There's a fire starting in my heart.
Its reaching a fevered pitch and its bringing me out the dark.
There was only the flash of green light before it was all over. Harsh breathing escaped his lungs as the hollowness began to creep in through the panic, the jeers and cheers of the Death Eaters sounding off around him as the mission was accomplished at the hands of another. Another force, unlike his own, was pushing him forward to see the work that had been done - perhaps it was the hands of his mad Aunt Bellatrix, hopping and hollering in triumph beside him, that forced the Malfoy boy forward to appreciate the spectacle that had changed the course of the War for them in a fantastic blow. Toward the edge, Draco peered over silver eyes, widened with fear, still able to catch the last few minutes of Albus Dumbledore's fatal fall from the tower. The relaxed expression on his face, made right before he'd begged Severus Snape to spare him of his life, was the tell-tale sign that the man was long dead before his body hit the ground with a loud 'THUD.'
At the sound, Draco cringed inwardly as his aunt's claws dug into his shoulder. At the same time, he recoiled back from the edge of the tower, just in time to swallow down his dinner, threatening to spill from between his lips. A large hand swooped over his face, trembling fingers clinging around the strong line of his jaw as his breathing grew more and more staggered.
"It's done! It's done! This War is ours!" The maddened cries of Bellatrix Lestrange broke through the cheers of the Death Eaters, each swooped in a whimsical and velvet robe of black. The masks covering a few of their faces now tilted back in order for their enlightened faces of victory to be displayed. All at the same time, Bellatrix's wand shot the Dark Mark into the sky, and Draco vaguely felt the hand of his Potions Professor attempt to yank him away from the scene before the noise attracted more attention than necessary.
"Come away, Draco. Hurry."
It was unnerving how calm the voice of Severus Snape could be. The man delivered the final blow where Draco had hesitated; shot the Killing Curse a moment before the Death Eaters would've picked up on the weakness displayed on the young wizard's face. All because of his hesitation, Snape picked up the weight of Draco's task. Why? Nothing seemed to register clearly within the blond's mind at that moment, as they swiftly walked through the clearer halls of the school, the flames of the corridor lighting up with each step the traitors had taken on their way out. Only those same words repeated within Draco's mind; the ones that had started since he pointed his wand at Dumbledore's calm face and felt the weight of the world come upon his shoulders. With those words came the smell of cinnamon, and the flash of crimson hair.
"Do not do this thing! Draco, promise me you will not do this! Draco! Draco..."
She was unable to stomach the scene of the funeral. With a dizzying sickness that threatened to consume her entire body, Ginny Weasley stumbled away from the rest of the students that mourned over Dumbledore's body in its white, ivory coffin. Those closest to him - Harry Potter, for example - wept over the man who seemed to, not only be the guiding factor towards the Savior of the Wizarding World, but for many of the witches and wizards who, too, held purpose for the betterment of their community. Surely, his death dealt a blow to the morale of the Light side of the Wizarding World - most felt like they would not be able to try properly without Dumbledore's influence and knowledge of Lord Voldemort's possibilities. Ginny's family took it in one of the hardest ways. Her brother, Ron, was solemn for the majority of the time now. The Weasleys all owled the two at the school to make sure of their safety, but the letters were filled with contempt for the Death Eaters that did this; caused this fear for the future - uncertainty.
All of this was too much on Ginny, and as she'd found refuge from the gloom of despair that hung through the air like a thick fog within the Forbidden Forest, she'd slumped on a log and buried her face into her hands. What had bothered her most had not been the death of Albus Dumbledore, but the cause of said death in the first place. "I begged you not to do it. I begged you, and yet, you did it anyway. You told me you were good, Draco. You told me goodness still lived in you, and now look at what has happened! You left me behind to deal with the mess you've made!" Ginny spat out, hatefully, as the tears streamed down her face.
Draco Malfoy had always been the only man who could tie her to such emotions, ever since their first real interaction that did not involve curses flying towards the other due to their families' standing. When he'd inclined for her, during one particularly nasty duel, to dare to see past the veil that had been placed over her eyes by their family's scuffle, she recoiled. He demanded that Ginny should lay down the wand and really reach out to try to get to know him, to see that she had nothing to lose by finding out what kind of person he was. He was more than mere Death Eater scum, in his vivaciously silver-toned eyes and innocent face. She had given him that chance, being bold and boisterous in her own way, and driven to prove him wrong - that there was nothing good within his heart. Yet, he had proven her wrong.
