Inell's Fanfiction Archive

Every time he saw her across the Great Hall, he couldn't stop himself from imagining so many things. He'd like to say he hated her but, truly, he didn't think enough of her to hate. Potter liked her and that was enough for Draco to want her. It was all too easy to see her laughing with her friends or flying with her blood-traitor brother and see her broken and bleeding on a cold stone floor. Red hair mattered with blood, face covered in scars and bruises. He could hear her screams as curses ripped through her body, taste the satisfaction of death as he watched her inhale her last breath, and smell the coppery scent of blood as her life left her. Then he would face Potter knowing he'd had the satisfaction of killing his little slag.