Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own none of the Harry Potter characters. Please, I beg of you, do not sue me! Read on, kiddies…
Insanity's Victim
The world was cruel to him. It had always been cruel to him. He was born into a family that was not really a true family at all. It was empty of love and tenderness and anything soft. All this family was was a home for pain, despair, emptiness, and hopelessness. This was his reality, in it's shattering and blinding truth, and never once did he question or rebel. This was all he had ever known. There was nothing else.
Draco Malfoy stared at himself in the mirror. His father's eyes stared back. He had realized long ago that this was all he would ever be; a shadow in reminiscence of his father. He was Lucius Malfoy's son, not Draco. He was known to others by his father, and he was unknown even unto himself. As far as he could tell, he would someday become his father, a fate that seemed inevitable. He had almost given up hope. It was fleeting, and more and more left him with every blow his father dealt.
The eyes that were his and not his continued to stare at him, seemingly empty and void of any emotion. Sometimes he wondered if there were something more, something better than this. A single tear came forth from his eye, and he wiped at it furiously. If only his father could see him now. A seventeen year old boy…man…crying. Why must I be so weak?
On impulse and in a fit of rage, he threw his fist at the mirror, breaking it upon impact. He stared at the mirror, each fragment capturing a different view of his face, distorting the image completely. He couldn't see himself clearly now, and he wondered if he ever did. He smiled, and turned his attention to his hand.
His hand was bleeding freely, the jagged cut dripping blood onto the floor of the bathroom, each drop blossoming and growing as it hit the hard floor. Draco stared at it, entranced. He had never noted how beautiful his blood was.
He reached out timidly, carefully clasping a piece of the broken mirror between his fingers and looked for the sharp edge. His blood had made him forget. He needed to forget…
The silver haired dragon took the piece of glass to his arm and pressed the sharp edge against his skin, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He pressed and dragged, bringing forth more of his crimson blood. It trailed down the curve of his arm and over his ivory skin, making a design of deepest red and the deepest despair. The world was cruel to him. It had always been cruel to him…
The small boy stared, cringing slightly, up at the man who was his father. His father stared back piercingly, and his gaze held nothing but utmost hatred. This boy was a disappointment to him, and had been since the day he was born. He crossed the room, bringing him within a foot of the small blond boy who was his son.
"Why must you be so stupid, Draco?" Lucius said in a calm smooth voice. "Why can't you manage to make me proud?"
Draco remained silent, unsure of how to respond. If he said the wrong thing his daddy would hurt him. If he waited too long to respond, his daddy would hurt him…
"Why aren't you answering me, son?" Mr. Malfoy said, saying the word 'son' with disgust. His mouth turned up in a sneer. "Can't you answer a simple question?"
Still Draco kept his silence, trying to measure if it was worth it to take a risk and answer his father.
"Well, well, well, I guess not," Lucius drawled. "Now you must be punished." He came closer until he was standing three inches from him. Then, he backhanded Draco across the face, the blow making the boy's head spin upon impact. "Are you ready to answer yet?" Draco was too stunned to reply. "I guess not." This time, he punched him in the stomach, making the small boy double over and gasp for breath. Then the elder Malfoy left the room. Draco knew he would be back shortly. He knew what he was going to fetch.
Shortly, he returned, carrying his wand in his right hand. "Imperio!" Draco screamed, tears streaming down his face. "You will kneel, and give your father the respect he deserves!" Draco knelt, unable to resist. "That's better. Now," Lucius said, genuinely smiling. "Cruico!"
White hot searing pain shot through the young boy's body, and he uttered a strange animal-like guttural sound, and he sounded much like an animal being tortured. He wished so dearly and with all his heart that the pain would end…
Draco was brought back to the present by the pain in his hand and arm, and the lightheaded feeling that comes with loss of blood. The world was spinning in a rush of color. Why had he never realized how easy it was to forget?
