Disclaimer: as I'm sure I've said already, the familiar characters are NOT mine. I do however take full credit for the plotline and any original characters found throughout the duration of this fic.

A.N I'm really sorry that I haven't updated in forever, but it's all happening. I dedicate this to the original killer-pineapple, for the death threats that motivated me to continue, and to Grace, who did her best to stop said threats. Oh, one more thing, this has become Draco's point of view. Enjoy!

The images will remain burnt on my mind forever. I close my eyes, and there they are. I haven't had these dreams before – but I have had ones like them. A long time ago.

I have seen things that no one should have seen. I am believed to be a believer. I am thought to have faith in their doctrine. To bet my life on it.

Perhaps I would have bet my life on it, once upon a time. But the lives of others? Never. I know the truth. Shit happens.

I lean my head against the cool porcelain. Retching, gagging as my head spins.

I can feel tears burning my eyes, but I do not let them fall. I remember my childhood well. I do not cry. That is a rule. That voice from ages past telling me this rule.

'Never cry… Malfoy's never cry… no son of mine…' I will never forget that voice, no matter how hard I try. It is the voice that haunts my memories.

The children… oh God the children. I throw up again, shaking as my soul rips itself out of my body and into the basin. Or at least, that is how it feels. This isn't me. I could never… it isn't me. With all the shit I've survived, with everything I've seen, everything I've felt, I am not a murderer. I will never be a murderer.

I am not my father.

I will not lower myself that far. I remember the 6 year old, screaming in the night. I remember the muffled tears and anguish of a 13 year old with the world on his shoulders. And it was such a heavy world for him to carry. The words of an 8 year old who knew she was about to die.

I could never wish my life on another. Not even Voldemort.

People believe I am evil, but I am not. I am simply disillusioned, hardened to the world that I was forced to stay in.

But with my life, had I not been hardened, constantly fearing, I would be dead. Although this half-life, this waiting for the inevitable is hardly living. It's a suspension I've been in since before my 7th birthday.

I have a feeling this suspension will be ending fairly soon.

And that thought scares me more than any other, even the dreams.