Chosen || Draco Malfoy

13 - Fanboy Behaviour

Wormtail gave me the wrong fucking wand.

Honestly, bloody imbeciles, the lot of them. I mean, they accidentally wiped out an entire family because Voldemort was too stupid to get his facts right.

So, there I was, holding Harry's wand, wondering if I should point out that mine was actually the twelve and a quarter inch one, not this little pissing eleven inch disappointment.

But judging by the pissed off expression on Voldemort's face, I decided to just keep quiet and pray that Harry's wand would serve me well.

I was treated to a few more rounds of torture whilst the Death Eaters formed a tightly packed circle around us and laughed as I screamed and writhed about in agony.

I was catching names and keeping them locked away in mind. If I ever got out of this, I'd waste no time in snitching on every single one of them. Nott... Crabbe... Goyle... Malfoy.

Trying to disarm Voldemort was useless. And when I tried to run, the Death Eaters pushed me back into the circle, cruelly jeering and laughing when I tearfully begged for mercy.

I wanted Mum, and I wanted Dad. They were going to be so worried.

And just as I was about to give up and plead with Voldemort to kill me, the wand in my hand seemed to come alive, as though it had a mind of its own.

It seemed to do magic that I wasn't even casting. So I just went with the flow when it did this weird shit and dead people started coming out of Voldemort's wand.

Including Harry.

"Cece, listen to me," his ghostly form spoke vehemently as I tried to hold onto his wand which was trembling dangerously in my fingers. "This is in your hands now. As soon as you get back, you need to go straight to Ron and Hermione... they'll help you. There is also a cloak and a map - tools you are going to need. You've got this Cece, I have every faith in you."

I nodded my spinning head, trying to take this all in.

"Take my body back," he continued. "Take it back to Ron and Hermione so they can say goodbye to me properly."

"Of course, Harry," I wept, realising it must be true, he really, truly was dead and I needed to stop living in that river in Egypt.

"Oh, and one more thing," he said as ghost tears swam in his ghost eyes.

"Anything, Harry," I smiled sadly, my heart breaking into tiny fragments.

"Tell them not to cheap out on my coffin. I don't want any of that cardboard box shit."

"That's our son," his ghost father said proudly as he patted his shoulder.

Assuring him it would be only the best the Weasley's could afford, I hot-tailed it out of there, leaving Harry finally reunited with his parents.

His wish had come true.

******

I landed face down with a heavy thud, pressing my face into the earth as loud cheers reverberated around me.

Keeping my eyes firmly shut, I clung to Harry's body and the Cup as fiercely as I could, afraid that if I let them go, then I would simply slide away into oblivion.

I was not ready for this yet. Not ready to face the world and tell them that the Boy Who Lived was now the Boy Who Died; killed at the hands of the freshly risen Voldemort.

Every part of me throbbed in pain, I was exhausted both mentally and physically. But still I would not let go.

And when the screams came, I fought hard with myself not to scream too; not to wail and thump the ground in despair like a toddler having a tantrum.