Gaze

Hermione wanted to go home. The thought hit her, like two bludgers to her face. She had nowhere to call home. Her parents didn't remember who she was. How would they take her in? She instantly missed the term mudblood. It gave her the proud feeling of being an important member of the family, even when it was used in vain causing her to cry. Tears flowed down her face. There wasn't a single way to hold them back. 'If I die here, it isn't like I had anywhere else to go.' She thought to herself.
Bellatrix sliced her cheek again. Hermione let out a scream that could be heard throughout the whole castle. Her sobs became uncontrollable, never has she felt so weak. Lucius walked towards her holding Hermione's wand. "This? You need this don't you?" He smiled. This was the most amusing and fun thing he has done since telling his boy Draco he couldn't befriend Potter. "Lucius. There is no need! I have her. Think of her as my pray, I'm the snake." Bellatrix was instantly annoyed with him. She was not in the mood for the fun and games. "Oh but Bellatrix, look at her squirm, tears like a river, blood dripping like teardrops. Dirt covering her from the dungeon. Savor the moment. Savor the thought. We've all waited so long for this moment." Lucius continued smirking. He seemed just as full of himself as he did walking around with Draco year one at Hogwarts. For a moment, Bellatrix smiled her smile that shows every sign of true insanity.
Hermione let out another scream of pain as Bellatrix slowly put the knife away. "Enough!" Bellatrix screamed. She grabbed her wand and casted a spell on Lucius that sent him flying back across the room. He hit the small table causing it to shatter. Dust clouded the air but faded almost immediately to reveal Lucius laying on the floor, unconscious. Draco's stared at his father. Bellatrix began swearing at Hermione, spit sprinkling out of her mouth and onto Hermione's unfortunate face. Draco stared at his defenseless father.
As a child Draco was, in general, an arrogant, snide, elitist bully. He believed himself superior to most people because of his family’s pure-blood lineage as well as great wealth and social standing. Frequently, Draco called Hermione a “Mudblood”, and also invented the demeaning song 'Weasley is Our King' to humiliate Ron. However, when threatened with physical violence he was no more than a complete coward, crying when Hermione put her wand to him, running off after being hit, and only fighting back after the person has turned their backs to him.
Draco was still staring at his father. This was the man, who taught him everything he knew. All of it. Trying to sculpt his child into someone like him, instead resulting in the kid he remembered himself as. He remembered every snobbish comment and every demeaning word to the song. Draco suddenly didn't feel so proud. Feeling frightened every time someone physically wanted to hurt him? How does that look impressive now? It simply didn't. He was never taught any more than to snobbishly remember the fact he was superior. He was simply not taught anything but to remember himself superior because of his family’s pure-blood lineage, leading into no self defense mentally or physically, leading to smart comments and cowardice. Ah, but that was why he was taken as a loyal Death Eater.
His eyes drifted back onto Hermione. He couldn't imagine anyone who has said 'I hate you' to him more than she. His blood began to boil. Looking at his father again he saw the role model, the role model that made himself one. Draco was so young, but that never stopped his father. 'He should have known.' Draco thought. 'He should have known it wasn't right to lean on someone of such a young age.' No. 'Because of you, I am afraid.' No that wasn't the way to look at it. Going against his father was like going against the Dark Lord. He stopped the thought. Draco fought the thought he had with another. Surely he owed this man he should proudly call father. He was standing in the Dark Lord's castle, watching the suffering of Hermione with power as Harry and Ron sit helplessly in the dungeon this very moment. 'It shows her now' he thought. Surely this paid off for the coward he was as a child. Clearly, he owed his father.
Was he doing just that though? Powerful wasn't the word to describe him was it? He wasn't the one getting revenge on Hermione. Come to think of it, there wouldn't have been a reason for revenge if it wasn't not his father. 'No Draco' he thought. 'Stop bad mouthing your own blood you bastard.'. Self criticism was common for Draco now a days. In a way, Draco was the only person Draco had to talk to. Since he didn't have any say in anything, which he knew, his head facing downwards in silent constantly gave him tense and bothersome feelings when the Dark Lord was around. The result? Talking and pleading to himself in his own mind because he hadn't any friends to talk to. He remembered how he felt as impressive as Potter, just as his father wanted him to. Draco always thought to have his two friends as Harry had his. Looking back thought the difference was always there, Harry's friends were real friends. Draco's weren't. He blamed the family he grew up in immediately. How was he suppose to be successful with anything but jealousy of Harry's friends, success and intellegence with a family as deranged as them? Draco went to fetch Hermione sure, but didn't have anything else to do with this torture Bellatrix was casting upon her.
His thoughts were off centering again. 'The Dark Lord would not be pleased.' He thought to himself. He sensed the argument between his own two sides and tried to stop it from continuing immediately. 'I killed Dumbledore.' he thought. Yes that was it! His mighty moment! The memory however was drowning itself in misery this time. There was no need for an argument from another voice in his head. The memory said it all. He tried to overpower it with thoughts of accomplishment.
