He Who Could Not Save Himself

A/N – Anything mentioned in the Harry Potter book series does not belong to me. Any imitation of other fan-fiction is purely unintentional. Enjoy - Kumy

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"Draco was, for the first time in his life, truly alone.

His mother had been killed by his father--no, Voldemort’s lackey. Now…now Voldemort was supreme and there was nothing left to live for. The Order had managed to escape to an underground haven because of Snape’s warning. Snape himself had been killed.

His one love, his Fire, his Angel, was stuck underground.

Draco would have risked everything to go and see her, but the Order’s survival depended upon the information that Draco, as the “Prince of Darkness,” could get to them. Ginevra would die if he went to see her because the Order would be discovered, and he would die if he could not see her soon.

It was his fault that she was stuck in a tiny hiding place for fear of her death. He had been too weak, too without that remarkable Gryffindor courage that she had thought that he had.

He thought back to the Day where he effectively ruined his own life. After all, there was no one to blame but himself.

Severus had talked to him through the fire of his Head Boy rooms, trying to persuade him to follow his heart and become a Spy for the Order. But Draco’s Slytherin personality had kicked in: self-preservation came first. He decided not to become a Spy…even when plans were heard of an attack on Hogwarts. He would merely get Ginevra out of there…and much to his annoyance, he decided the Dream Team would have to come too. After all, without the Dream Team, the Light had no chance. And Ginevra’s survival depended upon the Light’s survival. He would talk to her as soon as they met in the library…

He walked past the shelves of musty books and smiled at the sight of her. She looked so innocent, her eyes intent upon the pages in front of her as she unconsciously snuggled deeper into the cozy armchair. He snuck up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her, covering her mouth and pulling her out of her chair simultaneously. Then he sat down on the chair and settled her in his lap. He whispered in her ear, “Thought this would be more comfortable. I need to talk to you soon.”

She automatically snuggled in and then suddenly yanked away, as if remembering something. Her eyes blazed with anger and disappointment. “How could you? I thought that I could change you…I guess I was wrong.” And with that, she began to storm off.

“Wait!” he called desperately. Madam Pince glared at him. He softened his voice as he held her by the wrist tightly. “Whatever you do, even if you hate me forever,” he whispered urgently, “get out of Hogwarts on the 13th. Use the door in the hag’s hump near the Fat Lady to get to Hogsmeade. Wherever you are, make sure it is not Hogwarts…oh and get Potter, Mud-Granger, and your brother out, too. I cannot tell you anymore. Just trust me.”

“Oh so you are that selfish. You would save me and forget about the rest of Hogwarts. Why Harry, why Hermione or Ron then? Snape already told us of the impending attack on Hogwarts. Are you going to be there, playing games with the Unforgivables, Mr. Death-Eater-In-Training?” she hissed vehemently.

The pain in his stormy tormented eyes quickly blanked as if a door had locked shut in his mind. His “mask” came on…the one he showed to Hogwarts. She had never thought the day would come that he would show it to her. That was the point where their paths divided. Then he spoke, “The Dream Team is going to kill Voldemort before he kills you…of course they have to stay alive. And yes I will be there, but not as a Death-Eater-In-Training.” His voice was strained with anger, frustration and most of all, pain. He pulled up his sleeve and showed her the thing he had hidden for so long. The Dark Mark’s ugly face was emblazoned into his pale skin. “I will be there as a Death-Eater.”

She pulled away in horror from him and he pushed away the thought that he could fix this in an instant with another sentence. However, he thought harshly, this was for the best. Why keep her hoping for a chance? They would never see each other again. This is where their paths divided forever.

Dumbledore was the only one who knew that the Prince of Darkness was a Spy for the Order. The Order had no clue who the Spy was at Draco’s request, although rumor said it was Zabini. Rumors also said that Ginevra and Potter were getting married in June. He shoved away the feelings of betrayal with savage strength. I did this so that she could move on. I have no right to feel anything anymore. But he did. And there was nothing left to live for. After today, and the Potion that Ginevra, as an even stronger Potions Master than Snape, had brewed was administered, Voldemort would be gone and Ginevra would be safe…in the arms of Potter himself.

Did Ginevra ever remember him? He hoped that she got his letter from Dumbledore. He had written to Albus and asked him to reveal the identity of the Spy once the mission today had been accomplished. He had attached a letter for Ginny at the end. And now it was time for Voldemort to see him.

