Life is Bittersweet

by magical*little*me
 
 
 

He stood in front of the reflecting glass, breathing heavily. He was gripping the chair so hard
that his knuckles were turning white from the effort.

He caught a glance of himself in the mirror before it shattered. He looked oddly calm, his face
not betraying a shred of emotion. The only thing that might've let someone know what he was
going through, were his grey eyes, lined with red.

And then he brought the wooden chair down with all his might, a thousand avenging angels
reflected in the polished surface. The glass had shattered, the broken pieces flying into the air,
and scattering on the hardwood floor.

Fragments of glass flew onto him, the smaller ones cutting his arms and legs, one especially
large piece making a large cut on his cheek. Others landed on his platinum blond hair, sparkling
in the dim light.

The sound brought his parents running. They stopped short as they saw the condition of his
room; the sharp pieces scattered throughout. They saw the blood trickling down his face, and
the hundreds of smaller cuts on his other limbs.

"Draco, what's happened?" Narcissa asked him finally.

Her concerned voice sliced through the tension.

He looked up at her, tears already beginning to form. His eyes were like the mirror he had
smashed, reflecting the terrors of the outside world, but letting nothing penetrate within.

"He's taken Hermione," he answered finally, his voice cracking. A tear dripped down his face,
mingling with the crimson blood. He paid it no attention. "And he's spying on us too," he added,
as he pointed to the device he knew he would find there.

There was no need to ask who "he" was. In the past few months, Draco had been so disgusted
with the doings of the Dark Lord that he refused to speak the name.

Again, it was Narcissa who spoke first. "Oh, Draco" she said, moving to hug him. She ignored
the shards of glass clinging to his robes, as badly cut up as he was. She embraced him tightly,
then wiped off the blood on his face.

At this act of kindness, Lucius stalked out of the room, a hidden emotion shown on his face.
They could hear his angry footsteps as he walked into his study and slammed the door.

Narcissa noticed the distress on her son's face. "His mind's been poisoned," she whispered in
his ear, comforting him. "He doesn't know any better."

She sat silently in her cell, counting the stone bricks that formed the walls. Logical thoughts.
She had to think logical thoughts; or else she would lose her mind, being confined in this tiny
jail.

Around her, howls of distress could be heard. She knew that many of the prisoners here had
already gone insane. She could tell, from their random babbling, and their calls for liberation.
Anyone who could think straight knew that Voldemort would never release them.

But she wouldn't let it get to her. No matter what, she would keep her sanity. She directed her
mind to the memories. Not happy memories, that the Dementors could suck up. Just memories
of the past, neither happy nor sad.

This place was worse than Azkaban could ever be. At least there, the Ministry had been in
charge and made sure that the prisoners got sensible amounts of food and water. Here, they
got one big meal a week, when they could stuff themselves. Unfortunately, because of the
fasting that held them the other six days, they often ended up throwing up the food they had
just eaten.

And the cells were filthy. Each night, she swore that she could hear the scurrying of rats
between the sturdy iron bars. Spiders dangled from the ceiling, catching the occasional bug
that flew past.

She wrapped her arms around herself, to conserve the little body heat she possessed. Blankets
were among one of the many things they didn't give out here. She tucked her tattered blanket
over her, still staring at the colourless ceiling.

A dark shadow glided past her cell, arousing cries and pleas for help from nearby. She tuned
out the frantic voices, knowing that she couldn't help.

I won't ever let them take my sanity, she thought to herself.

A light shone from the halls, as a wizard guard paused outside her door. He pulled a skeleton
key from his pockets and unlocked her door, sliding the bars aside.

"Ms. Granger?" he asked his voice icily cold.

She stood up. "Yes?"

He puffed himself up, and she could tell that he was about to make an important announcement.
"The Master wishes to see you."

"No!" she wanted to scream. She wanted to run, to kick the guard and escape, somehow
leaving this horrible fortress. Those six words had sent terror coursing through her blood,
chilling her to the bone.

Instead, she followed him out, hoping he wouldn't notice how terrified she was.

He pored through the magic books, reading by the dim light of his wand. His tired eyes could
no longer make out any understandable words. Yet he forced himself to keep on reading.
Hermione's safety depended on it.

