Memento Mori

Draco sat in front of a glass table covered with white and gold candles that painted the room in a soft yellow hue. Various crosses were scattered across the top of it. A red pillow rested beneath his knees and his head was slightly bowed. Palms were together as he spoke his prayer into the silence of the church. Only the statues of angels were there to listen.

On his side sat a long gash from a slicing jinx that had ripped through his flesh. Blood dripped down and made puddles on the floor. The pain crawled up his body, but Draco knew he had to ignore it, to fight it. The darkness reached to consume him.

Death Eaters were beyond the walls, waiting for him. He knew this, he knew that his time had run out. There was nothing else after this. These were his final moments. All he could do was pray.

Pray to a God he didn’t believe in. One he even feared may be real, in hopes that maybe, just maybe he had been wrong. And there was a God waiting for him on the other side that would be willing to bring him home.

Hermione had taught him about the church, she was raised Catholic and still carried some of her practices into the wizarding world. She always told Draco that it gave her comfort. Even if there was a chance that God was not real. Hermione talked to Him, often. And eventually Draco started as well.

Draco found that people turned to religion when they are scared of the unknown. Scared of the “what comes next?” When they need an answer or guidance. When they could not trust themselves, they turned to God to give them the answers.

But when Draco spoke to God, he spoke to Him out of fear. Fear that all the terrible things he had done would follow him to the ends of the Earth, where darkness would claim him forever. His prayers were never answered. Draco felt abandoned in his darkest moments. There was no God waiting for him. There was no God at all.

Draco Malfoy was utterly, and completely alone. But he prayed anyway. He gripped the red and white rosary tight in his hand every night when he prayed, begging, pleading that someone would hear him. That someone would save him.

No one ever did.

So here he sat, in a church whispering to the walls. The last prayer to ever leave his lips. His final goodbye and final chance at salvation.

The doors behind him flew open, shaking the foundation as they slammed against the walls. Death Eaters poured in, wands raised. Draco’s eyes opened and he stared down at the candles burning before him. The flames flickering but refusing to go out.

Tonight was the end.

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” He bowed his head in respect as he lifted from the ground slowly, pulling his wand from his pocket.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me. Amen.”

He lifted the beaded rosary to his lips, kissed it gently and before stepping down to face his end.

Magic blew past him, destroying the walls behind him. The stained glass shattered upon impact and shards came falling down around them. Draco didn’t fight, his strength had left his body. His soul was tired. The deep wound in his side screamed with every movement, until a curse hit his right shoulder, sending him down to his knees. His wand fell from his hand and moved to grip his side.

Draco looked up at the man that stood before him. A Death Eater with foggy grey eyes peered down at him.

The man before him fell to his knees in front of Draco, and with one quick movement a dagger was plunged into Draco’s heart. His eyes grew wide as he swayed slightly before he began to fall, but arms wrapped around him, holding him close.

“Will your God be waiting for you on the other side, Draco?”

Draco fought to speak, he wanted to rip the dagger out of his flesh and stab it into the man's throat. And he would in a heartbeat if his own light wasn’t beginning to dim. Draco started to fade into darkness. As more and more Death Eaters surrounded him.

The man above him let out a guttural scream at the sight of the knife in Draco.

Draco picked his head up slightly, and the fog had lifted from the grey eyes and green ones had replaced them. They were a soft green with gold and brown specks throughout them. They were the last thing Draco saw when the darkness consumed him. His body fell limp in the arms of his assailant. And his last breath slipped through his lips as the room settled into silence.

All that was heard was the sound of a rosary falling to the ground, just barely out of Draco’s reach.

Silence.

It hung over Draco like a veil. It was thick and heavy.

Draco began to become more aware of his surroundings, a quiet voice pulled him out of his slumber. His eyes remained closed but his hands wandered the ground beneath him. It felt cool to the touch. The sound of magic cracking through the air had vanished completely. Even the slight hum of his own had been silenced. The last thing he remembered hearing was something about God followed by a scream. But here, there was nothing. No voices. No sound at all. It was completely and utterly silent.

Eerie, almost.

