Chapter Eighteen: Run for it!
Bang!
The man was smashing the head of the axe into the already cracked window. Hugo was surprised that the window had held itself intact this long. Regardless, it was only a matter of time before it cracked under the man's strong blows. It would shatter and then the man would somehow find a way to open the door and get at them. Then what? Would they all be slaughtered on the spot, or would the man just start the ritual?
Bang!
A few more cracks appeared in the window and Hugo heard several of the children whimper. It was a strain to hold the door shut under the onslaught, but somehow they were managing. It was a miracle that they'd managed this long, even. Hugo didn't know how much longer they could possibly last. Sooner or later, something was going to give, and it definitely wasn't going to be the man's anger that cooled down.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The door creaked, its hinges groaning. They could hear the man's harsh and heavy panting on the other side of the door, the labour winding him, his anger spurring him on. There was no way he wasn't going to hurt them when he managed to get the door open, managed to rip it straight off its hinges. They were all done for.
Bang!
"I'm so sorry!" Hugo whispered one last time, staring around at the other children. "I should've never thought that I could do this!" There were tears in his wide eyes, tears in every child's eyes. They stared at him, some of them muttering an acknowledgement. But there was no time for a proper consolation, because the man was hitting all the harder, all the more viciously.
Parts of the door were splintering already and Hugo realized that this was the last moment that he'd ever see his friends again. He had already let go of the hope of escaping. There was no way that any of them were going to manage to escape now, no matter how hard they tried. The task was clearly impossible. He had already resigned himself to the fact that he would never see his mother again, never be able to sleep in his own bed.
But all of that had been alright to some extent. He had always spent time with his mother, been nice to her, and made conversation when time had permitted. He'd never said a mean word to Manny and he'd always cleaned his room. He'd gotten to know those people, gotten to get acquainted with that lifestyle. So really, it was all just old stuff that he was leaving behind as harsh as that sounded.
It wasn't alright that he was never going to see his new friends again. That's what they were, they were new. He'd only just met them, even though they'd gone through a lifetime of adventure and horror together. Yet, he trusted them, even though they'd only been friends for such a short time. And they had trusted him, even now they trusted him. Even after he had so clearly failed him. They did not hold a grudge. He knew they were too nice to even think about such things.
He hadn't even gotten the chance to properly know them. They didn't even know each other's names! But somehow, they were all very close. They had drawn themselves together, slept on each other's laps, offered hugs and comfort where they could. They had resisted the pressures of their circumstance together and because of that, they were closer than siblings. And now it was all going to be over. Over before it had even started.
With a last resolute bang the window shattered and the children were showered with shards of glass. There was one round of screams from the little bodies before all fell silent. All that could be heard were heavy pants from both sides of the door. No one dared move a muscle. It was almost like a short period of calm before the storm began.
Oh, and once it did begin, it never stopped.
All too soon, the man began to pour a rain of blows from the axe to the now unstable door. The door heaved and groaned under the onslaught and Hugo knew that they really had no hope left now. The door was splintering at an alarming rate and the hinges were beginning to fall apart. The door was going to give in at any second now and then they'd be dead meat. Deader than a door nail...
It happened sooner than even Hugo had expected. The hinges of the door were blasted completely off exactly at the same time as the splittering in the middle of the door gave way to the man's blows. The door began to literally break apart in front of their eyes and they had to move out of its way as the heavy wood began to fall inward. Even though they'd scrambled away to the sides just as the door collapsed, they were still showered with splinters of wood, metal, and debris.
Their last mechanism of defence lay before them in a broken, crumbled mess, a cloud of dust still settling around it. They did not dare even utter a sound or a whimper. They were not ready to acknowledge what this would mean for them. Even though Hugo had seen it coming from a mile away, even though he had resigned himself to his fate, and even though this was inevitable – Hugo just wasn't ready to give up and die.
