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As Above, So Below

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The bridge looked black as the swarm of Deatheaters crossed over, led by the infamous dark lord, a smirk on his morphed face. It was evident that he was proud. Pride oozed from his being. The smirk his face bore displayed power and control, as a group of well over 300 people marched robotically behind him. A select few didn't choose nor wish to be at Voldemort's side, however would be killed if they defied, thus they marched on. Some looked just as proud and full of pride as the dark lord himself. It was truly a terrifying sight to behold. The castle of Hogwarts and its dwellers fell still as the horrid realization swept through the crowd, as the students and teachers eyes finally gazed upon their savior. The world seemed to have come to a stand still. their savior, the boy who lived, lay limp in the arms of their teacher. Finally the deformed man spoke, his voice holding a tremor, though not one of fear. But of triumph.


“Harry Potter… is DEAD!”

The dark lord's voice boomed across the bridge with a cackle, the same bridge where Harry’s classmates, teachers and friends stood, Absolutely Horrified. The Weasley girl let out a pain filled screech, attempting to rush towards her lover. Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger stood dumbfounded, eyes burning holes in their friend's lifeless body being held by their teacher, and friend, Hagrid. Holding a grim look on his face, it was clear to everyone that Hagrid was mortified. The guilt from not being able to help his friend who laid limp in his arms, presumably dead, was ripping his mind to shreds.


The cruel memory faded to green as the Slytherin prince awoke. Greeted by emerald green bed sheets and curtains Draco stretched. His mind reeling as he replayed the scene in his head again and again. Over and over, wishing he could have done something about the death of his ‘rival’. If only he had held on a little longer, if only he had rebelled just a bit more, Harry would be alive. Maybe all the muggles who had attended Hogwarts before the reform would be breathing. Maybe the Weasley twins would still be pulling pranks. And maybe, just maybe, he could have hugged his mother one last time.
If he could have protected her, he wouldn’t be missing her so much. Maybe if he had put more effort into protecting her, he could have died instead. Draco blamed himself for his mothers and many others in fact, deaths. He should have stopped it. His thoughts swirling so made Draco want to plummet back into his pillow, back into the dreamscape. Where his mother resided, and where Harry was too. He sighed, worn out mentally and sleepy despite the 12 hours a sleep Draco had just awoken from. He knew that he had to get up, Pansy would positively beat him if he was not dressed in his robes and down to breakfast with Blaise in time. Even though they were on holiday break, most children stayed at Hogwarts. Per their parents request.

Draco stood up with a groan, his bed head looking like a birds nest upon his head as he approached his wardrobe. Picking out basic plain black robes with green accents, he went to the bathroom and changed, cleaning himself up in the process. His hair now lay flat, not gelled back as it was years prior. It was simply combed and wetted down slightly. He walked down the eerily silent halls despite the students. The halls haunted him even as he had walked through them many times before. The memories they held were not great, not even slightly pleasant. Draco remembered not being able to sleep a wink for a few nights. The reason being he had overheard a group of muggle borns being slain by the killing curse just down the hall.

Approaching a stairway, his pale hand went to the railing as he descended the steps, his feet barely making any noise as he walked. Soon, he reached the once great hall, where Pansy and Blaise sat, both with cups of coffee in their hands and food on their plates. Draco joined them, sitting next to Blaise and across from Pansy. He quickly poured himself a cup of coffee, no cream, no sugar, he liked his coffee black. Draco had food on his plate in an instant, courtesy of Pansy, as she knew he wasn’t going to eat if she didn’t make him.

Draco never ate more than needed, even before the war, but after it only worsened. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to eat, it was that his thoughts overpowered his hunger, his mind reeling, spewing lies at him. Telling him he didn’t deserve it, hell he couldn’t save his mother, he didn’t deserve anything really. At least, that's what Draco thought. It’s not that he isn’t hungry, hell, he is starving half the time. However, he feels that he doesn’t deserve it, and sometimes, if he eats little enough, his hunger will distract his mind from his thoughts, making them go away. Most people either felt scared of, or pity for the young Malfoy heir.

After all, his mother was dead and his father was an abusive narcissist. Not that they knew of the abuse though. The only positive forces acting in his life were Blaise and Pansy. Sure they were wonderfully supportive, but he longed to see his mother again, Harry too. Especially Harry, his green eyes would always shine in the light. The emerald color reminded him of the Hogwarts house he longed for the golden boy to have been placed in. Honestly, Draco seemingly loved Harry, though he'd never admit the fact, not even to his own cognizant though. If his father knew he was partaking in the “homosexual agenda” as he called it, holy shit, he’d most likely be crucio’d into Merlin's time.

Draco often spent nights lying awake, thinking over his every decision leading up to this point. Draco sighed, quickly straightening his posture as he heard footsteps approaching. He did this out of habit, just in case his father was coming. He has always lived in fear of his father, as he had never taken kindly to the mere fact that Draco existed, only keeping him alive due to his statue as Malfoy heir. In some ways, Draco thought his mother was lucky, death took her from Lucius’ abusive tendencies. The release she finally needed. The worst they usually endured was a crucio, or the cutting curse.

Draco hardly ever got anything physically exerting from Lucius. His father believed Draco wasn’t worth the energy, so he usually just got hit with spells. Spells that always brought him pain, whether it was a few cuts or the feeling of a hot rod tearing his magical core to shreds. He wanted to run away so badly, but he couldn’t. He had nowhere to go, no one to stay with. Everyone he knew was in kahoots with his father. How he wished he could leave and never return.
He hoped he could get away at some point. Once the Hogwarts reform happened, he prayed for the first time. Prayed he could escape, kill himself and be free.. God he just wanted to be free! The reform was gruesome. The Gryffindor house was dismantled, all remnants of Harry and his posse erased. Everyone had been resorted. Slytherin and Hufflepuff being the largest houses. Ravenclaw had dwindled. Most of the former Gryffindors had been sorted to Hufflepuff. Slytherin was now the “favored” house and quidditch was ever so boring. Potter and his team being the only real competition. The school was also reduced to only pure bloods. Not only among students, but staff as well. With a select few exceptions, one being the infamous potions master, Severus Snape.

Draco soon however, jumped out of his intrusive thoughts. He looked up, his father at the end of his table. Draco didn’t move, his eyes were filled with fear, though it didn’t show. His pale grey orbs had mastered the art of masking his feelings long ago. He’d hoped he wouldn’t get any punishment today. He knew that he would sadly, never be killed. Lucius had a reputation to uphold after all. With the additional fact that the dark lord how favored Draco. Due solely to the fact that Draco had retrieved the elder wand and killed Albus Dumbledore.

His body is still sore from the previous day. Draco tensed, his hands in tight fists under the table. He was scared, scared of his father, scared of his school, hell he was even scared of himself at this point. Draco didn’t dare meet his father's eyes, he was told it was extremely disrespectful. Draco glanced at Pansy, who looked just as petrified as Draco felt. The trio hadn’t said a word to each other up to this point, and Pansy unfortunately decided to speak.

“Draco, it looks like your father needs you.”

She smiled at her friend she had known since before first year, unknowing of the abuse Draco was about to endure. Draco's breath hitched as pansy suggested he leave, and be ALONE with his father. Lucius grinned, the man knew Draco hadn't uttered a word of this torment to his friends, and that brought him great joy.