Yours in Mayhem |Dramione

14 sixth year: entry one

My father was sent to Azkaban. I will get my revenge.

My father was sent to Azkaban. I will get my revenge.

My father was...

Draco wrote and wrote and wrote until the words were all he saw when he closed his eyes. Until the pages were the light and everything else was shadows. Because nothing else deserved to be in that light.

He has to get revenge, right? His father- the man who raised him- the man who gave him everything he possesses was sent to prison.

But isn't it justice? Sirius Black was killed. He never worked for Voldemort. Voldemort who killed Cedric Diggory just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Isn't this just? Right? Why won't someone put a stop to Voldemort?

But he's your father, Draco. Your own flesh and blood. Blood is the most important thing. There is nothing else but blood.

It smelled of blood.

He whipped his head to his door, the sound of high heels clicking against the marble stone floor of the manor echoed. "Dracooooooo," the high pitched voice with the echo of an upcoming maniacal laughter scared him. But he could not let it show. His door burst open just as he managed to hide his journal in his secret compartment.

Bellatrix Lestrange eyed him from head to toe before smiling, her teeth were yellow with rot and her dark hair was mangled. She must have been a beauty like his mother in her younger years but now she just looked deranged. "Has my favorite nephew been practicing his lessons?" she simpered as she walked around his room, touching various objects while she paced around.

"As much as I could, Aunt Dearest," he replied coolly.

She's going to do Legilemency on him. She wants to get him off guard. See into him. Won't allow that. Can't allow that.

Think of what's for dinner. You're hungry. Haven't had lunch. You want veal with cranberry syrup. Apple pie and vanilla ice cream for dessert. Apple pie. Vanilla ice cream. Sausage and toast with orange juice tomorrow for breakfast. Smoked salmon for lunch. Eaten outside with lavender lemonade. With mother.

His mother was the only person he could hold on to. Just imagine her crying over your lifeless body. Just imagine her staring at the window alone inside an enormous house with no one to keep her company. Draco loves her, would never let anyone hurt her. Would not want to cause her suffering and pain.

Suddenly it was all too real. The grief. The hurt. He felt the lump on his throat and the cold in his chest where his heart is.

He was hit with a spell as soon as his aunt faced him. But there was only darkness and grief and pain. There wasn't really anything else left there. Just the fear that failing his father would mean death to his whole clan and for his mother pain. Just thinking about it made him taste bile.

"Very good," Bellatrix grinned, putting her wand just below his chin and making him face her. The magic at the tip of the wand stung him. He has been in this position one to many times that he wished it didn't degrade him but it still did. Everyone still thinks that he's just a boy. "You're ready to meet him now."

Draco smirked even as he felt like gravity was pulling him harder and harder, closer to the ground, "I've been counting the days."

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow at him; could be mistrust, could also be joy, before smiling widely at him, "Go kiss mommy bye-bye and meet me downstairs. We're apparating to him." She slapped both his cheeks lightly with her hands before pinching them. "So handsome! Who would've thought that that maggoty loser Lucius fathered you," she giggled before walking out of the room.

And Draco wanted to twist her neck with his bare hands and push her down the stairs.

No. No. No. No. No.

She's a talented woman. Any friend of The Dark Lord is someone to be looked upon. So proud, so very proud to have been a part of this family of his humble servants. So very proud.

Let it ingrain itself in your thought. She's a wonderful woman.

He walked towards a piece of parchment that he tore from his journal.

I swear on everything that I have and will ever have that I will do anything and everything in my power to hurt Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermi

It was unfinished.

He can't put it in him to actually picture her dead. Or wish her hurt. He doesn't know why but thinking about it made him physically hurt.

He saw the state she was in when they brought her in the hospital wing after the fight in the Ministry of Magic. Not the exact moment because he bid his time. He managed to snuck in after midnight. Security was lax as it was the end of term and Filch was probably already sleeping. She was pale as pale can be. The normally petal colored lips were the same color as paper. She was still and her breathing was light. Bandages on her chest peeked from beneath the robes that Madam Pomfrey made her wear. It looks like a serious curse. Most likely Dark Magic to be able to hurt someone like that.

He wished he hadn't but he held her cold, frail hand.

He wished he hadn't but his lips made contact with her smooth forehead. Even brushed away her bushy hair to make the contact linger.

He wished he hadn't but he promised that he'll never hurt her, no matter what that entails in the future.

Draco grabbed the crumpled piece of parchment and threw it to the fire. He sneered as the flames engulfed the paper slowly like it was giving a fight. It was made of wood and everybody knows that fire beats wood, anytime, anywhere. And what are promises but collection of synapses and words that have no meaning.

And he was never the valiant sort to write anything in blood. Even when he's bound to be covered in it.

He walked out of the room, glanced once at his parents' chambers but wouldn't dare say goodbye to his mother, wouldn't want to involve her in this business. She has already suffered enough.

Pain. Darkness. Suffering.

He replayed the thought over and over in his head. One for each of the steps that he took down the steps of the manor's grand staircase.

Revenge. Power. Glory. Dominance. Win. Do anything to achieve my means. Kill or be killed. Kill or be killed. Revenge. Power. Glory. Dominance. Win. Cunning. Ambition. Revenge...

He held on to Bellatrix's waiting arm and they were off.

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Oh, dear God. I never intended to make anyone's morning sad or anything like that. I never realized how sad this was until I read it over again. XD But anyways first chapter in HBP!

And yeah! I just want to thank each and everyone for giving us the time of day! We have reached 1,000+ reads! Just hit 4 digits, y'all! This is really a big deal for me because I used to write celebrity ff but then I ventured into Harry Potter all of a sudden and no one in this fandom knows me and people actually cared enough to check this fic out! Thank you!

Song up top is 'Emperor's New Clothes' by Panic! At the Disco. I think that the time has come for this song.

Dedicated to @kittensmoo for her continued votes! Thank you for checking this out!

Guy, don't be afraid to comment or talk to me. I really like talking to people. :) Chocolate frogs for all!