Imbre
Everything had happened so fast.
After killing Umbridge and Potter, Voldemort swiftly rose from his chair. Leaning over, he whispered into Bellatrix's ear and left the room, his robes billowing behind him as the crowd of Death Eaters quickly parted in his descent.
Draco barely registered Bellatrix approaching Umbridge's stiff body, bending down and yanking a locket off from around her neck. Straightening, Bellatrix started barking out instructions.
"Take the ugly little blood traitor down to the dungeons! The Dark Lord will decide what he wants to do with him later. Remove the rest of the garbage out of here as well."
She turned to leave and paused.
“Actually,” she grinned, “take the body of the half-blood and post it up in the main entrance hall of Hogwarts. Let word spread that their so-called prophecy was a joke! THE DARK LORD HAS PREVAILED!” she screamed. She looked deranged as she said this, her eyes bulging and grin stretched wide and thin.
Bellatrix turned and left the room, following the Dark Lord, and Draco felt his father quickly guiding him out into the hall and up the stairs.
As they approached Draco's bedroom door, Lucius turned to him.
“You need to get your emotions under better control, Draco!” he hissed. “Don't you see that the others are just waiting for us to slip up?! A moment's misstep, a simple hesitation, a look of fucking SYMPATHY could mean our downfall!”
Draco felt himself swallow roughly. He knew this. Of course, he knew that every little thing meant life or death. But he was still human- just a kid at that! And just moments ago he had watched the murder of another child, one whom he had known well. It was more intimate, more frightening than any of the other deaths he had witnessed so far.
“Yes, Father. I'm sorry.”
“I don't want to hear your empty apologies,” Lucius spat. “I want to see some EFFORT! Do you realize what has just taken place? Harry Potter is DEAD! The tide of this war has officially shifted! The prophecy is null! The order has failed, and we will succeed in changing the world as we know it!”
Draco numbly stared down at his feet.
“Are you listening to me, boy?! GET IT TOGETHER! I will talk with your mother about arranging more Occlumency lessons with your aunt. You will need to toughen up for what's to come.”
Draco's fists clenched as he fought back a rebuttal. He hated spending any amount of time around Bellatrix. Her Occlumency lessons felt like borderline torture, even after using what little skill he had learned from his secret lessons with Snape, and the fear of her discovering his secrets left him having full-blown anxiety attacks after their lessons. Draco just knew he would be even more prone to a mental breach after the events that took place today. Naturally, this was all the more reason why he needed to strengthen his occlumency, but...
“Certainly, Father. As you wish. But with Potter now dead, I assume there is much to be done, and Aunt Bella will most assuredly be busy performing her duties to the Dark Lord. Would you consider Severus instead? I hear he is also very proficient in this skill.”
Lucius eyed him wearily and sighed.
“Very astute, Draco. That should suffice. I will speak with your mother, who will inform you about the arrangements. Now go, and stay in your rooms until our guests have departed."
Draco gave a slight dip of his head in acknowledgment and quickly turned to open the door to his room.
A tight grip on his shoulder gave him pause, and Draco looked back to see his father hesitate before saying, “Steel yourself, Draco. Become fearless. That is the only way you will survive this, my son.” Draco could swear he saw a hint of sadness in his father's eyes before he turned and hastily made his way down the hall.
Draco stepped into his room and collapsed against the closed door. Bringing his knees to his chest, he let his head fall into his hands as his mental walls crashed down, a violent sob ripping from his throat.
The most arrogant, reckless, annoying, and fearless boy he had ever known had been officially erased from the world. What good was fearlessness if it could be destroyed with a whisper?
Sobs continued to wrack his body as he accepted the full weight of what Harry's death meant.
This was his life now. That tiny flicker of hope he didn't even realize he was holding on to was smothered out of existence. There would be no going back to 'normal.' Whatever dark, demented plans the Dark Lord had for the Wizarding World would become his new normal. There would be no more warm, inviting feasts in the Great Hall of his second home. There would be no more gatherings with his friends in the Slytherin common room, no more dimly lit parties filled with the carefree laughter of his peers. No more stolen glances or perfectly timed run-ins with her...
Granger… Where was she? Was she safe? What if…
Draco's chest started to tighten, his breaths coming faster and faster. Hands gripping his hair to the point of pain, his thoughts spiraled out of control.
What if she's been caught?! What if she's being tortured right now? Or worse…
Images of Hermione being held down, her clothes being torn from her body, and her blood-curdling screams filled his mind. Body finally succumbing, he fell forward on all fours, promptly throwing up on the polished hardwood floor. After giving a few heaves, a wave of dizziness hit him, and he sat back and tried to steady himself with large gulps of air.
He needed to calm down.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
Panicking would not help. He needed to think. He wished he could have asked Potter and Weasley where Granger was. Had she been with them? Everyone knew she was the brains behind all their stunts. She was brilliant and thorough. So how did they get caught? Something was off.
Slowly standing on shaking legs, he vanished away his mess and began pacing his room, trying to come up with a plan.
Weasley! He's still here, in the dungeons! I just need to get down there and ask him before they kill him too…
Draco hesitated. He needed to be smart about this. He needed to bide his time. If he acted impulsively, it would be the exact thing his father warned him about: opening up the perfect opportunity for their opponents to get rid of him.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, he felt the panic creeping back in. How much time did he realistically have? Voldemort was ruthless. Draco knew that whatever plans he had in store for Weasley would leave him broken or dead. And with these bloodthirsty monsters around, time was of the essence.
Thoughts racing, an epiphany suddenly hit him.
He knew what he needed to do.
Deep breath in.
Deep breath out.
Gathering his resolve, Draco leaned back onto his bed and mentally worked out the smaller kinks in his plan. Pressing his palms to his eyes, he told himself that he needed to try to rest.
But as he lay there in the fading light of the day, it was all he could do to try and ignore the muffled screams filling the dark halls of the manor.
Deep breath in…
Deep breath out…