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Draco's Confession


A slim wizard stood staring at an unnamed patch of earth on the grounds of Hogwarts silently. He stared at the ground and felt tears fall unchecked. This had been where it had all ended.

Aimee Mccormack
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Draco's confession

A slim wizard stood staring at an unnamed patch of earth on the grounds of Hogwarts silently. He stared at the ground and felt tears fall unchecked. This had been where it had all ended. The life he had known. The world he had only just begun to understand. All of it destroyed with the body of a boy buried beneath his feet. The wizard sighed and turned to glance back at Hogwarts. He was headmaster now. Some how he'd curried enough favour with the Dark-Lord to gain this quiet position removed from all the bloodshed and cruelty of this bleak new world. The winds, bitter and harsh, blew his long blond locks into his face. The wizard took a deep breath and pushed his hair out of his face before crouching down. His long black robes settling gracefully around him. Thankfully there was no one in the school now who knew who was buried beneath his feet. There was no one to tell the Dark-Lord of his actions today. It was almost a pity that this grave remained unmarked considering who's grave it was. Taking a deep breath the wizard started speaking softly.

If only you'd won Potter. You were meant to be a victor not a martyr. I would of crawled into the shadows and vanished. You would not of ever seen me in your life again if I could help it. But you lost Hermione to the dark-lord. She sits in a small dank cage half starved and heartbroken because of your death. She blames herself. I know she does. I saw her thoughts. Hermione thinks that had she been more careful she could have avoided the snatchers and returned to you. She could of helped you. But our world has become a cruel place Potter, a cruel place. And I am still the coward I have always been. I hide within Hogwarts even now despite the ghosts that walk these halls. It is strange that even after all these years I cannot help but think of how different things should have been. If things had only gone right and your path remained clear. You might have won Potter. I'm sure you'd of loved that. Your parents murderer would be dead now and you would of probably married Ginny and started a family. And I suppose Hermione would of married Ron.

Hermione. Why am I still talking about her? I'd hate to say it but the last time I saw her she was just an empty shell. Your death was hard on her and she has suffered so much torture since. I remember one evening how I was called to witness it. It was so hard for me to watch. The way she screamed in agony as Lord Voldermort cast crucio over and over, never letting her rest. It was heart wrenching. And for what? Fun! How is torturing a heartbroken young women fun. I don't understand any of it Potter. I never did. I only wish we could have stood side by side in the beginning. I'd rather suffer along side you all than live this shadow of a life. I hardly see my wife but my two sons terrorise the students in the school. I try to discipline them but they see me as a coward. They agree all to readily with the dark-lord and who came blame them. They are only children. This world is all they have known. To them to be superior to muggles and the muggle-born is their birthright. I dare not tell them that they are wrong because I know that they would run to my father. Lucius is still looked down on even now. The dark-lord will never forget how he failed to retrieve the prophecy. It is almost a pity to see how far my father has fallen. Lucius and my mother have been blacklisted from most events of the social calendar as further punishment. I can do nothing but stand on the side line and watch as he shrinks himself into an early grave. Oh and my poor mother. She is wasting away in Malfoy Manor as an outcast.

