it was interrupted.
What did that mean? Draco hadn't a clue. He sat there thinking until his brain ached, and still he thought of nothing that it could mean. He was overwhelmed with the idea of resurrecting Potter, he hated Potter with ever waking of his being, and wanted him to remain dead. Draco, though sensitive and in pain, was still a selfish, cruel person, due to the way he was brought up. He knew this as a fact, but chose to accept it.
Find the Granger girl? How in Merlins name did she expect him to do that? Finding the mudblood Granger would be no simple task. He would have to break into his fathers study, find the list of all the slaves and search for hers, and find out where she was. Then he would have to hide her, and brew a potion with her. It all seemed very farfetched and very impossible. Not to mention, that if Potter couldn't destroy the Dark Lord before, what made her sure he could do it now? Maybe it was to do with what she had written on the back of the parchment.
Draco closed his fist around the parchment, wanting to destroy it. He hated Potter and he hated Granger, more then anything. The last thing on earth he wanted to do was find one and resurrect the other.
He would have nothing of it.
Then he sat there for a moment longer. All the lives he could save, if he were to succeed. He could bring joy back to the world, and save the people in it. Although, Potter would get the credit, just as he always did. He hated Potter, and Hermione, that sniffling little bookworm, always nosing about and never minding her own business, he wanted nothing to do with either of them.
He sighed, knowing what must be done.
"If it is my mothers wish, then it must be done." He muttered softly, standing up suddenly off of his bed and beginning to walk forwards towards his door once more.
"Look out Granger, here I come to find you."
A/N: Well, I bet it's definitely different isn't it? I find that in a lot of these fics with Draco/Hermione, people give into making Draco way too nice of a character. The truth is, that with all the torment and bad things he must have endured, making him suddenly become compassionate and loving is a little farfetched. Then again so is Hermione and Draco being in love. I am going to take great care into making Draco the most unique character I can, and I would like as much feedback as possible.
And I can't help it if Hermione and Draco are farfetched, I'm just addicted to the couple!
PLEASE REVIEW! Do it for me. I need the inspiration and the motivation!