But he felt no rush, no need to keep moving. For a brief moment he felt at peace, calm. The panic of war had vanished. And for the first time in years, Draco felt…

Safe.

Draco let out a sigh and his muscles relaxed into the floor. Where was he? His eyes opened expecting to meet someone else’s, but in return he was met with the same darkness. He moved his hand and waved it in front of him, nothing.

Have I lost my eyesight?

A panic began to creep slowly up his spine, his breath came out in small quick wisps as he pushed himself from the ground and raised slowly to his full height. Pausing for a moment, he took a breath, trying to calm himself down. Then he reached a hand out to feel in front of him. Nothing, there was nothing surrounding him. Panic continued to rush through his veins, mixing with his blood, twisting and turning as it molded into one.

Where am I?

He swallowed.

The silence began to suffocate him. It was heavy and thick. It sat right upon his shoulders as he tried to gasp for air. Draco’s hands anxiously clawed at his chest, fighting to get free.

Shaking out his hands, Draco lifted them up slightly and brought them together with force. The clap echoed off the walls nearly deafening him. A white hot pain sliced through his head as the sound ricocheted around him.

Well I can hear, I just can’t see. Bloody fantastic.

“Draco darling.”

His body went cold. Feet frozen in place.

Impossible.

“Draco?”

There it was again. Distant yet right next to him, a presence looming over. Her voice wrapped around him like a blanket, making it feel that everything was going to be okay. He fidgeted with the ring on his middle finger, spun it around several times before gathering the courage to speak. But his voice was trapped at the back of his throat.

There was no way, not a single one, that she was here. It was impossible. Beyond impossible. It had to be a figment of his imagination. A ghost of his past creeping in to say hello. It wasn’t real.

A deep part of him wished it was. A deep ache of want sat in his core, the need for a mothers love never went away. Even years after she died. There were still mornings he would wake up screaming out for her.

But somehow she was here. Within reach. He searched for the courage to call out for her, but his voice came out small, like a childs.

“Mother?”

A light erupted in the room, nearly knocking Draco to the ground. He fought to keep his eyes open but the pain in his head forced them shut. For several moments, he sat there. Not saying a word and afraid to look at what stood before him.

Is this the end? Is this where I meet my maker? Where I'm toyed and played with to be reminded of my sins?

Curiosity pricked at the back of his mind, but fear flooded his body. The two forces fighting for a hold over him.

Yet, somehow, in the end curiosity won. He peeked one eye open and saw a small floating orb of light on the other side of the room. It bobbed up and down, slowly, like it was floating in water. It was barely the size of Draco’s fist. The light started solid in the center, but as it spread out it began to grow thinner, like a veil that laid across a lightbulb.

“Mother?” he asked again, this time standing tall and letting his eyes adjust to the light. But it stayed where it was, simply suspended in the air. Draco looked around the room and there was nothing, it was as if there were mirrors surrounding him that only mimicked darkness.

“Hello, love.”

Draco looked back to the light and in its place stood his mother. Her same blonde hair lay against her shoulders. A dark green cloak wrapped tightly around her. Draco’s knees nearly buckled at the sight of her. Everything about her was the same. All of it, even down to the small smile lines that curved softly around her mouth. And the gentle look in her eyes.

“But how?” Was all Draco could ask.

Narcissa stood tall and walked elegantly across the room. A soft light radiating off of her. Draco’s hand shook as he reached out for her but as she grew closer his hand passed right through her. A wisp of air met him instead and a sad smile painted her face. He pulled his hand back and cradled it to his chest before looking away.

Of course, even death could be cruel.
Forever mocking him.
He knew it was too good to be true.

“Where am I?”

“You are in Purgatory.”

Draco paused, rubbing his hand across his jaw. “As in, the place between Heaven and Hell? Do we even believe in Hell?”

Narciassa’s laugh filled the space. The sound alone was strong enough to make his heart stop.

“It is hard to say what we do and do not believe in. We never taught you to believe in Gods, let alone a single God. Or an afterlife of any kind. But here we are.”

“Am I-”

The words lodged in his throat.

