A/N: This was written for Taragh McCarthy's The Word Limit Competition – Round Two. The story had to be between 900 and 1,100 words, using the prompt Stop The World. Hope you like it :)

WARNING: This story is unbeta'd and even un-reread through, as I literally finished this a minute before the due date and didn't have time to look it over. So, I apologize for any and all mistake.

Disclaimer: Seriously, I don't own the Harry Potter series, nor do I make a profit from writing this. However, reviews are as good as money to me ;)

There were many times he wished he could stop the world.

The rain pounded against the roof, lightning danced outside his wide windows, and thunder played the mighty drums in rhythm with the rest. The storm was fierce and loud, but it wasn't what had tears dripping down his pale face.

His best friend had been ripped from him today – literally. He had been bouncing energetically behind his parents, chattering quietly to his best friend when a giant monster (actually, it was an owl and not giant at all, but in his memory it was the most ferocious beast to have ever lived) had swooped down and taken him directly out of his arms.

By the time his best friend fell down, down, down to hit roughly against the cobblestone path, his screaming had drawn much attention and only stopping when he saw that his best friend's head was torn off. The anguished screams had turned into sobs, as he was dragged into his father's arms and away from the gruesome scene.

At that moment, as the picture of Ricky the Dragon – his best friend – with stuffing bursting out of his missing head hole played repeatedly in his mind, he wished the world would stop.

There were many times he wished he could stop the world.

The letter held in his hands was not unexpected. In fact, if you were to have grown up in the Wizarding World, it was one of the most expected letters you would receive.

However, with the way his mother was hugging him and the suspicious wetness landing on his shoulder where her normally pristine face was buried, you would think it was the most unlikely of events to ever occur. Even his father who was always so schooled in his emotions had brightly shining eyes.

Snake, eagle, lion, and badger stared up at him from the Hogwarts crest that was embroidered on his acceptance letter. And even though he'd been waiting for it for years, knowing it was going to show up on his eleventh birthday, he too felt the warmth his parents were displaying.

At that moment, with his only loved ones emitting pride and joy, he wished the world would stop.

There were many times he wished he could stop the world.

Voices whispered at a fast pace behind a heavily warded door. If he weren't for the hidden airway he'd discovered long ago during one of the many make-believe adventures he'd had at a young age, he would have absolutely no way of knowing what was going on.

But, when pretending he was the most powerful and looked-up-to wizard alive that was battling a vicious creature, he had indeed stumbled upon the airway, so now he was able to clearly eavesdrop on the suppose-to-be secret conversation.

"He's back. The Dark Lord has been revived."

At that moment, with fear threatening to close up his oxygen supply, he wished the world would stop.

There were many times he wished he could stop the world.

The wand in his hand trembled tremendously, so much so that it would've fallen to the stone below awhile ago if not for the white-knuckled drip he was holding it in.

Behind him, the door banged furiously with each angered hex aimed at it. The voice of his aunt poured through the door – high and sweet and completely false – urging him to let them onto the tower with him.

Sweat was pouring down his body despite the fact that he felt like he'd been submerged in ice water for the last year. His knees were dangerously close to collapsing and his head was spinning in a fashion that made him want to sick up.

The thing that drawled his attention, though, was the man in front of him – the man currently being held at his wand point. Albus Dumbledore, with his long and white hair, oddly coloured robes, and half-moon shaped glasses managed not to look pitiful even when siting on dirty ground.

At this moment, with the indecision of saving his family at the life of the only person to ever offer him refuge, he wished the world would stop.

There were many times he wished he could stop the world, but this was not one of them.

He was sitting on a luxurious couch located in one of the many sitting rooms that the manor had. Next to him, his mother curled up, clearly not worrying about gracefulness or mannerisms for the first time in a while. She was sleeping, whether it was peaceful or not he couldn't tell. After the recent events, he would guess not.

The Death Eater trials – the trials that decided who was sentenced to Azkaban prison for choosing the side of the Dark Lord during this just-over war or who wasn't – had finally ended.

His mother and he had been let free. With neither of them having committed murder and proof that they were only following the Dark Lord under the threat of slow and painful death, along with the testimony from the very man who had saved them all from peril, there were far more pressing punishments to be given.

His father hadn't been so lucky, as it was well known that many had fallen under his hand and without having helped the saviour of wizarding kind in any way such as his wife and son had, he was sentenced a life rotting away in a cold cell.

Despite all of this – all of the tragedy that had happened mere weeks earlier – Draco Malfoy didn't went to stop the world in this moment.

He only wanted to move forward.

Review for the sake of the amazing and sexy Draco Malfoy?