Disclaimer: I don't own anything .. yadda yadda yadda, just read the story.
His screams pierced the air, filled with more pain and sorrow than any one person should ever have to cope with.
He cried. Yes, he cried. Him, a Malfoy. He cried. Sobs racked his body and he fell. Landing on his knees, next to a
body. But then again, this was Hogwarts. There were always bodies here. No, he thought, not before. Not before
when laughs filled the air, and he would watch Harry Pothead and the Weasel from a distance, scowling. And
being jealous. And when I was finally happy, it was destroyed, he thought bitterly. He glanced at it, at the body. His
silver-gray eyes, clouded with tears and agony, stared into the cold, dead eyes of his father, and he was
ashamed. The eyes staring at him were the same as his, in almost every way. He wanted to … to … But then he
remembered how she loved his eyes. "Nothing like your father's." she'd whisper. She'd always know how to put a
smile on his face. And when it was time to tell everyone, he was surprised at her courage. He felt proud. Proud
that his eyes held no resemblance to those of the monster that had killed her. Yet, he'd always live with the
thought that just maybe, the last thing she'd have seen before she died was him, in his father's eyes. The tears
started up again, harder than before, but silent. Her body was never found. She hadn't been expecting it, really.
Yes, she was dueling, but she didn't think it was going to be serious. He knew her well. He knew she wouldn't
have died, had she taken it seriously. Yet, it was also his fault. He assured her, out of pity for himself, that his
father wouldn't hurt her, no matter how much he hated her family. He thought his father wouldn't hurt her,
because his father knew he loved her. The only thing that remained of her was in Lucius Malfoy's hand. He
violently ripped open his father's death grip. A lock of her auburn curls fell safely into his hand. He never wanted
to let go. He walked away, leaving his father's body to the vultures. Lucius Malfoy, who had died with a smirk on
his face, knowing that he had taken the one thing that would have made Draco feel happy, safe, and loved: the life
of Virginia Weasley.
A/N: So, that's the prologue. Short, I know. What do you think?