Left Behind (A Dramione Romance)

A Stinging Jinx

Draco looked at the group of people standing in front of him.

The Weasley boy, was half hunched over and looked bloody, and bloody awful. The pig headed weasel had clearly thought it was a good idea to fight with his captors. Draco would almost have smiled at it if he didn't look so genuinely hurt.

He didn't want to look further because he knew the person next to him was surely Granger. His eyes shifted and he saw that she looked scared and defiant at the same time. Like a captured lioness in true annoying Gryffindor spirit. She was struggling against Greyback's grip. Her little sweater rode up exposing a strip of smooth skin across her stomach. Draco couldn't help looking. His eyes flickered away quickly and he was that the werewolf was leering at Granger and the exposed flesh licking his lips like Granger was some kind of a meal.

Draco felt the strong and sudden urge to punch Greyback in the face, with his fist and then hex him with a wand. He batted the thought down fiercely. It didn't matter that he didn't like the way the older man was looking at Hermione he was powerless to do anything about it. Still, it made his skin crawl.

Only moments ago he had been picturing her safe and sound...

You should know better than to hope by now, he chastised himself.

Draco realized he was staring. Granger's sharp eyes met his and locked with him.

He couldn't handle that look. He didn't want to bear the weight of the anger and the pleading he saw there. Feeling nauseous again he looked away from here and to the final member of the group.

It was Harry Potter to be sure. There was something wrong with his face, but who else could the one in front be other than the third member of the golden trio?

"They say they've got Potter," his mother announced with her usual regal authority and turned to him. "Draco come here."

Draco wanted to protest and turn heel and leave.

Unfortunately that wasn't an option.

Draco stood slowly, setting the book down on the table next to him as casually as he could manage. His mind protested with every step.

I don't want to be the Judas, the thought ran through his head. I don't want to be the one who betrays the 'Chosen One'

He tried to dismiss the thought. He didn't even like Potter.

No, he flat out Hated Harry Potter. Harry was the thorn in his side, the enemy...

That didn't change the fact that Draco did not want to be the wizard responsible for handing the wizarding worlds supposed savior over to the devil Voldemort.

Lucius saw handing over Potter as a chance at eternal glory. A few months ago Draco might have seen it that way to, before Voldemort had asked him to kill Dumbledore.

That was the night everything changed.

Draco was transported back immediately to the tower and the night mare memory he had almost every night. The memory of the old wizard standing so stoically and fearless... showing him kindness even as he held a wand like gun against the old man's head.

Draco shoved the memory aside violently. He felt his hand tremble.

Not now, you can't afford to think of it now.

He never want to think about that day, about how he had failed in two ways: Failed to live up to his family and the Dark Lord's expectations, and failed to save an old man, unarmed, and unprotected, from death.