Behind those Grey eyes
In a dark stone hall, a boy could be seen scrubbing the floor. Though grandly furnished, the hall gave an appearance on evilness, the stale air, its high, unreachable ceilings, and its cold, gleaming walls would certainly drive away all the passer-bys. Threfore it seemed completely pointless for the silky haired boy to be polishing it so furiously, after all, anyone who would visit such a place would surely be out of their minds.
Draco Malfoy, however, knew better. He knew that if he left a single speck of dust behind, the consequences would be unthinkable, he also happened to know whom he should be expecting- the Dark Lord and his captives.
Draco was no longer that arrogant Slytherin, a few months with Voldemort had changed all that. He had learnt his place, and was told to be content to serve that Dark Lord as a servant. Yes, after all he had done, he was rewarded with the lowest of the low jobs, being not much better than a house-elf, he was now, a servant. Of course, the haughty pure-blood tried to fight, to rebel, but everytime, his attempt would be crushed with a blow so severe that that all the spirit left him, replaced by nothing but hatred, and a burning desire to revenge. He did not know whom he hated the most, the Dark Lord, who made him the animal he is now, or his father, whose desire for power overrode paternal love.
Draco was just finishing off when they entered. A shiver ran down his spine when he saw, or rather, felt, the presence of Voldemort. The black cloak, the bloodless skin and those narrowed eyes gave an impression of a corpse rather than human. The second person he saw was that red-head, Ron Weasley. Ron's face was in an angry shade of red, so vivid and fiery, that it rivaled the colour of his hair. His expression of surprise quickly turned into a scowl when he saw Draco, hardly surprising after all their arguments back in Hogwarts. He was being prodded forward by Peter Pettigrew, whose scurrying feet showed that he was eager to be as far away as possible from the next captive, Harry Potter.
Harry, like Ron, glared at Draco when he saw him, but this was quickly replaced by a look of defeat. Yes, even Harry Potter knew that he had finally lost the battle, the Boy-who-lived was finally going to die.
Then, she entered. The brown headed girl's presence caused Draco's heart to skip a beat as he thought of how there seemed to be a kind of glow around Hermione, then he remembered his low place in life, and forced himself to banish all thoughts of fantasy from his mind.
Hermione, unlike her friends, was not so hostile towards Draco, she merely regarded him with a kind of pity, as though she was looking at a wounded dog, or a dying bird. Her sympathy towards him pierced Draco more than any angry look or harsh words could.
Voldemort clicked his fingers, and Draco broke out of his reverie, like a sleeper who had just got a bucket of cold water splashed on his face. He quickly bowed low, giving a humble appearance, while his eyes gave the floor a look of the deepest loathing.
"Draco, where are your manners? Please make our guests feel welcome, bring us some chairs."
"Accio chairs" Draco muttered, but he really shouldn't have bothered. Harry, Ron and Hermione all remained standing, Hermione with her arms folded across her chest, while three other death eaters stood guard behind them.
"Just get it over and done with," Harry said, "Kill me, Tom."
The use of his old name sparked anger, and Voldemort gave a cold laugh that echoed off the walls, heightening the eerie atmosphere.
"Well, I certainly shan't kill you first, the Boy-who-lived, I think we shall save the best til last, eh?" Voldemort said in a fake, courteous voice, "why don't we start with your mud-blood friend over here?"
"No!" Three voices cried at once, Harry, Ron and Draco all stared in horror as Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at Hermione, pinioned firmlyin place by Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione did not look frightened, power, and strength of mind could be seen from her brown eyes as she stared heatedly at Voldemort. Harry and Ron struggled in futile, the hold of the death eaters was too strong for two teenage boys, however brave they might be. And at once, it became clear to Draco that he was the only one left who could do something for Hermione.
So at the exact moment the words "Avada Kedavra" left Voldemort's mouth, Draco threw himself in front of Hermione, his back to Voldemort. At first, he was afraid that he missed the curse, but a split second later, he felt something hit his back, and knew that a jet of green light had shot him.
The Death Eaters, temporarily stunned by Draco's act of chivalry, or perhaps what they thought as utter stupidity, let loose Harry and Ron's arms, the two boys immediately took advantage of it, and two unforgivable curses flew from their wands.
Draco, however, was not aware of Voldemort staggering behind him. He was mesmerized by the mixture of emotions on Hermione's face. He saw gratitude, sadness, and, was it possible? A flicker of love? As his breathing slowed, and his eyelids dropped, he felt happy- an emotion unknown to him until just now, and he knew that hope would always be with him, on his journey, to heaven, or hell…
A/N: Thanks for reading, but I would thank you evenmore for reviewing.