A/N: Written for the QLFC Round 13 - Real Randomness. Team: Montrose Magpies.

CAPTAIN: AU - What if Draco Malfoy had been the one to kill Albus Dumbledore at the end of HBP?

Thanks to FF for beta work, remaining errors are my own.

Damned

"Draco, please..."
In his dream, Draco is not afraid as he faces his old headmaster, the man he had been taught to hate. A half-blood Muggle-lover, a traitor, the reason Slytherin House was hated by all the others.
The man he had been ordered to kill.
"Draco, please, don't. I knew another young man once who was on the path to darkness. Please, don't follow in his footsteps."
"Shut up, old man! I have disarmed you! I have you at wand point! Where is your Potter now? Who can possibly protect you?"
"Draco, just lower your wand and walk away. You don't need to do this."
"But I want to! Avada Kedavra!"
In his dream, the bright green light hits Albus Dumbledore, and he disappears in a flash of green light. Draco is victorious; Draco is the Man Who Killed Dumbledore.
The right-hand man of Lord Voldemort himself.

"But that's not what happened, is it?" Arriving unwanted, the thought shatters the dream. Once again Draco stands in front of Dumbledore and fires the Killing Curse, but this time he sees it impact his headmaster on the chest. A look of sadness and disbelief is on his face as he flies back, over the edge of the roof, and then it is silent for a few seconds until Draco hears a sickening smack when the body hits the grounds. Draco feels bile rush up his throat; and he stumbles aside, then throws up. He is hardly aware of Professor Snape guiding him away, away from Hogwarts and the man he murdered.

Draco wakes up and hears screaming. It takes a moment before he realizes he was the one screaming, finding himself nearly drowning in his own sweat as he lies trembling in his bed.
The hated voice comes before he calms down fully. "Why did you kill me, Draco?"
Draco gnashes his teeth, forcing his breath to calm down. "I had to. I didn't want to, but—"
"Why are you lying? You wanted to, you were so excited to kill me."
"No! Shut up! You're not real!" Draco cries out, placing his hands on his head and pressing hard. The hurt keeps the voice away, briefly.
With a shaking hand, he reaches for his wand, casting a Tempus spell. It is a quarter to ten, already.
Draco rises from his bed and stumbles into the bath chamber. A visit to the toilet, a shower, and a shave later, he feels like a proper wizard again. Ready to face another day. Another day in the new world where Harry Potter killed Voldemort, and the Malfoy name is worth less than mud.

"Morning, little dragon," his mother says, not looking up from her newspaper as Draco arrives in the kitchen. "Sleep well?"
"Yes, Mum," Draco lies. "Slept like a log."
His mother makes a reassuring hmm sound, still reading the Daily Prophet. "Your breakfast is on the counter under a stasis charm, and I think there is some hot tea left."
"Thanks, Mum."
Draco is staring out of the window, munching his toast, when his mother speaks up again.
"Do you think you could go out looking for a job, today?"
Draco lets out a nearly inaudible groan. "I guess… I thought I'd try Flourish and Blotts today."
"As if they'd hire a murderer," the voice returns.
"Shut up," Draco whispers.
"I'm sorry?" his mother asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Nothing, Mum. I'll, I'll just go, then?"
"Good luck, little dragon. Your father would be so proud of you," she says, rising to kiss him on the head.

Draco takes the floo to the Leaky Cauldron, then passes into the alley proper. His mother's parting words repeat in his head.
"Your father would be so proud—" Draco doubts it. He knows Lucius Malfoy died believing his son to be a disappointment. What else would he think of a son who returns from Hogwarts, not victorious, but a broken mess who can't sleep? Draco was even there when Lord Voldemort killed his father, holding him under the Cruciatus until his heart stopped. He did nothing to save his father, just like—
"Just like you murdered an unarmed man? Just like you now hear voices all the time? You're crazy, Draco. A crazy killer."
"Shut up, not now," Draco hisses.
A young girl moves out of his way and rushes to her mother. Draco sees her look at him; he knows she recognises him from the newspapers, from the trials after the war. She pulls her daughter closer to her, away from him.
"Everyone knows you are dangerous, see? You should not be out here," the voice says.
"Shut up! You're not real!" Draco cries out.
"Not real? But I've been with you ever since you killed, Draco. Ever since you killed me."
"You're dead! Dead and buried! You have to leave me alone!"

"Sir? Are you all right?" Draco looks up bewildered, seeing the red robes of an Auror in front of him. He is sitting, or rather half leaning against a store front, a half circle of onlookers around him. How long was he sitting here?
"Do you want to go to Saint Mungo's, sir?" the Auror asks, concern in his voice.
Draco stands up, brushing the dust off his robes. "I'm, I'm fine. I just—"
"I just went completely crazy in public. I'm a crazy murderer who should be in Azkaban," the voice offers.
"Shut up, please," Draco hisses.
"Sir? I think you'd better come with us," the Auror says, placing his hand on Draco's left shoulder.
"No, really, I'm fine. Thanks." Draco brushes the hand off and walks away, the small crowd parting to let him pass. He winces when he recognises Rita Skeeter in the crowd. Great, she'll be by later to collect another bribe in order to keep this episode out of the papers.

"How was it, Draco?" his mother asks when he returns.
"They had no openings," he lies. "I'll try another store tomorrow."
"And fail again. The only thing you can do is kill, and you can't even do that right," the voice says.
Draco breathes in sharply, then goes back to his room.
As he sits in the darkness, the drapes still closed, he weeps. Why didn't he drop his wand way back then and spare Dumbledore?