Draco Malfoy's Famous Last Words

DRACO'S P.O.V.

"I couldn't get to her, my Lord," I report.

I shift from foot to foot uncomfortably, stuff my hands in my pockets, and focus my eyes on my shoes. This isn't going to be good. I've failed another mission, a very important mission. I hadn't gotten to Evelyn. There was no way to tell what side she's on now. I was going to be punished, maybe killed, for this.

"I am severely disappointed in you, Draco," the Dark Lord hisses.

His voice is shaky, calm but harsh, and his statement is simple.

"This is not going to be pleasant, and it's not going to be easy," he begins, "In the end, you will keep your life, and you will most definitely learn your lesson."

My throat tightens, and I dare to lift my eyes to where he stands across the sitting room floor.

"You have failed me, Draco. I do not take kindly to failure, especially when it involves an important aspect of my plans."

I nod, my breathing growing shallow. My palms begin to sweat. I wipe them nervously on my slacks.

"This is Dark magic, Draco. You have never in your life time experienced magic of this caliber. Try not to squeal like the Mudblood girl."

"Yes, my Lord," I answer dutifully.

As the Dark Lord raises his wand, I can't help but hear Bella's words in my head. Her warning for Evelyn's fate had been horribly incorrect. However, it now fit perfectly with mine.

"He won't kill her, if that's what you mean," she leaned in closer to me and lowered her voice, "But there are very painful, very dark magical spells that you haven't been trained to use yet. Some of them are worse than death itself. If Evelyn suffers through one of those, there's no telling what she'll be like when the torture is over."

"What do you mean, Aunt Bella?" I asked, my voice cracking from nerves.

"Dark spells change people, Draco. Remember that."

I really hope she's wrong.

The Dark Lord doesn't even say a spell. At first, I don't think anything is wrong with me. I don't feel an ounce of pain. But then, after a moment, I see them.

There are two slits cut into me, one on either wrist. Each one is leaking a steady stream of blood. Frantically, I triy to apply pressure to my wrists, but that only makes the blood flow quicker.

"What's going on?" I scream, desperately clenching my forearms.

"Calm yourself, Draco. I promised not to kill you," he replies.

"Are you bloody insane?" I yell, "I'm going to bleed to death!"

He smiles a crooked smile and leans against my Father's desk to watch the show. The blood begins to flow more fiercely from my wrists. I stop trying to prevent it and just let it happen. All my attempts prove futile. I start to get weak, my vision begins to blur.
I sink down to my knees. Blood drenches my clothing, the carpet, everything around me. My eyes feel hard and dry, causing my vision to completely disappear. The second the world falls black, it also goes quiet. All that I am left with is my senses of touch, smell, and taste.

I can feel the blood leaking from my wrists. I can smell the nauseating stench the pools around me created. And I can taste the metallic flavor of my own blood piling up in my mouth. I spit to try and rid my mouth of the taste. As all my other attempts have done, it simply worsens the effect. More blood starts trickling up my throat. I crack open my lips to let it cascade out as it pleases. Eventually, the blood turns to bile, then acid. It burns my throat and mouth, as if a hot line of magma were being pulled up my esophagus.

I grow sick of fighting.

I lay down on the ground now, all strength gone. If I thought I could speak, I would have begged for death. Maybe I am pleading, maybe I am screaming. It doesn't make a difference, I can’t hear myself. My throat is in too much pain to feel for the vibrations that sound create. For all I know, I am hollering at the top of my lungs.

That's when I began to shrivel up. I can feel myself drying out, like a grape shrinking into a raisin. My skin wrinkles and hangs loosely off my bones. My body is dry. Along with the blood, other fluids must have been suctioned out. Now I am a loose mass of bone, skin, and what few guts I have left; lying on the floor pitifully.

The pain is unbearable. The weakness is worse. I'd rather be dead. I'd died before at Blaise's hand. That was fast, that was easy.

Bella was right. Avada Kedavra is a merciful spell.

After what seems like hours, the Dark Lord reverses the spell. Slowly, I feel every ounce of fluid and blood I'd lost seep back into my body. This pain is worse than before. I'd rather have the first stage of the spell happen a thousand times than deal with the anguish this one created. Yet this one brings promise, it will all be over soon.

When I start to think that I can’t handle any more pain, it is suddenly completely gone.

With much caution, I rise to my feet. I inspect my entire body. Everything appears normal. The only things reminiscent of the spell are light scars on either wrist.

"You may leave now, Draco, on one condition" Voldemort states simply, quietly.

"Yes, my Lord?" I ask him, my voice shaking slightly.

"You are to resume your previous destiny, understood?"

I nod, not caring about anything anymore, and turn in a daze, to leave. It feels as if a part of me is missing. I am not sure what, but something is wrong. For some reason, I receive a strange sense of comfort from the absence, as if I have been cleansed of something vile.

On the way out the door, I catch sight of my reflection. My eye color is no longer the icy blue Evelyn had always loved. They are pitch black now, with a thin line of gold tracing the edges. Surprisingly enough, this doesn't shock me. For whatever reason, it fits. It just seems right. Maybe I am already resuming my destiny, maybe this is initiation.

Dark spells change people, Draco. Remember that."

Am I changed?

Most definitely.