100quills: 030 - Regret
Title: Watching the Battle
Rating: PG
Prompt Set: 50.1 for 100quills
Prompt: 030 - Regret
Word Count: 460
Summary: Draco watches the battle at Hogwarts.
Notes: Takes place during Deathly Hallows. I'm back from Hawaii!
From where Draco was hiding, he could see everything as it occurred. The statue, which he had not bothered to look at much before he had dived behind it, was an ideal place to obscure himself from everyone who wished to harm him. And if he was honest with himself, (which he was, for the first time in a while), that seemed to be nearly everyone. Draco was not a Death Eater, and he did not belong to the Order of the Phoenix; he was a Malfoy, and in the end, Malfoys remained loyal to themselves above everyone else.
Draco flinched as a wayward curse rebounded upon the statue. He shrunk further back into the corner behind it, though he knew a minute drop of Felix Felicis still remained in his blood. He did not dare to try and escape; surely, someone would only attempt to kill him, and he was not prepared to die. He was not even prepared to fight-not willing, rather. In truth, there was not much to fight for when one was not allied with anyone else.
From where Draco was hiding, he could see almost everyone who did have something to fight for. There were students and teachers and Death Eaters, all mingled together in an epic battle which was certain to be remembered centuries after. Draco watched them fall, one by one, and watched as only some rose again. Most he could not recognize, simply because of the sheer rapidity at which they moved.
One, however, stood out clear to him, and he found himself watching her every time she appeared. She was easy to distinguish from everyone else, with her great mass of untamable curls and the skill with which she could fight. From where Draco was hiding, Hermione Granger seemed to be simply and utterly amazing.
Had he not been so fearful for his own life, he might have felt regret. He certainly did not need to fear for her life, and so regret, aside from wonderment, was all he might have been able to muster. She was like an artist, the way she shot spells left and right, dodging the ones that were sent back at her. She was unlike any Mudblood he had ever encountered or heard of-and of course, being his father’s son, he at least knew all of their names.
It was regrettable, almost, that he had never got to know her better, regrettable that she had not been born with purer blood. What sort of Slytherin would she have made, he wondered, if he had met her before her magical schooling had begun?
From where Draco was hiding, he watched as she triumphed again and again, feeling envious that he would never be as brave.
Rating: PG
Prompt Set: 50.1 for 100quills
Prompt: 030 - Regret
Word Count: 460
Summary: Draco watches the battle at Hogwarts.
Notes: Takes place during Deathly Hallows. I'm back from Hawaii!
From where Draco was hiding, he could see everything as it occurred. The statue, which he had not bothered to look at much before he had dived behind it, was an ideal place to obscure himself from everyone who wished to harm him. And if he was honest with himself, (which he was, for the first time in a while), that seemed to be nearly everyone. Draco was not a Death Eater, and he did not belong to the Order of the Phoenix; he was a Malfoy, and in the end, Malfoys remained loyal to themselves above everyone else.
Draco flinched as a wayward curse rebounded upon the statue. He shrunk further back into the corner behind it, though he knew a minute drop of Felix Felicis still remained in his blood. He did not dare to try and escape; surely, someone would only attempt to kill him, and he was not prepared to die. He was not even prepared to fight-not willing, rather. In truth, there was not much to fight for when one was not allied with anyone else.
From where Draco was hiding, he could see almost everyone who did have something to fight for. There were students and teachers and Death Eaters, all mingled together in an epic battle which was certain to be remembered centuries after. Draco watched them fall, one by one, and watched as only some rose again. Most he could not recognize, simply because of the sheer rapidity at which they moved.
One, however, stood out clear to him, and he found himself watching her every time she appeared. She was easy to distinguish from everyone else, with her great mass of untamable curls and the skill with which she could fight. From where Draco was hiding, Hermione Granger seemed to be simply and utterly amazing.
Had he not been so fearful for his own life, he might have felt regret. He certainly did not need to fear for her life, and so regret, aside from wonderment, was all he might have been able to muster. She was like an artist, the way she shot spells left and right, dodging the ones that were sent back at her. She was unlike any Mudblood he had ever encountered or heard of-and of course, being his father’s son, he at least knew all of their names.
It was regrettable, almost, that he had never got to know her better, regrettable that she had not been born with purer blood. What sort of Slytherin would she have made, he wondered, if he had met her before her magical schooling had begun?
From where Draco was hiding, he watched as she triumphed again and again, feeling envious that he would never be as brave.