Red and orange flared everywhere he looked. Arms of flames crackled and made their way up, ready to grab onto anything and to pull down to the flaming, fiery depths of death. A scream erupted from somewhere around the golden flames of hell and he already knew there was a victim. That was it, he decided.
He was going to die here but that was ok, he accepted death. At least he would be relieved of the painful truths of life. He was always on the wrong side and he knew that. He wasn't a very religious person but he hoped that if there was a heaven, it would have mercy on him and he would have a chance to redeem himself. Or perhaps he deserved to go to hell. That sounded more likely, given what he had done during the past months.
He almost killed Weasley, it wasn't planned.
He cursed that Bell girl, it wasn't planned.
He got caught by Potter, it wasn't planned.
He knew he had been stalling and the truth is, he was glad he was. He may have done some mean things in the past that he regretted but he was just a child. He wasn't a murder. To do such a thing to a man so kind, to a man who had always been like a father figure to many, many people, was just cruel and he couldn't understand how he would be able to do such a thing.
The answer was so obvious, he couldn't.
It was too much to ask. He was only a child caught up in the wrong end of the battle and violence. He wasn't ready to have the burden of murder on him. He didn't want to have to live with all the guilt.
He took a second to think about his past.
The first year of Hogwarts popped in his head. Potter's rejection, him being a bully to more than one person and all because of the way he was raised taught him that he was more than anybody else, that he was far more superior. That didn't make any sense though, he couldn't see anything different from him and the other children. They all wore the same Hogwarts uniforms, had the same class options, the organs that were in his body were the same from everyone else's, His wasn't made out of gold or anything. He didn't see anything in himself that was different, that made him feel special. He returned that year to tell his father what was exactly on his mind. That- was the worst idea he'd ever had. He received a slap on his cheek and he could've sworn he could still hear his father yelling and screaming at him even after he'd gone to bed, tears streaming down his cheeks and his 11-year-old body shaking.
Then came second year, throughout a third of his year, he received a letter from his father. Lucius had asked his professors the ranks of the grades of the students and the letter said that his son was second in class. Second to none other than Granger. Second to none other than a mudblood. He saw himself bragging about his team's new brooms, the bushy-haired girl arriving and he felt upset, his father's letter running through his mind. He felt his lips form words that he vowed he'd never use. 'Filthy little mudblood'. he hated himself that very moment. He hated how much he sounded like his father and more than anything he wished he could take it back. But he couldn't and he never did, it irritated him beyond measure that she did better than him when he was always taught that Malfoy were always at the top of the top. Nothing more, nothing less.
Third-year flashed by and he saw himself making fun of Potter for fainting for seeing a dementor when he knew, in reality, he probably would've done the same. He saw himself and his friends get scolded for the cruel prank they played on Potter. He went home for the holidays that day and immediately knew something was up, his mother was clutching a bottle of wine. His mother never drank.
Ever.
He crept upstairs to his room only to find his father rummaging through his stuff.
YOU ARE READING
Rewind // Drarry
Fanfiction*completed* *** Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, A smile, A kind word, A listening ear, An honest compliment, Or the smallest act of caring. All of which have the potential to turn a life around *** AN: mature content! Please don't...
