This one-shot is about Draco. It was written for Halloween and is the result of pure craziness, I hope you'll nevertheless enjoy your reading!

(I apologize for the mistakes, English isn't my native language)

Elie


Childish Stories and Deadly Pride

Halloween what a stupid tradition! And why did he, of all the people, have to decorate Hogwarts?

Well, he wasn't exactly in charge of the castle, rather of its exterior, of the grounds, and of the border of the forbidden forest.

He was in charge of the Halloween decoration for places where nobody would ever go at such a time of the year! Him! Draco Malfoy! Fortunately he wasn't alone, but the students he had to deal with were worried Hufflepuffs or haughty Ravenclaws, he'd been lucky enough not to suffer from any Gryffindor presence.

He'd tried to make them do all the work, but those damned cowards were too afraid to walk away from the castle. He'd have to take care of the border with the forbidden forest himself.

Truth was Draco was as scared as them, but his pride, stronger than anything else, prevented him from asking anyone to accompany him. He'd go alone and show them. Wasn't he better than them after all? It was the perfect occasion to prove it.

The pumpkins weighed nothing in the air - nobody had forbidden him from using magic, hadn't they? He'd simply put them here and there, light them with magic candles, create some giant spider-webs and his job would be done.

Where was the point anyway? The students would never go there at night, much less during the Halloween period, as for the professors they never did.

His work would certainly remain unseen. Then he had no obligation to make it well - his pride wouldn't suffer from a lame result.

As he was placing his third pumpkin (only twenty-one left!) Draco suddenly remembered some stupid rumours Crabbe had told them in the common room the night before.

Halloween was the time favoured by the strangest, the meanest, the ugliest magical creatures to go out of their hiding. Some of them were even unknown to the brightest experts due to a lack of information. The rare ones who had been able to approach those monsters had become mad because of the fear such a sight had roused in them, or had instantaneously dropped dead – scared to their bones. It was also said that others had simply been killed - experiencing a slow and painful death testified by the corpses.

Draco, in spite of the smirk he was forcing himself to keep on his lips, shuddered, unconsciously quickening his moves.

He'd do his job and go back to the safety, no, rather to the warmth of the school's walls, because he was cold, everybody knew it was the cold which made you shiver. The cold, for Draco Malfoy didn't let some childish stories scare him. This would be ridiculous.

A shriek suddenly broke the silence, making him jump higher than he had ever done. He immediately berated himself for his foolishness. To hear shrieks near this forest was perfectly normal, it shouldn't have surprised him. There was no reason to be afraid, who was afraid by the way? Certainly not him. He was... jumped again.

Something hairy had just crossed his sight. Something big, totally covered with fur, and carrying a strong smell.

Draco coughed. The smell was horrible. It was penetrating his whole body through his nose and mouth. It was as if it was taking control of him, invading him, slowly making its way to his mind, while clutching his heart into an icy hold.

Draco began to suffocate. What the hell had been this thing? Halloween monster? He tried to remember Crabbe's stories and gasped when memories struck him.

This creature – his mind was too much of a blur for him to remember its name – was known to be one of the deadliest things appearing at that fateful time. It didn't need to touch you to make you its victim, no contact, only a glance, a breath while being near it, and you were condemned.

Was there a cure? How could he know! Why wasn't he asking for help? He would, if he had some control left over his body, besides would anyone come to help him? Would anyone risk their life for a boy who would have never done the same thing?

In spite of the pain, Draco managed a smirk. Curled into a ball on the dirty ground, shaking, he was being punished for... for having been himself. He'd always been alone, preferred to be alone, his wish would now be granted forever.

He was alone in Death.

Alone and pitiful, suffering like hell, experiencing an agony which had him praying for Death to do its work faster.

Draco had always followed his pride, here was his reward.

His pride had killed him.

The End