Those Final Moments

When he closed his eyes, he could smell her. She had a sweet scent - plumeria perhaps, but definitely lavender. It radiated from her like an aura. If he tried hard enough, he could see her face as well. He imagined her with her hair in curls, tendrils framing her rosy cheeks. Her eyes sparkled at him, and he could have sworn he saw specks of gold dust in them. She smiled at him, laughing, and her soft, pink lips begged to be kissed. Her mouth opened slightly, forming his name. He felt himself tense in anticipation.

"Draco!"

His father's cold, curt voice interrupted his thoughts, and he jumped in his seat. Draco opened his eyes and stared down to the head of the table where his father's steely gray eyes bore into his own.

"I have neither the time nor the inclination to sit here while my only son and heir pollutes his mind with idle fantasy." His long, pale fingers wrapped around the goblet in front of him, and he brought it up to his lips. "Tonight, I hope, you learn what it means to be a Malfoy."

Draco's gaze locked with his father's, and neither flinched. "Of course, Father."

"It is your seventeenth birthday Draco," Lucius continued after swallowing some wine.

Draco nodded.

"Tonight, my boy," his father sneered. "You will become a man."

Draco didn't answer, but in the back of his mind, he saw her again. This time, she was twirling around in cream satin dress robes, the willowy fabric clinging to her legs. The locks of brown hair were flowing all around her. She looked radiant, and she was smiling at him as if she always did.

---

Draco drew the cloak around his shoulders and fastened the silver serpent at his neck. He pulled the hood up to cover his head and then even he could not see his reflection in the mirror through its folds.

"Draco! It's time!" His father's voice carried up from the first floor.

"I'll be right there Father," he muttered, knowing full well his father wouldn't care even if he had been loud enough to be heard. He sucked in a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and then exhaled heavily before exiting his room and beginning the dreaded path down the stairs. His father was waiting for him at the bottom, clothed all in black and tapping the floor impatiently with his walking stick. The tapping echoed eerily in the otherwise silent foyer. Then, without warning, it stopped. Draco shuddered. Lucius' icy drawl cut through the silence.

"Come, my master mustn't be kept waiting."

Draco held his head high as his father grabbed his elbow and they disappeared.

The unfamiliar tingle of apparation engulfed Draco as the two Malfoys materialized in the ballroom of a large mansion. Others in similar apparel - black cloaks with hoods - had formed a semicircle in the spacious room. Lucius took his place among them and left Draco a few feet behind all the others, playing with his cloak nervously.

He looked up and found himself staring at Lord Voldemort. Voldemort was clothed in black robes, and his face was unlike any human form Draco had ever seen. It was gray and haggard, with a small mouth, slits instead of a nose, and glowing red eyes. They were staring directly at him.

"Tonight, my friends," the Dark Lord hissed. "Tonight for the first time in many years, I welcome a new face to my fold." He turned his red eyes toward Lucius. "Lucius, my friend..."

The elder Malfoy bowed at the waist. "Master."

"I wish to speak of your so," Voldemort continued. Lucius did not look up. Draco felt himself unconsciously straighten. "Is he to be trusted? Will he prove himself loyal and true to his master?"

"I have raised him to follow in your service as I have done. It is his destiny that he should serve you faithfully. And, it is my firm belief that he shall, and if he does not, he knows the punishment, my lord, for none outside of your favor live long to speak of it."

"I see..." Voldemort's low voice began to trail off, and he raised an eyebrow. "What does the young Mr. Malfoy have to say about all this?" He turned sharply to look at Draco, his eyes taunting and glowing. "Does he know his own voice?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw his father look at him sharply; daring him to defy everything he had been taught. So, Draco bowed his head ever so slightly but looked up again to meet Voldemort's gaze. "It is as you wish, my Lord."

Lucius let out a kind of relieved sigh. "As you can see my lord, he will serve you."

The Dark Lord glared at Lucius, his red eyes flashing. "We will see my friend, we will see." He backed up, turning slowly to face each Death Eater. As he looked at each of them, they bowed low, never meeting his eye. "Is there anyone here that objects to the young Malfoy joining my ranks?" None of the Death Eaters responded in the negative, and there is a murmur of agreement sweeping through them all. "Very well. Wormtail, the cauldron; Lucius, your son."

Lucius appeared almost instantaneously at Draco's side, a look of approval adorning his usually cold face. He grabbed Draco by the elbow and pushed him toward the center of the semicircle, directly in front of Voldemort, who hissed at Lucius. "I assume your son is aware of what will occur this evening."

"Yes my lord," he answered, bowing again.

Wormtail, a short, pudgy man, skittered about behind Voldemort, a cauldron at his feet. He magically lit a black-flamed fire beneath it. Draco watched him, but his concentration was severed at Voldemort's continued hiss. Softly, he announced, "Draco Malfoy has joined us this evening to swear allegiance to me, and to take the Dark Mark on his flesh as a symbol of that allegiance."