Fear and adrenaline began to sputter through his tiny veins. His body began to pulse with energy he never knew he had. He knew that this was his body's way of telling him that he had to fight or run away as fast as he could from here, because if the man managed to lay his hands on him, he'd be a goner. And no little boy wanted to be a goner!
But still, fear paralyzed him as the man took slow steps into the room, his feet causing little puffs of dust to raise itself from the floor and swirl around him. He looked absolutely murderous and frightening. Hugo was frightened, all the children were. No one moved for a split second, not even the man as he stared down at them. No one was sure what they were waiting for, all they knew was that if they moved something was going to give.
They weren't ready for that eventuality yet.
The man pinned them each with his murderous, disappointed glare, one by one. They couldn't help but shiver under his stern gaze. It wasn't good that he was disappointed. He was always the worst when he was this angry. They realized then that they'd probably suffer now, probably have the worst possible deaths that the man could come up with. There was no way that they wouldn't, no way that they'd survive this. They all looked lost and dejected, all except for the curious blonde little girl.
For the first time since any of them had gotten there, the blonde girl seemed to actually be there. She did not have the airy gone kind of look in her eyes anymore, like she always had had as far back as Hugo could remember. For some reason, she seemed almost as angry as the man. Hugo realized she was squeezing his hand quite hard as she stared lividly at the man. He didn't know what she was about to do, but he didn't like it.
It happened all at once. The girl patted his back reassuringly, giving him one of her trademark "it's alright, you can do it, I believe in you" kind of look, before she went and threw herself at the man, nearly tackling him to the ground in surprise. Then she stared around at them wildly screaming, "Run! RUN!"
And Hugo had ran without even realizing what it was that he was doing. He was out the door with the children following him and looking for some kind of exit in the blink of an eye. They ran across the large room that appeared to be the man's potions lab and found a staircase directly across the room. They were there in an instant, climbing the stairs as fast as their little legs would let them.
It wasn't until then, halfway up the stairs, that Hugo realized what had happened. The blonde girl, his best friend, had sacrificed herself for them. She had given herself up so that they could escape. And she had done it without a thought...she had done it for their safety, to ensure that they could get out even if she was stuck here forever. Hugo couldn't help but turn around to see how she was progressing.
Immediately, he wished he hadn't stopped. The man was hurriedly coming towards them, dragging the kicking and screaming girl behind him by the hair. She didn't seem to be making things easier for him. She struggled and yelled despite the pain she must have been in with him dragging her like that. She clawed at him with her nails, bit him as hard as she could, and even managed to draw a little bit of blood. He seemed undeterred by her efforts. In fact, he was still coming at them faster than they were able to get up the stairs.
Before Hugo had even managed to open the door and escape with the other children, the man was already upon them, grabbing the last boy in the line of escaping children, also by the hair. The boy screamed and this made the rest of them turn around as well. In the moment before Hugo managed to clasp the handle behind his back, he caught the eye of his friend. It was the other little boy that had managed to put his own fire out.
There was a resigned look in his eye, something Hugo had never seen before in a person. With a last nod to Hugo, the boy pushed himself viciously into the man and they began tumbling down the stairs, the little blonde girl in tow. "RUN!" the two captured children shouted together at the rest of them.
It was with tears in his eyes that Hugo scrambled through the door and ushered the other children out from behind him. It was a great pain to shut the door securely behind him, knowing that his two friends were down there with that evil man, fighting for their lives, fighting so that Hugo and the others could escape like they had planned. It took all of Hugo's willpower to drag a couple of chairs in front of the door, hoping it would hinder the man's progress in coming after them.
In reality, it was probably only slowing Hugo and others down than posing as a real barrier against the man, but Hugo did it anyways. Their only real chance of survival were the two little children, their friends, detaining the man long enough for Hugo and the others to get away far enough from their prison, far enough so that the man couldn't find them.
They would probably have to split up once they got outside. The thought made Hugo cringe.
