Disclaimer: I don't own. Go pester the nice Scottish lady if you want to buy Harry Potter, you crazy people!
WARNINGS: minor character deaths, VERY slight Draco/Ron, hints of Hermione/Harry and Dumbledore/McGonagall, some cursing.
-Not Quite Here-
He wasn't crazy. He wasn't.
It was them that were the crazy ones; he was more rational than all of them combined.
And what did he get? A bloody prison cell and a fucking Dark Mark.
His hand clenched involuntarily around his forearm as another burn of pain coursed through him.
In the cell next to him, someone sobbed and shrieked at invisible foes. His fingers twitched. He was going to kill that piece of shit when he got out of his prison.
The air suddenly froze, and he shuddered as he looked up at the guard. Its face was hooded as always, and a rotting hand was pushing food through the bars. Its breath rattled as it exhaled. As suddenly as it had come, it was gone.
He threw himself at the food, shaking with hunger. The fool in the cell next to him hiccuped and tittered. The prat was insane.
All too soon, the food was gone, and he crawled back to his cot. His forearm gave one last, volatile twinge. He closed his eyes, trying to rest.
What he got was a mockery of sleep. He was plagued by memories-killing the Weasley girl; relentlessly torturing Longbottom; laughing at the Mudblood as she killed herself. He had enjoyed the screams of Weasley and Longbottom...
He performed the Cruciatus Curse on Longbottom, but the girl intervened, so he killed her. A single flash of green light, and she was gone. Longbottom was convulsing and whimpering, and he yearned for a more delightful activity.
His eyes found a certain Hermione Granger. She was fighting back to back with a former professor, Remus Lupin. A smirk eased itself onto his face; this could prove interesting.
The witch was under his thumb, easy as pie. She fought it, but it was futile. Kill them all. And yourself. One simple spell from her lips and every person within a foot-and-a-half radius of her was dead.
A laugh that had been simmering in the bottom of his chest began to bubble from him in peals of evil jubilation.
He woke to the searing pain in his arm. He glanced at the cell door and saw, with slight apprehension, a dementor opening his door. His gaol dropped several degrees. The guard bound his wrists and led him out. Not surprisingly, the Golden Duo-formerly trio; he had seen to that-waited for him.
"Come to claim a piece of me for your dearest sibling, eh, Weasley?" he croaked.
"You little!" Weasley snarled. He lunged forward, but Potter made him stop. "Can it, Malfoy." he growled.
The former Slytherin grinned maniacally.
"You, Draco Malfoy, have been charged of murdering and torturing upwards of fifty people. Who did you...violate?"
Due to the Veritaserum that had been forced down his throat, he was obliged to answer. He smiled thoughtfully. Most of them were Muggles, so he named the ten or so witches and wizards. "Seamus Finnigan. Neville Longbottom. Hannah Abbott. Dean Thomas. Remus Lupin. Ginny Weasley. Minerva McGonagall. Justin Finch-Fletchley. Hermione Granger." He fell silent.
"Do you feel any remorse over these felonies?"
Malfoy chuckled, much to the astonishment of everyone present. "Of course not! It was quite pleasurable to watch them, screaming for mercy, begging for the end-"
"Enough." Albus Dumbledore stood and every pair of eyes-bar Draco's-were on him. "It is obvious that this young man is guilty of his crimes and cares not about the repercussions of these malevolent acts. All in favor of the Dementor's Kiss, raise your hands." Every hand in the room rose. "All in favor of..." He never finished the sentence, because of the most peculiar thing: Laughter.
Dumbledore slowly turned to face his former student. Draco Malfoy was laughing fit to burst. A pained look crossed the headmaster's face. "Is something funny, Mr. Malfoy?"
Slowly the young man's gales of laughter subsided to the odd giggle. "Oh, nothing, Professor. It's just that I can't believe I did it." Fat tears coursed down his cheeks. "I thought I was going to die, but here I am, off to be Kissed!" His mad gaze fell upon Harry. "Did you ever bed her, Potter? Or did she die a virgin?"
Harry leapt to his feet, but Dumbledore held out a hand to stop him. "That's quite enough, Mr. Malfoy."
Malfoy inclined his head in a mocking bow. "As you wish, Professor." Dumbledore gestured to a pair of wizards by one of the two doors out of the room. They obediently opened it to allow a dementor inside.
The dementor hastened to Draco's side and the chair unchained him. It steered him toward the doorway it had just come through. The former Death Eater just laughed. It echoed as a last testimony throughout the silent dungeon.
Just as he reached the door, Malfoy stopped. The dementor, amazingly, paused as well. The doomed boy locked gazes with Ron for a moment, and in those frenzied eyes, the red head caught sight of a shred of remorse. But still he laughed; and still his eyes screamed I'm sorry.
The dementor swept Malfoy out of the room. A particularly pious witch crossed herself.
The room began to buzz about what they had just witnessed, all except three: Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley.
"He was sorry, Harry. I saw it!" whispered Ron.
"Only because he was off to be Kissed. He was crazy, Ron, laughing like that." the other responded.
Dumbledore apparently heard this comment, for he turned to them with a sad and slightly wistful smile on his face. "Sometimes what the crazed have to say makes more sense that our sanity percieves."