4 years ago-
The war had been won and lost.
Pushing aside the crowd, ignoring the yelps of indignation, Draco came to a standstill and let the cacophony of fireworks wash over him. Red. White. Blue. A snapping Dragon courtesy of a spectating Ronald Weasley. Draco's eyes dropped to the insufferable Joke-shop owner and felt hot, undeniable hatred slice through him like a knife.
Standing opposite him, yet world's apart, he looked the picture of tranquility as he hugged Hermione Granger to his side. Her face was full of peace too. Her head was tucked under his chin, both hands looped around his waist. As Draco watched, they shared an intimate kiss, before upturning their faces to the night sky once more.
Green. Purple. Gold.
Their eyes reflected their perfect future together.
Draco angrily took a swig from his bottle, not knowing who to hate more. His old man at home was atrocious, always ready to pay a little lip-service, and then this stupid anniversary had to come around. All the bleeding good-doers gathered in Diagon Alley, drinking and celebrating until the early hours of dawn.
So Voldemort was dead.
Was life that fucking great?
"Excuse me, sir. You're blocking my view," a voice timidly said. He turned, and saw a boy of six dressed in his pyjamas. Just behind him, were two concerned parents. The boy reflected an innocence Draco craved. Something he had lost a long time ago. He bent down on both knees, so their faces were levelled.
"Well you can bloody have it back."
The mum gasped and jerked her son back. "If I never - !"
Draco rose to his full height, putting the extra inches to good use and looked down on the father, asking for a fight. What right did he have to parade his family, on this shitty day? Draco sincerely hoped he was a good father, because it would make punching him all the more worthwhile. Everyone should be hurting. Everyone should have to feel the clawing pain, he felt, everytime he woke up in this world.
"Go on," he egged. "Hit me."
The man hesitated. Noble pretentious idiot.
The crowd gasped and scattered, as Draco lunged with a fist, but was quickly thwarted by another adversary. The mum had her wand out. She was panting hard. The spell she had produced was so potent, it had spun Draco into the air and cracked his spine against the cobbles.
Laughing, just about, Draco touched his nose, and felt blood coating his cupid's bow.
"Thank you," he said, "You have now equipped me to deal with Lucius."
And then he apparated, leaving a very traumatised family behind.
Back home in Malfoy Manor, the house-elves were running for safety. Lucius was on a warpath, and since Narcissa was still recuperating from a serious illness at St Mungo's, there was no-one to take the fall. Against advice, Draco had snuck out on the eve of Voldemort's downfall, fanning Lucius's ire.
"Wait till I get my hands on that treacherous toad," he raged, hitting an unshielded house-elf with his stick.
He didn't stop until it was dead.
"I'll wring out his puny neck and - "
He came to an abrupt stop at the foot of the stairs, a wicked smile slowly taking form. For years, the boy had been a thorn in his side. He demonstrated none of the callousness his forebearers were famed for, and almost seemed apologetic when casting the cruciatus curse on prisoners. The boy needed to learn a valuable lesson once and for all. Methodically, and with precision, he climbed the stairs towards Draco's bedroom.
It was locked. As usual.
But that wasn't what he came for. Besides the Slytherin crested door, there was a smaller, mahogany door that had a clover-leaf shaped keyhole. Smirking, he reached up with his cane and scrapped it along the top, so dust and a black iron key could unsettle and fall into his waiting hand.
"Your comeuppance, boy." He whispered.
The door swung open to reveal a massive aquarium, stretching from the ceiling to the floor. Inside it, was around thirteen dozen species thriving in the dim lights, and extensive foliage provided for them. Lucius walked down the narrow corridor, examining both sides.
Speckled, coloured, transparent, he had them all.
However they all shared one thing in common.
There wasn't a single, wretched one to be seen!
Frustrated, Lucius bent over and peered through the glass. Did Draco pre-empt this situation, and craftily move all the buggers out? He trained his eyes to see through all the green, and flowers, but all he saw was his own irritated expression reflected back at him.
He straightened up, and aimed his wand at the darkest corner of the room. "Confringo!" It went up in flames, the glass shattering outwards. As the specimens (he hoped) dissolved in a fiery carnage, he repeated the spell several times until the whole aquarium was going.
"Ahahaha - " His laughter was cut short, when he spotted a dark shadow leaping up the stairs. Draco pelted into a wall, before peeling himself off, and continuing up the next three steps to reach the landing. He howled, a dark and agonizing sound, when he saw the room he prized above all others, melting into the ground.
"FATHER!"
"Yes son?"
"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"
Lucius laughed, not taking the threat seriously and crossed his arms as Draco entered. With his hands braced against the doorsill, and soot coating one cheek, the mad crazed look in his eye looked desperate, but not formidable. It was amusing actually. Seeing his first-born crumble over the death of a few butterflies.
"Oh, good." Lucius patronised. "For a second there, I thought you outwitted me, and moved them onto a secret location. But going by your expression - I've hit the jackpot!"
With a yowl, Draco whipped out his wand and aimed the killing curse.
This immediately sobered Lucius up.
"Now, now. Try not to be foolish, Draco. Your first Avada Kedavra shouldn't be aimed at me."
"Why not!"
"I'm your father, Draco."
"Only when it suits!" The fire was affecting neither of them, each having cast a protection spell before engaging in this showdown. Draco circled his father, eyes measuring the distance, sporting a bloody nose. What weakness. Not even being able to defend against something like that. "The rest of the time you're bloody useless!"
