Scooter: ((EDIT!: I just saw the movie again last night and I realized I left one thing out. . . . Maybe two. I dunno. I don't know if it adds or takes the impact of this story, but I just had an urge to put it up. XD)) Just FYI. . . . I take no pride in this story. I liked the idea . . . when it was in my head!! I just butchered it when it came out. ((sighs)) So this is NOT my best writing. This is probably my 7th grade skill comin' at ya. So, bear with, please. So. . . . Enjoy? ((nervous laugh))
Confusion
He knew he couldn't do it.
That was the thought that had been running through Draco Malfoy's head ever since he had pointed his wand at the Headmaster. That was the thought that was running through Draco Malfoy's head now as he ran with the Death Eaters through the halls. The Dark Lord would surely punish him now that he had so obviously failed in his mission.
It was bittersweet, this feeling in his chest and stomach: on the Hogwarts Express, he had calmly told Blaise what a pathetic excuse for a school Hogwarts was. And then he had looked on in horror as his aunt practically danced on the tables of the Great Hall, kicking the glasses and plates off onto the floor. He was so confused! He didn't know what to think anymore. One moment he's telling his friends that he hated this school, and the next. . . . The next he felt he was going to be sick watching Bellatrix destroy it.
One of the Death Eaters grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and shoved him forward: a silent command to keep him moving.
The Dark Lord had given him an order: Kill Dumbledore. He was terrified. All of his attempts failed to reach the Headmaster, and Potter. . . . He had known from the start, even if it was merely a hunch. Damn Lovegood! If it hadn't been for her, Potter would still be in London!
Draco supposed he felt a sick sort of pride at first: the Dark Lord was giving him such a great task. Such a great and important task. That pride has been dissolving into a feeling of dark horror and fear. The severity of the situation just struck the Slytherin with full force: Professor Dumbledore was dead. Professor Snape had killed him because he himself was unable to. A part of him was confused. So bloody confused! Half of him wished that Potter had killed him with that spell. . . . What had it been? Spectempra? Sectumerpa? Sectumsempra. That's what it was. But it's not like it mattered; he was alive, and had to live with what he had just seen.
This was all just so confusing. Was he going to be punished for not being able to kill the Headmaster?
His breathing came in sharp and fast in his own ears, his side stitching up. He was glad they were all running; he didn't want any of the Death Eaters to hear his pounding heart. Draco couldn't help but let out a small gasp, however, when suddenly Hagrid's hut was set on fire. He hated the bloody oaf, he really did, but he couldn't help but hope that he and that bloody dog was out. He heard someone - Potter - call out, and he heard that spell again.
"SECTUMSEMPRA!"
He almost turned to look, but Bellatrix gave him a not-so-gentle tap on the shoulder to keep him moving.
The only thing going through his head was: I knew I couldn't do it. . . .
Scooter: I'm ashamed. I really, really am. I shouldn't have uploaded this. ((sigh)) Anyway, not proud of this, like I said. I just screwed Draco Malfoy up reeeeaaaal good. Anyway, seeya next time.
~~Scooter~~
