Draco Malfoy Imagines

eighteen • (1/2)

~•XVIII•~
Asphyxiate
•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The halls were already empty when Draco emerged from the Room of Requirement. He failed, yet again to transport the living specimen to Borgin and Burke's. His deadline was now fastly approaching, his family was relying on him to succeed. Their fate was in his hands and if he didn't finish his tasks, he was good as dead.

How's it come to this?

He should be worrying about his studies for Merlin's sake, exams were approaching but needless to say, it wouldn't matter anymore. He didn't matter anymore.

He was just a pawn in the Dark Lord's plan of uprising. Draco had no choice but to be put in the middle of a waging war, to sacrifice what he had just for mercy from the Dark Lord's wrath.

Though he knew that was an understatement, he was never given a choice. It had to be him, because he was chosen specifically for this job. Because his father had failed and he was the compensation for his father's previous mistakes. His father didn't even seem to care for him at this point, he only wants to secure his own safety like the coward that he was.

Draco turned around and headed for the dungeons, not bothering to rush. He should be sound asleep like the rest of his year, it was way past the curfew.

Asleep.

He needed sleep. He needed to rest, even just for a while. Perhaps permanently.

He came to a halt when he passed the deserted girl's lavatory, the place was perfect. No one would dare enter this room since it was barricaded, it has been for four years now. No one even knows what's inside, only that the entrance to Chamber of Secrets was located there, by the great Harry Potter himself.

The Chosen One.

Draco wondered if he'd ever felt like he did, though he doubted that. If Harry was even afraid of what's to come, just like he was.
Because he had thought about this for a while. They were both chosen by the opposite sides of the war. They were both not given a say-so in their lives. He was the Chosen One, he was destined to kill or be killed by the Dark Lord and Draco was chosen to ignite the flame that would start the war because if he didn't, his family's bloodline would finally come to an end.

Both of them were alike yet so different at the same time, but Draco envied Harry because he had people that would fight for him 'till the end and he had no one. No one to tell him that every thing was going to be alright, that he was going to be fine, and that he need not follow through with his deeds anymore.

He stood in the middle of the room. Sensing no presence of any living being, he raised the tip of his wand to his neck. The spell he invented wasn't even finished yet, but if it worked then that would be delightful. If it failed, he hoped it would bring an end to his suffering either way. He cleared his throat and let his burdens and doubts flood his mind one last time.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply before speaking loud and clear.

"Asphyxiate."

Draco could feel the oxygen in his lungs slowly evaporating, his breathing slowly coming to a stop. He could hear the loud roar of his heart in his eardrums.

You're doing fine.

A malicious voice spoke at the back of his head.