Draco paced around his one room, one floored house. Five paces to the door from the sofa where he slept. Seven to the 'kitchen'. Not that he needed a kitchen, or could really call it one - just a sink and a refrigerator. All of his food was delivered by some muggle girl, who always tried to talk to him: no matter how hard he slammed the door in her face.
Pansy had arranged it all. The house, the sofa, the delivery girl and the woman who did his washing, which would be brought back and forth by the food girl.
Pansy. He hadn't seen or heard from her in years. He remembered her well though. Her bobbed black hair, her slight frame, and her beautifully murderous eyes. He'd have gone as far as to tell her he loved her. But once she set his lodgings up she had left. Too risky for two wanted Death Eater's to live together.
Merlin he missed her. He missed intelligent company. Hell he even missed Crabbe and Goyle. If he could choose between living with them or living with the muggles, well he'd choose them any day. Not that he had that choice now. Both of them were dead. They'd died trying to save him. Idiots. Didn't they know it was every wizard for himself? Still it had been awfully nice of them: to blunder hopelessly through the battle trying to carry him to safety.
But Pansy had found him. Pansy had saved him. Pansy had left him. Sweet, mean, malicious Pansy. If ever there was a witch he'd marry it would have been her. Merlin only knew where she was now. It had been ten years since she'd been in contact. She could even be dead. She'd be lucky if she was.
He craved death. Beckoned for it with open arms. He'd gladly welcome oblivion, or at the very least darkness, blackness. The greyness had become a bore now. He'd much prefer black. Like his soul, he chuckled, that was probably what the Gryffindor's would say. As if they knew him. And that would only be said if they were feeling generous. Surely an evil, murdering git had no soul? But what did they know? That kindness and bravery were good and right and that everything he was, was bad.
He wouldn't kill himself though. That was the coward's way out, suicide. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoy's were not cowards. They were a lot of things, true, but not cowards. That was another thing he thought about: his family. Did they know he was still alive? Had Pansy been able to tell them? They had been at the battle, all of them. He'd seen his mother fall, was she still alive? And if so was she safe, or in Azkaban? And his father, where was his father? Aunt Bella was probably dead. Mad old cow that she was. She had probably stood by the Dark Lord's side until the bitter end. She was that obsessed, or should he say devoted?
He missed his family. They had never been close. His father had always been distant with him, his mother had been more affectionate, but compared to his father that wasn't saying all that much. Still if he could go back and see them he would. If only for a bit of comfort and familiar surroundings. Home was home. And this hole he was now in was not a home. It was practically a prison, he couldn't leave. If he was seen he'd be carted off to Azkaban by Potter and the self righteous crew.
He wondered what Potter was up to. He knew Granger was Minister, he'd received a howler the day she was elected. That was a year and a half ago now, and he still didn't know who had sent it. He doubted very much that things had changed since then. The mud-blood would love being in charge of everyone. Bossy know it all that she was. He hoped that at least one Weasley was dead. That would be a small compensation for all that he had been through. If it had to be any of them he wished it was the King Weasel, Ron. Or maybe the girl? Especially if she had suffered a long, painful death. Thoughts such as this cheered Draco, and helped him while away the slow hours.
He'd imagine Potter and the youngest Weasley being tortured. Probably by his father and a few others. They'd hurt the girl, crucio her, and Potter would be forced to watch, to listen to her screams of agony and cries for help. And Potter would be unable to save her. He'd have to watch her die. And then he'd die. Very, very slowly. Maybe they'd cut him, great long, shallow cuts. Let him almost bleed dry and then heal him, and start again. They'd carry on until he begged to die. Which, knowing Potter, would be a very long time coming. He deserved it. Potter should suffer. They all should.
Draco continued pacing, he paced several hours a day. To stay the boredom and to keep him from getting fat and sloth like. He did sit-ups, press-ups and anything else he could remember from his Quidditch training. If he ever did meet Potter again, he, Draco, would be able to rip the scrawny idiots head off. It was one of the few things he could still do, train, exercise. He used to read. He'd love to be able to read again. Escape his now dull world and go back in time when Dark Magic was powerful. Those had been his favourites, books about terrible Dark witches and wizards. His heroes. People who knew that they were different, and were special because of that difference. Who knew power, how to use it, gain it and take it from others. Wizards who were true to the proper way of being. Having magic sets wizards apart from muggles, shows them to be superior. Those who failed to use their abilities to their full potential were the weak ones. Not those who were seduced by the Dark Arts.
Draco was shaken suddenly from his thoughts, someone was knocking at the door. Probably that simple muggle girl again.
"Knock, knock"
He hated and despised her. Always so annoying and cheerful, always looking on the bright side. Such Hufflepuff behaviour really was intolerable. And who did she think she was? Barging into his home, with no invitation. He could have been naked. Though he was sure she'd quite enjoy that. Still she should be taught a lesson for such rudeness.
"It's me, Annie. I've brought your food for the week. Dear God it's a tip in here. Would you like me to tidy up for you? It would be my pleasure really."
Draco changed his mind, she was more like a house elf than a Hufflepuff.
"I wouldn't know if it's a…tip in here. Just leave it as it is. Doesn't really affect you does it? And put the food in the kitchen,"
Foolish girl, he thought, I could kill you in three seconds if I wanted to.
"Oh I'm sorry. I didn't mean, I just, I thought. Well I'm just trying to help. I forget that you're well…."
"Blind.", he said. He knew she wouldn't. She always danced around the word, as if she were swearing.
"Well, well yes. Look I'll leave you to it. I'll put your food in the fridge and let you get back to your…. I'll leave you alone."
Idiot girl, just get out, he thought mentally cursing her every step. She left and Draco was once again alone.