“Yes.” She answered for him anyway. “It seems you have ended up here for your walk of life. There are pieces of you that are yet uncovered by God, he wishes to have me take the walk with you.”

She turned on her heel, taking the light with her. Draco followed quickly, worried that if she got too far she would vanish into thin air. Questions flew around his mind, so many he wanted to ask. He needed so many answers but as they approached the other side of the dark room, a tall mirror appeared. And all questions died in the back of his mind.

It was gold and had snakes with emerald eyes wrapped around the edges. Both meeting at the top with their mouths open and fangs protruding. He took a step closer to the mirror to inspect it. He could hear the low hum of magic as it reached out to meet him. Slowly, the glass began to shift. It was shimmery like the inside was made of molten silver.

“You must rest your hand on the glass.” His mother said.

Draco hesitated at first, unsure of what was going to happen once he touched it. He had experienced his fair share of cursed objects and the way magic radiated off of the mirror, he worried that this was no different.

“There is no test.”

Their eyes met briefly and all Draco could do was nod. He had no choice but to trust her. Narcissa would not lead her son astray.

Right?

Draco sighed and took one step closer to the mirror. The humming grew louder as magic poured out of it, but he reached for it anyway. His hand met the cool glass. Finger tips first, then he slowly lowered his palm. It began to vibrate beneath his touch, as it shivered and sparkled.

“Now you must say the words Nosce te ipsum.”

The Latin rolled off her tongue effortlessly, smooth and fluid.

“Nosce te ipsum”

Reveal thyself.

The glass began to shake and quiver as images began to appear. They were small squares, blurry at first, but as Draco stared, they slowly came into focus. They were snippets of his life. In several of them he could see the Malfoy grounds, the garden, and as his eyes jumped from one to the next he saw Theo and Blaise. He saw himself entering Hogwarts for the first time. All the memories that built and molded him into who he was, right before his eyes.

A never ending web of him. Every step he took got him to where he was now. Even the smallest, slightest change of his path altered everything. He was who he was because of his past. Which was both a blessing and a curse. Draco carried a deep sorrow within his bones, he carried it everywhere he went. Fearing that if he put it down, even for a moment, he would forget the things he had done. The good and the bad.

But especially the bad. Draco wanted to forget so badly, to let himself free from the sorrow and guilt that were shackled to him, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

It was a reminder.

A punishment.

He could not let go, even if God himself came down and forgave him, Draco would never put the guilt down. Guilt turned into sadness which turned into anger, and eventually all led back to guilt. It was an exhausting and vicious cycle that haunted him day in and day out.

“Go ahead, pick one, love.” His mother cooed over his shoulder, pulling him out of his loop.

She was standing right behind him, peering into the mirror over his shoulder, but the only thing she looked at was his eyes. She studied them for several moments. The ghost of her hand rested on his shoulder, he could feel the signet ring his father gave her before he died, digging into the same spot it always did, right against the shoulder bone. A tender spot.

Draco’s eyes scanned over the small pictures for several moments before he blindly picked one. With the tip of his finger he pressed it gently. The image shook slightly then split into a thousand smaller pieces, before exploding in size to fill the whole mirror. Fractures of the memory began to stitch themselves together. Draco tilted his head ever so slightly. Curiosity flooded him.

A young Draco appeared running through the garden. He had just turned seven. His trousers were dirty, and his shoes were covered in mud. Mother would be furious. A huge smile covered his face because he knew how angry she would be. But he scurried around the hedges and bolted towards the flower beds anyway. Tall sunflowers reached towards the sky as the August sun was setting in the distance. The wind blew around him, whipping his clothes back and forth. It felt like he could fly. The wind was so strong it would scoop him up right off the ground.

Draco longed to be a child again, it was an ache that sat deep in his chest. The simple life of childhood was something he craved. Everything was easier. He wanted to escape back to those times so desperately. Back before he was a killer. Before he was head of the Death Eaters.

Before he was ripped away from the people he loved and made into a weapon.

Before he was a monster.

