AN: This is my first Harry Potter fic, feedback is greatly appreciated (no flames please).
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, why would I be writing fanfic? I own nothing, don't sue.
Heavy raindrops ram into the pavement, lightning illuminates the ominous black sky with jittery blue bolts. The sound of the roaring thunder is ringing through my ears and still I sit unmoving. It is so strange to see people walking around, innocently going on with their daily lives, completely unaware of the imminent danger they are in. They are truly ignorant to the fact that this may be the last time they do their menial chores, even if they do survive.
Even stranger yet is that the fate of the free world may not lie in the hands of "The Boy Who Lived," but instead in my own. Draco Malfoy, the root of all evil, may be only chance Potter's side has. So I remain seated on a street curb, gathering my thoughts. They carry me back to the previous day when I received a visit from a member of the not-so-secret Order of the Phoenix.
"Tell me, Draco, is this how you truly want to be remembered at the end of all of this? A traitor to all wizards..."
"TRAITOR?! It's you and your precious band of do-gooders who've let those filthy mudbloods infiltrate our world!"
My interruption went unnoticed by the speaker. "You're a murderer, Draco. And what's worse is that you're not even murdering for yourself, you're taking countless lives for a wizard who'd let you go to Azkaban without giving it a second thought. You're just another one of his worthless minions. Is that what the infamous Draco Malfoy has been reduced to, some wizard's scapegoat?"
"I'm not a scapegoat!" I screamed, but even as I said the words I knew they were lies.
"You have a chance to make something of yourself. Take it! I did."
"Yeah, and look where it got you. You're Potter's bitch just like the rest of them!"
I watched as his eyes flashed in anger. A malicious smile slowly formed on my face when I realized I hit a weak spot. "Don't talk about things you don't know," he growled in a low voice.
"I can talk about whatever the hell I like! I remember the days when I used to look up to you– what was I thinking?"
" I know you, Draco. I know you don't care about mudbloods. I don't see your father or the Dark Lord anywhere, you don't have to put on an act." He was becoming desperate.
" So what if this is an act? Just because I don't care about mudbloods doesn't mean I'm going to pick up a trumpet and join the Harry Potter marching band."
"The Dark Lord's power is waning; you know it and he knows it. A new world is about to dawn, why are you falling down with the old one? Be strong and fight with us."
"And then do what? Jump on the bandwagon and become one of you, St. Potter's rescue squad? I don't reckon that'll happen, Snape."
"Don't let Harry Potter make the decision for you. Just think about it. You know where to find us."
With those parting words, my old professor disapparated, leaving me alone with my uncertainty. I suspect he'd be happy to know that his words have been haunting me since our meeting.
I would like to say that this conversation had absolutely no effect on me, that I feel complete conviction in the Dark Lord's purpose, but I can't. When did everything get so complicated? All my life I've never doubted anything about my position in this conflict, why would I start now?
As I sit here all I can think about is the "good old days" back at Hogwarts. Those were the days when a good insult could fix everything for at least a week. It is hard for me to believe there was a time when the fate of the world wasn't on the line. I wish I had one day more to think about my choices. I wish I didn't have choices.
Yet there is truth in Snape's words: I can't let Harry Potter make this decision for me. I can't allow my hatred to cancel out the idea of taking his side in this final battle. Not everything is about the famous Harry Potter.
When I was young I had visions of greatness. I dreamed of being the Dark Lord's right hand– not literally of course. I dreamed that one day, should he fall, that I would be the new Dark Lord. When I look back on those dreams I know that I was raised to desire such evil; the question is whether or not I still desire that same evil.
Suddenly, I am jerked out of my thoughts by some woman trampling all over me and wacking me with her unnaturally large shopping bag with every step she takes.
"Watch where you're going, you crazy bloody witch!" I yell.
She quickly walked away with a huff, her feathers clearly ruffled.
The interruption is a chance for me to get some perspective on the situation at hand. It seems that all my complaints only prove that my life is shit, but that is no reason to save Potter's skin. Still, if I side with the Dark Lord then I am selling myself short. I could never face myself again if I waste my life away serving somebody who will never even see my power. Draco Malfoy is no one's lackey! It's not about siding with Potter, it's about siding with myself, it's about making my presence in the wizarding world known– and not just through my father.
It's also about leaving my family forever, about never seeing my parents again. I don't particularly mourn the loss of my parents, but they are all I've ever known. Betraying the Malfoy's will turn my world inside out, maybe even literally (they are all quite good at curses).
It is with a heavy heart that I finally arrive at my final decision. Now all I can do is hope that it is the right one. A pop is heard as I apparate to where my loyalties truly lie.
AN: Thanks for reading! Now it's time to review. I'm desperate for feedback on this. Tell me if I should continue. I'm not really sure I like the whole first-person thing. Thanks again!