They hurriedly moved away from the dungeon door, but didn't know where they were going. There were many twists and turns, so many confusing hallways that Hugo thought that they were probably lost and never going to manage to get out of there safely. The best thing he could do was follow a straight path and hope that they'd reach a front door somewhere.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a door burst open in front of them and a man stood in front of the children. He picked up Hugo, who had been in the lead, and raised him into the air before Hugo had a chance to fight or even realize what was going on. The other children behind him screamed but the man just silenced them with a wave of his wand.
"Are you Hugo?" the man whispered. Hugo didn't answer. He didn't even move. If this man was friends with the evil monster who had probably killed his friends downstairs by now, he was gone for. And he definitely wouldn't be helping this fellow get his way! "Don't be afraid," the man said, his voice suddenly a lot softer. "I'm Draco Malfoy. Your mother and I have been looking for you."
Hugo gasped. "Really...?"
The man named Draco only nodded. He gestured for them to come through the door that he had burst through. "You have to go through that door right there and turn right. The front door is open, you can't miss it." Hugo's heart lifted at the directions. Maybe he'd be free after all. "Tell me, Hugo," the man whispered, his voice urgent once more. "Is the man that brought you here still here?" Hugo nodded. "Where is he?"
Before Hugo could answer, there was a humongous crash, a high pitched scream, and a thunderous yell. It made them all jump, even Draco. In a matter of seconds, the man was present in the doorway they had just entered through, still holding the blonde girl by the hair. She was all bloodied and a huge injured mess, but it seemed like she was still alive. He could see her eyes moving still, at least.
"Well, that answers it," he heard Draco mutter. "Alright, Hugo, remember the directions I gave you?" Hugo nodded. "Go then! Take the others with you!"
And then they were all running, all five of them in the direction that Draco had told them to go. If he hadn't been lying then the front door would be open. They ran as fast as they could, dodging around chairs and dusty tables. When they rounded the corner, they all could see the flood of light on the wooden floor. They ran towards it desperately, as if they would be caught by the evil man if they slowed down for even a second.
The man named Draco hadn't been lying. The front door was wide open.
And when Hugo took his first few steps out into the familiar street, breathing in the freshest air he had probably ever had, tears once again poured down his cheeks. They were both of happiness at finally having escaped his dire situation and of sadness, for everything he had seen and lost. Linking his arms through the arms of his friends, he walked down the street towards what was unmistakeably his house. He had a limp, he was bleeding, and he was very, very dizzy, but he was going home.
He was free.
/
It was probably the most intense moment Draco had ever experienced in his entire life.
Sure, he had taken down Death Eaters in his day, had lived with the Dark Lord for a year, had chased criminals all over the world (and all throughout Wizarding/muggle Britain), and he had even spent a year with the prospect of his parents' death over his head! Yes, he had been through quite a few stressful experiences and encounters. But this truly had to be number one on his list.
As he stood across from the man who had attempted to kill him in the most brutal of ways, he realized that he wasn't afraid anymore. There was no onset of panic, no realization that he was facing the most powerful wizard since Voldemort himself. There was only a subtle clarity that began to fill his senses. The man that stood before him – for he was but that, a man – should be sympathized with, not feared.
It took but a glance for Draco to determine that the man was clearly deranged. Yes, he was powerful, more powerful than Draco had encountered in a long, long while. That didn't change the situation, though. The person that stood before him was merely a shell. It was a ghost of a person – a psychopath, a mentally deranged, sick, twisted psychopath.
So as he stood there, calmly observing the heaving chest of the angry man, the way that the deformed bloodied hand that should have had six fingers clutched the hair of the motionless blonde girl, who was still dripping blood – he realized that this battle could easily be won. Even if Draco was lacking in power in comparison, even if he didn't know as many dark curses and spells as the man so clearly did, he had tools the man probably never would have.
Logic and rationality.
