Fools

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything.

People thought that they knew him. Draco always scoffed at that one. Knew him—the entire phrase was just ridiculous. To know a person implied they were in confidence, could anticipate desires and actions. Which was impossible. At least for him. That level of knowledge required complete trust. Which considering his situation was just silly.

So here he was. The great Draco Malfoy. Sitting in a room with no entrance. With no bloody, fucking idea about how to fix the object in front of him. Room of requirement his arse. What he required was for the thing to be fixed, not some fucking tools and spell books and an empty room. And he really, really needed it to be done. Hell he was so desperate he had been trying to devise a plan to trick that mudblood Granger into helping him. And it was that thought, it's utter wretched being that was now causing him to ponder his being and mental fiber. (And if it had also been due to the fact that the word 'mudblood' hadn't been quite as heartfelt as it often was he wasn't going to admit it.)

He wondered if the Dark Lord would kill him before or after his parents. He hoped before. The blond wanted his equally fair-haired parents to see his mangled, pale body as they were struck with the killing curse. Maybe then they'd see what happened when they promised things that weren't in their control. Maybe his father would regret his choice, maybe he'd be proud of him for trying.

He chuckled patronizingly as he fiddled with a broken hinge. When his father saw how he'd failed he'd be more likely to push him in front of the wand himself then comfort him.

Potter's father threw himself in front of his family. In front of the boy who lived. Draco scoffed throwing, the hinge across the room into the darkness. James Potter's sacrifice would have been much more pathetic if Harry had died. It was a stupid choice; he couldn't have known that his enemy would have been defeated—no one had ever survived. James Potter was a fool (He wished his father was one as well.)

He wouldn't survive. He had no expectations or dreams. Draco Malfoy would become a forgotten name in the history books—the Boy Who Failed. Death Eaters would spit his name and on his grave. Perhaps fools like Potter and Granger would think he did it for good though, instead of believing that he was just an idiot. A miserable excuse for a wizard.

Maybe they'd assume he was a fool.

A fool who threw himself in front of a wand instead of betraying his school. It would be depressing, knowing that the only people who would think well of him would be his greatest rival and a mudblood. Once the Dark Lord rose they'd be dead soon though, so he would have to bear it for long, or at all he supposed, since he'd be dead.

And if everything his family wanted failed and the light rose. Well then, Weasel would quickly convince his friends of his guilt anyway. Problem solved. Better to be remembered as an evil failure then a martyred fool.

Being martyred didn't do him any good. He heaved himself up to go search the large room for the hinge he'd tossed. He had to get to work. Crabbe and Goyle would be expecting him to tell them how to get dressed and act like human beings soon, and god only knows what kind of idiocy they'd get up to if he lingered too long.

Fools.

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