Tender Poisons
Title: Tender Poisons
Rating: PG for now (NC-17 overall)
Summary: He himself didn’t care much for life. He actually prefers the thought of a peaceful rest in death to the dread brought upon him by simply breathing in and out day by day. He was only still alive for the soul purpose of his own family. And damn feelings to hell, if he didn’t have them he might have been gone quite a long while ago.
Warnings: dark themes, character death, spoilers for HBP
Disclaimer: I really wish I owned these wizards, but sadly I do not :/
A/N: As you will probably be able to tell I’m much more skilled when it comes to writing Draco’s POV, so please excuse the sad lack in Harry’s POV.
“Draco Malfoy,” The dark voice says, slithering around the tall, pale boy even before the voice’s owner makes his way round the young man. “Failed. Unarguably, I might add.”
The young man, barely the age of seventeen by not even yet a month, stands shaking. His white-blonde hair falls in his face unkempt from much stress over this past year. Not that me much minded, his mind too occupied to notice the stares or comments of his peers at school. That and it flopped carelessly over dark bags under his sunken in eyes, bruises and cuts lining his face and arms as Speckles of blood leave trails from where the glass had befallen him from shattered windows. 17, officially legal and still such a young age to be working under the power of the most feared man of the Wizarding World. Still so young, indeed, to have almost gone through with the murder of his own school headmaster. Not that he’d particularly liked the deceased old man, but he still never meant for him to die. Even if not at his hands and have befallen through the downfall of another of Draco’s professors, Severus Snape.
He’d been whispered a few ‘well done’s’ for going half way through with the plan laid out in front of him, sealing his fate, yet the moment he couldn’t carry out the dark act of slaughter for himself he knew he was in no hurry to be rushed for good praise. Now here he stood, head hung and trembling as the dark lord himself circles him, wondering allowed a punishment for the young man for nearly screwing up his plans all together and praising himself on having thought to gather a back up plan.
He flinches at a few cheers raised from the suggestion of death. Anything for a good show, he supposed, though he knew he was little to nothing to one of the most powerful dark wizards. He could easily find a replacement for him within two snaps of his boney fingers. If by force rather than by willingness. Draco? He was here for the purpose of his family and his bloodline only. Despite the awful things spread about his family, about the whispered rumors of the darkness his entire family had come into, Draco knew his family only knew kindness for him and in turn he’d return their respects. He himself didn’t care much for life. He actually prefers the thought of a peaceful rest in death to the dread brought upon him by simply breathing in and out day by day. He was only still alive for the soul purpose of his own family. And damn feelings to hell, if he didn’t have them he might have been gone quite a long while ago.
“A little torture never hurt anyone.” Is what’s hissed into his ear and he stands perfectly still, only stiffening to the touch of a wand held steady against his back. He closes his eyes tighter than they already are and almost wishes that he’d just get it over with. That he’d mutter the two simple words connecting together to form the most dangerous of spells. Avada Kedavra, Draco’s minds practically pleads and instead he’s met with a small mutter of “Crucio.”
Within an instant his whole body was alight with pain. Every inch of his skin felt like it was being ripped from his body before he was laid down to roll in salt. He was sure he was screaming out but everything was white noise to him. Through his mind he could hear other voices laughing and mocking at his open weakness. Not that they hadn’t all been subject to the very position Draco is in currently. His brain feels like it’s overheating with a rattle inside his skull and his hands claw at already bruised and scuffed skin in an attempt to just make it stop. It yields on though, moving in waves of immense agony through his body. When he’s finally released from the curse he collapse, breathing hard and shaking head to toe. He can still feel the remnants of pain as Lord Voldemort’s laughing decreases now that he’s no longer torturing the boy in front of him. Draco breaths hard, trying to get as much air to his lungs as possible and as footsteps sound around him, he clenches his fists and shuts his eyes once more.
“I don’t have a use for this one any longer. Avada Kedavra.” Is left as a whisper in the air and Draco lets a slight tear slip down his hollowed cheek. His parents weren’t told to turn away, nor was he allowed his final goodbyes.
But a few seconds pass. The sound of the crowd of death eaters clearing the area is the first sound he’s met with as his head clears slightly to a pounding ache. He feels warmth drop down next to him and his mother’s slight cries fill the surrounding area. He manages to open his eyes, locking onto the ground next to him where a spider is left facing upwards, it’s death weighing down on Draco and only making him want to cry more. He would, if his vision wasn’t already coming to a tight close and his brain wasn’t already completely shutting down on itself, exhaustions barely has a chance to hit before his eyes close and everything is reverted to a beautiful black darkness. Almost peaceful.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry hadn’t known where he was going as he made his way towards the Astronomy tower in hopes to get away from all the commotion. It had only be a mere three days since Dumbledore’s death and still it hadn’t truly sunk in that no longer would Harry ever be seeing the man sitting brightly in his office with an unspoken wisdom, ready to ask him of the next thing only Harry could help to complete. With another wash of dread he once again realized that this was it, he was officially alone in this.
Err, well, as alone as he could be that is. He’d tried to get his best friends, Ron and Hermione, to realize what dangerous times lay ahead of them; tried to make them understand that he just didn’t want them dying because of him. He couldn’t handle it if his friends died. He needed them to be alive and well more than he needed their help in finding all of these horcruxes. He wanted them to stay and keep themselves and their families in well being. This was Harry’s fight and he wasn’t about to let any of them give in to the idea that he was happy about their persistence in aiding him on whatever lay ahead.
He leaned against the railing over looking the grounds of Hogwarts from the astronomy tower. He had a perfect view of where Dumbledore had just recently been put to rest and Harry had to sniffle roughly to keep back more tears than already had been shed over the occasion of his funeral. The grounds were all laced in white, decorated just for the occasion while students, staff and members of the ministry of magic crowded around to give their respects. Most everyone was dressed in their best black dress robes, unless you were a student who’d chosen to stay behind to pay your respects to the headmaster, then it was common to see the occasional hint of green or pink within the crowd, as most of the students wore their dress robes from the Yule Ball.
His eyes scanned over the crowd, past the row of arrows shot from the Centaurs in respect. His eyed spotted a few first years that he’d seen in the halls this morning, and a couple more that he recognized from his classes and the great hall. Finally his eyes came to lay resting on one Ginny Weasley when he’d spotted her speaking with Ron. They both looked saddened, and even Ron was resisting the urge to eat what had been prepared for the guests today despite his larger than life appetite. However, he could not manage to spot his other friend, looking around the funeral cervice area until-
“I thought I’d find you up here.” And he turns on instinct from the voice, Hermione giving him a soft apologetic smile for the scare and moving to rest beside him.
“And you have.” He replies gently, not turning to meet her gaze now, knowing she too was in tears from the overwhelming truth that Albus Dumbledore was indeed dead.
“Good thing, too, I think McGonagall was looking to have you say a few words.” And Harry simply grunted in response. He didn’t much feel like going down to speak. “No one’s going to make you, Harry.” She tells him, looking down at her hands before letting one cover over Harry’s own with a small sigh.
This was it. They were alone in this.