Nevertheless, his calm facade did drop a few inches when the man remorseless threw the girl's body out of his pathway like a sack of potatoes. He hadn't even blinked! He had simply thrown the girl away as if she were an inanimate object or the like. Draco didn't know how far the fucker was, only that he had gone far enough not to realize that humans were living, breathing things. They could not be discarded like that.
And then the fighting began.
He had only taken a few thudding steps towards Draco, only lifting his hand to send the purple coloured curse towards him, but Draco had been prepared for this. It only took him a split second to cast his strongest shield charm and duck out of the way for extra safety, while sending a curse of his own.
The man was enraged, Draco could immediately tell, and this was affecting his spell casting. His spells were sent with much more destructive force than needed to complete their task and with horrendous accuracy. Many of the spells weren't fired even close to Draco's form. They hit the ceilings, the windows, walls, even the floor – tearing away at the already rotting wood, ripping away entire chunks of the ceiling and wall.
Nevertheless, Draco was extremely thankful for the black blade on his back that gave him an additional circle of protection and gave him an extra power source should he be too tired to stand on his own. Draco didn't doubt that without the sword, he was nowhere near a match for the psychopath before him. The fucker was powerful, that much Draco knew.
That's what he'd have to do. He'd have to get the bastard to use up his power, display everything he had in his arsenal. And then Draco would find his weakness and strike. It was as good a plan as any, except for the fact that the psycho only seemed to want to destroy Draco and everything around him. There was nothing Draco could do about that. He'd just have to wait, even if that meant having the house fall down around them. At least in that last case scenario the man had an equal chance of getting crushed by the rubble as Draco did. Unless he knew some kind of strange kind of magic, which he probably did.
He hides! the sword hissed angrily.
For the first time in his entire relationship with the sword, Draco had no freaking clue what it was talking about. Hide? What did it mean hide? The man was standing in front of him plain as day, firing spells and curses his way that Draco was barely managing to dodge at this point. He wasn't hiding anything, really.
That was until Draco really took a close look at the fucker. It seemed as if he was shimmering from top to bottom. Draco had seen this kind of shimmering before, of course, every Wizard who worked more than 60 hours a week had been acquainted with it at some point over their careers. Women used it on a daily basis.
It was unmistakeably a very strong glamour charm.
While dodging the multitude of spells the bastard was sending his way, Draco realized he had some quick thinking to do about how to get out of the situation he had just waltzed into without a plan. Of course, his timing had appeared to be perfect for little Hugo and the other children. What they had been doing wandering around the house with a murderous psychopath chasing after them, Draco did not know. But he was nonetheless glad he had found them just in time, it seemed.
The man was clearly hiding his identity; there was no doubt about that. Clearly there was need to hide one's identity in a situation like this. It was the smart thing to do, of course, since a glamour was much more reliable and permanent than polyjuicing, and preferable for those who had a tendency to go overboard with transfiguration. But Draco also knew the fundamental principles of magic. All Hogwarts students did. It was the first thing they'd learned in Charms class.
Gildrag's Law of Proportion: Invariably, the strength of a spell is directly proportional to the number of spells cast in the measure of one square minute if casting is done in the space of a continuous interval. (IE: One hundred spells cast in the space of ten minutes will be ten squared, or a hundred times weaker...) recited Granger in her know-it-all voice within his head.
So it was obvious that the strength of his glamour charm was wearing off due to his insane spell casting. Now all Draco had to do was either wait until the entire glamour charm wore off, which could take forever and he really didn't think the building would last that long, or he could just end the spell himself. But that option didn't seem all that likely either and he'd probably just piss the guy off.
But he decided to try anyway.
He quickly cast a nonverbal finite at the man and was insanely surprised when it actually made contact. Two things happened at once. First, the glamour charm was removed and Draco was shocked beyond words and action at the identity of the psychopath. Second, the man struck Draco with a curse that sent him flying straight back against the wall, falling to the ground with an earth shaking crash.
