Warnings: Half-Blood Prince Spoilers, future slash.
I do not own Harry Potter.
The Misfortune of Draco Malfoy
By MachiavellianOrange
Avada Kedavra!
The words echoed through my mind like a haunting caress, though in place of affection, waves of crazed panic and despair fluctuated throughout my soul in sharp pulses. My body was cold. My hands were numb.
A Dementor's kiss in a flash of green light. At least there was still a shadow of me, somewhere.
The two words that had passed through my mentor's lips did more than just murder the man with the crinkly beard. Something deep inside of me cried out in pain and shock, and in that instant, as I watched the still form of a human body hit the ground, lifeless, for the first time, I knew that my own life was over as well.
It was odd, Dumbledore dying. I thought I would feel good; great even. He was a hypocrite and I hated him. But it was kind of like seeing Father Christmas killed before he could give you the toy broom you begged your mother for. It was hope extinguished. The problem was that I hadn't realized that Dumbledore was my hope at the time.
It's funny how the world works. One day you wake up, brush your teeth and go to class, and then next day you're crying in the toilets, being comforted by a dead mudblood you used to laugh at.
Now where was I? In a cell? In a closet? I could have been in my own bedroom for all I knew. My eyes were shut tight and I could see no indication that there was a light around me anywhere. I opened them and nothing changed; everything was still colorless. My neck hurt and my muscles were taut. I had been lying on a stone floor for hours, ever since I woke up to an unseen world.
I had hair in my mouth.
My stomach was hungry.
I didn't kill Dumbledore.
I was going to die.