Hey guys! This is my first shot at a Harry Potter fanfiction, so don't hang me if I did something wrong. This takes place in about the sixth book, and ignores plenty of things. I don't know if this is going to become a romantic fic, so tell me if I should! This fic is donated to Nicconicco, because it is her birthday today! Check out her story, it's amazing! Well, with out further ado, go ahead and read, even though I don't own the amazing Harry Potter series! .net/s/6482078/1/Something_to_Fight_for
Draco Malfloy was hurt.
Physically and mentally. In his heart, in his soul and his entire being.
His mind was a swirling mass of pain, sadness, anger and dictating this mass of emotion swirling inside him was longing. Longing to be free, longing to see his mother, and longing to be able to regret. Every fiber of his being wanted to regret the reason he was here, but he couldn't. Those who were branded with the Dark Mark would call the reason he was in there despicable. Others would praise him for that cursed act, for that unfamiliar feeling, for that final life-changing decision.
Sitting there, a prisoner in his own dungeon, thinking how and why. But he knew these were just distractions from where his mind would wander if he didn't keep it on whatever track he had left. He knew how he had ended up in here. He knew why he was in here. He still couldn't regret it, but how he desperately wanted too, how he needed too. Not regretting it, and even the act of doing it, was against everything he had ever been told, how he had been raised. Why could he not regret it? Maybe it was because the act of not doing it should be the thing to be regretted. Draco stared aimlessly into space, ignoring the yells and screams echoing through the dungeon. He couldn't accept what he had done. He had saved the Mudblood.