Little Draco reached the rose bushes that were back by the tall fence that gated in the Malfoy Grounds. It was his favorite spot. There were so many roses that climbed up the wall. Their green vines wrap around and claimed it as their own. Deep blood red roses reached for the last bit of sunlight before it vanished for the night.

“Draco!” His father's voice.

Fear pitted in his stomach. But it felt..different. It was then he realized that the emotions of his child self were mixing with the ones of him now. It was a large storm wrecking havoc under his skin. A fight between the two pulling and tugging Draco in both directions.

“Draco!"

A chilling feeling grew deep within him, goosebumps erupted across his skin and the familiar need to run and hide filled his body. But he never moved. He knew the consequences. And because of those consequences, Draco became someone who froze. At any heightened moment, he would stand there like a sad lost little deer. Unable to move. Feet stuck to the ground. Eyes wide. Heart hammering against his ribcage.

Then he took the mark.

After that, freezing was no longer an option. It was fight or die. Kill or be killed. So Draco learned to fight. He had to. So many people around him were dying and so many more would be killed.

Even though Draco feared dying, he always knew that death was coming. One way or another, it would claim him. And he guessed it finally had.

Lucius came into view, standing tall over his only child. His eyes, that same Malfoy blue that mirrored Draco’s, except Lucius’ were…

Warm.

The man that stood before him in this memory, was not a man Draco had seen since this exact day. The last years of Lucius Malfoy’s life his eyes were filled with anger. Filled with a hunger for power and desperation for destruction. The man Draco buried was a shell of the one he stared at now.

Draco grasped a rose, and plucked it from the vine.

“For mother.” He said.

Lucius smiled as he knelt down to meet Draco’s eyes.

“It’s perfect.”

With gentle hands Lucius scooped up his son and carried him back into the house.

Draco smiled at his father, a man he admired. A man he loved deeply. Lucius Malfoy was who Draco wanted to be when he grew up.

The image began to fade and Draco watched as his home vanished, leaving only his reflection. There were deep dark circles under his eyes clashing with his pale skin, making him look sickly. His cheek bones were more prominent than he remembered. And his eyes looked - well. Dead. They were empty and soulless.

Just like his fathers when he died.

He turned to his mother, her face sad as she too looked into the mirror.

“Your father was-” those last words never came, instead they died on her tongue and there they would remain. Draco understood what she wanted to say, but the both of them knew that it was not true. Lucius Malfoy was not a good man, not even a misunderstood one.

But he was a good father. And a good husband, who loved and was devoted to his wife. Draco nodded and a sad smile pulled at the sides of his mouth.

“What is next?” He asked.

“You choose another. And then another. We go through them until we reach the end. Until we reach where you were when you were sent here. Then you are judged. Everyone must walk this path.”

“Even you?”

“Even me.” She nodded.

Draco looked away, a pain slicing through his chest. He couldn’t bear to show his mother the worst pieces of him. The darkest parts of his shattered soul. A part of him hoped that she would understand, she would see why he had to do what he did. Draco had no control. He was just following orders.

Looking back at the mirror, it glistened slightly as more memories popped up, and he saw the first time he entered Hogwarts. A sense of warmth filled him. Entering Hogwarts for the first time was like coming home after a long day. A breath of fresh air.

“Okay.” He shook his hands before reaching out and picking the memory. It did the same sparkle and began to stitch together.

With a light shimmer, the halls of Hogwarts appeared. The same dull yellow glow from the candles filled the space. The smell of the great hall engulfed him. Pumpkin and cinnamon. It was fall. The leaves were changing outside and the air had grown crisp.

Draco stood in front of a small group of boys. All dressed in black and green with smiles plastered across their faces. A slight feeling of homesickness filled his stomach but he knew that this was the best place he could be. There was so much wonder here and magic. He couldn’t possibly dream of being anywhere else.

He of course missed his mother, but that was a given, it was his first time away from home. But he knew that he would get adjusted. Some of the boys were talking about classes that they were excited to take. Several shouted out about Defense Against the Dark Arts while a few talked about potions and all the things they could learn how to make.

“I want to take Defense Against the Dark arts so I can learn to kill mudbloods.” shouted one boy who had pulled his wand out and was waving it around, pretending to cast spells.

