Draco Malfoy's Famous Last Words

DRACO'S P.O.V.

The dueling room is strangely empty. Only the most elite of Death Eaters have been invited to this exclusive meeting. My shoes make soft clacking noises as I cross the floor to take my place next to Voldemort in the center of the circle. Our followers are surrounding us perfectly from every angle, donning their black robes and skull masks.

Slight gusts of wind rustle their robes every now and then as a breeze enters through the large portrait windows behind me. The air is icy and makes the hairs on the back of my neck prick up. For some reason, I feel as if Death itself is blowing kisses at the back of my neck. It’s very unsettling.

The grand, mahogany doors slam shut and the dead bolts locked, indicating the meeting is to begin. The Dark Lord is quiet for some time. He paces the floor rapidly, tapping his wand against his chin in thought. I watch him intently, waiting for some sort of instruction. The closest thing I receive in response is a murmur in his throat, as if he is clearing it.

A sharper breeze begins to blow, making the tapestries on the wall flutter carelessly. I gaze around the room, noticing that Yaxley and a few other key Death Eaters are missing. Just when I am about to inquire of their whereabouts, a rather large, Screech owl swoops in from one of the windows.

Voldemort holds up his hand, and the owl drops a small piece of yellow parchment in it. The Dark Lord unfolds the parchment and reads it, wand still steadily tapping his chin. When finished, he crumples the paper in his fist. It blackens at his touch, burning, and the ashes sift away in the wind.

"It seems that all is in order in Hogsmeade," Voldemort states triumphantly. "Yaxley has all the Death Eaters there and in position."

The Death Eaters surrounding us nod their heads to show their appreciation of Yaxley's success.

"Now, let's see," the Dark Lord muses, "I suppose it's down to business from here. First, tonight is the night we leave. We will not attack until tomorrow night, of course, but we are going to be in position by dawn."

The followers, again, nod in unison.

"You have all been assigned a captain and a placement, I assume?" he questions towards me.

"Yes, my Lord," I reply, "One group will be lead by Blaise and placed in the hills in between Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest. The inferi will come from the west, lead by Bellatrix. The last group will be lead by myself, and brought in from the Forbidden Forest."

"Very good, Draco," the Dark Lord praises me.

I can't help but smirk, "Thank you."

I spare a glance out at the followers and easily identify by mother and father despite the uniform apparel. They are gleaming with pride. At least my high ranking in the war makes them happy, that's one good point to it. Well, being Voldemort's heir does have its perks. I don't have to wear the stupid Death Eater robes anymore. That's a victory in itself.

"Now, on to technicalities and emergency protocol," Voldemort hisses.

We all stand rigid at attention, especially me. This will directly relate to me; I am sure of it. For if something goes wrong, I will immediately be given charge of the Pureblood world in its entirety.

"If for some reason, Blaise falls in battle, his group will be in the charge of Montague, Crabbe, and Goyle. If Bellatrix is taken down, her group goes to joint custody of Sophie Avery and Marissa Dolohov. Draco will not die. Do you all understand that?" he commands.

They all nod.

"Draco is just as valuable, if not more valuable, in this war as I am. If he dies, we might as well hand ourselves over to the bloody muggle lovers, understand?"

They nod another time. Mindless drones.

"Good. Now, I am going to do something a bit drastic. I am going to give Draco all of my powers as Dark Lord, except those that I will need to kill Harry Potter. Draco, step over here," Voldemort orders.

I boldly cross the floor to where he is standing.

"Now, give me your wand."

My want was taken by Potter, but my mother had kindly lent me hers. I pull her wand out of the pocket of my trousers and hand it over to him. He places the tip of my wand to the tip of his. Then, Voldemort whispers some kind of spell, and his wand begins to tremor and shakes violently. A few sparks shoot out of it, before it goes still and mine begins to tremble. After a few moments, both wands fall still. The only noticeable difference is the color. Mine is now the deep black that Voldemort's had been, and his is the chocolate brown mine once was.

"Here you are," Voldemort says, handing my wand back to me, "It will hurt."

I feel a rush course through my entire body, much like the one I'd first experienced at Ollivander's shop. However, this one is different. The one at Ollivander's had been full of thrill, excitement, and possibilities. In contrast, this rush is one of pain, evil, and power.

My arm feels as if someone was running a knife along it. I can feel my newly black eyes flood. They are turning red, like Voldemort's always have been. However, now I know how they got that way, from his blood. The power is the best part. It makes me feel alive in a way I never have before. I feel invincible, complete, as if I can fly. I look down at the ground. I am levitating.

I will myself down and feel my feet firmly plant themselves on the marble floor.

"It's amazing, isn't it? The rush?" Voldemort asks me.

"Yeah, it really is," I gasp, surprisingly breathless.

"She'll feel it too, mine did," he adds quietly.

"What do you mean, my Lord? She who?" I ask.

"The woman who is destined to be your Dark Queen will feel a jolt of pain. Mine did."

"If you don't mind me asking, my Lord, who was she?"

"Delilah Krawford," he answers, so that only I could hear, "But she loved another."

I nod, surprised, but knowing full well the story of Delilah, Evelyn's mother. I don't dare press him for more details about her.

"Does it hurt her?" I ask tentatively, again keeping this exchange of words between the two of us.

"I guarantee that it will be the worst pain she’s ever felt."

I wince at that thought. I don't like the idea of my Dark Queen suffering.

Sorry, Evelyn, I thought, praying somehow magic would carry my thoughts to her, I never meant to cause you all of this pain.