𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 (Draco Malfoy x OC)

𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮

Olive

Faces and voices swim above my head. Slowly I open my eyes, and I realise that I'm on the ground. Standing above me is my mother and father. I don't see a hint of worry in their eyes, even though I just passed out. 

I slowly get to my feet, as I realise what just happened. I killed someone. The same feeling of complete hopelessness and horror washes over me. I take my seat, and my parents take theirs. 

Mother looks down at me, unmistakable horror in her eyes. She isn't as heartless as she lets on, and the murder of that women undoubtedly impacted her. She doesn't say anything, remaining still and somewhat calm. Father and Lucius aren't affected by the murder like Mother, and if they are, they certainly don't make it obvious. They sit there, rigid and unflinching like marble statues. 

Severus' eyes are glazed over, focusing on a blank wall, clearly deep in thought. Voldemort, on the other hand, is as icy as ever, and he looks almost bored. 

"Are you alright Olive? You were unconscious for a few seconds." Narcissia asks me, genuine worry in her eyes, and I nod, surprised that someone would care to ask. 

"I'm sorry, my Lord. I don't know what happened, I suppose I was a little overwhelmed." I say, proud that my voice is steady when I talk. 

"I have to admit, I didn't expect you to go through with that. I am impressed." He says. I'm taken by surprise by this comment, and nod gratitude towards Voldemort. My parents look astonished; a compliment from the Dark Lord is a rarity, something you should accept graciously. 

I bow my head slightly, "Thank you, my Lord."  

"Yes Olive. Mother and I are proud. You have proved that you will do nicely during the Plan." Father says, and my heart swells. They're proud. For the first time in a very long time I see a look of appreciation and affection on my parents face - and it's directed on me. I can feel a small smile on my face. 

For a split second, it almost makes the killing I committed worth it, but I instantly feel guilty at the very thought.

"Exactly," Lucius says, "There is no shame in getting overwhelmed; it happens to the best of us. I can only hope that Draco does the same to contribute to the cause." He says, glancing over at his son, who pales dramatically.

I feel sick, and yet I almost laugh at the twisted irony of the situation. I just killed someone, and I'm being praised. They're talking to me like I just got a perfect score on my math exams; as if I hadn't just committed a crime that would warrant most wizards a life sentence in Azkaban. 

The only one who looks truly shaken, like me, is Draco. His forehead is damp in sweat, and he's shaking a bit. A lock of his platinum hair falls down to his eyes, obstructing his stormy grey eyes. A pinprick of pity builds in my stomach for this boy and me, children should've never be involved in something so self-destructive and sinister. 

"I have no doubt that everything will go smoothly tomorrow." Voldemort says, and I nod. My ears are ringing, and my mind is spinning in override. I feel terrible - I want nothing more than to curl up into a ball and hide there for the rest of eternity. But I can't; for now I have to play it calm, at least until Voldemort leaves. I focus on my breathing, pushing any other thoughts out of my mind regarding the dead body to my left. 

"Now, let us discuss what Ms. Withering said, before her rather unfortunate death." The Dark Lord says, his eyes practically gleaming. A dark feeling builds up in my chest. 

"Apparently a trial is going to be held for Harry Potter, for his magic-use outside of school. I assume that if Harry Potter is found guilty he will not be returning to Hogwarts for the autumn." My mother says, brushing a lock of her deep brown hair from her eyes.