Nothing Matters Without You, Father

"No mom, I want to go. Father would want me there."

"Draco, you're too young..."

"I'm going."

That was the last thing me and mother said. The last thing we spoke of, while you were still alive. But now, as I stand here, staring at the darkened sky above the few mourners that showed up to pay their last respects, it hits me. You're never coming back.

It must have been great. Knowing the precise time and place that your death would occur. Knowing how it would happen and who would watch. That must have been the ideal death. That's how I want to go out. With the knowledge that you had.

It must have been frightening though, father. Having a dementor's cold face pressed up against yours. Then, having that tiny light of a soul sucked right out of your mouth. I never knew souls were so small. And now that I think about it, I don't really know why everyone makes such a big deal about it. I mean, I've been told that I have a black soul. Or that it's not even there. Is that the same as being a hollow shell? As being someone who can't care; can't love?

Mother's hand appears on my shoulder. I want so desperately to push her away, make her leave me the hell alone, but, as if by some magical force, I feel that I cannot. I never really cared too much for you and mother and your displays of random affection. Occasionally, during this whole damn funeral, I found myself wishing that it was her who was dead, and you who was staring at the cold gray sky along with me.

I don't know how I'll be able to live on with just a mother. Damn women and their sentiment. I don't know how I'll live on at all, knowing that the only person I ever looked up to is dead.

Father, do you remember when I was a little boy? When I used to ask such stupid questions? Do you remember a certain question I asked when I must have been about, five or six years old? I asked you if you and I could die together. You laughed and tried to reassure me without losing that cold stature you had kept all your life. You told me that you would live forever because the Dark Lord was capable of anything, even making you immortal. In my younger days, that was a very comforting thought. Thinking that my father could live on forever. But alas, you lied, like you did so many times before.

I remember everything you ever told me. Everything. When you told me that the mark on your wrist was just a pretty piece of artwork. When you told me that when it burned, it meant that someone far away was angry with someone else. When you told me that I would never amount to anything unless I joined the Dark Lord. Everything.

Had you lived just a few more years, I might have been dumb enough to believe you. It might be me in that coffin. My soul that the dementor is snacking on. And mother would be crying over me, instead of you.

Do you think she'll cry at my funeral? Sure she would, she's my mother. But do you think she'll mean it? Really cry with feeling behind her tears? Or will it be more of a "pity my son's dead" type of cry. No matter, I'll find my answer soon enough.

Mother's hand gently pulls on my shoulder, beckoning me to the car. Part of me wants to leave. But the bigger part of me wants to stay. Something inside of me says I'm not done here. Not done with you. Not ready...

To let go.

"Mother..." I plead, standing my ground. I look, for the first time, upon your coffin. The soft chuff of the shovels drifts through my ears as the dirt is placed upon your coffin. Solid gold. You always wanted the best, didn't you father. Always wanted people to go out of their way to please you. Well, at least you lucked out and died wealthy.

I can't believe you're actually gone. My bitterness and hatred towards you and your empty promises and all your lies slowly melts away as I remember the good times we had.

My first magical outburst when I was angry at mother and turned her hair red, unintentionally. You laughed and changed her hair back, patting me on the back saying "He's a Malfoy alright!" I was so proud that day. I must have been the happiest nine-year-old in all of London. After years of feeling as though I didn't fit in with the family, you told me that I did. You called me a Malfoy.

Before I am aware of what is happening, a single tear rolls down my cheek. There will never be another time for you to tell me how proud you are. To tell me how great of a son I am. I now have no one to seek fatherly advice from. I feel so... So...

Angry.

Mother breaks my thoughts as she buries her aging head into my shoulder, sobbing quietly. I once again ignore her. She knows not what it is like to have lost the one person you ever wanted to be like. The one person you could ever relate to. The one person who was ever truly there in your time of need.

You were that person, and now you're gone.

Mother turns away, and I hate to say it, but I'm glad she's done touching me. I was never one for affection. I never much cared for hugs and kisses from the family. There is that Parkinson girl, but my heart has no room to think of her now. It's busy swelling with anger and grief over your death.

Finally it becomes too much and I turn away, storming towards the car. A nice, black, stretch limousine. Once again, you were thinking of putting on a show. Making your death as showy and as flashy as possible. It's as if its your final gift. A nice car to ride home in. Oh goody.

I remember the only gift I ever truly treasured. My Nimbus 2001. You bought it for me at my second year at Hogwarts to beat that bastard Potter. I hate to say I was defeated, but defeat is a thing of the past, and now, is considered one of my happier memories as I stare at the disappearing mound of fresh, overturned earth, underneath which, you now reside.

I remember how angry I had felt when I heard about the dementors catching you. I remember how angry I felt when mother told me that you would be killed and that she wanted me to stay behind. I remember how helpless I felt when I stood behind the glass window, watching as the dementor lowered its hungry head to your lips.

Rain begins to fall outside and it is then that I realize that nothing matters to me anymore. Nothing matters with you, father. My entire life has been devoted to sucking up to you, striving for your acceptance. Now that you're not there to give it to me, what point is there to living?

