Summary: Draco switched to the light side to be a spy during 6th year, but around the same time, he and Hermione fell in love. They both got caught by the death eaters and this is their experience in a cell (in Malfoy Manor) from Draco's perspective.

Rating: T


I no longer see the world the same way. It's like I've stepped aside into the passenger's seat when I should be in the driver's. My eyes see everything from afar; my brain never processing it.

I shouldn't even be here. I should be with the rest of the Order, with Potter and Loony Lovegood, celebrating Christmas. At least, that's what I assume they are doing. I shouldn't be here, in this cell, with only my guilt of what I've done to haunt my thoughts.

I used to have a cellmate. She was beautiful and kind. I loved her. And she was the only thing keeping me sane in this cold, wet prison. When I did it, it wasn't because I wanted to. Trust me, I didn't. I did it because she begged me.

There was a choice. On day 137 in our confines, my aunt came to us. She was the first visitor. Bellatrix threw a wand into our cell. At first, my cellmate thought that they were letting us go. But I knew better than to bring my hopes up. And my intuition served me correctly.

Bellatrix gave us the wand because Voldemort had given her very strict orders. One of us had to kill the other.

The wand was my mother's old wand, the wand that I had been using up until our capture. My mother had hated that I had gotten the Dark Mark. She had pleaded with my father, begging him to have mercy on me. But my father had ice in the place of his heart. But he was still my father; I still loved him, even though he had committed many terrible crimes.

When Voldemort killed him, the rage inside of me was unmistakable. But I wasn't mad at Voldemort; I was furious at myself. I blamed myself for his murder. I guess, as I look back on it, that I was right. It was my fault. If I hadn't joined the side of Harry Potter, he would still be alive.

But I wouldn't have her.

My love pleaded with me to kill her, knowing that I would survive longer than her in this hellhole. She said that she couldn't live a minute longer in this cell, that she was going crazy just being in these confines. She promised me that we would be together in the end.

She told me to not look at her when I did it. That would make sure that I did it, that both of us wouldn't be killed instead of just her. She told me not to have mercy.

But I did have mercy. Before I did it, I Stupefied her and erased all her memories. It pained me to obliviate her. She was resting so soundly on the floor. I knew that if I didn't do it fast, I would never do it.

And when Bellatrix came back, I killed her.

Days hurried by. I could hear the muggle clock outside of my cell ticking. I sat on the straw bed, staring out the small window. I had convinced myself that I had not gone insane, but deep inside of me, I knew that I had. Sometimes I saw her, floating around my cell, telling me that it would be okay. Whenever I did see her, I would tell her to go away. I would tell her to go away because I knew that she is not real, that she was a figment of my imagination.

She would go away. She would. And it would scare me. Being alone in the cell, without her presence; it frightened me. I would call out for her, asking her to come back. Sometimes she would come back, come to me. She would comfort me, put her arms around me. I could never feel them and I knew that she wasn't there. But my heart broken soul had convinced my mind that she was. Sometimes she wouldn't come. She would leave me there, calling out for her. For hours.

She had always had faith that Potter would come. I guess I should too.

But when he did finally come, it was too late.

I hoped that my aunt or Voldemort would come and put me out of my misery. She had told me that we would be together in the end. What end? Surely she will go to heaven and I will go to hell for all the misdeeds I've done against people. Surely she would become an angel, while I become a demon, haunting people's bodies for eternity. Surely we would cross paths again, her trying to kill me, me trying to kill her. Surely I will still have my memories from this life, so I can remember what I did wrong. But I will also remember her and the lies she had said. What kind of happy ending is that?

One day, my aunt did come, but it was not with Voldemort. My mother was beside her, clinging to her sister, tears running down her face. My aunt told my mother that she had to kill me in order to prove her allegiance to Voldemort. I could tell that my mother wasn't going to do it. I could see her breaking inside. So, I spoke the only words I had since she had died. "Please. Do it, mother." I looked at her, seeing if she registered my quiet plea. She had stopped crying and was looking at me slowly. "Put me out of my misery." My mother nodded once calmly like she was in a trance. Then she lifted her wand slowly and aimed it at my chest. I noticed that she was carrying her wand again, the wand I had used to kill my beloved.

"Will you be with Hermione?" she asked quietly.

"I think so."

"I love you, Draco." Before I had the chance to respond, she said the words that killed my body, but renewed my soul. And I only thought I love you before she said them.