The 2nd wizard war had ended, and much to the dismay of most involved, Voldemort had won. The boy who lived had lost, barely managing to escape with his own life. The Dark Lord had immediately giving anyone who hadn't been smart enough to run for their lives a choice, to join his side or die right then and there. Most of them reluctantly came over to Voldemort's side, fearing death far too much to do anything else. Draco had felt as if he were going to vomit the entire time, he had finally started to believe Saint Potter could save everyone... Draco had learned first hand what it meant to serve the Dark Lord and it wasn't anywhere near as glamorous as he had been made to think. The moment Harry Potter lost, Draco also lost all faith in the wizarding world surviving. Harry had fled, not because he decided too... But because Arthur Weasley and McGonagall had seen the loss coming and quickly did everything in their power to get him out alive, also sending every student they could fleeing as far from Hogwarts as they could get. Minerva McGonagall had sacrificed herself that day, in order to give everyone she cared for a chance to get away. Harry Potter and the rest of the Golden trio weren't seen again after that it was as if they disappeared off the face of the earth, and the remaining members of the order seemed to disappear with them.
Draco Malfoy spent his entire life being made to feel special, somehow superior to everyone else. He was a Malfoy after all and that in itself was something to be proud of, the Malfoy's were one of the richest wizarding families around. Draco was raised with the belief believe that any wizard who wasn't pureblooded was a disgrace to the wizarding world, and any pureblood who dare think other wise was a blood traitor. The Malfoy home talked of The Dark Lord as if he was the hero of every story, bringing the wizarding world back to the way it should have been. Bedtime stories were filled with hopes of that one day coming to pass, and the boy who lived was a topic of disgust. Now at the age of 21, Draco Malfoy had become a completely different person since then, had found respect in the ranks of the death eaters despite his father and mother's disgrace.
Narcissa Malfoy hadn't been long for this world, once the Dark Lord learned of her "mistake" in telling him that Harry had been dead the first time. Voldemort hadn't even thought twice before using the killing curse to strike her dead. Draco had been standing right there he had seen his mother fall lifeless to the floor, her glossy eyes stared up devoid of any life. The rest of that day blurred together in his memories he had screamed until his voice had abandoned him, clutching her as if he could pull her back to him. Draco had nearly been killed by the Dark Lord right then and there, only being saved by Lucius Malfoy; somehow he had managed to get Draco out unscathed. Malfoy's mother had been the light in his life, the person who loved him unconditionally and always made him feel loved. She had been is comfort and his rock, losing her had broken him inside; he was lost after that. Draco began to change drastically, falling into the murderous lifestyle of a Death Eater. The once scared and broken little boy grew into a cold and unforgiving man.
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His Prized Possession.
FanfictionThe war ended years ago, the boy who lived had lost. When Hermione Granger is finally captured Draco cannot let her fall victim to whatever abuse the Dark Lord sees fit. He decides she will be safer in his possession. I am horrible at descriptions...