He didn't even react in pain as he was supposed to, he was that shocked about who he was actually staring at. It could potentially be a mistake. Perhaps the man was drinking polyjuice potion and then glamouring himself to look like someone else. But the likelihood of that was...just that. Unlikely. Anything would be better than believing who stood in front of him, though.
It seemed the man had finally realized that his glamour charm had been removed. After removing Draco's wand from his person (which Draco did not resist, as he was still in shock), the man acknowledged Draco's inability to speak with a slow spreading sick smile.
"Surprised, little Malfoy?" he asked after removing the concealing charm he'd had on his voice. "It can't have come as too much of a shock to you, I hope. I certainly thought I'd given myself away to your shrewd senses when we'd met the other night." He only laughed at Draco's inability to respond. "What, did Granger catch your tongue, too?"
"You're supposed to be dead," Draco commented blankly.
The man only laughed in his face again. It was a strange, cold empty laugh, something that he wouldn't have expected to hear from the person that stood before him. Then again, he wouldn't have expected anything from the man that stood before him. Mostly because he was supposed to be dead. Secondly because he had been kind in the past... Always on the side of the light.
Yes, Draco was shocked.
"For all intents and purposes, I did die that night, yes."
The man began to pace in front of him, seemingly restless. Draco would recognize that gait anywhere. All pureblood wizards learned it from a very young age. If pressed, Draco could imitate the walk perfectly. The straight blond hair, the unmistakeable blue eyes, the silver chain with the weird pendant that he'd pulled out from under his shirt...
There was no confusing who this man clearly was.
But then there were many things that did leave Draco's mind and senses confused. There was a distinct emptiness to the man's blue eyes – as if he were dead. There was a crazed tint to his expression. He was clearly haggard, clearly deranged, and unkempt in every sense of the word. Not to mention the sixth finger that looked as if it had been amputated. That was clearly a new addition. Whatever grace this man had held in the past was clearly gone now. He had always been a touch crazy, but now it was far past that. He had delved into lunacy.
Draco felt a surge of pity flow through him. "Dear God, Lovegood. What's become of you?"
Xenophilius only grinned crazily back at him, the dementia clearly apparent in his eyes. Whatever there had been in the man to save was no longer there. He was too far gone, too consumed by the Dark Arts. Draco had seen it happen to many wizards over the war, his Aunt Bellatrix and Voldemort prime examples. He was just surprised that a wizard like Lovegood could manage to do something so...wrong, especially when he had always been on the light side. How had he gained so much power?
"I've been making much greater use of my time, young Malfoy. More so than yourself, to say the least." Lovegood almost seemed gleeful at the prospect. If he expected praise or something like that, he had another thing coming. Draco was thoroughly disgusted, but curious nonetheless. "I can see the questions in your little mind. Don't fret, little one. I'll answer them all before I kill you."
So he had gauged that part correctly, Lovegood was going to kill him. Draco decided he could worry about that little detail when they got to it. For the moment, his curiosity had just gotten the best of him. He just needed to know what was bad enough to drop a wizard like Lovegood into this kind of madness. "Why are you doing this?" Draco asked carefully.
"This? This?" he exclaimed, gesturing around him. Draco just patiently nodded. "Perhaps you have not learned like your father. Power means everything."
Draco didn't understand. "Why kidnap, though?" he asked, shifting into a more comfortable position, stretching his legs out. Lovegood probably thought he was preparing himself to die. That didn't matter, it would work to his advantage later. "What's the point of kidnapping these children if you're just looking for power? There are many Dark Arts you could use..." Draco lapsed into thoughtful silence.
"You've much to learn, but I see you're curious," responded Xenophilius with an air of superiority. "It's much too sad I'll have to kill you after this."
"The children?" Draco prompted.
"Ah, yes, the children!" He walked over to where the little girl lay motionless and kicked her with brutal force. Draco wouldn't be surprised if she had a few broken ribs as a result, but unable to move because she had clearly been petrified. Before Lovegood could notice, he silently drew out his sword and hid it under his outstretched leg. "These pathetic little creatures don't have their magic bound to them."