Draco could feel his father's eyes on his back. He didn't move, just stared ahead silently, squaring his shoulders. "But first," Voldemort said suddenly. "He must prove himself. Wormtail, the prisoner."

All was silent in the room except the soft inhale and exhale of breath emanating from Voldemort, whose red eyes were glowing more brightly than usual. Wormtail had padded out of the room hurriedly, and when the door opened to signal his return, all eyes were on him. He was pushing a struggling person into the room, and whoever it was collapsed at Voldemort's feet, whimpering.

Draco's eyes widened. Lying before him, arms and legs bound, clothes torn and bloodstained, and hair wild and untamed, was Hermione Granger. He knew his surprise betrayed him, and he fought hard to look away, though he found himself unable to. She lifted her head and opened her eyes. They widened as she saw Draco for the first time, and he noticed they were dark; no speck of gold dust sparkled in them now.

"My young friend..." Voldemort hissed, suddenly breaking the tension. "Kill her." Draco backed away, a look of horror spreading across his pale face. The Dark Lord continued. "I do not have all evening Mr. Malfoy. Either you kill her of your own free will, or I will kill you."

His hand began to reach for his wand, but his eye caught the pleading and terror in Hermione's, but he found he could not do it. "I...I..." He turned to his father, but received nothing but an evil smirk.

"It does not bode well, my son, that you cannot kill a Mudblood slut in the presence of your master. This girl is nothing to you. You are better than she could ever hope to be. I advise you to do as our master commands Draco," Lucius said out of the side of his mouth, his gaze never once meeting his son's.

Voldemort moved silently toward Draco, his face inches from the boy's. "I order you again, young Malfoy. Kill her."

Draco searched the sea of faces, looking for help for only a brief moment. "I ... cannot do it my Lord." He did not allow himself to falter in stance though. He kept his eyes focused straight ahead of him.

"Very well." Voldemort raised his wand. "Perhaps you could be persuaded. Crucio."

Instantly, Draco was filled with immense pain. Every part of his body felt as if it was on fire, and his bones felt as though they were being crushed little by little. He cried out in agony, falling to the ground and curling up into a ball, his body twisting and twitching in little spasms of pain. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Voldemort pulled his wand away, leaving Draco trembling and writhing on the ground.

"Kill her Draco."

Slowly, Draco stood, reaching into his cloak to pull out his wand. He swallowed painfully and turned toward Hermione, whose brown eyes were wide. She was struggling against the ropes that bound her and gagging on the rag stuffed in her mouth. Draco spoke coldly, his voice shaking, as he finally answered Voldemort. "As you wish, my Lord."

He raised his wand, his hand trembling. Draco opened his mouth, never once noticing the satisfied smirk on his father's face. He concentrated on Hermione, his thoughts begging for forgiveness for the horrible deed he was about to commit. Then, so soft that no one but Hermione and Voldemort could hear him, he spoke.

"Avada Kedavra."

A blast of green light shot out from the end of Draco's wand. It hit Hermione square in the chest, and she fell backwards, her body hitting the ground with a small thud. Her now lifeless brown eyes stared back at him. Draco, drained of all the energy he had, crumpled to the ground, silent tears staining his face.

---

Draco found himself unconsciously rubbing his left forearm at the welcoming feast at Hogwarts that year. When he had been revived, the Dark Lord had been surprisingly impressed, and he had branded Draco with the Mark he now wore: a skull and serpent was burned into the formerly unblemished, pale skin of his arm.

He looked up at the sound of the Headmaster clearing his throat.

"Students, faculty, and staff, it is another year here at Hogwarts, and I am unhappy that it must start on a sad note. One of your peers is no longer with us." His blue eyes swept over to the Gryffindor table. Draco followed his gaze to where Ron and Harry sitting, their expressions both sad and solemn. There was an empty seat across from them, and Draco felt his chest tighten and his breaths grew shorter. "It is with great sadness that I tell you all that Miss Hermione Granger, who would have been Head Girl this term, was killed only a few short days ago." The student body gave out a collective gasp, and several quiet outbursts of tears could be heard. Dumbledore raised his goblet. "To the memory of Hermione Granger."

Almost everyone in the Great Hall stood up and followed sit, including most of the Slytherin table. Draco, however, could not bring himself to do it, and instead stayed seated, a single tear falling down his cheek.

He wanted to remember her as he fantasized about her, twirling in cream colored dress robes, smiling and radiant.

But whenever he closed his eyes, all Draco could see was her broken, mangled body in a heap on the ground, and her lifeless brown eyes staring up at him, the same expression of horror, hatred, and disbelief across her beautiful face.

FINIS