I've never felt such... Release.
It's a pity that this type of release came from something so horrible. I should feel awful, staring down at two pleading silver eyes, but I don't.
"You've driven me too far." I say to those eyes. They tear up.
Are they playing my emotions, or simply welling up with liquid fear? That's a new way to look at it... yes. He's so... beautiful. He's beautiful in the only way evil can be. Through simple sounds I can tell he's begging for a word or two. It can't happen, reason being if I remove the gag, if I hear that voice... I may lose my nerve.
Now those eyes are angry. Glaring at me. Daggers pure and simple. I reach forward to caress his face. I have never felt skin so soft. He pulled back from my hand as though I was going to slap him. Never. It would never happen.
I wonder what his obituary is going to read:
Draco Malfoy was a rude, self-important bastard. He loved to torture people endlessly that he believed were not superior, or at least on his own level. He died at the hands of an insane, however well meaning soul. There will be no viewing, no funeral and no wake. He will remain forever in an urn atop his father's mantle. He was eighteen.
I will be judged harshly for what I am about to do to one as flesh and blood as I, but he went too far, attacking Hermione. He put a freeze spell on me so I couldn't...
I couldn't help her for the simple fact that he knew I was stronger than he was and he hated that, so for the time being he remedied it. He made me watch as he, Crabbe and Goyle did the most unspeakable.
I've already taken care of Crabbe and Goyle. Godspeed to those two. God. Ha. I'm not sure whether or not even Merlin exists anymore. Hermione never came out of it. They said it was pneumonia, but I knew different.
"So here we are." I say to him. He sees the blade in my hand, a simple switchblade, but with a home made extra. A potion that will reroute blood flow of any sort directly to the victim's lungs.
He's shaking, now that is aware what is to become of him. I figure now is better a time than any, and so I put the blade to his throat. He jumped; never knowing the feel of cold steel against such tender, warm flesh.
He is to suffer just as she.