He finally gave up, in the hours of the early morning, and fell asleep right on his desk, sprawled
over the many books he had been reading.

Wearily, he made himself get up and dress. As he paused by a mirror, he noticed the dark
circles under his eyes. It made his face shrink in, made him look older than he really was. He
rubbed his eyes to keep awake, and descended the stairs.

The house elves had his breakfast waiting in the dining room. Grabbing a kitchen knife, he
hastily buttered a slice of toast and bit into it, chewing slowly. He swallowed with difficulty.

Lucius walked into the room, and walked abruptly out again. He met his mother's gaze, and
she shrugged, then continued to daintily eat her fruit.

He rose from the table, having had enough of all this. His mother grabbed his sleeve as he
walked past her chair.

"You've got to understand, Draco" she said desperately. "He never used to be this way. I
remember when I married him; he was all sweet and caring. But then he went in league with
Voldemort, and he's never been the same since."

He stopped, feeling sorry for her. This must be hardest for her, watching the man she loved
transform into a monster. He leaned over and gave her a hug, something he hadn't done in
years.

He watched her face brighten, as she held him, rocking gently back and forth. Tears began
to form in the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry" she whispered, wiping them away.

He looked up, shocked. "For what, Mother?"

She stroked his hair gently. "For not always being to protect you from all the evils of this
world. I know I haven't always been the best parent, but maybe I can start making that up
now. This might not mean much, but I think I might have a plan that might help you get
Hermione back."

This meant the world to him, and he let her know. And as he watched the sunny smile light
up her features, he knew she was pleased.

She stood defiantly, her angry eyes flashing with rebellion. She could feel his presence all
around her. The giant snake slithered about the room, finally stopping at a doorway in the
back.

And it was from that doorway that he appeared, looking as cruel as he ever did. He obviously
thought highly of himself, as he was draped with jewels, his robes velvety, buttoned with pearls.

He glided into the room, holding himself majestically, then sat down on his chair, which was
placed above all else in the room, like a throne. The sight made her sick to her stomach.

"Hermione," he slithered, his words snake-like. "What have I done to receive the pleasure of
this visit?"

She glared at him, her eyes hard and cold. "If I recall correctly, it was you who called me here."
Her words were laced with venom.

Voldemort chuckled merrily. "Right you are, my dear. You've always been quite intelligent."

"I'm not your dear" she scowled.

"Must you always be so disagreeable?" He frowned mockingly at her. The whole conversation
was a game to him.

"With you, yes"

"Then I suppose you won't like the preposition I'm about to make."

"Most likely not" she replied, smiling at him sweetly.

"But do hear me out first." He motioned for her to sit down in the chair across from him.

"I'll stand, thanks"

"Very well. It is your choice after all. Now Hermione, as I've said, you've always been quite a
bright girl. I may have uses for people like you in my - how should I put this - band of wizards
and witches. With your wits added on to the efficiency of my people, we could gain ultimate
power. How about it? It is your choice."

However, his cruel red stated just the opposite of his words.

She didn't know what to do. Although she didn't want to help him spread havoc and terror
across the land, she didn't know if she could face the penalty she would surely receive if she
said no.

She almost said yes.

But then she thought about all the pain that the people would have to bear, her own kind in
particular. She thought of all the losses they had suffered, about all the torture they had gone
through. And with these thoughts, she knew she would have to do the right thing.

"No" she said, calmly, and firmly.

He sneered. "That's what I thought you would say. Prepare to face the consequences."

And with a simple spell, the torture began.

An excruciating pain shot through her body, and she couldn't help but fall to the ground. But
she refused to cry out, to grant him the pleasure of hearing her scream. The pain grew worse
with each second. She tried to recall all the happy memories she had, taking them out one at
a time, then locking them back up. With this, she somehow found strength from a place in
herself that she hadn't known existed.

She threw off the spell.

He looked surprised. Obviously, no one had ever thrown off the Cruciactus Curse before.
She laughed, enjoying the sound. "Stronger than you thought, hmmm?"

"But not strong enough," he countered.

He cast another spell. This time, the pain hurt her worse than ever, and something new happened.
Haunting memories of her past came to her head, all the disdain, all the ridicule, all the taunts she
had ever received.