“Draco, my Prince, has Percy Weasley decided whether it is worth his death to withhold information from the Dark Lord?” Voldemort always referred to himself in third person, a sign of insanity if you asked Draco. Weasley was here as part of a hoax from Dumbledore, but he did not know the face or name of the Spy that was protecting him from anything worse than a Cruciatus Curse.

“My Lord, a few more days should break him. He is too great a source of information…he thinks he gives away nothing, but truly gives so much. Do not make me kill him,” Draco said pleadingly. That much was true…the Order was lucky that only Draco listened to Weasley. Otherwise, they would have had Death Eaters swooping down on them right now. You did not need a direct statement in order to figure out the location of people. Voldemort loved begging, it made him feel powerful. Hopefully he could delay the Killing Curse for Weasley until Voldemort drunk the Potion.

“I trust your judgment, Prince. Good luck with him…or maybe bad luck. I will enjoy killing a Weasley,” Voldemort mused. He was kidding himself, Draco thought. Voldemort liked killing anything with a heart. Draco remembered the task at hand.

“Have a drink, my Lord?” Sufficiently careless and casual, that was the way to do it.

“Fine, give me whatever you have,” Voldemort said. “Killing that Parkinson girl for her blunder was tedious…she kept trying to seduce me.”

Draco smirked. “That sounds like her to me.” He quickly dropped powder contained in a hollow ring on his hand into Voldemort’s cup, and kept it. He handed Voldemort the glass meant for Draco. He knew how this twisted mind worked.

Voldemort scrutinized him. “Give me your glass and I will drink yours.” Draco acted terrified as Voldemort smirked.

Voldemort sipped from the goblet Draco gave him. Suddenly, Draco dropped the mask of terror he had held in place. Voldemort raised an eyebrow at him. Then stopped, frowning, as he felt the beginning effects of the potion. Potter suddenly apparated in and attacked Voldemort’s mind with his memories of love, happiness, and all the good things of the Light. Voldemort’s mind, opened wide by the potion, was being torn apart with all these good memories. With a scream rather like a girl’s, the Half-Blood Lord fell to his death on the cobblestones below the tower window.

Potter looked around and saw Draco. “You-You are the Spy?” he asked incredulously.

Draco smirked. “The reason for your success would be more accurate. Weasley is downstairs, we can retrieve him safely. Voldemort, twisted as he is, made it so that anyone with the Dark Mark would die as soon as he does. You know, to prevent one of his followers from becoming greater than he was. Dumbledore undid that magic for me and Snape, so we aren’t affected by it, but the rest are dead.”

Potter said, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you on about?” Draco said suspiciously.

“Um, your dad, he-well- he must have died too.” Potter stuttered nervously.

Draco let out a raucous laugh. “My father died when Snape did…Lucius is no father. Ha, Lucius’s death is a cause for celebration. He tried to kill Ginevra in her first year…that turned me against him a while ago. Anyways, Voldemort killed him when he tried to pronounce me a traitor of the Dark Side…lucky for me no one believed him.”

“You know Ginny?” Potter was suddenly very tense...guess he was possessive of his girlfriend.

“So long ago it doesn’t even matter. She probably wouldn’t even speak to me if she saw me now. Dumbledore probably has told them who the Spy is by now. Go down and get Weasley…I’ll wait for you here.” Guilt was overtaking him now…the murders he had committed to continue the Death Eater farce, breaking Ginevra’s heart, so many things were running through his head.

“Fine, be back in a sec,” Potter cut in. Draco watched him leave and then went back to his thoughts.

When Potter returned with Weasley in hand, Draco was nowhere in sight. He had scrawled out a short note.

You were right, Potter. I did know Ginevra once. She loved me and I broke her heart. But I loved her always. She saved me when I was falling, but in the end, she could not save me from myself. Tell her to ask Dumbledore for my letter to her. It will explain everything. Oh, and tell her I am sorry for everything. I only did it for her good. I think she will understand.

D.M.

It was all over the headlines the next day: the Malfoy Heir killing Voldemort and loving the very symbol of purity and Light, Ginevra Weasley. He had saved their world and killed himself. The next day, Dumbledore found Ginevra dead next to a tear-soaked letter from the Malfoy Heir. Her self-inflicted Killing Curse had been brutally effective.

From then on, whenever the whisper of the wind became wistful, families would tell their children the story of He Who Could Not Save Himself. Their story became encrypted in the wizarding chronicles of history as the love that saved the world as wizards knew it.