Title: Bleak Reverie
Rating: M (for violence and language)
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything else associated with the books and movies.
Summary: Hr/D Draco's father and best friend, Blaise Zabini, learn a precious secret of his. This is a short one-shot that I wrote in class.
His reeking breath related to the passerby of his indulgence of fire whiskey. His graceful limp and stagger was the dance of a man, who was expressing his pain to strangers. His regal, puke stained robe portrayed to the world the beautiful jaded prince, who was eternally broken.
"What have I done?", the once influential Slytherin prince asks the garbage can left in the alleyway. He kicks it, frustrated with its silence.
His blurred vision was making him dizzy. He held on to the wall and closed his eyes. In his self-made darkness, he hears a child laughing and talking somewhere far off. When he opens his eyes, he is surprised to find himself on his knees. He touches his face and is taken back by the wetness he feels. A familiar voice reminds him that crying is a sign of weakness, an expression of emotional pain used by inferior creatures known as muggles. He smirks as the tears fall down faster. He was beyond caring what his father had once taught him and what his best friend, Blaise Zabini, had once enforced. "Fucking Murderers! They took away my angel, my little Angela."
He lays his head down on the rough, urine stenched floor. Although his eyesare closed, her smile haunted him. His baby was beautiful with big, chocolate eyes and wavy blond hair. She was the only heavenly being that he would ever be able to touch. He understood this and was able to hide and protect her for four years, but those animals saw through him and learned of his secret.
"Why did she have to die? She was just a child, my child." Draco's anguished screams echoed throughout the alleyway. "I don't care if she was a fucking half-blood or if her mother was a bloody muggle because I loved them and they loved me back. They were beautiful, they were pure and hey were mine."
Draco held his head in his hands as images of his father entered his head. Images of a tall, regal man where replaced quickly with images of the same man lying dead on the ground with blood sliding down from his mouth to the beautifully, polished wood floors in the Malfoy Mansion. Next to the corpse was a dark-haired, tall young man squirming with pain. He was the loyal friend. The mysterious ex-lover.
"Are they fucking worth this much, Draco?" Blaise growled over the pain. "They are NOTHING! We are better than them. Their blood is not even pure."
"You know nothing about purity. You are a murderer." Draco lifted his arm up, aiming his wand at Blaise's chest.
"You are as much of a murderer as I am, Draco! You are far from being a saint. You have killed as many people as I have. We are one in the same."
"Don't say that! I am nothing like you!"
A deep, cold laugh erupted from Blaise's chest. Draco stepped back from shock for the inhumane sound it produced. "Don't fool yourself Draco. I've never seen you kill with your eyes closed. You love the thrill of holding another's life in your hands, especially if they are filthy, little mudbloods like your pathetic whore and dirty child. You and me…"
"Are nothing alike. This is the last blood spilled from my hands. Avada Kedavra!"
Draco sat up in a sweat. He couldn't believe that those events had only occurred an hour ago, maybe two. He had lost all track of time. Oh, how he wished that this was a nightmare. That his real life was something much different from this freak dream. He wanted a father who loved him and was proud of his son, a best friend who was kind and loyal to him, Hermione alive in a white, beautiful dress with a church organ playing as she walked towards him, and above all else, his Angela hugging him and telling him how much she loved him. What a wonderful dream.
The next morning, Draco was found dead by a local restaurant owner. Through the Daily Prophet , the public learned his secret, the actions that took place as a result, and his death, caused by complications after being hit by a variety of curses from his father and friend. The only enigma that remained was the reasoning behind the smile on his cold, pale face when the restaurant owner came upon him. If only they knew that the image of a bouncing little girl, holding his hand and giggling was the final thing he took from this world, than no one would question such a stunning anomaly on his pained face.