Everlasting 2 (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

I Have No One Left

Sometimes, it's difficult to accept the truth, despite it being a long-awaited truth. Sometimes, the truth we chase for so long becomes the truth the hardest to accept; chasing the truth becomes a part of us, and thus when we achieve it, we don't quite know what to do with ourselves. Chasing the truth shapes us so intricately, forming us into who we are in the present moment, that when it's achieved, we are left standing, gaping ahead of ourselves, not knowing how to process the final outcome. We'd been so set on the chase, we never considered what to do after it. We forget how, as humans, we get attached to little things; how attached one can become to the chase of the truth, rather than the truth itself. It eventually so happens that it's not the truth we desire, but rather everything that stands behind the truth: the chase of it, the thought of it, the desire of it. We fall in love with the desire of the truth, rather than the truth itself. That is how complex humans can be, with so many different attachment forming at every second, at every experience. They are impacted by everything, created into who they are at every second by every little circumstance. Humans are fragile, sensitive, and that is what keeps them human; being impacted by their world, their experiences as human. 

And so, when you watched Voldemort down on the ground, helpless, with Harry's wand aimed at him, Harry's face dirty and wearied out, exhausted and tired, you felt an emptiness grow inside yourself. This is what you'd wanted for so long - you hated this man, after all. He killed your parents and hurt so many people you loved. He deserved to die. Yet, seeing him helpless, knowing he was due to die, there was a longing inside yourself that you had not quite felt before. A helplessness of your own. Like a part of you would die, too. Like it would be the end of an era. You had made so many memories in the process of trying to capture Voldemort, that having captured him, you feared all those memories and everything would go with him. 

"Don't." You instructed quickly, placing your arm before Harry's wand, stopping him from casting the spell. 

"Huh?" Harry asked in surprise, turning to you. "What do you mean - " His voice shortly cut off when he noticed you approaching Voldemort on the ground, walking towards him slowly. "[F/n] ... what are you doing?" 

No one else could say anything, for no one in the crowd knew what to expect from an individual like yourself, approaching your worst enemy slowly, but not with fear or enmity in your eyes, but rather curiosity and a longing interest. 

And when you reached him, you lowered yourself gently to his height, before lifting his weak chin upwards to face you as he picked himself up; the poor little thing, once so strong and powerful, now controlled by your hand. 

And looking into his eyes, for a moment, you could feel yourself looking into the eyes of Tom Marvolo Riddle; a boy. A boy who could have done better, perhaps. Was there a chance of this? Or was he always doomed for this fate? 

"Did you ever love, Tom?" You finally asked, peacefully, calmly, gently. You did not ask to threaten, or intimidate, there was no rudeness, no sarcasm. There was mere curiosity in the gentleness of your manner. 

Everyone, even Voldemort, was taken aback by such a question. The soft manner in which you presented it to him, too. It was out of character for yourself, but more importantly, it was completely unsuitable for the current situation, where everyone was close to victory, wishing to end it all, there and then. 

"You never fail to amuse me, [F/n] Potter." 

"Did you?"

"Did I ever love?" He paused, smiling gently, in that awful, sly manner of his. "No. I do not believe I had the capacity for it, [F/n] Potter."

"Nagini was the closest you had to caring about something." 

"Had?" He asked, not shifting his expression. 

"Had." 

"I see." 

"[F/n]," Harry called out, but he could not get your attention. 

"Would you ever accept defeat at the hands of anyone, Tom?"

He paused. He was thinking. "I want to say no, [F/n] Potter."

"But?" 

"But, indeed," the awful smile, "there is something right about this moment. My hatred for you, young [F/n] Potter, is the closest I will ever get to accepting defeat. Only, however, at the hands of a wizard as yourself." He paused again, the smile widening. "Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because," he sighed, "you are so much like me." 

You had no response. His expression did not shift, but yours did. Your calm expression shifted to one of a nervous curiosity, but taken aback, for sure. You felt your body move away gently, backwards, to take a deeper breath as your brows knitted themselves inwards gently. 

"Don't act so surprised, [F/n] Potter." He grinned. "You love the power. You're careless, reckless, and feel no regret at using the worst curses in the world. As though they were made for you. To aid you, and everything you do in your evil life."

"My life isn't evil." 

"If I don't take over the wizarding world," his grin widened, "then you know who will." 

"[F/n], he's chatting shit. Come here." Harry said once more, though it scarcely reached your ears. 

"Someone is destined to do it." Tom continued. "And if I die, then the destiny is passed onto you."

"I'm not evil." You snapped. "I've done it all to save my friends and family. You've no capacity for loving, I do."

"Perhaps that makes you worse than me. You understand the complexity and depths of human emotion, and yet you will continue to be driven by power and not care for life and death. I had no capacity for loving, this was all I knew. But you ... you, [F/n] Potter ... you've capacity for loving, you know more than this, but your body, your mind, and your soul ... they all crave the other end of the spectrum ... the one without love ... the one with power, control, and where you can be the one and only God - where you decide who lives and dies." 

"Crucio," you whispered under your breath, staring into Voldemort's eyes, resulting in the excruciating pain bursting through him, sending him back down completely into the ground, to melt into it with pain. But he would not scream, nor shout, nor make any excessive noise. The smirk remained plastered on his face as he tossed and turned in pain, digging himself into the ground with pain. 

"[F/n]," Draco whispered, slowly approaching you, in the manner one approaches a wild animal. Slowly, nervously, wishing to stick one's hand out first for the animal to sniff first and know that there is no danger. "[F/n], look at me. Come back to reality. Hey." 

"Crucio," you whispered again, enhancing the pain. 

"He got into your head, [F/n]. You don't have to prove anything to him." 

"Draco," Harry said quickly, "be careful." 

"[F/n]." Draco had quickly placed himself between you and Voldemort, causing your focus to break, snapping back into the reality where all you could see was Draco's face. 

Your body, your mind, and your soul ... they all crave the other end of the spectrum ... the one without love ... the one with power, control, and where you can be the one and only God - where you decide who lives and dies.

"[F/n], hey, you with me?" He asked, gently wrapping his arms around you. "You can't let him get into your head like that." 

"It's fine. It's fine. I'm here," you inhaled, exhaled, quickly, into Draco's chest. "He just said ... "

"I heard. We all did. He's not telling the truth, [F/n]. You're the most loving person I've ever met. Okay? It's all okay. Come on." 

"[F/n]! - " Was all you heard from Ginny's voice before noticing Voldemort standing straight now, back in his position of power, as his wand blasted a green beam straight ahead of himself. His smirk in his usual position, his wand outstretched, as the green beam flashed directly ... straight ... onto Harry. 

And there was no good end to this story. Harry did not dodge it, nor redirect it. It had come as too much of a shock. The last look of Harry's lively eyes were planted on you. You were the last thing he saw.