imprisonment

Chapter 42; D

Draco stood, staring at himself in the mirror. He looked like his old self again. He straightened his suit, flattening it down. His hair was combed to the side, not a strand out of place.

Since he had arrived back at the manor he had regained his strength from his training and looked less weak and instead leaner. His jawline was sharp and he looked completely composed and aristocratic like his father had always wanted him to be. He once again looked like the Malfoy heir, the Slytherin Prince, almost like a marble statue.

It came at a price, just like everything did. He would give anything to be back in the cell. He felt more freedom in there than out in the world again. There was a constant dull ache inside his chest, like withdrawals from her. She was a fucking drug and he no longer had his fix.

He stared at himself in the mirror until he looked like a stranger—until he couldn't recognize himself.

He was domineering, strong and capable of following through with the task at hand. He wouldn't allow cowardice to attach to him, holding him back from gaining Voldemort's trust.

He thought back to the years where all he wanted was his father's approval. He would have given anything for it. Not he couldn't give a damn. He was doing this for her. He would do anything for her.

"Malfoy," Yaxley called from outside the room, removing Draco from his thoughts.

"Come in," he said turning towards the mahogany door. He could see the handle twist and the door open revealing Yaxley.

"It is very important that you complete this mission, do you understand? We can't have anyone gain access to the sword," he said walking over to Draco.

He paused for a moment, wondering if he would tell him why it was so valuable.

"May I ask why?" This caught Yaxley off guard.

"It's complicated and way above your head. Just know, it holds a part of our Lord. It is essential." He stood there for a moment, looking nervous. Draco could tell he was hoping that he could fulfill what he agreed to.

"Understood." He detached as he spoke. He would have to if he wanted to get through the next hour.

"We have to get rid of any Gryffindors that have rebelled. They are the only ones who can access it." He spoke again. Draco knew they were going town to town plucking the Gryffindors one by one. It made him sick.

"Done."

"Very well then. I will be down by the fireplace waiting for you," Yaxley said leaving the room. As soon as the door closed he turned back to the mirror.

He looked at himself one last time, taking in every detail of his face. He was never innocent before, but he would soon have the face of a killer. He was disgusted.

He shook his head and lifted up his Death Eater mask, running his fingers along the details, before putting it on and walking downstairs. Every step tapped against the floor, like a ticking time bomb waiting for his demise.

He stood in front of the fireplace next to Dolohov and Yaxley, each of them grabbing floo powder in their hands. He rubbed it between his fingers, dreading every moment.

"Hogsmeade." They all said and with a crack of light, they were all transported there.

He could feel himself in the air for a moment like nothing else existed. He opened his eyes, leaving the bliss, and was there.

The cold autumn wind bit at his skin, sending chills down his spine. He knew what he had to do but nothing could prepare him for what was to come. He tapped his foot against the ground, trying to distract himself.

Yaxley and Dolohov gave him a nod before apparating through the sky in clouds of black smoke. Draco stared at them like he was watching it play out around him.

Dolohov began pulling people out of cottages and buildings, lining them up against the hard ground, pushing them to their knees. Draco could hear the screams of children and adults as they were taken from their homes and businesses. He tried to dull out the noise by occluding and trying to remove himself from what was playing out in front of him.

He stood in silence as they began asking each person what house they were in. Yaxley started out with a small child, who was probably no older than eleven.

"State what house you're in," his harsh voice sounded in front of the little boy's face.

"What is this for?" The boy asked, his voice filled with fear. Draco's heart panged, knowing the boy was just an innocent child. A child who may never get the chance to live.

"Shut it and do as you're told," Dolohov snapped causing the boy to flinch. His mom was next to him, holding his chubby little fingers in her own.

"H-Hufflepuff," he struggled to get out.

Thank god.

"Move aside," Yaxley said pushing his over into the dirt.

They continued to do so until members of each house were separated. It felt like an eternity had passed. Mothers and fathers, daughters and sons, were all chosen to live or die. It was like some sick fate. The type of thing that made you believe there was no good in the world.

Draco could tell they had no idea what was to come. Strangers held each other's hands, preparing themselves for what was their last moments. He stepped forward, taking a deep breath and reminding himself that he had to do this.

The wind seemed to blow harder as if telling him to stop what he was doing. He could hear the whimpers and cries in front of him but tried his best to drown them out.

"Do it, boy."

He clenched his jaw before pointing his want to them and whispering the curse under his breath. He had to look away as the green light flashed through the air and everything went silent for a moment.

It was a deathly silence before the screams of the other wizards echoed around him. A sound would forever be etched in his mind.

He turned, refusing to look at what he had done, and apparated away with a cloud of black smoke.

They were dead. Six people. Six lives. Six innocent witches and wizards would never go home again.

That is when he knew he was truly wicked and vile. He knew he would never find his way back to Hermione. He knew she would never be able to look into his eyes again knowing of what he had done.

A selfish part of him would kill for her. He would kill a million people if it meant she was safe. That was what was wrong with him. That is why he didn't deserve her. It was his fatal flaw. Love was a sick and twisted drug he would kill for.

If he had spared their lives his mother would be dead. He wouldn't have Voldemort's trust. Without his trust, he would never be able to get the information and status needed to help the Order.

He tried to justify it but couldn't.

Another part of Draco died when he uttered those words. It killed him inside. It was like he was stabbed in the chest by a knife and had it twisted around, so agonizing and cruel. He hated who he was and who he had become. It was no longer as simple as just being an asshole or a shitty person. He was a killer.

He closed his eyes as he arrived back at the manor, gripping the wall. All the air seemed to leave the room. The pain was too much to bear.

So, he occluded like he had all those years. He turned it all off. He made himself the cold and empty person he had once been. It was easier to just feel nothing.

He didn't want to feel pain, or love, or remorse.

He was the man Hermione used to hate with her entire being and soon would again.

A/N

I had this whole chapter written and then it got deleted off of my computer. I am so sorry. The next chapter should be posted within the next couple of days.

Sorry for any mistakes in this chapter.