Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and make no money off of this. This is for fun, people!
Title: The Roads Not Taken
Word Count: 862
DramioneDrabble Prompt: road not taken
Pairings: Draco/Ginny, Draco/Ron, Draco/Snape, Draco/Pansy, Draco/Harry, Draco/Lucius, Draco/Hermione, Draco/Astoria
Warnings: - het and slash, some violence, visions/hallucinations
A/N: Teehee, I had fun including all of the major ships!
He walks into the courtroom straight and tall and stiff just as he had been taught, but his nerves are on edge. He feels nauseous, and the scenes before him blurr along their periphery.
He notices the red-headed family first, eyes still bloodshot over the loss of one of their own. His gaze alights on the only female present, Ginevra.
-Flashing eyes. Spicy ginger. Callused hands glistening with broom oil. Hot, steamy sex. Fists and fiery temper. Abandonment.-
He shakes his head to clear it only to pick up the angry glare of the youngest male, who is watching him stare at his sister.
-Pain flares as hands tighten in tuffs of copper red, yanking back brutally to slam against the far wall with shouted words and the taste of blood, always blood.-
Lowering his head, he feels more dizzy as the air becomes stale. He needs something to anchor himself. Looking around, he spots his godfather, but then his vision swims again.
-Hard ebony pools of a predator. Bitter sneers accompany poisonous fumes. Pale-on-pale skin with complimentary Dark Marks. Fear and ridicule follow on the streets.-
No, no, no. His mind is becoming cloudy with non-reality. There has to be a way out, if only he could find something familiar. There. Pansy would make it right.
-Smooth curves - shoulders to breasts to hips to legs. Biting tongue. Slammed doors that shake whole foundations.-
This is getting weird. It has to stop! He tries blinking it away. That doesn't work. He tries cursing all the gods, and Merlin, too. Nothing.
The prosecution walks in and stands to the right, Harry Potter among them.
-Hexas and insults mix with snitch chases. Tongues and teeth trail paths of muscled flesh. Same petty arguments end in great make-up sex.-
Good heavens! Is he really having dirty thoughts about Saint Potter? That's all too much to bear. His breathing quickens and his mouth goes dry. Please, say it isn't so!
He glances up hopefully as his father walks in, guarded by two Aurors and led to the defendant's station.
-His father's contemptuous voice chanting over and over again pure-blooded ideals and family faithfulness, determined that his son would still have these values. The silver cane landing blow after blow on rapidly reddening flesh. Hard cock invading tight spaces as blonde hair touches blonde hair.-
Gods, no! His own father! He is sickened by the acts, bile rising in his throat. His breathing is now harsh and shallow, and he closes his eyes in an attempt to block the visions, for visions they are. It doesn't help.
Suddenly, a friendly, low, female voice asks, "Draco, are you alright? You look a little worn by all this." Opening his eyes, he sees Hermione Granger leaning in to examine his responses. All he can do is stare at the fuzzy image.
-Her frizzy hair was always a matted mess in the mornings. He taught her all manner of spells to cast for glamour and charm but she refused to use any of them. Her lightly-teasing nature was a balm to his sould and the sex was passionate.
But the coldness at home was piercing. He had broken every belief to be with her and his ancestors did not approve. Portraits glared down at them. Doors stayed locked. Even the magic in Malfoy Manor reacted badly to her presence. She fought against the prejudices, so the tension level continued to escalate.
Mother wails. Father flies into the room casting curses. He watches horrified as the cutting-blade spell hits Hermione firmly in her breasts. Blood spurts everywhere and she collapses.
Managing to catch her, he gazes fearfully down into her eyes which, in turn, are gazing longingly up at him. He screams at her to stay alive, yet he doesn't know the counter curse and there is no hope. As he kneels there on the Indian rug, the light goes out.-
Turning away, he closes his eyes and focuses on breathing. He wants to run away, to sort through all these strange hullicinations, but he cannot, since that would bring shame to his already-tarnished family name. He feels Granger put a comforting hand on his back and he longs to give in to the embrace, but the sight of her death is too fresh and he knows he cannot take her down that path.
Still overcome, he sweeps the room again trying to find solace. The Greengrasses are not far from them. Daphne acknowledges him, and it is with relief that no vision comes when he nods back to her. Astoria, her younger sister, catches his notice and smiles timidly at him.
-Summer sunshine warms the air around a beautiful child, whose bright, grey eyes are alive with laughter. Watching him chase a butterfly in the field, peace claims his soul.-
When his eyesight clears again, it clears for good. No more fuzzy lines. No more dizziness. This is the path he knows is true.
Facing Granger again, he tells her, "There is no need for your concern, Hermione. I am quite alright. The future is, for once, starting to look better."