He hates himself for what he has done. His father praises him, of course, and even Lord Voldemort is happy, which is a rare occurrence. Nonetheless, he knows he has made what must be the biggest mistake of his life, which in itself has been riddled with errors. He knows that it is not only going to affect him, but also the entire Wixarding World. Hundreds of people would die because of the prophecy that he has helped to foil.
When he had heard the stories about James and Lily Potter's morders, he had detested Peter Pettigrew from the bottom of his heart. Yes, he had believed in pureblood supremacy - he realises how foolish it is, now- but he couldn't bring himself to believe in betrayal. And yet, now, he is infinitely worse than Pettigrew. He deserves all the terrible names Potter used to call him, he tells himself. He still cannot believe he let his father talk -or rather, threaten- him into it.
He sees her standing, bound magically, at the other end of the room next to her equally helpless friends. Her real friends, the ones that didn't betray her to a monster. She is staring defiantly at him, and despite the distance, he can feel her eyes burning him. The same eyes that used to look at him with some form of admiration for overcoming his father's influence, which gave him hope, are now full of hatred. It pains him like nothing ever has before. She had trusted him, given him a second chance when no ine else had, and he is a traitor.
He has chosen a side he does not want to fight for. He has betrayed the Golden Trio and brought then straight to the dark Lord, thus ensuring the victory of the Dark side.
His already parched throat goes dry when Voldemort orders for the Mudblood to be brought forward. Then, he hears the terrible words he would rather die than obey, but yet must listen to.
"Kill her, Draco."
Notes: For Zivvy for the flash!fic gift tag! I hope you like it!