Draco cut another line down his arm, parallel to the first, the pain biting into his flesh. Draco smiled. How long had it been since he had smiled? He couldn't remember. It was so hard to be happy and so easy to cut and forget. How easy it would be for him to end it all now and drift off into peaceful oblivion…
His arm was smarting horribly, and he knew that this was enough for today. There was always, ironically, a tomorrow. He would return. Cutting made him happy. He looked down at his arm again, needing to see the blood, his pure, beautiful blood. It was the deepest crimson he had ever seen. God, was it beautiful.
Draco walked out of the bathroom in a daze, and looked down at his watch. The time was midnight. He was out after hours, and right now, he didn't give a damn whether or not he was caught. There were worse things than being in trouble at this school. The worst they could do would be to give him detention.
"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" The voice came from Hermione Granger who was doing her nightly rounds as a prefect. She caught him completely off guard.
"Don't mess with me right now, Mudblood. I'm not in the mood." Hermione caught sight of Draco's arm.
"Malfoy you're bleeding! What the heck did you do to yourself? Would you like me to escort you to Madame Pomfrey? I'm sure—"
"Leave me the hell alone Granger. I don't need your help or your pity. Leave me." Draco's voice was ice.
"But Malfoy, I seriously think—"
"Don't mess with me," he said again, his father's eyes flashing madly. "There are things even you don't know."
"Well, if you won't come with me, I'll be forced to summon a teacher. You're out of bed, and you're bleeding. Don't be stupid. You need medical attention."
"I don't need anything except for you to leave me be," he said, his anger growing and swelling in his chest. "I'm warning you. One more word, and you'll wish you'd left me alone. I swear it." Hermione looked from his arm to his face, and drew her wand. Draco looked at her, daring her to speak, his eyes full of fury. Hermione wondered how someone so young could appear so angry.
"Malfoy—"
"You'll pay Granger. I told you to go, and you wouldn't listen." He ran at her, and she was about to scream when he was on top of her. She was knocked to the ground, and he was straddling her thighs, and applying pressure so she could not move.
"Malfoy—"
"Shut-up."
"Malfoy—"
"I said shut-up!" Draco covered her mouth with his hand. He had always hated Hermione. Couldn't she see that he needed to be left alone? No. She was always meddling with things that were not her business and thinking she always had the answer. Yes, he loathed her more than he ever had in this moment.
Muffled screams were coming from under Draco's hand, and her breath was hot. Hermione's face had flushed, and her eyes betrayed her terror. Draco smiled.
"How do you feel, Mudblood?" Hermione mumbled something unintelligible under Draco's hand, squirming and trying to free herself all the while. She had never been so scared in her whole life. "What? You can't even answer a simple question?" Hermione writhed under him. "I guess not. Well, I suppose you must be punished." Hermione's eyes opened wider. Keeping his had firmly over her mouth, he struck her with his free hand. This reminded him of something, but he couldn't remember what exactly…
"How do you feel now, Mudblood?" he asked, loving the way he was torturing her. But Hemione lay still, for Draco had suffocated her. "Mudblood?" Still, she said nothing. Hermione Granger was dead. Draco let out a high, manic laugh. She was dead dead dead dead…
He shook her, not believing. Surly she was playing a cruel joke on him…but she wasn't even breathing. Hermione was dead.
The truth struck him, and so did a demented happiness. Draco had killed the mudblood. Now wouldn't his father be proud? Draco smiled the crazy, demented smile of a murderer. He laughed again.
Draco looked down at her face, a face that would never smile again, never utter the correct answer, never turn down in a scowl whenever he was near. Hermione was dead. Hermione was dead…
Draco, still smiling, pressed his wand into his chest. His voice became a barely audible whisper. "Avada Kedavra." The bright green light seared through his chest, and Draco was dead. What did the world have to offer a murderer who could never please his father? Nothing. Nothing at all.
The world was cruel to him. It had always been cruel to him.
Author's Note: Wow. I don't know where the idea for this story came from. I'm sorry, but they both had to die. Sorry if you wanted something more, but that's it. Please leave me a review!
For kicks,
Ella