My first Hufflepuff homework for the Hogwarts Online forum...
ITD readers: I know. This is highly ironic ^^
Draco comes to Bellatrix's grave after the war is over and twenty years later, when he's married. He comes alone and spits on her grave. Telling her that she's no longer in control of his life and he's free to do whatever he wants. She was in control of his life, and he didn't really want to do anything that the dark lord wanted him to do but was forced into doing things because of his aunt. One reason why he hated his aunt so much.
"These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real, there's just too much that time cannot erase..." My Immortal, Evanescence
It was so cold.
No one in their right mind would have stepped out on such a night. But maybe Draco Abraxas Malfoy wasn't in his right mind. Maybe something was still wrong in him, after all those years. Such wounds didn't heal, he thought at night, while Astoria slept soundly in his arms, at peace. No, they never did.
Wounds he had inflicted, wounds he had burned into his soul with his own hands.
She was to blame.
The grave was cold and bare, but he stared at it with uncanny intensity. How he wished it had never existed – how he wished they had let her rot on the streets. Like she deserved, he screamed fiercely, yet did not emit a sound. Oh, how quiet he had become, the things he had to keep locked within.
"Shut yourself out, Draco. Oh, how weak you are – do you want me to see those things? Do you want me to know how unworthy and cowardly you really are? Very well, face your punishment then."
He faced her with his head held high, a pureblood, a Malfoy. He was no little boy, not anymore. He was not scared. He was not frightened. He was not afraid, there was nothing to be afraid of, she was a corpse a corpse a CORPSE she would haunt him no more. She would control him no more.
"What do you control now, aunt Bella? You fell at the hands of a chubby little housewife!"
He was different now, different different DIFFERENT. He was a man.
Married.
He had a son.
And no one could give him orders. No one could torture him.
He looked people right in the eye.
Still he couldn't bear the sight of blood.
A scream escaped his lips, and for a split second he sounded alive. It was like a beast, growling within, eating and clawing at his chest. He screamed, and for a moment he felt like her.
(this scared him like nothing else could have)
Breathless, he spat on her grave. He spat on her grave like he had never at her feet. He spat on her grave but he couldn't utter a sound. He couldn't think.
You don't control me you never controlled me
He could have become an Auror, he very nearly had. He could fight after all, and maybe it could have helped him. Sated the fierce need for fighting, eased the frustrations. He very nearly had, but in the end why bother? He didn't need the money.
You were never in control you were the Dark Lord's whore everyone despised you they just didn't dare show it and you said deal with your choices but you never chose anything and neither did I
The irony of it all – his father hadn't wanted him to join. His mother would have given her life to avoid it. Even the Dark Lord didn't much care.
She had suggested it.
She had doomed him.
You never loved me you never loved my mother you never loved you just raged and destroyed
And she had said he was a disgrace.
But she was the disgrace, she was the destruction, the hurricane, she had almost brought their downfall. She had destroyed the society she thought she was fighting for. She had torn herself apart and burned everything down. Burned her world to a cinder.
And she had laughed.
He hated her. He always had. Never had a doubt. She was crazy. She was dangerous. She was burning.
At the beginning he wanted to make her proud
Draco Malfoy just stood there, freezing, numb. He couldn't cry. He couldn't go.
He could do whatever he wanted.
Can't you do what you want now, lost little boy?
He didn't move anyway.