"Come now! I'm only showing you the right path."
"Right path, father? How is raping mother, and hitting me, the right path? You've made me despise the ground you walk on, yet I respect and admire you for it. See how that is fucking with my head? I don't know whether to kill you, or start taking notes on some parchment. You clearly deserve some recognition, either way!"
"Enough!"
"Expelliarmus," a jet shot out of Draco's wand, and disarmed Lucius. At the same time, his cane was blasted away. This made him raise an eyebrow, and appraise his son properly for the first time. He was wrong to underestimate this room and the significance it had on Draco's well-being. This shrivelling mess was going to kill him. And in his death, a monster was going to be born, right in the embers of this aquarium.
"Draco - " he tried again.
"Shut up, old man. The power lies with me, not you."
"Don't do it. It will split your soul."
"What do you care about my soul?"
"At least listen to me - "
"I'M DONE LISTENING TO YOU! DON'T WORRY, I'LL LET THE WHOLE WORLD KNOW YOU DIED BY YOUR OWN HAND. BUT YOU AND I KNOW THE TRUTH, OLD MAN. I TOOK YOUR LIFE! YOUR MEANINGLESS, PATHETIC, WORTHLESS LIFE! AND IF I HAVE TO DESTROY MY SOUL IN THE PROCESS - SO BE IT!"
"No - "
"Avada Kedavra."
A wash of green swept over the room, turning the flames emerald just for a second, so it was like they were flooing directly into the gates of hell. But the glow faded, and Lucius's body fell limp to the ground, fear contorting his face. Within seconds, the protection spell failed, and flames started licking up his robes.
Panting, Draco stared down at his hand. There was no shakiness.
In fact his grip was calm and precise, despite the livefeed his brain was undergoing. A thunderous boom overheard, made Draco glance up, and realise the ceiling was on the brink of collapsing. He felt tempted to stay inside and end his life. But the best revenge would to be outlive that disintegrating corpse over there.
He stared at it.
"I don't feel any different, father. Who says you were my first."
Smirking, he stepped outside and sealed the fire inside, so it wouldn't affect the rest of the Manor. The obituary that he had written when he was fifteen, now had a chance of publication.
Four months later, in a nondescript café in London, Draco sipped the coffee he had confunded from a nearby customer. It tasted increasingly bitter, but Draco's mind was elsewhere, as his eyes remained fixed on the newspapers headline. There was a picture of Weasley and Granger, ducking inside a ramshackled house.
.
Ronald Weasley Announces Engagement!
The wizarding press waited agog, as Ronald Weasley, 19 and Hermione Granger, 20 stepped out of their abode (currently The Burrow) to a plethora of questions. A young love that blossomed under the nose of Harry Potter, it was hard to miss the loving way they touched each other, and returned each other's gazes.
"Yes, I popped the question over Christmas," Mr Weasley beamed. "She said yes, of course!" The overenthusiastic groom-to-be, grabbed his fiance's hand and showed the entire world a magnificent ring. Naturally questions arose about HOW he could afford such an extravagance, but it was quickly brushed aside.
"Okay, we're going in now," Miss Granger prematurely interrupted, ruining our fun. As they made their escape, one last question was thrown out in terms of a reasonable answer.
"Is there anyone NOT on your invitation list?!"
Mr Weasley poked his head out at that one. "Yeah, Malfoy -" he began, before he was once again pulled inside.
So you heard it here first, folks! Wedding bells loom for the the most well-reported couple this side of the century! Harry Potter better put on his skates fast, and pop the question to his respective partner, if he doesn't want to be left with mothballs covering his lightening bolt.
.
Draco snorted, and put down the paper. He grimaced as as he reached the end of the drink, and set aside the polystyrene cup. So the lovebirds were getting hitched. The world didn't stand a chance once their offspring was inevitably unleashed. Eyes soft-focused, he didn't realise he was looking at the picture again, until something stirred within his belly.
It was Granger's hair.
It kept ducking repetitively to avoid the onslaught of camera flashes. She was hiding.
Hiding.
The word strung forward a familiar set of images, one he had satisfied by keeping a walk-in aquarium at home. Now that was reduced to ash, there was nothing to show his real self too. All he did was hurt, and hurt, and hurt, but the tenderness had nowhere to go.
Subconsciously, his finger stroked the curve of her neck.
She was filthy, someone he had known since he was eleven. Not once did he think of her as a butterfly, not when he was too busy aiming insults her way. But there she was. And here he was. Gawking at her - and why couldn't he stop stroking her picture?
Rattled, Draco withdrew his hand and placed it on his lap. Now it was shaking. However much he concentrated, the slight tremors that ran through his fingerpads wouldn't stop. Had someone put a curse on the Daily Prophet, just to hide around the corner and have a good giggle?
He turned his head sharply, but of course it was paranoia.
Nobody was even looking at him.
Warily, he let his fingers drift out and yet again follow the familiar motion of stroking. The Hermione in the picture, still holding hands with Ron, peeked up at him with a defiant expression. Clearly not realising this little act, would make Draco fixate on her for years and years to come until she finally was...
"Mine."
AN: Wowzar. What a treat that was to write. I always put 110% into emotions, and as Draco is a dark, complex character I hope I'm giving him justice. Everytime I write a chapter for this story, it gives me chills. I've never had that before.
Your reviews give me inspiration, so please make your presence known.