Shades of Evil: Draco

“I never thought it would be like this,” the fair-haired young man said, looking at the charred remains of Hogwarts’ Great Hall. “I didn’t think…I mean, I knew there would be death and blood and Unforgivables, but I didn’t know that it would be quite so…unreal.” His voice fell, and he looked at the dark man beside him.1

“I killed today, you know: people I’ve known for years—with whom I went to school!” He paused, staring at the ruins of the teachers’ table, now glaringly empty in the silence. Glancing at Snape with a slight shake of his head, he continued. “No, I didn’t exactly like them—hated some of them, even—but…Professor, I took their lives away from them!”2

His mentor watched him silently, letting the young Death Eater talk. There was something important here, and he wanted to know what it was.3

“I saw Potter die, too. We all did, I think—that light shone everywhere, and it seemed that everything just…stopped…and everyone looked at them. Lord Voldemort and Potter…Harry, that is…and then he died.” An expression of bewildered awe came over his face. 4

“It’s so strange—I can’t remember ever hearing or saying his name and not envying him for the attention. But now…he’s dead. The Boy Who Lived…he’s dead. It’s unbelievable.” He caught himself. “I mean, I knew he would die—we all knew. But it’s uncanny, knowing that he is. After all, he beat me at Quidditch so many times. I hate to admit it, even now—especially now—but he was better than I was. I hated him for that.”5

Trying to shake off the eerie mood he was in, Draco slowly walked around the room, trailed by his former professor. He couldn’t seem relieve himself of these feelings, even after telling Snape.6

“And…then it was her. I couldn’t understand—she fought and fought, hexing everyone she didn’t know was on her side, but there were too many. The best witch of our year—the best witch of our generation!—and we…we killed her.” He stopped, unable to continue.7

Snape looked at the young man intently, his face dark with unbidden thought in the still room. “Is that all, Draco? You seem…unsure,” he said, his voice breaking the uncanny silence. Even now, hours after the fight, he felt as though the cries of battle should still be ringing around him. 8

The young man’s lips curved humourlessly. “You know me too well, Professor.” With a sigh, he continued. “No, that’s not all. Before we killed her…well, she was a Mudblood and all, but still…no.” His shoulders dropped, an inexorable burden returning to them. “I’m getting distracted.”9

He faced the Potions Master. “She was one of the few Mudbloods left, and the only girl who was at Hogwarts with our younger group. So, we—Zabini, those idiots Crabbe and Goyle, and I—we decided to get revenge on her for the humiliations we suffered from her.10

“We Apparated her over to the camp—safer there for us, you see. And then…well, Zabini decided that I should go first, you know, because I’d gone through the most—Crabbe and Goyle weren’t going to do anything, because they’re…different.” He shook his head in unfeigned mystification, his lip curled in disgust. “So Zabini had her wand, and we pulled off her cloak and robe, and…you would never believe this, Professor, but she’s beautiful.”11

Startled, Snape forced himself to remain silent. Granger had never been one of his favourite students, but he had never been able to completely dislike someone that intelligent, even if she was a know-it-all Gryffindor.12

Draco looked back down, slightly ashamed. “And then…I forced her to the ground, pressed her back down into the grass—well, what was left of it—and then I…” his voice failed him for a moment, and he looked up, his eyes filled with self-loathing as he began to fully understand what he had done. He swallowed, gathering his courage as he chose his words. “I—I raped her, Professor. I raped Granger. No.” He shook his head slowly, thinking. “No. I raped Hermione. She might have had it coming to her—I don’t know. All I know is that I took her innocence—she was a virgin, too; those rumours about her and Krum, and her and Potter, were false. 13

“She was terrified. She was more scared of me for those first few minutes than I’ve ever seen her scared of anything—even her NEWT results.” He shook his head. “The whole school knew that she would have “Outstanding” on all of them, but she was convinced that she’d failed every single one.” His lips pressed together, anguish written across his face. “But her face showed how frightened she was. I don’t think she even knew what we were going to do until we Vanished her underthings. She probably thought that we were just going to embarrass her before we killed her…” He bowed his head, and his pale hair gleamed in the wintry light.14

“And after that—after I took the thing she obviously prized even above her knowledge and books and endless research—after that, I killed her. I left her lying there on the ground, naked and vulnerable, helpless to defend herself…and I killed her. I didn’t want Zabini to touch her—not him, for he disliked her even more, for some reason—and he would hurt her more than I had already done. 15

“So I ended it there, with that. And she died as I knew she hated to—powerless, without being able to throw a hex or a blow.” A wry half-smile curved his lips, as if remembering something amusing, then his face hardened. “But with dignity, somehow, because she never protested once she knew what we were doing. She had more pride in her death than most of us have in our lives. She reminded me of Dumbledore, in a way…both brilliant, brave, devoted…and both dead.16

“And…I don’t know, Professor. It wasn’t wrong…at least according to our laws…but I feel guilty about it. I’d never…forced a girl…before; and Hermione was a girl, even if she was a Mudblood Gryffindor. Now, though…” His voice broke, emotion overwhelming him and rendering him incapable of speaking. Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a breath, considering, then opened them swiftly, meeting Snape’s steady gaze, his boldness tempered with shame. “I’m not sure if that matters—she was more intelligent than me, and more loyal—she stayed with Potter, fought alongside him, until he died. But for all of that, she was still just a girl, not yet an adult.” He bit his lip, brooding. Finally, his voice quieter, he added, “I know how I would feel if someone did to a friend of mine what I did to…to Hermione.”17

He dropped to his knees on the bloodstained floor, his black robe pooling around him as he looked up at Snape, who stood silent, wrapped in his cloak.18

“What can I do to lose this feeling that I am covered with blood?” he demanded, his rough voice echoing in the empty room. “Hermione’s, Dean Thomas’, Finnegan’s—that one should never have been fighting; Longbottom—he fought for his family, and his friends.” His voice softened. “A pacifist, that’s what he would have been, if he could have; but in a war, everyone fights, or they die.” He sighed and looked down at the bloodstained floor. “Or both.” 19

He stared at a puddle on the floor—was it blood, or had someone been melted? Shaking his head, he shuddered; it was impossible to tell in the twilit hall. He gazed at the puddle, but he didn’t see the blond hair and grey eyes that he expected. Instead, he saw her, copying notes in Potions, pushing her bushy hair away from her face as her quill moved rapidly across the parchment. Then the image changed: she lay on the ground, looking up at him, trembling in fear…he pulled his gaze away, forced himself to examine the tattoo on his left arm. 20

“It’s over. Can it really be?” He paused. “I mean, we’ve been waiting for…longer than I’ve been alive, but…it doesn’t seem like it can be over.” A trace of a smirk touched his mouth, an ironic twist of the lips whose humour didn’t reach his eyes. 21

“I don’t quite know what to do, now that Potter and Granger and the Weasel are gone…no one to mock anymore, no goals to set and then later decide not to accomplish, you know?” He glanced up at his former Professor, his expression like that of a little boy caught in wrongdoing. “It’s a good thing Father didn’t hear me say that. You won’t tell him, will you?” 22

Lost for words, Snape knelt beside his former student and wrapped his arms around the young man. Draco was still a boy, he realized—Lucius had tried to make his son grow up so quickly that he had never discovered the difference between playacting at Death Eaters and the reality that was disturbing him so much right now. It would take a long time for that little boy to heal.23