Draco's eyes widened and he paled. He fucker had been stealing children's magic! The act was unholy, definitely damaging to one's soul. To harm something as pure and innocent as a child was akin to slaughtering a unicorn to rob it of its blood. While the second wasn't completely unheard of, this was the first time Draco had heard of a case where someone had actually managed to separate one's magic from one's body. Since the two were intertwined, there was no physical way of removing magic without brutally murdering the victim.
And since children were young, their magic not having fully bonded to them, it was logically easier to remove their magic. It was a truly horrific way to die and Draco couldn't believe the man in front of him had successfully done it, had been about to do it again if Draco hadn't stepped in and stopped him. Such an act did not come without consequences. It was no wonder Xenophilius Lovegood was so insane.
"That explains your hand, I suppose," Draco commented in the most nonchalant voice he could muster, despite the fact that he was disgusted beyond belief.
"A little glitch," Xenophilius shrugged. "Something I was about to fix before you disrupted my ritual." He kicked the girl again and Draco winced on her behalf. "What, you feel pity for this little bitch?"
Draco didn't respond but Lovegood began to kick and he couldn't help it. He jumped to his feet. Before he could react, Lovegood had lifted his hand and the girl was lifted into the air. Before he could blink, she was dropped right onto him. He should have been prepared for anything, really, in this kind of situation he should have expected the unexpected. But hell, that shit hurt.
"There you are, the little runt is all yours," the psycho replied gleefully before turning away to examine something.
To Draco it seemed like he was staring out in space. It didn't matter, either way. Draco could take this time to heal the girl's injuries wandlessly. He knew that the sword would help him if he really needed, but he ought to save that energy for later, when he would have to escape.
As he examined the girl, Draco was swept with a strange sense of familiarity. He hadn't met this girl before, of course. This was the first time in his life that he was seeing her. But nonetheless, the nose, the eyes, the shape of the lips, her aristocratic features... it all bore resemblance to someone familiar. He looked up to find psychopath McGee staring at him in expectation. "Who is this, Lovegood?" he asked, playing the game Xenophilius obviously wanted to play.
"Aurelia Lovegood," Xenophilius replied. "My granddaughter," he added when Draco still had a blank look on his face.
"You mean..." Draco looked down at the petrified girl in his arms. Could it possibly be? "I did not know Luna had any children before she passed away."
"And risk exposing the bastard child to the world?"
Draco glanced up sharply at Lovegood at the tone of his voice. It held a much darker quality to it, a depth of pain marring its manner. Draco found that Lovegood's eyes seemed to be much hollower, more haunted, and darker than they had been mere moments ago. He wondered if it had to do with the death of his daughter.
"Aurelia was conceived in the dungeons of your Manor. The identity of her father remains undetermined. There were many who defiled my daughter that night..." Yes, Lovegood was in extreme pain, Draco could tell. His right eye was twitching and his head was bent all awkward. The horror of the story shocked Draco. He had never been aware of this happening. He had thought that Luna had gotten away relatively unscathed... "She died giving birth to that vermin."
It was clear that Lovegood was moments from losing whatever semblance of coherency that remained. Draco didn't know what to do, but he knew that if Lovegood went on a bender, he and the girl wouldn't survive this time. "I'm sorry, Lovegood. I wasn't aware of...your tragedy."
"No?" Xenophilius took a step closer to Draco and Draco had to inch back until he was pressed against the wall, Aurelia safely tucked next to his side. "I thought surely these horror stories was what inspired you to hunt the Death Eaters after the war. Did you ever wonder how easy it was to catch all of those Dark Wizards? How all those leads just seemingly fell into your lap?"
No... It couldn't be...
"Yes, I have been following you very closely, little Malfoy," Xenophilius said in a sagely voice, as if he'd been doing him a favour. "You've done a lot of my dirty deeds. I didn't even have to work hard. The Dementors easily sucked their souls with a mere suggestion."
