Falling In Glory
Draco was deep in conversation with Crabbe and Goyle; well, as deep in conversation with Crabbe and Goyle as you can be, and so didn't notice the tall, bushy haired girl with another of the ginger-haired Weasleys and Potter walking straight towards him.
"Watch it, Granger!" Draco threatened.
"Maybe if you didn't take up so much of the corridor with your swelled head, then you wouldn't whack into people!" Hermione retorted.
"Maybe if you weren't such an ignorant Mudblood then you would pay attention to where you're going!" he spat.
Suddenly Weasley was in his face, "What have we told you about calling her that?" Ron said menacingly, eyes like daggers.
"Get out of my face Weasley, before I hex you," Draco replied smugly; out of the corner of his eye he saw Crabbe and Goyle step up beside him, wands raised.
Ron and Harry lifted their wands, too, grimacing, but Hermione pulled on their arms. "Come on, he's an arrogant little swot, anyway," throwing him a look that could turn milk sour. Reluctantly, they obeyed.
"Better listen to your girlfriend Weasley, 'else my father will hear about this," Draco sneered. This comment, apparently, took it too far. Weasley whirled around, wand at the ready.
"Levi-" Weasley never finished that curse, because at that moment Snape swooped like a massive, robed bat and muttered casually, "Expelliarmus," and Weasley's wand flew from his hand and landed in the sour Potion masters sweaty palm.
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Weasley, now leave before I take more," Snape droned. Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione just huffed, grabbed his arm, and marched him off in the direction of their common room. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered at their retreating backs, but Snape and Draco simply exchanged knowing glances, Snape nodded once, and swept down the corridor.
"C'mon," Malfoy barked to his bodyguards. The ceased their scoffing instantly and followed.
Draco's sneer involuntarily fell from his face as he walked away, the thrill of taunting Scar-Head and his cohorts draining rapidly. Crabbe and Goyle were chortling behind him, but long ago he had made an art of blocking out their meaningless chatter until it was barely background noise. In fact, everything was background noise now, ever since he'd joined the Dark Lord. Draco rubbed the black twisted mark on his forearm self-consciously. He had a higher purpose now; it was his duty to his family. He remembered the cold resolve in his father's eye when he was given the task: he must not fail. But his mother… his mother had had a look of such complete sorrow and emptiness as he was branded with the Mark that brought him into the fold of glory: why would she be sad? She should rejoice that her son was about to complete the most important assignment in the Dark Lord's plan, he was to kill Albus Dumbledore, the Dark Lord's most threatening barrier between him and Harry Potter! But, Draco was not happy. He had stopped looking at his reflection in the mirror for fear of discovering the true effect this mission had on him.
"Draco? Draco?" Crabbe was grunting.
"What, what?" Draco snapped, as he so often did these days.
"Say the password. We've forgotten," Crabbe mumbled.
"Oh, why can't you two dunderheads ever do anything right, hey, peas-for-brains?" Malfoy fumed at them. "Parsletounge," he spat, and the wall slid open silently, revealing the grand, yet cold room within. It was the atmosphere Draco had grown up with in Malfoy Manor. His parents were not the friendliest of people.
The common room was empty: most people were out in the sunlight, enjoying the warm spring day, but not Draco. He was above that. The silent room, illuminated by dim green lamps, was eerie, and even faintly sinister. Draco walked over to one of the luxurious black couches and collapsed into it, shivering as the cold leather touched his bare, pale skin.
"You two. Go. Leave. I'll meet up with you later, there's something I have to do," he commanded to his companions, staring blankly into the fire that was trying bravely to bring some cheer into the stiff room. Crabbe and Goyle knew better than to argue, and abruptly the sound of their shoes on stone stopped as the wall slid back into place, and he was alone.
In this silence, his mind wandered back to his mother's expression at his Branding. Why did she look so miserable? Suddenly, the answer hit him like a blow. Because she thought he was weak! His blood boiled at the very thought. Draco Malfoy was not weak! He was the Dark Lord's favourite, his chosen one! And when he carried out his task, his Master would move in, and end Harry Potter forever, and Draco would go down in history as the one who made it all possible.
"But what if you fail?" A snide voice in his head questioned. "Severus will get all the glory, and you will simply confirm to everyone that you are, indeed, weak." "I am not weak!" his voice rang out in the cold chamber. He couldn't take this anymore. If he was completely honest with himself, he didn't really want to kill Dumbledore at all; but he couldn't think of that. Dumbledore was the enemy! And then he knew. He knew how to show everyone that he was not a weakling. Then they would see, they would all see! He leapt up off the icy sofa and sprinted out of the door, just missing the wall as it slid open to allow him to leave.
Draco ran through the corridors like a man possessed. He passed a few curious students who looked at him strangely as he screamed past, but he ignored them. Soon they would realise, he was to be feared.
He scaled the steps of the Astronomy Tower at breakneck speed, and as he reached the very top he felt the draft from the huge windows gaping out from the stone. Draco heaved himself up onto the sill and stood there, feeling the wind whipping his platinum hair. He looked down at his fellow students, the younger ones playing tag or casting joke spells on each other, the older ones lounging by the lake in little groups, laughing. "All of them, ridiculous. Soon they will know the power of the Dark Lord, and me at his right hand!" Draco thought wildly as he stared at his peers far below
"Who it weak now?" he screamed into the expanse. He felt his muscles engage as he leapt from the window into nothingness. The air was whistling in his ears as he tumbled, and he caught glimpses of the scenes around him: the people below him staring and pointing, mouths wide open with shock, the Great Lake, green and shimmering, the dark, yawning window of the tower. Draco closed his eyes, relishing the euphoria of falling, and the feeling of strength and power that filled him. He had never felt more alive.
"I'll have to make sure my father hears about this," he thought absently, and then with a thud, he felt solid earth and knew no more.