The memories dipped into Ginny's mind, willing her to remember every soft smile he had given her, every attempt at making her laugh, and at forcing her to explode in anger during their heated debates. These continued to the moment when he told her in confidence and in truth that he was assigned to kill the symbol of the Light Side's force himself. Though terrified Draco truly was of the task, Ginny had been there for him every step of the way as his appointed Secret Keeper, to try to turn the tables and give him another way out, purely out of love.
"You killed him, Draco. You killed Dumbledore!"
"How do you know that?" There was no mistaking the voice of someone who had wept for hours, especially if that voice belonged to Harry Potter. Ginny's terrified gaze looked up into Harry's own eyes, hardened with a maelström of emotions clashing together. He was standing directly in front of her, and in Ginny's own anguish, she had not known or sensed his presence. His voice was quiet, yet his actions were not, and they stared towards Ginny as though he was gazing upon a stranger.
"I-"
One did not cross Harry at extremely emotional times, for his temper was indeed infamous. Ginny remembered the jokes about the scar being the cause of Harry's emotional instability, yet she never found those funny. One only could know how much Harry Potter actually had to deal with being touched by Tom Riddle, and from Ginny's own experiences in a similar fashion, she knew that things were always a bit unstable. She knew Harry had the potential in frightening people just as much as he did in keeping them safe; what he wanted, he mostly received. This was a moment where Harry wanted something, it was all in the attitude and way he presented himself. Ginny tucked behind a strand of hair out of nervousness - how much had he heard?
"Ginny." Harry's body had crouched down now, so the slightly red, puffy eyes of the young man would meet the Weasley's in a smash of guilt and determination. His hands reached out to softly clasp at the girl's, and inside of Ginny's mind, she begged that he would stop, that he would move away from her and pull her away from this state of agony. "I was there, the night that Dumbledore was..." His throat moved. Unable to finish that sentence, Harry continued while studying Ginny's expression with - was that hunger in his eyes? "I saw everything, and yet, right when the moment came that I could stop Malfoy from killing Dumbledore, I -"
Suddenly, Harry's mouth snapped closed, and his face wrinkled up as though it were in pain. Ginny gasped at that moment, the movement causing her to shake involuntarily at what was happening. She realized it as her mind rushed to keep up. He was Silenced, unable to speak about what happened that night. Not trusting herself to say anything, Ginny continued to stay in silence as well, waiting for the magic that bound Potter's tongue to the roof of his mouth to wear off so that Harry could finish and be done with her.
"The Ministry needs a testimony in order to help boost the morale of the War, Ginny." Harry's throat cleared, and the eyes that danced with so many emotions finally opened back up to settle upon Ginny. The weight of his request then dawned on Ginny, and the ginger-haired girl began to shake her head back and forth before she could help herself. Harry took note of this, his hands moving from the redhead's palms to her shoulders, to clasp there and keep her still as fear began to take over the coherent thoughts within Ginny's mind.
"No, Harry, no! You can't ask me to do this. I don't fully know of Malfoy's part within Dumbledore's death; I can't give you the testimony you ask for."
"Ginny, you must." Harry's look was absolute. At Ginny's refusal, Harry felt his teeth grit with dissatisfaction. His mouth opening to mimick her just moments before he had ran into her frustrated state within the Forbidden Forest. "You told me you were good, Draco. You told me goodness still lived in you, and now look at what happened. You killed Dumbledore." It pained Harry to see the look of hurt cross Ginny's face, but he knew that it had to be done. Losing Albus was the worst thing the War could experience, but if a few of the Death Eaters were sent to Azkaban as a result, especially those responsible for his death, then the Light Side would have more incentive to keep fighting. "We cannot let this be the end of us, Ginny. Listen to me. We have to give the people a reason to keep going; to keep believing in us. With Dumbledore dead, Voldemort believes that he has a chance at defeating us. He believes the Ministry will listen to his demands, but if we could put his murderers behind bars and away from society, we still have a grip on our determination. You must do this, Ginny. I cannot speak of what happened that night, but you know more about Malfoy than you let on. You know about his role, don't you? I heard you, Ginny. If you don't do this, you will only aid the people who have destroyed one of our key factors of defeating the Dark Side."
As he spoke more passionately, Ginny could only stare into Harry's determined face, and her heart threatened to crawl out of her chest. He was right - he was so right. But, how could she betray Draco? Could she betray the secrets he gave to her out of their mutual affection for each other; the way he told her everything that was consuming his peace of mind?
"I can't, Harry; you don't understand..." Usually, she was so strong. But with Harry's resolute mind, during a time where everyone was under such distress, could Ginny really afford to say no? The look of anger that crossed Harry Potter's face told Ginny of her future fate if she did not comply. He would be one of many people to call her traitor. Within her mind, Ginny knew that she could not have others hate her. She could not allow her affections to keep the Light Side from winning the war.