She tried to fill her mind with memories of Draco, her Draco, who was always there for her,
who helped her through the hard times, and endured all the difficulties with her.

And a mocking voice began to form in her head, cutting through the blackness. "He doesn't love
you," it said, jeering.

She wanted to scream. "Of course he does!" she shouted into the darkness.

The voice laughed a cruel laugh. "No he doesn't," it sneered. "He's already forgotten about you.
Why don't you see for yourself?"

With that, it inserted a picture into her head. Two figures walked along a sidewalk, eating ice
cream and laughing merrily. One of them was Draco, all right. But who was the other one?

"Look closer," the voice smirked.

The picture became clearer, and she could hear the other girl's twinkling laugh. And Draco,
laughing right along with her. They looked happy, in an ecstasy no one else could experience.

The other girl turned her face, and with a gasp, she realized who it was. "Ginny?" she cried out
in horror.

"Yes, Ginny"the voice taunted.

She wouldn't believe it. There was no way the boy in that picture was her Draco. But then he
spoke, and she wasn't so sure anymore. It sounded so much like him.

"Gin, I love you."

In his tone, there was that same sweetness that there was when he spoke to her. His playful
use of the nickname, just like he did for her. And as he leaned down to kiss her, she could see
his gentleness.

Hermione felt as if someone had just carved out her heart with a dull knife. She collapsed to
the ground, sobbing in heartbreak. And she succumbed to the lies he told, now believing every
word that came out of his mouth.

In the background, she could almost make out Voldemort's cruel laugh.

He swept through the halls of the fortress, clad in his father's robes. He had grown enough to
be able to fit into them. And people were always mentioning how much they looked alike.

With ink, he and his mother had drawn a perfect replica of the Dark Mark onto his arm. And
he would always keep his sleeves down, just in case someone noticed.

With a few added spells done expertly by his mother, he was now an exact version of Lucius.
Both he and Narcissa knew the danger of the situation, but she trusted him to be careful. And
she knew he would be unhappy if he didn't do this.

It must have worked, for as he walked confidently down the halls, no one paid him any attention.

Until another Death Eater stopped him. His blood ran cold as he hoped with all his might that
he wouldn't be recognized, wouldn't be captured. As the other man led him down the dark
corridors, he lost all hope.

They stopped outside a door. "The Master has been waiting for you, Lucius" he announced.

Draco let out a deep breath. So this was all that they had wanted. His plan had worked. They
thought he was Lucius, not some imposter.

He entered the room and closed the door behind him. It was a rather large room. The Dark
Lord sat on a throne in the middle of the room, a twitching figure before him. As his vision
cleared, he could finally tell who it was. Hermione! So she was safe.

Voldemort looked up from his torturing as he shut the door behind him. "Ah, Lucius. You're
right on time." He snapped his fingers. "Guards!"

Two burly looking men appeared, and stood in front of him.

"Take her back to the dungeons," he ordered.

Draco watched as the two easily picked up her limp body. Even from this distance, he could
see that her clothes were wet with tears, her body loaded with dark bruises. He winced;
knowing the pain it must have caused her.

As the guards left, he thought that he might have a chance. That he might actually be able to
fool Voldemort, and take Hermione home.

They closed the door behind them, and Voldemort turned to him again. "So Draco, when
were you planning to tell me about this little scam of yours?"

He tried to hide his surprise.

Voldemort saw anyways. He laughed a cruel mocking laugh. "Don't play me for a fool boy.
I know more than you can ever imagine."

He finally managed to get his voice back. "By spying on us all?" he challenged.

"If needed, yes" Voldemort sneered. "So tell me, boy, why have you come here? To retrieve
your little girlfriend?"

He faced him squarely. "Yes," he answered, disgust in his voice.

"Then you will have to fight me first," said Voldemort, taunting once again. "The winner gets
the girl"

Draco nodded. And before he knew it, Voldemort had already cast his first spell.

A hoop of black flames burst from his wand, and settled themselves around Draco, a ring of
fire. The heat of these dark flames had more intensity than normal ones, and it was difficult to
breathe as waves of heat rose around him.