Draco was truly shocked now. This was too much information to handle. "How could...How did you?"
Lovegood laughed, he actually laughed. "I wanted revenge. I did it for Luna. I needed them captured and you wanted to capture them, it's all very simple, little Malfoy. And now I'm going to kill you, for Luna. She would have wanted it." His voice sounded strangely sympathetic. Draco knew that this was the time to act.
"Don't taint her memory, Xenophilius. She wouldn't have wanted this, any of this," Draco said, wearily standing up, grabbing the sword as he went. He hid it behind his leg and he hoped the psycho hadn't noticed.
"Don't be silly, little Malfoy," Xenophilius said in a singsong voice that painfully reminded him of Bellatrix. "She would have wanted it all. She would've wanted the brat Weasley to die for burning our house down. For Zabini to have burned, for Lockwood to explode on the floor. That was lots of fun. If only you hadn't ruined it all..."
"You can stop this. You can still turn back now, it's not too late-"
"IT IS TOO LATE!" Xenophilius shouted. "Ever since that bitch was born! It's always been too late!"
Xenophilius started to advance, glaring at the prone form of his granddaughter on the floor next to Draco. Anger seeped through Draco, then. This man had made his life's work basically meaningless. Everything Draco had ever achieved had been a lie. Xenophilius had killed, maimed, destroyed the lives of many children...his own granddaughter... he had tried to sacrifice and kill his own granddaughter. He had tried to kill Hugo, a poor innocent child that hadn't done anything at all.
Draco stepped in front of the girl, raising his sword in front of him. Xenophilius stopped for a moment, as if calculating whether Draco was actually a threat or not. Perhaps he had seen the anger reflected in Draco's eyes, or the thinly veiled invitation to attempt to attack.
"Move aside," Xenophilius muttered. "Your turn can come soon enough."
Cut him, the sword began to whisper into Draco's ears. Cut him where he stands, slay him!
Draco didn't move, torn between the two commands. He was more than willing to draw on the sword's energies and use wandless magic to restrain Lovegood until the Aurors had time to come and overpower him completely. He knew he had the conviction to do so. Lovegood was fucking crazy. He deserved everything that was coming to him.
"You know, little Malfoy, I really did enjoy sending the Dementors on your father," Xenophilius gleefully whispered when he figured Draco would not step aside. Draco paused for a moment, shocked. His father was...supposed... to be in prison... "Yes, I see you are surprised. Don't be, his body is still there, rotting away."
Draco took a deep breath.
Cut him! CUT HIM! the sword continued to shout.
"Ah, and your mother!" This comment gave Draco real pause. He had never cared about his father, not in any real capacity since fourth year when he realized what kind of a psycho he really was. His mother however, he had always loved dearly. She had ended her own life when Scorpius had turned three and it had sent Draco into a deep depression. "I really enjoyed driving her insane."
"You didn't!" Draco yelled.
CUT HIM, CUT HIM, CUT HIM!
"Oh, but I did," he contradicted in joy. "I really enjoyed the finale, perfect touch don't you think?"
Draco couldn't think, all he wanted to do was lash out and –
CUT HIM! CUT -
"When she was driven so mad by my touch that she just couldn't help but end her own life in madness-"
Draco just wanted to end it all, wanted him to stop talking, wanted to just –
"I helped her do it too, little Malfoy-"
CUT-
And then he did it. He severed Lovegood's magic.
"Malfoy, no!"
He turned to find Potter standing in the door way with at least fifty Aurors behind him. He was stepping towards Draco, the other Auror's in tow, but it was much too late. The deed had been done. Xenophilius Lovegood was being drained of magic right before their eyes, all of his power flowing right into Draco's veins. He seemed surprised, probably had no idea what was going on.
The last thing he remembered after sheathing his sword was passing out right against Potter's shoulder before Potter apparated them away.
Then it was all darkness and Draco Malfoy was taken into oblivion.