She could not let her love for Draco Malfoy be the key to letting Lord Voldemort win.
"I thought you were good, Ginny -" He began, but Ginny Weasley's hands clutched at Harry's shirt.
The right thing and the heart's desire never went hand in hand, but she prepared herself to tear her heart out to do what was right. "I'll do it."
That night, on the train heading towards the North, where the Eaters' current camp was stationed, Draco dreamed of the calm façade of Dumbledore's face. He stared towards the silver-eyed teen from his broken place on the ground of Hogwarts. The Dark Mark shined in the night's sky above. Draco felt the tears rush down his cheeks as he lifted the body of the man into his arms, rocking him back and forth; the humanity slipping out of his body like someone draining him of his magic.
"It wasn't me! I swear, it wasn't me! I'm good; I tried so hard to be good. I promised her I wouldn't kill you. Now, she'll never look at me again. Now she'll never, ever -"
"Ah, Mister Malfoy..." Draco was surprised when he stared down into Albus Dumbledore's deceased features to find that calm, unnerving mask directed towards him. Pale as death, his lips continue to move in barely a whisper. "You have condemned them to a Fate worse than Death. A rule underneath the power-maddened tyrant you call your Lord. You are worthy of your Mark, young one..."
"No, Dumbledore; there is good in me. She has made me realize that. I did not do this to you; Snape did, and I'm free to go. You'll see." Upon the corpse's face, a ghost of a smile had made itself clear, scaring Draco within the dream.
"You have condemned her, as well, Mister Malfoy. For one that has good inside of them, evil seems to be your specialty. Even if you did not cast the Killing Curse, you did nothing to stop it. You have condemned us all, and you shall suffer in ways unimaginable."
The whisper locked itself into Draco's brain, lodged it within his paranoia and spread across his spirit like wild-fire before he found himself awake in a cold sweat. The train was screeching itself to a halt. Taking a few deep breaths, the black cloak that hung itself on the opposite side of the compartment was pulled off and slung over his shoulders as he re-adjusted his appearance in the mirror. The last thing that Draco needed was another disheveled episode in front of the Death Eaters he was supposed to be a part of, already gaining the suspicion of his Aunt and a few others from his behaviour after that particular night. Severus had recommended that Draco keep his opinions and feelings on the matter a close secret, lest he give away the guilt he felt about Dumbledore's death and ensue the wrath of his 'comrades'. Yet, nothing would soothe the black mark on his soul, for it wasn't Dumbledore's death that had left him so shaken up. It was the betrayal he felt of condemning the Light Side, and ultimately, Ginny Weasley, to their broken Fates.
"What is going on?" he demanded from the nearest servant once he'd open the door of his compartment, only to hear the commotion of the next one over. A particularly nasty flame curse had exploded through the door of the compartment, the shrapnel of glass flying towards Draco. Dodging back into his room, he ducked low and whipped out his wand, peering in slight panic over his shoulder to see Death Eater and Order members alike, fighting one the other in fierce combat. Spells flew back and forth, the fighting pushing its way from the first compartment over to where he lived, in what he had believed to be, peace.
"You shall suffer in ways unimaginable..."
"Do not do this, Draco!"
"Severus. Please."
"Avada Kedavra!"
His free hand clutched over his head as the memories were drawn out of his chaotic mind. Draco swore underneath his breath as he pointed his wand to his temple, attempting to close off the intruder's attempts at sourcing his place by using Legilimency. Eyes closed, he finally placed the barriers of his mind intact. A pointed wand greeted his handsome face. The one was joined with several others, and Draco knew that his particular branch of Death Eaters was caught.
Malfoy knew that trying to escape to the North, right after the event, was a foolish idea. Yet, the sixth-year was shocked numb since the death, and he made no notion to protest against the Death Eaters' wants. They immediately wanted to return back to Voldemort, to celebrate their victory. The agreement was to ride in two separate trains in order to throw off any suspicion on the departures. Snape, Bellatrix, and others assumed Draco would wish to ride with them on the main locomotive, to speak more about plans of the future, but all that the young Malfoy wanted at that time was rest. Despite his Aunt's protests, Snape had agreed that, for all the strain he was put through during his year at Hogwarts, rest was the least that Draco could take. In that method, the Inner Circle did not have to listen to Draco's cries through the night due to this nightmare as well.
Yet, somehow, they were caught.
Staring into the Aurors' wands, and eventually their faces, Draco's face remained rigid and unsure as one spoke towards him.
"You're under arrest, Draco Malfoy, for the crime of casting an Unforgivable on Albus Dumbledore, which led to his death. You and the rest of this filth will be coming with us to the Ministry."