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                                                                                                        His Darkest Secret




Draco Malfoy knew he was in trouble when he fell to his knees on the unforgiving stone floor of the Manor before the Dark Lord.

“My, my… Draco,” the evil, whispery voice of the snake-faced man before him practically purred with delight, “You have been busy this year.”

Draco paled.

He knew. He knew and the bastard was going to tell everybody.

Draco should’ve known the evil son of a bitch would rummage around in his head for an explanation as to why Draco’s efforts to do the Dark Lord’s bidding had been mediocre at best. And now the bastard knew everything. He knew about the questions Draco had been asking himself late at night as he lay in bed, staring sleeplessly at the ceiling and contemplating his weakness and the fact that he was sure he not only couldn’t murder Albus Dumbledore, but also that he did not want to and so would not do it.

He knew that Draco had been thinking about approaching the leader of the Order of the Phoenix and begging on his knees to be given sanctuary for himself and his parents. He knew that Draco had been doubting his loyalty to the Dark Lord and that he’d done a lot more than change his opinion regarding his feelings towards Mudbloods. Draco couldn’t exactly argue about their supposed inferiority when he was dating one, now could he?

And that was perhaps the worst thing the Dark Lord could know. He knew about her.

The gleam in the bastard’s terrible red eyes made Draco whimper pathetically, like a beaten puppy that knows more brutal abuse is coming and fears even the sight of his tormentor. In that moment Draco knew fear. He’d thought that prior to now he had learned what it meant to live in fear, but he had been wrong. Compared to the stark terror pulsing through his body with his rapidly racing heart and the thump of his blood in his ears, that had been but a blip on the spectrum of what true fear really was.

Draco feared the Dark Lord’s punishment for this disloyalty. He feared the scorn of his parents and his fellow Death Eaters. He feared the pain he knew he would suffer for his blatant disregard for all the Death Eaters were supposed to believe in. Most of all he feared what the Dark Lord would do to her. Already she was a prime target for attack due to her relationship to Potter and her inside knowledge of the plans belonging to the Order. Already she was an insult and a contradiction to the message the Dark Lord and his followers were spreading about the inferiority of mudbloods like her.

After all, one could not argue that mudbloods were less magically gifted when she proved them all wrong every single day in every single class with every act of magic she executed. She was the reason the Dark Lord would fail, and Draco had foolishly become not just involved with the young woman. No, he’d had to make things ten times worse and fall in love with her.

And the Dark Lord knew every thought inside Draco’s head. He might as well just kill himself now.

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