The world is falling.
I stand in the middle of the now destroyed road, tears glistening on the dead's cheeks. My ashen face shows nothing. Not fear, not resentment, nowhere near discontent.
The world as we know it is finally ending.
I fall to my knees, and now I'm laughing, I'm sobbing and, all the same, I'm only sitting there; my knees scraped and hands bruised, my wand hanging together by a thread.
I wished for this so long ago, for my life, among others, to end. I prayed for it even though religiosity makes my jaw clench uncomfortably, and now, finally, my very world that I've taken so long to build up, I can tear down in a simple week.
I will go, along with my planet, to the very gates of hell. I will once again meet our Lord, and I will tell the wretched being that I did it, not because torture is an aphrodisiac, but because I just wanted to watch the world burn. It will laugh and tell me what as wonderful job I have done, and he will whisper his name in my dreams: Voldemort.
"Harry.." I faintly said. "See?"
The blood whispered down the man's arm, giving way to pain.
"Yes, Draco; I see," my Ex-Gryffindor said.
The man in front of us, a man we used to call Headmaster, was writhing under Harry's Crucio. I saw something flash in Potter's gaze, something absolutely disgusting and horrid and ultimately terrifying. For a second I shuddered, and then went back to watching the old man's pain, realizing I wasn't imagining his screams, but simply heard them as background noise.
I nuzzled into Harry's neck, waiting for The Light to die out.
I will hold my lovers' hand, rejoicing at the warmth in my heart while I destroy others.
We will laugh and torture, burn and conquer; create the world anew..
And it will be the definition of beauty.