That word.

A vile, evil fucking word.

That same hatred for muggle borns used to pulse through his veins and live in his heart. He thought he was superior. Better. That no muggle born could ever be better than a pureblood. Draco hated himself for that. While he was raised to believe it, he wished he broke out of it earlier. He wished his views had changed earlier.

Maybe things would have been different.

“You were just a child Draco.” His mother whispered. “I am sorry I did not teach you better.”

Off to the side of the group was a small boy, smaller than Draco. With chocolate curls and soft green eyes with brown and gold specks. He sat by himself, his cloak pulled tightly across his body. Draco looked back to the group that was around him and stepped away from them, moving closer to the boy.

“Hi.” Draco said.

The boy looked up at him, fear filled his eyes and he looked down immediately.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn't mean to startle you.” He lifted his hands in surrender.

“I’m Draco. Draco Malfoy.” and he reached his hand out, cautiously.

He had a slight glimmer of fear in his eyes. But the boy smiled, a small smile, but Draco still counted it as a win.

“Theo.” Draco whispered to the mirror at the same time his twelve year old self shook young Theo’s hand.

“I’m Theo. Theodore Nott.”

Their hands clasped and they shook. Something about this green eyed boy called to Draco. Like a long lost missing piece of the Malfoy heir.

The memory shifted and fast forward to their first time trying to find their classes. The halls were filled with all first years, scrambling and trying to figure out where to go. Prefects stormed after many of the small groups, rolling their eyes and pointing the first years in the right direction.

Draco remembered that first day almost perfectly. He remembered seeing all the different first years, he remembers meeting Harry Potter. He met Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. Draco can even remember casting his first spell, and brewing his first potion. There was nothing more magical than being a first year. The world beyond him was something he had never imagined.

“I remember running through those halls.” He said suddenly, though he wasn’t sure who he was talking to, maybe himself or maybe to his mother. Or maybe they were just words that meant nothing, held no power and needed to hang around him.

But the mirror had a different plan.

It was a weekend, and the boys had been playing pranks on each other all afternoon. Until Blaise went a bit farther than they had anticipated with Professor Snape. The next thing they knew, the three of them were sprinting down the hallway, laughing and squealing. All the paintings watched them leap through the corridors and turn a sharp corner.

Draco felt himself start to smile, a real smile. He remembered watching the sweets they had enchanted explode in Snape’s face. They were originally for Crabbe and Goyle, but it was Snape who came into the room first. As soon as he walked through the door, the floating candies exploded into a sticky mess across his entire body. Draco started laughing thinking about it, he knew Snape was furious but that didn’t stop them from falling to the floor laughing.

But when he started to come after them, they all managed to slip past him and run out of the common room.

A small curly haired girl was around that corner, and Draco smacked right into her. The books in her hands went flying and the papers scattered across the floor, while Draco landed in front of her on his knees. She looked at him, annoyance in her deep brown eyes.

Not just any brown eyes, her brown eyes. Draco’s chest heaved at the sight of her. She was so young. Those delicate features on her face were still soft. There was no war yet. There was no pain etched into her bones. The people she cared about were not dead.

“You should be more careful.” She snapped.

Draco pushed himself off the ground, wiping the dirt from his pants.

“Draco!” Theo said, “We have to hurry! Snape is catching up!”

Theo pulled on his shirt, but Draco couldn’t break eye contact with the girl. His friends pulled him and his attention away. The girl huffed as she collected her books, and started off towards her destination.

The memory vanished and Draco felt a chill creep into the room. Sadness filled him to the brim.

“Hermione Granger.”

Draco jumped at the sound of his mother’s voice, but said nothing. He never told his mother about Hermione, he couldn’t. There was the worry that his family would never accept her or his love for her. He was worried that Voldemort would find out and she would be killed. There was no hope for her if she was brought into his world.

“This is my first memory of her.”

Draco looked over to his mother, but in her place stood Hermione Granger. Her brunette hair water falled down her back and her brown eyes were tired.

“This is your first memory of us.”