The Dark Legacy (a drarry story)

Chapter XVII

There was not one time where Draco had hated himself more than he did now. What he was going to do made him sick to his stomach. He was dragged into the dining hall of his manor to accompany the dark lord, his lower lip trembling. He walked through the doors, taking his seat nest to Voldemort. "My lord," He acknowledged. 

"What is it, Draco?" He said, stroking his hand over Nagini's scales.

"I'm sick of listening to Potter cry all the time." He stated, wincing at his own words. This was going to be impossible to fool him. Voldemort gestured for him to continue, and he cleared his throat. "I wish to have my own place among the deatheaters, and to do so, I would like to stay in the manor."

"What you're saying is that you're willing to prove your loyalties so that you can leave the dungeons?"

"Yes, my lord." Draco dipped his head.

"That is a fair enough request. You truly wish to serve me, in any way I command?" Voldemort smirked, and Draco nodded. "Alright, Draco." He stood, and gestured for Draco to stand as well. 

"I want you to kill her," He said, pointing to a woman in shackles across the room. "She's a mudblood, not worth anything. Prove your loyalty, Draco, and kill her for me." 

"How shall I kill her, my lord? I haven't a wand." Draco stuttered, his heart pounding out of his chest. He had expected Voldemort to have him kill someone but somewhere in the back of his head, he hoped there was a way out of it.

Voldemort grinned. "You can take your father's wand, Draco." He swiped Lucius' wand from his hand and gave it to Draco. "Now, kill her, or one of us will kill you." He said as all of the other deatheaters pointed their wands at him. Even the boy from Ravenclaw held a shaky arm out as he stared intently at Draco, ready to make a move if his master commanded it.

He had figured that they would do this. Not that he could apparate, but he could have reductoed the ceiling in or something. There was no way that doing that would work, which is why his plan was going to be nearly impossible. He was actually going to kill that girl.

"Don't do it, Draco," Harry had begged him before he left. "Please find another way."

Draco could think of no other way, and sadly, this wasn't the worst part of his plan. 

He raised his arm, and his hand trembled, making his wand shake. He thought of all the hatred for Voldemort, and his love for Harry. He kept telling himself over and over, this is for Harry, this is for Harry, this is for Harry, and he opened his mouth.

"Avada Kedavra,"

***Three hours earlier***

"Don't do it, Draco, please find another way." Harry begged him, his hands caressing his jutting, angelic, cheekbones, and trembled as Draco pushed him away, not able to bear the broken look on Harry's face. 

"I do, Harry. I've thought and thought and there is nothing else. I'm going to have to leave you alone in here, I'm going to have to kill someone, and there is nothing else that I can think of to get a hold of some wands. They'll never let me have one, and I'm sure that they have charms to prevent anyone from accio-ing their wands from them."

"You can't kill anyone," Harry shook his head with a guilt ridden look on his face.

"I'll do anything to protect you, Harry." 

"I can't just accept that you're going to be killing someone just for my sake! It's not right," Harry trembled, sitting in the dirt far away from Draco.

"It may not be right, but it's my only chance of saving you. If you hate it so much, then think of it this way," Draco paused, before choking out the last part, "I'm doing this to save myself. Isn't that who Malfoy is supposed to be? A selfish prat who only cares about himself? It's time I became who I once was." Draco spat as the door opened and he left Harry alone, crying in dark.

***current time***

Draco kept his eyes glued shut and refused to look at the dead body of the muggleborn in front of him.

"You have done well, Draco." Bellatrix purred in his ear, and he kept his jaw clenched tight. He turned around so that he wouldn't have to look at his victim, and his knees threatened to collapse under him. She escorted him to the door, and heard the gleeful laughs of all the deatheaters. Sickening.

"Would you like to stay in your old room, Draco?" Narcissa whispered as he left the room. She knew what her son had done, and she knew that this was all to protect Harry, no matter how wrong. She had never killed anyone personally, for the dark lord had no use for her. She wasn't even a deatheater becuase she never accepted the mark. Draco nodded, his head hung low, and she held his arm gently as she led him to his room. "Now I want you to feel welcome in your house again, Draco. You can go wherever you want now, except for the dungeons. The door is permanently locked now, so you won't be able to see him." 

Draco nodded again, aware that this would have happened. He hated the fact that if his plan failed, those would be his last words to him. "But I'll tell you a secret," Narcissa said, and Draco looked up. "There's a slot in the outer door that can be used for food. If you're careful, you could talk to him for a bit in the middle of the night." She smiled, and opened the bedroom door for Draco to go in. "Please don't hesitate to ask if you need something."

Once she left, Draco went over to his dresser, slamming his hands down against the wood. He let the tears slip out, and he looked at himself in the mirror in front of him. 

He was pathetic. 

Nothing.

He didn't deserve Harry.

He punched the mirror, the glass shattering at the impact of glass on skin, and he sank to the floor in a curled up ball, feeling very insignificant and tiny. Guilt washed over him in a sea of emotions, and he didn't even bother to clean up the blood dripping from his hand.

The first part of his plan worked.

Only three more to go.