But I suppose your tired of hearing me talk about my self. You want to know what happened to the others don't you. Well unfortunately Neville was executed for his open defiance of the dark-lord in front of everyone at the battle of Hogwarts. Although I did not know him very well I admired his courage. He was a true Gryffindor. If only you heard how he spoke Potter. With such loyalty and passion despite it all. Luna took his death hard. She's barely spoken since and the dark-lord shows no interest in her now. She was forced to marry Antonin Dolohov and had born him three children but she refuses to be a mother to them. From what I've heard and at times seen she hates those children. Each one a son that looks like their father. I think she wanted to marry Neville but I'll never know. She hates me as much as she does her husband and her sons. Whenever I see her she is on her husband's arm scowling. The poor girl is not allowed to leave her husbands side at any social event. Her hatred for me is understandable and I refuse to I blame any of them. They have every right to hate this snivelling coward. And as for the Weasely's. Well I wish could say things were better for them but I won't lie to a dead man. Those that survived the battle were placed under closer surveillance by the Dark-lord. He refuses to destroy any more pure-blood. Ron survived but he was forced to become a death-eater. They even made him partake in torturing Hermione at one point. It was a part of his initiation. I assume that is a part of what broke Hermione. He's married now to Pansy Perkison much to his own dismay. He's spoken to me at times but only shortly and normally when he's drunk which is happening more now. He hates his wife but cannot bring himself to hate their only child. A girl that is every inch a Weasely. I remember being invited to the naming ceremony. Pansy was livid when Ron announced he would call the little girl Minerva after his mother. She felt that the name would bring bad luck but Ron refused to budge. It was actually amusing seeing Pansy sulk like she did but I pity her child. The girl might as well have no mother. Ah yes, Minerva and Arthur. Unfortunately the Dark-lord did not spare them or George for that matter. It feels strange thinking of how many have passed on or are suffering now. Those that survived among the Weasely's are now no more than shadows of their former selves. Even Ginny. I've tried to be good to her even though she refuses to pay me any attention now. She is the mother of my children and she tries to behave as such but our children love the dark-lord and my parents more than they do us. Its hard for her to watch her sons transform slowly into ideal death-eaters. She made herself take a love potion on our wedding night and for a week after. But after that she found the strength to share my bed without the use of potions. I am grateful that in the beginning she tried to be a good wife. I never expected her to do so and I wish she could of married you and been happy. I was thrilled when we discovered she was pregnant. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was the prospect of raising my first child right that made me so happy. I thought I could do things right by Ginny and our sons but in the end I failed. There was nothing I was able to do to protect her from the dark-lord when she took the potion that would stop her from having any more children. She was tortured for two days while I took care of the children. I was actually terrified for her and could not sleep or eat. I was so relieved when she was brought home. I spent a week at her bedside nursing her back to health. She still hates me but at least she tries to live now. I imagine she tries to think of you as her husband. My father thinks I ought to treat her harshly but I do not have the heart. How can I. She bore me two handsome young boys. What more can I ask of her. We will never have a loving relationship. Very few of the survivors will. I hope you can forgive me Potter. You probably want to kill me right now. The thought of me laying a hand on Ginny must make your blood boil. But please understand that I am trying to protect her. I've had a house built for her on a quiet parcel of land owned by my family. It is close to the coast surrounded by the forest and wild flowers. Ginny had decorated everything according to her taste and I must admit it is lovely. Despite hoarding anger and sadness she still manages to make a home. I will never deserve her love and I will never expect it. I only want to ensure she is comfortable and I know she'll never be comfortable at Malfoy Manor. I think she is happiest while Hogwarts is open and she can be alone. I understand she holds tea parties and invites many of the witches she knew in Hogwarts. She is a miracle Potter. Her strength is amazing. To suffer so much loss and pain but still keep living. I know she does it for you. She goes on living because she knows its what you would want.

The world feels empty without all those faces. I understand how much this would pain you f you could understand. To hear what had happened to those you left behind must be worse than torture but I feel you need to know. Or perhaps I'm being selfish and poring out all my emotions upon your grave. Either way I'm sorry but I fear I will lose my sanity if I do not speak of this to someone and you are my last hope. You alone. How you must laugh at all this Potter. I can see you now on the other side of the void laughing as the once proud Malfoy pours out his secrets and heartaches to his childhood rival. Perhaps some day I will find a way to bring Ginny here. She does not know where you are buried but I've wanted to tell her for so long. I cannot do it until I know I can bring her here safely. Ginny would be tortured by the prospect of never coming to say goodbye. Although she will probably hate me if ever confess to having known all along where you are buried. I guess that is just another argument for me to face. You'd like to see her again wouldn't you Potter. One final goodbye to the only girl you ever really loved. It is the only thing I can give you now. My first and last gift to the boy who died.

A young wizard stood gazing up at his father silently. He had never seen his father look so sad or worn. But what confused the boy the most was what his father had been saying to the patch of cold hard earth. Why would his father bring his mother here of all places? Who was this Potter? What was so special about him?

The boy slipped away as quietly as he could and felt a hundred questions flood his mind. He knew he could not ask his father but perhaps his mother would be more forthcoming. But he would have to tread carefully so as to not upset her. She often cried late at night when she thought she was alone. Perhaps this was why. Because she had lost this man known only through reference as Potter.

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