The Perfect Kill

The Perfect Kill

By Ari Starr

He had been here for four long years, in Herringbone jail, waiting for his trial. Draco Malfoy knew he was going to Azkaban and he accepted it, but that didn't stop his father from delaying the trial. Draco knew he was definitely guilty. In his sixth year he was responsible for taking another fellow wizard's life.

He got up and walked to the other end of the dingy gray cell. It always got a bit damp in here when it rained, and a bit cold when it snowed, but the wet and cold would be nothing compared to Azkaban. Draco put his head against the cell wall, his long silvery blond hair falling into his face. They had given him a razor, but after a while he gave up on cutting his hair, and only used the razor for shaving. He kept it carefully tucked away under the band of his underwear for Azkaban. He knew no one would dare go there, even though he was highly attractive in many people's eyes.

"Aww Hell, I'm going to die a virgin, aren't I Ezekial?"

Ezekial was the prisoner on the right of his cell. He talked to Draco, keeping him sane in his what seemed an endless wait for Azkaban. Ezekial was an elderly man who was put in jail for putting a rat poison in his father's martini.

"He deserved it," was what he had always told Draco. "Made me feel like shit he did. Never good 'nuff for that damn son-of-a-bitch mudblood."

Ezekial had come down with a nasty sickness in the last couple of weeks; Draco could hear him up half the night hacking away. But he hadn't heard him cough for a while, nor had he talked to Draco in a while either, he must have lost his voice, poor old guy.

"How long is your sentence then?" said a young man's voice from Ezekial's cell.

"You're not Ezekial," said Draco, lifting his head off the stone.

"No, no I'm not," said the voice, mildly interested.

"Where is he?"

"Was he an old guy?" he could hear the person shift positions on the floor of the cell.

"Yeah," Draco sat down on the damp floor, leaning up against the wall.

"He died, mate."

Malfoy sat there in silence, picking at the mortar of the cell wall. He should have expected that, he was pretty old. Ezekial's death didn't make him sad or anything though, just a little lonely. He had talked to him since he had arrived here.

"How long is your sentence then?" repeated the voice.

"I dunno." Draco shrugged. "Haven't been to trial yet."

"Oh, so I 'spect you just got here too?" the voice on the other side sounded young, like his own age, 20ish.

"Nope, I've already been here four years."

"No kidding, mate?" He heard the person get up and sit closer to the wall between them. "Four years without a trial? I just got put in here, I'll go on trial in about a week, two at tops."

"So what did you do?" Draco wasn't really interested; he just liked the company. He definitely wouldn't get any in Azkaban.

"Oh, a whole mess of stuff. I was pretty screwed up after my girlfriend died, it was all too much you know?"

"No, I don't"

There was a long pause after that. Draco still picked at the grout; it was very loose and got stuck under his fingernails.

"Well," said the voice breaking the silence, "my best friend, he convinced me not to blow myself to bits and whatnot, but there was always something missing from my life. I came from not the wealthiest family, so there was always something missing. Then I found her, and then I was whole, you know? I took it for granted that she would always be there, at my side. Then she was gone, and I was empty. I always was searching for something to fill that gap but no girl could, no friend could, nothing could. Eventually I realized nothing ever would fill in the hole in my heart. I wanted to kill myself but, like I said, my mate wouldn't let me. So I got some crazy idea that I'd be happy robbing Gringotts."

"You robbed Gringotts. You're mad if you think you could do that."

Draco laughed.

"No," the voice was laughing too, "not Gringotts. I decided that was indeed mad, so I robbed the Three Broomsticks, holdup and all. Of course, my luck, Fudge walks in-"

"Oh God," Draco threw his head back. "The Minister of Magic?"

"The one and only. Well he walks in, and he hasn't been very popular with my family, so I threaten to kill him too! And now I'm here. Damn my dad is going to be furious," the voice groaned. "Oh, god, my mum!!"

Draco smiled; this guy was one bad seed. But his tales, so vivid and imaginative, and insane! If they had both been back at Hogwarts going to school together they would have made quite a pair.

"So what did you in, mate?" asked the voice.

He shifted uncomfortably and the voice noticed this too.

"Oh, come on, I'm not here to judge, were in a fuckin' prison!"

Draco laughed and gave in.

"Fine, I give in. I killed a girl."

"What?" said the voice.

"It was the perfect kill, if only I didn't get caught," he spoke in barely a whisper.

"There is no such thing as a perfect kill," the voice was cold but Draco didn't care. He continued even if he had no audience.

"I saw her die before my eyes. I left her there and ran. I wanted to fix it, but it was too late. I grabbed my wand and ran. I left the door open or something, I heard someone scream 'She's dead!' and I ran faster. I pulled open the doors and was outside, I was free. I wish I could say I got caught in some alleyway, cornered by half the Ministry and we had a huge fight, but no. Some stupid civilian saw me entering the Three Broomsticks and called for help, and then I was thrown in here."

"You're going to Azkaban. I hope you go to Azkaban, you deserve it," the voice spoke barely above a whisper but each word was filled with hate.

"You said we weren't here to judge," retorted Draco.

"I didn't kill someone!"

"You attempted to!" He jumped up.

"No I didn't," said the voice coldly. "I held them hostage. I never wanted to kill them."

Draco walked over to the other side of his cell and sat there in silence for a very long time. What type of criminal was placed next to him? At least Ezekial shared his hate of mudbloods.

"Was she a mudblood?" he had asked him.

"Yeah."

"Good riddance to the bitch."

But what no one got was he tried to save her. And now he had to live his whole life with the grief that came with losing someone he had cared so much for. Even if she was still alive and didn't love him, it would be better than now. Their last kiss still haunted his dreams to this day, her beautiful figure still appeared every time when he closed his eyes, and every once and a while he still caught the unforgettable scent of her hair.

"My girlfriend was murdered," said the voice suddenly. "We were sixteen, it's too young an age to throw your life away, you know?"

"Yes, I know." Sadly, he did know this time.

One of the guards began unlocking the door to Draco's cell.

"Am I going to my trial?" He asked as he got up.

"Nope," said the guard as he opened the door. "You're going straight to Azkaban."

"What?" said the voice. "He gets no trial?"

"He has already pleaded guilty, all evidence points to him, plus," an eerie grin slipped across the ward's face, a grin that would haunt Draco's dreams for years, "there's an empty cell in Azkaban. Come on miscreant."

He got up and walked over to the guard who bound his hands together with a binding charm and led him out of the jail. As Draco walked past the cell to his right he saw who the owner of the voice was; a boy, his own age, with red hair, and a freckle face.

"MALFOY!" Ron Weasley screamed through the cell bars.

Draco stopped.

"And to think, I almost liked you."

Ron's eyes were filled with fury, but before he could say anything the guard escorted Draco out of the jail.

~~~

Ron got three years in Jail and his magic privileges taken away until he was fifty.

Draco was sentence to Azkaban for life.

Ron never found another girl, and Percy never forgave him for threatening Fudge.

Harry never recovered from the loss of Hermione, and Ron's insanity.

Draco committed suicide with the razor he had hidden and died a virgin.

Ron, however, did not.