Motivation.

9.

» this chapter is about Draco Malfoy. if you don't like Harry Potter you can just skip this part. i'll post another chapter in a few minutes. anyways, enjoy xx «

"Honorable members of the wizengamot." Draco was glad to find out his voice was quite steady. "At some point during a war you have to ask yourself, where do you live for? For yourself? Your family? For your friends? For your house? For no one? For everyone? Only for those who share your beliefs?"
"For me the answers to that have always been clear. I live for my family first, my friends second, myself if there's any time left to spare, which usually there isn't.""Not many people believe me when I say that, because most people see me as the pinnacle of selfish and self centred. But do you think I wanted to take the mark? Kill my headmaster? Torture people who did nothing to deserve that?" Draco was pretty sure he still looked like he could drop dead at any moment, but his voice was gaining a bit of strength.
"Most people say yes. I say no. I was sixteen. I wanted to play quidditch, read books, play chess, bully my childhood crush. I did not want to kill, I did not want to torture, I did not want to join Voldemort's ranks." There were quite some gasps as he addressed Voldemort by his name, but most people seemed to amazed by the fact that this child like skeleton could talk at all.
Draco himself barely noticed any of it. He just wanted to get this over with.
"However it didn't matter what I wanted, because there was no time to spare, and my family needed me to play a part. I did not see it as a choice. I did not see it as one of many options." He looked up, directly into the eyes of Kingsley who now led the wizengamot. "It was my only option, and I accepted that." "I have always been a brilliant actor. People still think I am straight for one. They think I support Voldemort's beliefs for another. I don't. For me mudblood was an easy insult. A move that always scored, a pick up line that always worked." "But as soon as I was confronted with the actual meaning of the word, with actual murder and torture, all I wanted to do was run. Run and vomit." His voice was shaking now, and every irregular breath he took send a wave of pain through his body.
"All my family wanted was for me to join in. There was no spare time. I could not run." "I do not have a good versus evil guide line, drawn with the moral compass of a brave and proper hero. I am no Harry Potter. My line is a grey area of people I do and do not consider as family or as friends." He cleared his throat again and glanced at the audience where Pansy, Theo and Blaise sat. He was vaguely pleased to note that even Blaise was crying.
"Why would anyone from a different house ever be on my good side? Why would anyone from my house switch sides when they are being separated from day one, stereotyped and put in a corner. You are a slytherin. You are a Malfoy. You are a Nott. You are a Black. You are bad. You are a death eater. You may only be eleven years old, you may lack the ability to think independently from your parents, but you are a true follower of the dark lord no matter if you want to be or not. We, the light side, will push you in this mould of a bad guy until you break or until you fit into it."
He took a shaky breath, which wasn't even an extra touch of drama but actually necessary in order for him not to pass out. "You are a slytherin. You are evil." "I have asked it before and I will ask it again, what reason did I have to invite other houses into my inner circle? Which one of you ever asked any of us to switch sides? You say we had plenty of opportunities. I say the only one I got was at the top of the astronomy tower, wand drawn and arm already marked, a shaking sixteen year old whose mother would die if he did not succeed. What kind of opportunity is that? What kind of choice?" "During the war my inner circle existed out of people who I loved, and who loved me back. They were bad people with bad intentions, but I loved them nonetheless. I lived for them. I did not even know that was a choice." His voice was properly breaking now, and he could see the majority of the wizengamot members lean forward to catch his words. Good. Let them hear as well as see what dementors do to a teenager.
"I know this may not be the speech that will get me off the hook, but it's how I think about my past. It is the story I want others to hear in the hope that they might offer a hand to those who are in the same situation." It was with his last strength that Draco lifted his head, and let his eyes drift over the people who would decide over his fate. "I know now that what I did was wrong. I lived for my family and the people they surrounded themselves with. I shared their morals because I never got the chance to make my own."