The Bracelet (Draco Malfoy Fanfiction)

Chapter 64

Hey guys!

Sorry it's taken me awhile to upload - the last week of school starts tomorrow, and I've been very busy studying for finals this past week!

I think you guys will like this chapter, everything is starting to go down! Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

***

Draco's POV -

Evening falls over the castle grounds faster than I want it to.

The usual vibrant oranges and pinks that stripe the sky as the sun sets aren't present tonight - it's abnormally cloudy. The air is cool, drafting in through the windows and circling around shivering students like famished vultures.

I spend the entire day in my dorm, and when it's time to go down to the room of requirement to complete the final step of my task, I take the back way - the way that I know I won't run into anyone. I can't bear to look at the faces of all the people that I'm putting in danger tonight, knowing that they have families expecting them home in a mere week.

There's a heavy knot of dread unfurling in my stomach as I walk through the corridors.

I'm sort of surprised that I've actually completed the task, after all. There were times where it became so complicated that I wanted to quit altogether, run away, die.

I'd seen Voldemort kill people. I'd seen him hurt people, knew that I was his key to unlocking the success of the dark side.

And yet, I hadn't ever tried to stop him.

Even now, here I am, trudging through a dimly lit corridor, on my way to unleash his dark servants into the school and murder the only man that can stop Voldemort himself.

Why the hell am I still following through with this?

And then, I recall the one moment that made me promise myself to never stop.

***

(Flashback)

If the boy could describe the room in two words, and he knew this - it would be dark, and cold.

The walls, floor, ceiling, all of it had been cemented together by bricks as black as ink - it looked as though somebody had slicked them over with oil. He was shaking like an aspen leaf, but it certainly wasn't because of the frigid air.

Just then, the door behind him swung open with a hollow sigh.

The boy whipped around, his face paling. Foolishly, he hoped it was just the house settling, or the wind blowing. Unfortunately, this was just a delusion, and somewhere within him, he knew this to be true.

There, in the empty door frame, stood a dark figure.

The figure - a man, it clearly was - was tall, cloaked by dark robes that pooled at his feet like blood. His hands protruded from beneath them, similar to gargantuan pale spiders. He did not appear to be breathing.

"Draco." A cold voice came slithering out from beneath the robes. The boy jumped at the mention of his name. He, absentmindedly, wondered how pathetic and weak he must look.

"My-my lord." Draco stammered, and swiftly took a knee, remembering what his father had taught him only weeks ago.

The robed man came drifting into the room, pacing as though he really was hovering an inch or two off the ground. Draco peered up through his eyelashes, unsure of when he was supposed to stand again. On his knee, he wobbled.