The Serpent's Duty
"Myrtle, I'm scared." The young man looked up at her, his eyes filled with fear and pain. She reached out her arms to hold him but stopped before touching him. She could see him through her palms. He bowed his head, pressing his hands to his eyes. Myrtle shoved her hands back into her pockets. Her robes were cool and felt like water against her insubstantial skin. She wanted to comfort the beautiful creature weeping before her, but his tangible body was beyond her grasp.
"I know." She didn't know what else to say, but she had to keep talking, praying that her words would wrap around him as her arms could not. "Oh, Draco, I know."
"I-" Draco gasped, choking down his sobs, "I don't want to do this. I don't want… I don't want to die; I don't want to kill anyone; I don't want some new regime or pure world! I don't care about his stupid cause!" Draco's fist slammed into the porcelain sink, splitting the skin on his knuckle. He didn't seem to notice the blood slowly crawling down his fingers, just collapsing onto the cold tiles and bringing his hands back to press against his red, tearful eyes. Myrtle watched him bleed and for the first time felt no jealousy for his beating heart and living flesh. She didn't want to live in world so saturated with mortality. She saw Draco living and dying in one moment, his beating heart breaking.
"Draco, why-" Myrtle was cut off by the door slamming open. Draco's head shot up and, recognizing the intruder, his eyes narrowed in anger. It was his fault. This bastard was the reason for all his sorrow and now he'd come to mock the pain he'd caused. Draco grabbed his wand and stood, opening his mouth to curse the parody of a human being that had stood over him, sneering at the lachrymose mess on the bathroom floor.
A searing pain cut into Draco's chest and the curse failed on his lips. He was falling, unsure if he had yet hit the floor. All he could feel was the deep rent in his body. He was vaguely aware of Myrtle screaming and the shadow bending over him.
This was his last chance. He was dying. Listen! He wanted to shout. Listen! He had to tell her. She had asked him why and he had to answer. He was dying, he was sure. He didn't care to save his name or make sure he was remembered well, but he was compelled, desperate to speak.
"I just want my father back." Draco's voice was a whisper that he himself couldn't even hear over the ghost's wailing, but his eyes locked with his murderer's and he prayed that the other boy had heard. You can understand that, can't you?
x x x x x x x x x x x x x
Bright white lights burned into his eyes as he awoke. He blinked a few times and looked around him. The Hospital Wing. So he wasn't dead after all. He wasn't sure if he was happy about that or not. Taking stock of his surroundings he saw his school bag had been placed beside his bed, leaning against the wall. He did his best not to hurt himself as he reached for the bag and dragged it onto his bed. He pulled out a slip of parchment and a pen. He sucked on the end of the pen for a few minutes before scribbling across the parchment.
Innocence, Ignorance, gone, I am not
Valor, Grace, or any such Strength I am
Hopeless, so Fearless, and bidding farewell
To Goodness, Remorse, and welcoming Hell.
Service I promise so long as it serves me,
Loyalty vowed so long as it aids me,
Your confidence keep, but heed me, should you
Strike at my head, I will strike at your heel.
\"I am doing this for my father." Draco grabbed his wand and with a flick of his wrist ignited the parchment and watched his words disintegrate into smoke.
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Author's Note: "Hopeless, so Fearless and bidding farewell to Goodness Remorse…" is a reference to the line from Milton's Paradise Lost, "Farewell hope and with hope, farewell fear, farewell remorse, all good to me is lost." "Should you strike at my head, I will strike at your heel," is a reference to Genesis 3:15.