Lost Cause

So maybe I don't hate him as much as I should.

Oh, I hate him, alright. With every fiber of my being, as clichéd as that sounds. He's going to destroy my family. Kill my mother and father. Loose a killing blow upon their master. My master. Probably kill me as well, if it comes down to it. I doubt he'll hesitate. I'll never give him a reason to hesitate.

I imagine it sometimes. The end. Him, wounded, but still standing, still moving. Bodies dead or dying, my own parents among them. I'll snarl my rage and leap between him and his path to the Dark Lord. It will only be the two of us, as it should be. As it always has been.

The words of my curse will barely have time to leave my lips, the Killing Curse. I'll say it knowing it will never fall. He'll react instinctively, and I'll fall to my knees. He won't cast an Unforgivable on me, I know, but it will be equally effective. Perhaps a Reductor Curse.

I'll see blackness swirling along the edge of my vision, pain bending me into myself. My hands will spasm and I'll drop my wand. He'll immediately kick it away from me. He'll regret using deadly force, I know without doubt, but I'll hardly be able to blame him for it. I left him little choice. From Day One, my course has been set.

As I gasp against the darkness, my body refusing to believe it's dying, he'll say something brave and stupid, like, 'I didn't want to do it, Malfoy.' He'll know there's nothing he can do to help me. He'll know there's no point in helping me. I am the ultimate lost cause.

I hope I'll be able to impart, in those last moments before my brain surrenders, my utter lack of surprise. Somehow I think he deserves to know, I knew he'd win.

He always wins.

~~~

I hate him. Maybe not as much as I should, though.

In my darkest hours, I wonder.

I'll leap in his path, blocking him on his way to destroy Voldemort. My face will contort in anger at this boy who has always taken everything from me without meaning to. My howl will be wordless, the barbs of my youth striped from me in my fury. My family gone, fallen beneath his wand or someone else's, my master as good as dead.

He won't flinch away, even as I raise my wand. His damn bravery, it won't abandon him, even then. Maybe his glasses will be cracked. He'll probably be bleeding. Still, he'll be the hero.

It will only be the two of us, as it should be. As it always has been.

'Stand with me, Draco.' His eyes won't leave mine. My hand will freeze, the curse dying on my lips. Standing with him, of all people. Ridiculous. But being who he is, our dear Golden Boy, he won't let me fall without offering a hand first. Those tired green eyes will bore into me, and I'll lower my wand. My lip will probably tremble.

I will betray everything.

If he asks, I will stand with him.

~~~

I hate him, because he will never ask.

I am the ultimate lost cause.

From Day One, my path has been set.

Unredeemable.

Damaged.

~~~

In London last summer, I bought a talisman. Partially as a joke; partially as a prayer.

Saint Jude, on a silver chain. Patron saint of lost causes. I'm not Catholic, but I doubt it would matter if I was. I am a Malfoy, and Malfoys acknowledge no higher power save the Dark Lord. A Malfoy has no need of salvation.

I wear it underneath my robes, even now. A Muggle saint to watch over me. The irony is almost painful.

I wonder if he will find it on my body. If he will know. If he will grieve a soul unsalvaged.

I wonder if I will show it to him one day, wounds healed and nightmares laid to rest. If I will find a reason to pray.

~~~

I would like to walk

out of my heart

under the wide sky.

I would like to pray.

One of all the stars

must still exist.

I believe I know

which one

still lasts

and stands like a city, white

in the sky at the end of the beam of light...

--from 'Lament', Rainer Maria Rilke