Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other recognizable characters or plot references. I make no profit from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Written early in the morning with no thought behind it. It may seem a bit rushed, but this is intentional because of the circumstances that Draco is in. First person account of Draco Malfoy's thoughts during the battle, starting with his escape/rescue from the fire, obviously this references the last book, but the time line is a little sketchy. Please review and let me know what you think, I really need help with this one. Thanks, Ange.
And maybe this is one of those times, where the antagonist finally steps forward and accepts his blame, takes his punishment like a man and hands out the respect that his protagonist had long deserved and maybe even deep down on the inside craved.
But my mouth only moves to open and close and my eyes can't really focus on anything correctly anymore. I feel a heavy weight over my legs and look to see my unconscious friend literally at my feet, and fire swirls around the inside of my mind scorching all proper thought as you, my protagonist, gather yourself and your own friends and get up to run.
I should move, I know, but I can't. The weight on my legs in pinning them down and the fire in making everything so bright that it's blinding me. I can't see anything, I honest to god can't see. It's so white that for a second I could be out in the snow just like I was last year around Christmas, agonising over what I knew was to come after Christmas break. I wish I was there. I could stop all of this if I just choose differently.
Grunting brings some of the colour back into my vision. I'm seeing the creamy grey of stones and the yellow of dim candles, and off to the side is still that burning orange and red square in the wall, that betrays the fire still raging within the room of requirement.
We're as good as forsaken if we stay here. So I yank my feet from under Greg and then heave him up by one arm, pulling at him uselessly as he tries to gain his thought back, because no matter what you lot say he is no idiot. And then it's like the world has turned me free and given me my power back. Only I use the force within my legs to push myself forwards through places so I can get where I'm needed instead of the wand I had relied on so much.
God you take everything from me. A hard shove to my shoulder makes me realise Greg is trying to tell me something. He shoves me into the space between wall and statue and there I cower as those giant freaks of spiders make their way through the corridor. There are only two. Greg could take them. Too bad he's dead scared of spiders.
I can hear a pathetic whimpering sound, and I realise that crying doesn't sound so bad at this moment. I might die. In all likelihood I will die. Why aren't I crying? Damn it all to hell I have something to do.
I leave Greg behind the statue, too injured to go anywhere now that I don't have enough strength to haul up the both of us. It was Weasley wasn't it? He was crying. I can see his brother. The spiders didn't find him.
Four turns through infested corridors later and I find myself glad I haven't eaten right or slept well in over a year. My rations went towards prisoners and my sleep was forfeited to deliver that to them. Thank god I've caught you again. I followed you down these bloody corridors for too long I think. But then again, I have to tell you something don't I.
The Great Hall is an eruption of chaos as I throw open the door, and almost immediately I'm cornered by bloody Harlow with a wand in my face. He hated me from the start. And now he's going to kill me.
I'm begging, but it isn't working. Besides, I think he'll justify it as more reason to do the deed anyway. Death Eaters - particularly Malfoy's - do not beg. It's like my prayers have just been answered when he crumples to the ground, and I can't see anyone, but I know it's you and your lot.
The swift punch to the face and Weasley's grunting makes it beyond obvious by the way. You're bloody lucky that Harlow's wand was good to win; otherwise that Death Eater Milchett would have killed you on the spot.
I'm actually quite glad now I haven't gotten to live out that time I mentioned earlier. It seems to me an awful waste of six years hard work - bothering you lot to let it all go to waste now. No, I'm not going to apologise. And I won't say I respect you either. I'll just stand here after switching sides and protect your sorry asses for a while. The things I do for you.
You should be grateful to have an antagonist like me. I guess we both should be grateful…