Thank you for the reviews, they were all really helpful. Snape is going to come up but not for a while.
I don't own anything HP or HP related.


Draco walked silently along the halls.

"Why did she speak to me about a rose?" he puzzled running a hand along the wall. He had grown up here.
Although his childhood hadn't been perfect, it was still his to keep.
Children dream of flying on winged horses to the stars, Draco didn't dream he only achieved. Achieving had always been his strong point.
He had been so eager to become a death eater.

The halls had always been silent. Even in the middle of the night when Draco woke up and just stared at the stars in the garden, all was silent.
Now the halls were filled with screams, cries and anger.
It wasn't his home no more.
It was Hell.


He choked up some blood and was glad when he heard the door slam shut.
Leaning against his elbows he attempted to stand on all fours. One of his bones broke under the weight and he could feel it straining against the confines of his skin. Slamming onto his side, he was sure one more rib was broken. The more he breathed the less he felt alive.
His body and time was his enemy now and he was weapon less.
"Think back, think back…" he groaned to himself wincing slightly when the coarse rock floor scraped against his cuts.

He was in a field with his grandmother and he was five years old.
"Grandmother when am I going to see Mummy and Daddy?" he asked looking up at his grandmother with beautiful hazel eyes.
"Soon Neville, not now though" his grandmother said gently. He hadn't realised it then but his grandmother was going through a lot too with the loss of her son.
"I want to see them now!" Neville shouted attempting to hit his grandmother. She just clasped his hands in her own and wept.
Neville was sobbing by the end of that memory; he missed his grandmother. He had taken her for granted all those years she had taken care of him. She was the one who was there holding his hand when he first went and saw his parents.

"Quiet you!" a Death Eater sounded kicking the metal door.
Neville flinched when he tried to slide onto his mattress. His bones cracked like an old mans, though he wasn't old.
He coughed like a hag, he had asthma and he was sure it was going to kill him. Neville's grandmother had always made sure the house was spotless when he came home for the summer holidays. Neville felt a tear slide from his eyes and down his cheek.
He couldn't see anymore, they'd made him blind as soon as he arrived almost.
Blind, a word he had always hated. He had always been afraid of blind people and how they although they couldn't see seemed to see your deepest thoughts.
When he saw Muggle-borns killed with one quick curse he pitied them. Now he wished he had been one of them.
Leaning back on his mattress, he closed his eyes against the bleary clouded view that was all he could see. He closed his eyes for the last time and died.