Dark Side— One-shot

Here I am, sitting in the dark, the blood seeping onto the floor as it travels in twisted rivers down the pale flesh of my arm. The Dark Mark glaring back at me, wisps of smoke emitted from its mask of terror, and I want to cry.

A single tear falls down my face, skimming my gaunt cheeks and landing directly upon the mark itself. It sizzles, its burning intensifies, and I cry out from the pain, the anguish…I hate it. Before I can help it, a dam bursts behind my silver eyes and I am crying, really crying, soft sobs racking my body…

I am disgusted with myself. Boys—men—don't cry, they are not weak, Malfoys are not weak…but I am crying, crying with anger and disgust and the sheer nothingness of it all. Since when has my life taken this turn? How could I have done what I have done?

I loved her, I love her still—her essence is the only thing that kept me going. When they told me to be a spy for the Dark Lord, I didn't want to—I was perfectly all right with working for him, what did it matter if he destroyed anyone that wasn't a witch or wizard…

But she, she put an end to that. With a single kiss my mindset changed permanently. She told me to act, to pretend like I cared about the Lord of my father and all those who have surrounded me, to submit vital information to Dumbledore, and save myself, and save everyone around me, and for the first time in my whole damned life…I listened. I listened to her, I did what she said, and I realized that I was creating something meaningful, that for the first time in my life I had done something that people could remember me fondly by…

But now, now she's dead, she's gone, and I'm stuck here, in a cold dungeon, crying my bloody eyes out, wanting so badly to find a Time Turner and warn her to get the hell out of there. It was my fault, entirely. How was I supposed to know that at the exact time the muggle building blew up, that she would be in there? How was I supposed to know when I planted that bomb, along with a couple of others from the Dark Side…I didn't change. She asked me to change sides, but I still had to listen to what those from the Dark Side commanded, and this—the last thing that I was ever going to do for them—this killed her. It killed Hermione Granger, the only person I have ever loved in my entire bloody life.

So the question is—now what am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to sit here and cry until the hurt has gone away and I can resume my life like a regular wizard, like my father perhaps? But I have never wanted to be like him; constantly under the surveillance of the Dark Lord himself.

I cannot live with my grief. It's intensity, surrounding me in a haze, I can't breathe, and I can't see, and I can't even feel any more. They said something to me after the horrible explosion, they said something…those of the Light Side did. "You're in the middle, Draco," they whispered. "You've got a choice. You can choose Light or Dark, and whatever it is…it'll be your decision. Our safety rests in your hands."

I know what Hermione would have wanted me to choose, and Potter, Weasley, Dumbledore…all the Light Side fighters, I know what they want of me, I am vital to them, an important source of information…but that is all I am. That is all I will ever be. And I can sit and remember Hermione for the longest time, but that will not change her opinion of me…she only wanted me to care for the Light Side…she never cared about me as a person, and I always wanted to tell her, to inform her of this…love that I felt for her. But she had Weasley, and Weasley had her, and once again love had produced a boundary that I could not step over…

Thus, the Light Side has nothing to offer for me. I have always been in the dark, their secrets, and their mission, hidden from me because I do not matter to them. Not really, anyway. They've got their spies, and one more—me—wouldn't hurt, but I am not the asset that ruins or makes their lives, as they have so kindly suggested.

So what is wrong with being on the Dark Side, after all? What is so wrong with being evil? I look at my father, and all I see is success, riches, and power…I could have that. I have already killed, blood has already marked my skin…I cannot change any of that just by transferring to the Light Side! And thus, my decision made, influenced by the memory of her smiling face…and her words when she died.

"I love you, Ron Weasley!"

They stung, their cool, cutting edge, ruining everything that I had tried to reform, and even though I had tried my hardest to change…I cannot. I am still that evil bloke, the one who will always be on the Dark Side…

I get up from the dungeon floor, apparating myself out of Malfoy Manor. It is decided then, and if I am to be on the Dark Side, to assist Lord Voldemort in anything he may require, then I might as well get started. And that means Potter. He will soon join Hermione in the throes of death, and all because of me…I will be remembered! But not for something good, no, good never gets you anywhere—I will be remembered, the Man-Who-Killed-Harry-Potter, the Man-Who-Could-Not-Love…I will be that man. All memories of her forgotten. I, Draco Malfoy, do not love, cannot love…I am a monster, an evil being, child of Lucius, I cannot reform…and I will not let them have me.

A/N: I hope you understood the last sentence, 'them' is the Light Side. I'm not expecting any reviews, I wrote this for my own pleasure and all, but if I get some, that would be awfully nice.