This would be the part where I wake up.
But I don’t think I will ever wake up from this horrible, horrible nightmare.
Harry is gone, and there is nothing I can do about it. Absolutely nothing. And what drives me mad is the fact that I’m letting this drive me mad. I’m letting him drive me mad.
I know it was my own fault, there is no doubt about that. I could have stopped it. I could have. But I didn’t.
I could have stopped it right then when my father was telling me what to do. But I was scared. Call me a coward, I don’t care; I’m no bloody Gryffindor.
I could have stopped it right when Harry asked me what I was up to. But I didn’t.
I could have stopped it right when we were making our way to the edge of the forest, where my father told me to take him. But I didn’t.
I could have stopped it and not pressed the button, signalling my father to come. But, I did not.
I could have stopped it when my father arrived. But, I’m a bloody coward who didn’t.
I could have even stopped it, perhaps, when the group of masked and hooded people arrived. When they swarmed and made a circle of faceless shadows around him. When my father told me it would be best if I leaved.
I turned away. I never looked back. But I heard the screams — Harry’s screams — in the distance. The sound hurt more than anything I’ve experience before — and that means a lot coming from a Malfoy.
I always thought I was prepared for that sort of thing. I thought I would be ready, perhaps, ready for the screams, ready for the swear words being thrown at me in such a disdainful manner. But I wasn’t ready. No one is prepared to hear the screams of the one they’re in love with being whisked away in the dead of night. Especially when they can no longer do anything about it.
Especially when it was all their fault.
He’s gone now. I know it. Gone, but maybe not dead. He didn’t die last night when I was outside, I know that. Voldemort isn’t stupid enough to kill someone on school grounds. I strongly doubt that he would be brave enough to step foot on the grounds myself.
The screams were from Harry being dragged away. They weren’t screams of death. So help me Merlin if they were. I would have known though, and I wouldn’t have been able to take it. The profanities aimed at me were enough. Did he think I was proud of what I did. I wasn’t proud of it. I didn’t want to do it myself. And I shouldn’t have.
And if I could take it all back now, I would. Believe me, I would. But nothing could erase the screams that will now haunt me for the rest of my life. Nothing.
Harry’s screams. Screams at me. Screams out into the night out of pure fear. I always thought he would have more pride than that. I thought he wouldn’t scream, let them know they were getting to them. I was wrong.
I’m also wrong about a lot of things.
It was my mistake. Now I’ll pay for it in silence. No one knows, I’ll keep it that way. And I won’t scream.
Harry’s done enough of that.
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