Dumbledore: "Draco... years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices... please, let me help you..."
Draco: "I don't want your help! Don't you understand? I have to do this! I have to kill you! Or he's gonna kill me…"
The memory of the voices as they were echoed in his head. How weak did he feel then? He had to do it. Voldemort threatened to kill him as well as his whole family if he didn't. Draco remembered the feeling his face had as his wand was pointed to Dumbledore, the pressure on him. How he knew his face looked as if though he wanted to cry, run off, or scream in agony upon himself. Self Pity it almost seemed. Did he ever give in to these emotions? Why would he have? It would have caused the Dark Lord to become heated. Aunt Bellatrix Lestrange taught him to perform the very difficult Protean Charm for the occasion of killing Dumbledore. That was surely something to see as an upside for being who he was today. Though he could not yet produce a simple corporeal Patronus at that time either, which come to think of it wasn't near an accomplishment. He knew that. It suddenly brought him back to the feeling he tried to cover so much as a child with his smart remarks. The feeling of not being able to defend himself. That is exactly what made him a good pawn. The thought seemed to whisper in the back of his mind but he couldn't grasp it. If he was able to, he would have known long ago he was nothing but a pawn.
The memory line shot back even farther to Draco's dismay. The reflection in the mirror... of himself. It was embedded into his brain, into everything he does now. It kept him frightened, which was something Voldemort could easily use to his advantage. The image the mirror captured so well of the strain he began to feel of life as a Death Eater. This was the time he was needed to fix the Vanishing Cabinet in Hogwarts to allow the Death Eaters back into the school. He remembered this image in detail as it still haunted him every now and then. It wasn't the charming look he was promised, in fact it wasn't appealing at all. Draco remembered to have dark bags under his eyes, his skin a slight tone of grey that made his hair seem to be an even lighter shade of blonde, and he was thinner, all due to great amount of stress to his Death Eater mission.
It seemed to be clouding his mind, eating at him right then and there. He looked at his aunt who was still torturing Hermione. Her loyalty and love for the Dark Lord, it wasn't to be compared to anyone else's, yet he was raised to try and rise to that bar. It never happened, how could it have been forced. The tiresome days of obeying instead of commanding. Yet nothing greater or smaller was expected of Lucius Malfoy's son. His mother sisters with Bellatrix, couldn't have possibly led to anything other than him standing here in front of the scene. A women and man who wanted nothing more than to please the Dark lord for their lives.
When it came down to it, they wanted a son just as popular as the chosen one. Draco remembered once trying to befriend Harry, but his father said no. His father filled him with lies, promised him love. Love by public. Draco instantly remembered the moment in the wand shop with his father when he was told this. He remembers hoping it would make up for what his family didn't give him. In return, he has an image that looks like the life had been sucked out of him. In the end, he sucked his own life from him.
This wasn't the end for Draco. He refuse to let it be. All at once he drawed his wand out and pointed it at Bellatrix casting Sectumsempra on her. The beam was powerful and sent sparks flying around the room. Draco's want hadn't used a spell as powerful as this in a long time. He remembered what Voldemort told him he looked like laying on the floor after Harry used this spell. Voldemort was disgusted in his lack of defense. That continued to be the problem in Draco's mind. However the fact he just used this spell on his aunt was a bigger problem. He couldn't even recite what came over him.
Dust, smoke and embers flew everywhere. The chandelier had fallen and so did the pictures on the wall. The wand's sudden use in a spell like this caused the whole room to look as though there was just an explosion. As soon as Bellatrix fell to the floor, so did Hermione. Her vision was blurry and she hadn't the slightest clue where to go. Not only that, but her physical condition from Bellatrix's hand on her neck caused her to be incapable of doing anything.
Hermione looked up at Draco who was still in astonishment of what he just caused. Squatting near Hermione, he put her arm around his neck and picked her up. He walked her to the dungeon placed her gently onto the floor. He felt his face scrunch as if he was ready to cry over what he has done. Making his own decisions spontaneously wasn't something he was used to, let alone a dangerous spell like that on his own aunt destroying a room in the Dark Lord's castle.
He quickly wiped that look off his face as he stood back up to face Harry, Ron and Ginny. The scene didn't play out to good in his favor. Hermione fragile, weak and bleeding and him carrying her in wasn't the way to say 'look everything's ok.' That's what Draco wanted. To be ok. Ginny sat by Hermione on the floor inspecting her cuts and bruises. Harry and Ron both looked at Draco coldly. Draco had nothing to say.
He hoped Hermione wouldn't remember his help and wouldn't tell them if by some unlucky chance she does. The fact they were all enemies was how it should be and how Draco hoped it would stay for his own life purposes. A question hit him. 'Would my father let them kill me?' He thought. It was unfortunate how he even was to ask the question. He looked at Harry who just finished calling him a Bloody Bastard. Without saying a word back he left the dungeon, leaving Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione.