Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I am neither clever enough nor awesome enough to own the Harry Potter world. That belongs to Queen Rowling.
A/N: Hello everyone! My name is Charlotte and this is my second go at a Harry Potter fanfic. This is a Dramione fanfic I will go down with this ship, and I hope you will enjoy it as much as I have writing it! I will probably be posting twice a week, depending on how busy my schedule is - I've just started uni, eek! - so I hope I don't disappoint! 
Background Info: This story is based after the war, however I have tweeked quite a few major things. Voldemort He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been killed by Hazza, HOWEVER Hazza has been killed by none other than Mr Draco Malfoy. *le gasp*. I know right, shocker. However, the Wizarding World do not know who killed Harry, they just know he is dead, so it's all a bit mental. The Death Eaters are in control once more following Harry's death, and this is where the story picks up okay? Got it? Good. I'll stop rambling now - here is Chapter One! Chapter One.
Malfoy swept down the dark alleyway, his black cloak rustling in the evening breeze as he neared his destination. Missions like these were usually very simple – in, kill, out – but ever since the fall of the Dark Lord things had become more complicated. Not that he let this bother him; nothing ever bothered a Malfoy. But this mission was on another level, one that Malfoy could not fail. The outcome of this particular mission outlined the fate that all Death Eaters would be subject to, and if there was one thing he knew, it was that failing to carry out such an important task held painful consequences.
Malfoy continued to glide down the alleyway, the illumination at the tip of his wand his only source of light. He reached its end, and turned onto a long road. From here, he could see the small house that held his victim. His speed increased as he got closer, and he silently lifted the latch of the gate and smoothly walked down the pathway. “Alohomora.” He murmured, and the front door swung open without a sound. Malfoy allowed himself a small, tight-lipped smile – this was too easy, surely. He glided effortlessly up the stairs, and down the corridor to where he could hear his victim shuffling around, unaware of his fate. Malfoy reached the doorway and stared at the tall, scruffy boy in front of him, who had turned suddenly at the sound of another presence. His green eyes widened, and automatically darted around the room – Malfoy knew he was trying to locate his wand, but it was nowhere to be seen.
“Malfoy. What are you doing here?” he spoke, with as much courage as he could muster, his voice cracking through his façade. Malfoy wanted to laugh; for a Gryffindor, the boy wasn’t very convincing with his courage. His master had been wrong about that.
“I’ve come to kill you, of course.” Malfoy said, drawing his wand and pointing it directly at the boy’s chest. Before he could speak, Malfoy lazily said the curse, and smiled evilly at the flash of green light and the sound of a heavy thud, followed by silence.
He had completed what his master had failed. He had killed Harry Potter.
ooo
Draco Malfoy jolted violently awake, his body covered in cold sweat. It took a while for him to regain his composure and calm his furiously beating heart before he could lie back down again. His cold grey eyes stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, thinking of his dream - or, more accurately, his flashback. He had been haunted by the memories of his actions for far too long, but not even the strongest of Sleeping Draughts could keep them at bay anymore. Draco rolled over onto his side, frowning at the sunlight that had begun seeping through the gaps of his curtains. Sunlight meant it was morning, and morning meant the being of another day surrounded by the remaining Death Eaters, pretending to be something he didn’t want to be anymore.
It had been two months since the fall of the Dark Lord, and one month since Harry Potter had been murdered in the home his parents were killed in by an unknown Death Eater. Unknown to the rest of the Wizarding World, anyway – only the most elite Death Eaters knew that Draco Malfoy had been the one to deal the blow, the one who had ruined everyone’s celebrations that the war had ended. To them, Draco was a hero. To himself, Draco was a cold-hearted murderer. But there was nothing he could do now; what had happened was in the past, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.
“Master Draco, Mister Lucius requests your presence in the Drawing Room immediately sir.” Draco was pulled out of his thoughts by the voice of their house elf, Tinky.
“Is he alone?” Draco asked coldly, swinging his legs out of bed.
“No sir, Goyle Snr and Dolohov are with him, sir.” Tinky squeaked. Draco sighed and nodded - a signal that the house elf should leave. He ran his hands through his platinum blonde hair, noting briefly that it was far too long these days, before quickly changing into his black robes and combing his hair into its usual slicked back style. He only glanced in the mirror briefly, but he noted the growing dark circles under his eyes from his lack of sleep. He sighed once more before gliding down the stairs to meet his father.
ooo
Draco sat in the hard chair on the opposite side of the desk to his father, who was flanked by Dolohov and Goyle Snr. Since the Dark Lord’s demise and the fall of Harry Potter, Lucius Malfoy had taken the position of head Death Eater. Draco knew this was only because the remaining Death Eaters who had not perished at war were either too cowardly or too stupid to hold the position. Lucius thought it was an honour; Draco thought it was vile.
His father had just given him his latest mission, and Draco was currently in a state of shock, although he didn’t show it. He blinked twice at his father, and stayed silent for ten minutes before finally answering.
“Pardon?” Draco murmured, and his father let out an impatient sigh.
“Stop being so ignorant Draco, you heard perfectly well what I said.” He snapped.
“You want me to kill the Order of the Phoenix one by one? Every single member?” Draco questioned, the scepticism evident in his drawling voice.
“Yes Draco. That is what I said.”
“Impossible.” Draco said at once.
“It is not impossible. I’m not telling you to kill them all together – separately and anonymously. Start with the children and work your way up so they know we are coming for them.” Lucius instructed.
“We? There is no ‘we’ in this, father. You are insisting I do this alone?”
“I am. I’m confident in your abilities, Draco. You are a Malfoy, after all.” Lucius replied. Draco knew there was no arguing – it was either do the task, or die. He also knew, however, that he would probably die on this mission, and that was exactly what his father had planned. Draco loathed the blonde haired man seated in front of him more than he had his whole life.
“Fine. I’ll do it. May I leave now?” Draco asked, standing up.
“Yes. I would prefer it if you didn’t mention this mission to anyone, Draco. We don’t want to jeopardise it now, do we?” Lucius said. Draco gave a curt nod before leaving the room, knowing he had to form a plan before he left.
ooo
Hours later, and Draco knew what he had to do. He felt confident in his plan; confident it would work, that he would survive it in one piece. He packed a small bag, which he transfigured to fit into his jacket pocket, before closing the door on his bedroom and headed to the Apparition point in the grounds of Malfoy Manor. He glanced back at the huge building, and was unsurprised that he felt nothing when he stared. He had no fond memories, no funny stories, no heart-warming thoughts. He hated the house and everything to do with it.
And that was why he was turning his back on it all; the house, the Death Eaters, his family and everything he had grown up knowing. Lucius thought Draco was planning to kill the Order, when in reality; Draco was planning to kill him.
ooo A/N: Yeah, so that's the first chapter! Please let me know what you think, sorry it's not terribly long but I didn't want to give too much away in the first part
- Charlotte X 
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Broken Petal - Sa 13+ 
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Great writing.
