I'm Going to Kill You, Darling
I'm going to kill you, darling. (nine.)
“I’ve killed people, Draco, killed them and had them killed. Innocents, anyone who got in my way, babies...”
Draco swallowed hard, her words not sinking in properly; he was dazed, confused, she had taken life? Both personally, and ordered it.
She leaned on his shoulder, but no tears fell from her eyes.
He stiffened. She, a murderess, a killer, was seeking comfort from him?
She sat up, her near black eyes searching his grey ones. This, Draco thought anxiously, was going to be raw truth. Cold, hard truth. He could know for sure anything that she would tell him now would be honest, and he dreaded that. He feared what she would reveal, and how he would react. This was how she was going to break him – she would tell him the truth.
Well, as the saying goes, the truth hurts. He braced himself.
“Drake, I...I liked it. And that’s wrong, isn’t it?”
She was genuinely unsure. Raised the way she was, her version of right and wrong differed completely to his, everyone else’s, in fact, he questioned if she even had an idea of what morals were. She was used to her way, her laws, and nobody to challenge them. If someone was a nuisance, or got in her way, or would not obey her, the simple thing to do was to kill them, as they were of no use at all if they were no use to her, for if they would not follow her ruling, who would they follow? Because surely, to her at least, there was no punishment worse than death. Draco knew better, of course, there was torture and pain and grief to make a person suffer if they so deserved. But Dumbledore would argue, he thought angrily, that the worst punishment was to lose your love.
Draco nodded awkwardly and she frowned.
“I...Are you sure?”
“Yes, Emmy. I’m sure.”
“Wrong.” She struggled with that world, even saying it was difficult, the word sounded...strange, foreign coming from her mouth.
She looked oddly childish, like a child figuring out why she couldn’t have sweets before dinner, trying to get her head around the concept of a banned act, something she could not do, something she was not allowed to do; it made no sense to her. She hadn’t been stopped from doing anything all her life; people had lived in fear of her, why should it change now?
Draco swallowed hard, her words not sinking in properly; he was dazed, confused, she had taken life? Both personally, and ordered it.
She leaned on his shoulder, but no tears fell from her eyes.
He stiffened. She, a murderess, a killer, was seeking comfort from him?
She sat up, her near black eyes searching his grey ones. This, Draco thought anxiously, was going to be raw truth. Cold, hard truth. He could know for sure anything that she would tell him now would be honest, and he dreaded that. He feared what she would reveal, and how he would react. This was how she was going to break him – she would tell him the truth.
Well, as the saying goes, the truth hurts. He braced himself.
“Drake, I...I liked it. And that’s wrong, isn’t it?”
She was genuinely unsure. Raised the way she was, her version of right and wrong differed completely to his, everyone else’s, in fact, he questioned if she even had an idea of what morals were. She was used to her way, her laws, and nobody to challenge them. If someone was a nuisance, or got in her way, or would not obey her, the simple thing to do was to kill them, as they were of no use at all if they were no use to her, for if they would not follow her ruling, who would they follow? Because surely, to her at least, there was no punishment worse than death. Draco knew better, of course, there was torture and pain and grief to make a person suffer if they so deserved. But Dumbledore would argue, he thought angrily, that the worst punishment was to lose your love.
Draco nodded awkwardly and she frowned.
“I...Are you sure?”
“Yes, Emmy. I’m sure.”
“Wrong.” She struggled with that world, even saying it was difficult, the word sounded...strange, foreign coming from her mouth.
She looked oddly childish, like a child figuring out why she couldn’t have sweets before dinner, trying to get her head around the concept of a banned act, something she could not do, something she was not allowed to do; it made no sense to her. She hadn’t been stopped from doing anything all her life; people had lived in fear of her, why should it change now?