Hi guys, this is Sarah! Please review my story; all feedback is greatly appreciated! Thank you!
Basically, this story starts in the seventh book, right before Harry and his friends are captured and taken to Malfoy Manor. Just imagine – what if Draco had somehow been a tiny bit luckier? How would the story have ended then? (Thank you imobsessedwithharrypotter for helping me come up with the idea for this story! My version is a bit different than hers, so please go look at her story as well!)
It was cold and dark in the attic of Malfoy Manor. A small, hunched figure with pale blond hair was crouched in the corner, sobs racking his body. Draco was unloved and needed by nobody – he had failed in his mission, and now the Dark Lord was making him pay the price. Solitude. Dishonor. Imprisonment. He was trapped here in this treacherous place, with no one to talk to, no one who cared, and no one who could ever even understand half the things he was going through.
Draco couldn't even think of a single reason why he should go on anymore.
Why keep trying, when all you get is disgrace? The voices inside his head whispered. Why not kill yourself, and let all the pain go away?
Draco cast a frightened glance at the dagger that lay beside his hand. Its sharp, metallic blade glinted evilly in the flickering light that poured through the room's one small window. He gulped, and grabbed hold of the knife that would end his life.
Don't worry, Draco! The voices encouraged eagerly. Everything will be better on the other side.
As one giant tear slipped down his cheek, Draco realized that he couldn't do it. The idea of leaving the world and entering the unknown was simply too daunting. With all the strength he could muster, he threw the dagger across the room. It knocked over a large cardboard box, and the contents spilled out in all directions.
Draco winced, hoping that no one downstairs had heard the noise. Quietly, he tiptoed across the dirty wooden floor. He peered at the items that had fallen out of the box and let out a muffled gasp.
They were potions. Every potion you could imagine must have been in that box. There were hiccupping potions and laughter potions, memory potions and love potions, and even a dark purple potion that Draco suspected to be the Draught of Living Death. But the one that caught Draco's eye was a glowing golden potion in a tiny glass bottle, a potion that brought him back to a fateful day in sixth year Potions Class.
Smiling, Draco uncorked the bottle. It was time to get revenge.
Please, please review!