Title: Dark Halo
Word Count: 275
Prompt: Draco, Hand of Glory
Draco wanted the Hand of Glory the moment he saw it. It wasn't just that it was dark and magical. It wasn't only that it was a tool, a light in the darkness which would shine around him and him only, a potential halo as his world produced obscuring clouds of gloom, smoke and night. It intrigued him, made him think perhaps it was company, a ghost to accompany him, a spirit who knew the darkness in which he increasingly walked. Surely if he could find kinship in a dead man, a man hanged, and surely a wizard, surely one who had known darkness, who had set his hand, this hand to deeds outside... outside not just the law but everything that people lived. A man hanged, his fat rendered into... candles. Dark stuff, that. And yet, surely, surely he retained some portion of spirit that would know Draco, would light his world, just his world, just for him.
And when it was his, when he held it in his hands and when he lit it that first time, it was as if he had another hand in his own, its spirit curling around them both. And they were encircled in light, even as that hand, those candles, irreplaceable, rendered and moulded perhaps in mourning... even as those candles were consumed. And Draco, eyes open, stood straight and true, consuming himself, for the Dark Lord whether he willed it or not, for his father who faced such degradation unearned, against his fellow classmates who walked randomly and blindly. They stood together, the living and the dead, both lost, in the halo of the light of darkness.
first posted to my dreamwidth account.