Alone

One word swam through his mind as he lay on his back, looking at the ceiling. He was alone; alone in a big, cold, empty mansion alone with his parents. It all came down to this. He was alone. No one wanted to stay close to him, no one wanted to help him through his pain, and no one wanted to have anything to do with him. He was alone. 

Cold grey eyes stayed focused on the ceiling as he thought of all of the things he had gone through, and all of the things he would have to go through. Yet, not a single sigh escaped his lips, not a single tear formed in his eyes. Draco Malfoy was stronger than that. He was alone, but that didn’t mean he was powerless. He was just…. on his own.

They didn’t know what it felt like none of them. The ‘’good’’ side had been victorious in the war. Potter had conquered all and yet he, Malfoy was nothing. in the eyes of all the others he was just like the rest of the Death Eaters heartless, cold, and cruel. They didn’t understand anything no one did. They didn’t know what it was like to be looked at with hate, to be despised. They didn’t know that the only thing hatred did was push Draco even further, make him do something crazier. 

Lies. So many lies. But it wasn’t his fault. He would have never…. Ah, but it was too late. He had lied, cheated, manipulated, blackmailed and even…. killed. He was hated by all, as he should be. Draco knew this, but it did not make him feel any better. 

Alone. He was alone with his cold thoughts and feelings. Yes, feelings. Feelings he’d never thought he’d have. Feelings that he’d tried to hide for so long. But still anger and hate filled every particle of his body, obscured his senses, and he could do nothing about it.

He would be alone forevermore. This is what he deserved. He had killed and he couldn’t handle it. Draco was perplexed, his conscience had never been a problem before. And now face after face was flashing before him, all of the people’s lives he’d ruined, and all of the people’s lives he’d taken. He shuddered and placed a hand on his left forearm. It was cold as ice. He wished he could tear it off; he couldn’t bear to see it, a mark the cause of all of his past errors. There was no going back. All he wanted now were things that he could not have. He wanted a normal life, untainted and pure, but he knew he would never be able to have live it.

Two words rolled over and over in his mind. Love. Hate. Love. Hate. He couldn’t decide which held more power. In the end, would love survive above all? What was love? Had he ever loved? Had he loved his father, his mother, or even Pansy? No, he did not know what love was. He had thought he loved once, but that was only a passing feeling. Certainly love outlasted everything? He only knew one feeling, and that was hate. Hate for everything and everyone. He would leave this world without ever having felt love.

He didn’t know who was to blame. But he suspected it all came down to his father. He was the one who had gotten him into this. He should be the one to blame and yet, Draco had never protested. He could have had a more pleasant life, right now he could be celebrating instead of suffering, but he had chosen. He had chosen the wrong path, but he only realized that now. He wished he had been wiser, wished he had realized then what he was going to become. The only thing that consoled him was the thought that he had remained loyal to his father.

Draco wished he could shout, cry, destroy something, do anything to vent off his feelings, but he knew he would never be able to. His father had taught him too well. 

‘’Never show your feelings to the world,’’ he had said.

And he wasn’t going to. He wasn’t going to break down, not even when no one was looking. What good would that do, except prove to everyone that he was sorry, that he was thoroughly regretting all of his past mistakes, when it was obviously too late. When he knew that it would be all over soon. No Draco was going to remain unbroken. 

Looking back, he thought of what had pushed him to such a horrible, life of bloodshed. It was true that it had started just because of his loyalty toward his father, but it had become so much more than that. Even he couldn’t put his finger on it. How he regretted everything, everything he had done, but he was not going to admit it to anyone.

A swooping, cold sensation filled his lungs and horrible memories filled his mind, but he made no attempt to get away. All he could think about was the life he had never had, the life he was never going to have, the lives he had prevented others from having. But it was too late now. The past was meaningless and there was no future. No more. He closed his eyes and thought of only one thing, of only one word…. alone. He was born alone and he was going to die alone, with no one by his side, no one to ease his pain, no one to cry for him, no one to plead for him, No one. 

Before his senses were blocked out completely by a women’s shrill screaming, Draco for the first and last time in his life felt sorry for himself. He felt sorry for everything and  everyone and  for the final time he realized what it meant to truly feel. He let a tear escape his eyes, but all was lost as his fears and insecurities took over, as pleas for mercy filled his mind and he closed his eyes.