Of Choices and Regrets

Draco was running. He ran past Death Eaters and order members, past fallen walls and people, past dark corridors and bright spells. His heart was pounding in his chest; his breath was quick and ragged. His eyes swung widely in their sockets, yet he saw nothing. Draco Malfoy, newest recruit of the Dark Lord and youngest Death Eater, kept seeing Dumbledore's death. Although he had never fainted in his life, he was going to pass out. He wanted to sleep and never wake up. He wanted to close his eyes and erase the entire day. He wanted it all to be a dream. But it wasn't, and now he was running for his life. His life was utterly finished.

Draco looked behind him and saw Professor Snape right on his heels. Anger boiled in him. He could have left this miserable excuse for a life, he could have been safe. Snape didn't look at Draco, yet continued to urge him to go faster. Everyone had thought Snape was a spy and a friend of Dumbledore's.

Now Draco saw Snape in a different perspective. Snape was a coward that attached himself to the strongest person in the war like a little toddler attaches himself to the child with the most toys, like a mosquito attacks the person with the sweeter blood. Snape got in as deep as possible while still having an escape route. He didn't kill Dumbledore for Lord Voldemort. He killed Dumbledore for revenge, to escape from the Order of the Phoenix, to show his true colors, to get glory. He killed him for himself.

Draco let out a cry of rage and willed himself to speed up. He was out of the castle now, and his feet pounded along the school grounds. Stumbling along the uneven footing, there was only the thought of survival. Draco barely noticed when he fell and tore the edge of his robe, and Snape's call to go faster didn't even penetrate his mind. The only thing that woke him of his reverie was a shout full of pain and sorrow, of anger and regret. Draco swung around to find the source.

Potter's diminutive figure was sprinting at an inhuman speed toward the small group of Death Eaters. Snape turned and ran back with a clouded face. Draco lost his nerve and, letting out a yelp like a kicked puppy, he ran for the gates. He saw Snape and Potter fight, and saw the flames from Hagrid's hut, but he barely registered the action.

He caught his breath while waiting for his old potions master. For safety reasons, they had not told him where he was supposed to go after the job was done. Voldemort had thought that he might crack and tell someone. At the time, Draco resented it, but he now knew how right the Dark Lord was. He would have told Dumbledore ages ago if he had known he could have been hidden.

Draco slumped against a tree and slowly slid down the rough bark to the cold, wet ground. He had no strength inside him, and no reason to get up. He was dead even if his body was still alive. His soul had died along with his last chance at freedom, and he was now a walking corpse ready to lie down for the last time. Shear will and pride kept him from crying. He couldn't do it; he couldn't be a Death Eater.

After what seemed like an age, yet was only a few seconds, Snape ran into view. He coldly looked down at Draco and roughly jerked him onto his feet.

"We must go to the Dark Lord now."

Draco felt himself nod, and clutched Snape's arm as much to prepare himself to side-along apparate as to steady himself. After a breath, he felt a squeeze, and was pushed through a tube where there was no sound, no light, and no relief from the constant pain. This was now his life.

Draco woke up breathing heavily as if he had just run a race. He untangled himself from his jumbled sheets and looked at his clock. It was barely five in the morning, yet he was wide-awake. He was used to it now. Shaking his head to dislodge any lingering thoughts of that terrible night, he quietly dressed and left his room in search of a distraction.

The library at the Malfoy Manor was known for its size and was meticulously added to and updated, yet the majority of the time the huge room was empty and still. When he was younger, Draco wasn't allowed into the library, as his father had feared that he would make a mess or find something he shouldn't. His mother wasn't one for magazines full of gossip and bright pictures much less the dusty old tomes. She was much more socially orientated. Rather than becoming more knowledgeable, she preferred to spend her time at mindless parties, pretending to be busier than she really was.

Lucius Malfoy, his father, was an important and influential person, and had never been home. Earlier, he had spent his time planning and carrying out ways to manipulate people to follow his every whim, and give him anything he wanted. While it had made the family richer and more powerful, it had also attracted the attention of the aurors, and the envy of every pure wizard family. Lucius Malfoy hadn't seen his son grow up, and he wasn't here to see the man Draco had become, although now it was the Azkaban guards that kept him away. For that reason, the Manor was always watched, but the Dark Lord now guarded them. Trapped between Aurors and Death Eaters, Draco couldn't leave the sanctuary of his dark house. At first, it was a blessing that he was left here to escape the world, yet now the Manor had become a prison, and he wanted to go into the world to escape the bleak house.

One day, his wanderings had led him into the quiet room, and he had taken a liking to it. The old books and hushed atmosphere made him feel as if there was no change in the world, that everything would stay exactly the same, and that the hurts of the war couldn't touch this room and its inhabitants. The books let him escape from his living nightmare. They taught him things that no teacher could truly teach, and much that any person could teach. As he couldn't go back to Hogwarts, he took it upon himself to continue his education. It was expected that every Death Eater be up to scratch, and because the schooling at Hogwarts had been so random and jagged he had much to learn.

It was the first week in August when he found the book. It was completely black with elegant silver writing. It looked eons old, yet it was in perfect condition. He flipped it open randomly and found names heading each yellowing page. On that sheet, he found information about that person, where they live, and a small picture. At the back of the book he came across a page with his name on it. He read it with wonder. They had listed sneaking the Death Eaters into Hogwarts and assisting in killing Dumbledore under his achievements. He flipped to the page before and found "Nymphadora Tonks."

She must be his cousin, he reasoned. He looked at her picture, a woman with a heart-shaped head and violent pink hair. He read her information with growing awe. She was an auror, and had recently married Remus Lupin. Wasn't that his old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? He had been a werewolf, and Lucius, with the help of Draco, had ruined his reputation and had helped get rid of him. He seemed so old and worn, even when Draco was a third year. Nymphadora wasn't that much older than Draco himself. What had she seen that had made her marry Lupin? She lived in Grimmauld Place, called "The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black." If her mother had been disowned, than why was she now living in the family manor? That house should have come to him, as his Aunt Bellatrix had killed her cousin Sirius, and Draco was the next male in that family.

A smile tugged at his mouth. He had family outside; he had a chance to live. As quickly as his good mood had come, it left. She could protect him better than an ordinary person, yet she would be trained, and told, to kill him without a thought. He would be considered a dangerous Death Eater. He took a deep breath. She had given him hope, but should he risk his life for a chance to live? In his mind, there wasn't much of a choice at all.