Title: But I Am A Coward
Rating: T
Couple: Implies Draco/Harry
Draco was a mess, but he was dead, so he guessed he couldn't complain.
It had happened so fast, so unexpected. The image of the raven's shocked expression as he fell to his death kept replaying over and over in his head.
Oh, Harry.
He felt tears well up in the crevices of his eyes, but willed them away by shire force. He would not cry, he would not be weak, especially with The Dark Lord at his strongest and most likely to kill.
Oh, Harry. What have you done?
It was chaos, utter chaos. Draco couldn't count the amount of mass murders that had taken place in the past three days, let alone the past two weeks. Imperio and Crucio were thrown around like children's toys and The Dark Lord was not happy with the lack of respect shown his way.
But he was certain he would get his way with Harry Potter dead and long gone. "Their Chosen One has fallen and failed them. They will stop this ridiculous game soon and then I will have my way with them!" he had laughed then, a cruel and high pitched rattle.
Oh, Harry. What have you done? There is no hope.
Draco had to kill adults and children alike. There was no choice and no way out anymore. He had been marked; he was one of them and so he was given the honour of killing mudbloods and blood traitors and anyone who got in the way of The Plan.
There had been a boy around ten, who had walked towards Draco as if in a trance and had whimpered about food and his dying mother. He was tortured before Draco could think to do anything; he could still hear the screams of pain and the tears that had fallen down the boys cheeks. Draco had been the one to fire the Avada Kedavra, however half-heartedly; he had been the one to see the lights go out of his eyes.
Oh, Harry. What have you done? There is no hope. There is no innocence.
When he was a child this was his dream. Draco knew he was pure, knew he was smarter and better than any Weasley or Potter had ever been.
His father would whisper the same words to Draco every night for years, "Power will be ours soon, son. Someday the Malfoy name will mean more than it ever has and you will be there at the forefront beside me. Right now you dream of this, but it will be reality - mark my words!"
As he grew older he yearned for that recognition, that respect. He wanted this, he wanted the power and the strength. To him there were no consequences, only his birth right and those too blind to see it.
And I got exactly what I wanted and deserved, didn't I, Harry?
But there was Potter and his Gryffindor nature and he was such a bother, such a threat even thought Draco would never admit it. "Show him the Malfoy name and what it means, Draco. Potter is nothing but a combination of what people want and need him to be. Behind that he is a broken skeleton that will not get far in this War!"
And so Draco had showed him the Malfoy name through dirty tricks and sly moves. Potter attacked the bait without a thought like the lion he was, and Draco laid low and coiled like the serpent he had been groomed to be.
But something changed and it stopped being a game.
Draco remembered the first time Potter threw an Unforgivable at him, how it had soared inches above his head and then been absorbed by a nearby shield. He'd turned back then, wand raised high and looked into his nemesis's eyes. They burned like fire and produced a deep red aura. Draco took two steps back and his wand wavered while Potter laughed like a mad-man. "I see you, Malfoy, I see you for what you are and you are a coward!"
Draco's proud stance faltered, but for only a second, "At least I'm not on the losing side here, Potter. You are. You are going to lose everything and me? I'm going to get everything I ever wanted." Potter smiled bitterly, "Ah, you still don't understand, Malfoy. This is War and nobody ever truly wins. You'll understand that soon enough."
And I have, Harry, I have.
He stoodd there on top of the mountain over looking the ruins of a recent attack; there was no one in sight except for him and his shadow. "I am heavy heart and there's no more time for me to go," he sighed, "No more hope, no more innocence, only blood shed and blood lust remains."
He jumped into oblivion.
Oh, Harry. But I am a coward.