The Wretched Prince
By- M.S. Dae
Disclaimer- J.K. Rowling is not I. I is not J.K. Rowling.
"You are beautiful, but you are empty. No one could die for you."
Quick, haphazard breaths of the cold devilish atmosphere, of budding evil sears through him, through his veins, his lungs, his muddled mind. There's a moment, a split second before he opens wide a door that decides his fate completely, seals away the gentle world of dreams and games in which this itself could be mentioned in passing with a laugh, with a smile-
Smile. How long had it really been?
And in this moment he does not know. He does not care. He has but one path to follow, set not in wood, but in stone…
Kill or be killed.
The quest is that of a madman, and it has flitted through his mind time and time again, but it is irrelevant. There is no other option. Who could make this clearer for our wretched prince?
Certainly not I, Draco?
And as the time is racing, his heart desperately trying to catch up, he knows that time is no friend but a cruel salacious fiend…He flings open the door without hesitation. There is no time if he wishes to survive, and he will not let all his efforts to have been in vain.
'Expelliarmus!'
The magic wind smacks the wand out of his headmaster's crackled old hand and into the malicious night, giving our hero his first breath of fresh ribald air beneath the looming dark mark, his arm pulsating crudely, relishing in its reunion with the darkness above.
For a moment the poor deranged boy believes he is somehow capable. With every word off his crackled lips, with every bead of sweat down his pale icy skin, he fools himself into believing he is able of something so dark, so sinister, that it can render his soul torn for eternity…
To the observer it cannot be any more evident. He is just a boy. A foolish, inane boy.
But with this air of confidence, strangled and sham yet ever present, our prince tells the man before him exactly what he has set out to do.
'-I've got a job to do.'
Very good. Finish him off.
'Well, then, you must get on an do it, my dear boy.'
The dear boy's pounding heart freezes, the constant adrenaline, his once lax tongue, the very breath he takes, petrified. The child is exposed, and he cannot.
'Draco, Draco, you are not a killer.'
The elder man's gentle smile is enough to drive the boy mad. How dare this batty old crackpot even pretend to understand his predicament? But we know well, it is the voicing of his greatest fear…
Surely there's enough on the line?
Our little prince flushes in embarrassment. In rage. It is not what about this insane old fool thinks he can do-
It's about what you have to do.
Can you, Draco?
The fierce night air whips around our hero, tearing at exposed skin and his frightened eyes, which have never once been so awake, ripping ruthlessly at the leaves around him…dark, sinister…shaking the very ground on which he treads…
Tears fresh as the fear he breathes sting his shot eyes. Throbbing.
Piercing.
He could not.
Fin
A/N- The quote is from The Little Prince, taken from The Reviews Lounge Forum challenge. I hope I pinned Draco (selfish, cowardly...etc.), I've been working on this for a while, despite how short it is. His inner voice...a bit dark huh? Comments? Thanks for reading this far : )
You are beautiful
(No matter what they say)
-Dae