The black flames licked at the hem of his robes, teasing. He tried a variety of spells, to get the
fires to distinguish. But no matter what the spell, the fire would not go away.

He heard Voldemort's taunting laugh again. "Has your father taught you nothing, boy? Dark
Magic can only be distinguished by another form of Dark Magic"

But no Dark spells would come to mind. And just last summer, he had refused to learn any
more Dark spells, knowing of all the damage that would eventually follow.

So he just stood, prepared to die. His only regret was not being able to save Hermione.

It was then the real Lucius burst into the room. His face formed a look of horror as he saw
his son surrounded by the ring of fire.

"Lucius, Lucius, Lucius. You should've taught him better" said Voldemort disdainfully, silently
laughing.

Draco's father had a split second decision to make. And as he thought of all the horrible
things he had done, he knew what he had to do to redeem himself.

"Take me instead" he said.

"What?" both Draco and Voldemort yelled together in disbelief.

"Take me instead," he repeated. "Spare my son's life."

"Father, no!" screamed Draco. "Don't do this!"

Lucius gave him a sad smile. "I owe you this for all I've done in the past. Goodbye, son.
I love you."

Voldemort sneered and distinguished the flames still dancing around Draco. "It's all the same
to me. Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light shot out and hit Lucius square in the chest. He staggered backwards and
fell over, his last traces of life leaving him. On his face was a peaceful look, like he had finally
done the right thing.

Draco felt hot tears burn his eyes. Why did everyone feel the need to make it all up to him
now?

Voldemort turned to him. "Now it's your turn. Prepare to die."

"What?" he shouted angrily. "You said you would spare my life."

"I lied."

He spat on the ground. "You know what you are? You're a heartless bastard. You don't care
who you kill, as long as it brings you power. Well, guess what? Power never gives you anything
but loneliness! That's why nobody ever loved you! That's how you could murder your own
father! Your own flesh and blood. Sure, mine never did all that much for me until now. But I
loved him just the same. You, you can't be human. No human could be this cruel."

He thought he saw something flicker in Voldemort's face, but it disappeared just as quickly.
"How touching," he said sarcastically. "You're still going to die."

"Then kill me. I'm not scared of you."

This surprised Voldemort so much that he faltered. No one had ever defied him like this before.
And it was this mistake that cost him his life.

"Avada Kedavra" Draco whispered, tears still streaming down his cheeks. The fatal green light
hit Voldemort, and he crumpled to the ground, a lifeless puppet.

Draco knelt by his body. "I'm not sorry to have rid the world of a monster like you. You did
many unforgivable. And we will all rejoice now that you're gone."

And then he ran down to the dungeons, to free Hermione.

Word spread quickly throughout the fortress, and one by one, all the Dark Wizards surrendered.
They had no idea what to expect from the seventeen-year-old boy who had single-handedly
defeated their master.

The dungeons were dark and filthy. He travelled through the darkened hallways, peering into
the cells. Hundreds of prisoners sat in the giant jail the Dark Lord had built, each in their own
little dream world.

He finally found Hermione, rocking back and forth gently in the little cell she dwelled in. Her
robes were tattered and torn, and her tears left clean trails through all the dirt on her face.

Quickly, he unlocked her cell. At the sound, she looked up. And when she saw his loving face,
she knew that Voldemort had lied to her, that the pictures he provided were all a trick, that her
Draco loved no one but her.

They had been through so much; so many horrors lived in their pasts. They had suffered through
many tortures, just so they could be together.

And now that they were, they weren't sure how to react.

Draco could see that she was hurt, both inside and out. Voldemort had ravaged her spirit,
leaving her torn and hopeless. Leaving her shaking and scared inside.

They couldn't turn back time and start all over again. They couldn't just ignore the whole thing,
and pretend that it never happened. They couldn't magically make things right, making things
happy and cheerful again.

For this was life. And it was painfully beautiful.

But he could take her fragile hand, and lead her out of her grubby cell. And she could lean on
him lovingly, letting him support the weight she couldn't handle.

And they could kiss, stepping out into their newfound freedom.
 
 
 

AN: Savage Garden is very useful for writing. I wrote this whole thing while listening to their songs.
Tell me what you think. Review?