The Third Side

The Third Side

And so he didn't believe in love, after all.

He had thought he did, for a time, in the days when life had been enjoyable. In the days when there was no war. In the days when he had been with her.

Draco stopped at the gate, and - despite the promise to himself that he would not - he looked back. Back at the school where he had lived for the past seven years. Seven years he had enjoyed more than any others. Where he had mixed poisons, charmed people, thrown curses, fought duels and grown up. Grown into the man he was now.

A man that most people hated and feared, it was true, but a man in his own right nonetheless. He had broken away from his father's shadow and done something they had said he was never strong enough to do. His father, the Dark Lord, Macnair; they had called him weak. How wrong they were.

Draco leaned against the gate as he watched the flames dance inside the school, making screaming silhouettes of the people inside. And he smiled to himself. He could imagine their terror as they conjured spell after spell, each designed to put out the fire that would destroy them. Each unable to do so. With Dumbledore gone, they stood no chance.

His fire was no ordinary fire. When his father had been carted off to Azkaban, to slowly become something less than human, Draco had got everything. He had spent months studying old spell-books: forbidden, forgotten ones that he had been denied access to before, containing the most powerful and terrible spells known to wizardkind. And there, in the book belonging to Salazar Slytherin himself, he had found this. And found himself equal to it. Bred of Darkness and Power, it would not go out for fourteen hours. The number of days he had spent thinking that Ginny loved him.

She had tricked him completely. She knew that he watched her, knew how he felt, knew that his only weakness was her. She had come to him, fooled him with her words of love, and he had told her everything. Because she had offered love, something he had never been offered before. But she had betrayed him, and his every word had been reported back to the Order.

His father was dead. His mother was killed a few hours before for assisting his father's escape attempt. The Ministry had resumed their killing policies: Aurors had all powers. Aurors versus Death-Eaters. Once again equals. Killers versus killers. Good was no better than evil. But there was an alternative.

Draco did not want to belong to either side. They were both as bad as each other, really, both causing destruction to achieve what they thought was right. Well, he was sick of both of them. They deserved each other. And they both deserved what was coming to them. For he would create a Third Side, to wipe out anyone who believed in the others. So what if that was most of the world? The notions of Good and Evil had made Draco's life hell, and he would do the same in return.

Draco smiled. Now he was a killer above them all. He was alone now, but soon others would be brought around to his cause. He would not be alone for long.

He leant against the gate as he watched Hogwarts go up in smoke. He smirked. Up in smoke. That phrase could apply to so much. The school. The Order's plans. His love for Ginny.

He should have seen straight through her. Should have, but didn't. Should have known where it was her heart truly lay. Should have known that someone as perfect as her would never stoop to loving someone as low as him. But she had come to him, whispering words of love and forgiveness. False words.

Draco had been brought up to believe in betrayal. But it had still surprised him when that card had been played against him. But no matter. In his hand was a royal flush.

Draco turned away from his school one last time. Away from the bright blaze of the fire. Away from the light and into the darkness.