You Live, You Fail, You Die

I would have never thought it would be me looking toward a doubtful future - I mean, me, of all people! And there is now a little voice in my head, saying, Be honest with yourself, Malfoy, you didn't really think about ANYTHING at all. I try to ignore that voice, but it's right.

Honesty. You can't expect honesty from me at all, after all, I'm a Slytherin, and no one EVER expects something like that from us!

But then, there is that voice that whispers maliciously, They didn't expect stupidity from you, either.

And again, it's right. That's what I had been - stupid. A complete idiot.

Why had I been on Voldemort's side? Easy question. Because my father wanted me to be. All my life, I blindly did everything he wanted me to. As far back as I can remember, I always knew the consequences if I didn't - a broken arm at the least. He always had a fascination with the Cruciatus curse, too. Mother never did anything to prevent that, and I thought she didn't because she was too afraid of him. Now I know that couldn't be any farther from the truth, but that's for later.

When did I finally notice that I didn't want to be a Death Eater, nor have anything to do with the Dark Lord? It was when he discovered that Severus Snape, my house teacher and Potions master, was a spy for Dumbledore. Did he torture him? He did worse. It was a shock for me to see such maliciousness to a person who was one of the people whom I really liked. Suddenly, I just wanted out, out of the war, out of Voldemort's claws.

It was clear to me then. Dumbledore and the Order of Phoenix knew that I carried the Dark Mark on my arm, therefore, there was only one thing I could do - I went to that crazy old man and offered myself as a spy. Don't ask me how I felt - I was terrified. I didn't wanted to end up like Severus; that simple thought made me want to be sick, but there was no other way. I hated Voldemort for what he did to Severus, my godfather and - save for my mother - the only person I trusted.

I don't know what Dumbledore saw in my eyes, but it was enough for him to trust me.

And you know the irony? That's exactly why I'm here right now. Here is St. Mungo's, and no one knows what's wrong with me. Unfortunately, I know myself, but I won't tell. There is a reason not to.

The last great battle. I killed my own father, and it still makes me sick to think about it. Not because it was my father, but because I swore to myself never to kill a human being. Do you think I am a hypocrite for saying that? I don't give a fucking damn, it's the truth, believe it or not. Father finally realized that I was the 'new mole', and he was infuriated. It was him or I, and I decided to live a little bit longer.

Oops. BIG mistake. Voldemort caught me with my wand raised over father's dead body. Outside, the battle was continuing, I could absently hear the screams of the surviving members of the Order of Phoenix, but my eyes saw only the Dark Lord. He was so fast, I could't even react. He hexed me with a spell called Infinitus Flamma, endless flame, and since then, it feels as if my whole body is burning in a living hellfire. But - that isn't all, is it?

"EVEN if you survive, young master Malfoy," the creature spit in my face, hissing, his red eyes staring holes into my grey ones, "do remember. Telling somebody about the curse will cause your pain to double. And it will double with every person you tell after that. Someday, you will succumb to the pain, and I will await you after that."

Did I believe him? I don't know for sure if Voldemort is telling the truth or not, but I don't want to risk doubling this pain

Voldemort, of course, was killed by Harry Potter, but I didn't see it. I fell into unconsciousness after the Dark Lord finished with me.

My memory started again when I woke up in St. Mungos.