Slowly, I move my hand to the pocket of my emerald dress robes. Relief washes over me as I realize that my wand is there. I think to myself of the incantation, and look over to mother. She just witnessed the death of her husband, she doesn't deserve to watch it fall upon her only son as well.

The car stops and I let myself out, walking into our empty house. Normally there would be noises of you running down the stairs to greet mother with your sentiment. I storm towards the stairs. I just want to get away from her. She's going to want to... talk.

I slump my shoulders and walk up all of our forty stairs. Why did you insist on having so many installed? Why couldn't you make it easier on all of us and get an elevator of some sort? Sighing heavily, I make it to my bedroom, rip the door open, and slam the blasted thing shut. Nothing makes me more happy than to be alone. Finally able to grieve.

I can't hold it in any more. I collapse on my bed and before I know it, my eyes begin leaking. I bury my face in my elbow to keep from making noise. My body starts shaking in rapid spasms. This has only happened once in my entire life. The day you were arrested.

I look up and see a recent photograph of you stuck to my wall. A photo that mother forced you to take. You're sitting on a pedestal, with your hair tied back in a perfect silk ribbon. Every little while, you turn your head conceidedly. You were exceedingly arrogant, and I'm not afraid to say it.

I grab the photo and sit up, dangling my growing legs off the edge of my bed. I stare at the picture as my eyes leak even more furiously. I can't take it. Mother's not around. I grab for my wand...

There's a click at my door and I quickly draw my hand back. I don't need to look to see who it is. There's only one person it can be.

Mother.

She walks over to me and catches me with my leaky eyes. Somehow, it hurts her and she gathers me into her arms, rocking me back and forth, just like she did when I was a child. My mind begins flashing random images out of control. This must be what happens when people say they see their lives 'flash before their eyes.' My mind is spinning. Mother's rocking isn't helping. My anger, my hatred, my malcontent, all melt away and I find myself clutching mother's arm saying:

"I want Daddy..."

What the hell has come over me! I haven't called you 'daddy' for almost ten years now! My anger returns, biting at my heart like a rabid beast. I don't even hear mother offer words of comfort. Suddenly, the only color I can see is red. I want her gone! I want everything I've ever known to be blown to pieces!

I shove her away yelling, "Just get out! I need to be alone!" She looks at me, hurt and confused, and walks closer to me. I shove her away again, knowing that you would frown upon my actions. She stands there, dumfounded, as if waiting for you to come in and usher her away. I kind of wish you would.

But when you don't, she gets the hint and just leaves, closing the door behind her. Once the door is closed, I figure that it's now or never. She begins screaming your name on the other side of the door, but I couldn't care less. I just want to get over with my evil deed.

I draw my wand and think of the incantation.

"Ava--" The words get caught in my throat. As if a part of me wants to stay in this hell-hole. I shake my head and look at your arrogant picture one last time. I cross my eyebrows and point my wand at it, angrily making it burst into flames and disappear entirely.

Finally, I feel as if what I am about to do is right. I point the wand at my chest. Suddenly my bedroom door opens and mother is standing there, her tear-stained face rendering a look of sheer terror.

Then I realize that it is not her I should be angry at. I shouldn't have pushed her away. I shouldn't have completely ignored her. I shouldn't have favored you over her. I wasn't even mad at you. I was mad at...

Myself for being a lousy son.

I know what I must do, and what I must say to make things right. "I love you mom," are my last heart-felt words to the woman who birthed me. The only woman who is feeling anything even remotely close to the pain in my heart. My eyes leak and a single droplet of water falls down my face for the last time.

"DRACO NO!" she yells, struggling to move towards me. I know that if I don't do it now, she'll stop me and I'll live even longer. I gather my courage and shout the incantation as loud as I can.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" A red light shoots out of my beloved wand and through my chest. I fall to the floor, my eyes wide open. It has to be the scariest thing I've ever experienced. No one ever told me that you stay conscious after Avada Kedavra. I watch helplessly as mother runs to me and picks up my head.

Now I know what a terrible mistake I've made. If only I could take it back. If only I could find a way to tell her I'm sorry. If only there was a way that I would not have to watch my own mother take her life as well.

If only... If only...

END

A/N: Sorry for it being so dark and sad. This is actually a spin-off from "I'll Meet You At The Gate" and I must say, I am quite proud of it. -wiggles- It may be sad, but this has to be one of my greater works. In case you couldn't tell, this was completely from Draco's point of view, and the other one "I'll Meet You..." (It's late and I'm tired of typing the name) is the same events in the same order only from Narcissa's point of view. I was thinking of doing a Lucius one, but that idea has yet to come to me. My muse needs a nap. Any suggestions and positive feedback are much appreciated. Oh, and please excuse any gramatical/spelling errors (if any) I didn't run this through spell check. I wanted to post it as soon as possible! I wrote it all in one sitting! Much love!

-Twichy