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Slytherin Song: Part One by cedrixfan
Chapter 6 : Entry Six
 
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 15


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DISCLAIMER: 
"Hey, stranger!" an old man greeted me one day. "Are you the author of the Potter books?"
"Do I look like her?"
"I dunno...can't seem to see you, can I?"

...Darn invisibility cloak.



ENTRY SIX:

Draco Malfoy
December 3rd, 1997


My mother’s death comes back in short pangs now. Her death hasn’t really hit me yet, I don’t think. When the pangs come, I get headaches and feel mildly disheartened, but I don’t feel too bad. I’m sure the full blow will come later; I just hope it’s not at an inconvenient time. She wouldn’t want me to mourn for very long, anyway. Now that she’s gone, I’ve realized just how much she actually did care for me. She might have loved me, but I wouldn’t know about that since I haven’t loved, myself.

I can’t help but wonder what she did to make the Dark Lord angry enough to take her life. It doesn’t take much, really. I have had the misfortune to witness followers get killed for all sorts of reasons, many of which, in my opinion, should not have sent them to their deaths. Of course, I’ve seen the Dark Lord kill people in many different ways. Maybe one way is worse than another is; maybe he kills the really bad ones with something more painful. Thinking about it makes me want to puke up every meal I’ve had in the past year.

The thing that bothers me most is the fact that she was the only one who truly cared about me. Now that she’s gone…well, let’s just say I feel more alone than I ever have in my lifetime. I haven’t told anyone about her death, which makes things even worse. I don’t want to have a pity party, even though I don’t think anyone would pity me—I’m Draco Malfoy. They probably don’t think I have feelings at all.

Oh, but I most certainly do have feelings, one of which is still too strange to figure out. It’s the feeling I get sometimes when I’m laughing with Granger, whenever she does something that she never used to do around me, like smile or talk sweetly. I’ve got to find a name for that instead of explaining it every time I write about it…

It’s my odd feeling. There. It’s got a name, so for now on, it’ll be referred to as the “odd feeling”.

In this case, odd is a good thing. It makes me feel happier when I’m with Granger. She’s the only one I talk to now, anyway. Crabbe and Goyle don’t really count, do they? All the Slytherins think I’m a wimp or I’m too caught up in schoolwork to be considered “cool” anymore. Pansy I would most definitely avoid, anyway, but she’s also not been on great terms with me lately. Zabini only torments me about the fight or asks me about my progress for the task, which is anything but welcoming.

I’ve been apprehensive about doing my duties for my master. I have everything planned out, everything is even mapped, scheduled, and all has gone according to plan, but my heart isn’t in it anymore. If anything, it’s far from it. I truly don’t believe in taking Weasley (the girl one) away from her friends, from her joys. It’s terrible. Now that someone I was close to was taken away from me, I understand how the ones left behind would feel. And yet, I must complete it, or I’ll be killed. It’s a lose-lose situation, and I don’t like it one bit. I now regret joining the death eaters. There, I’ve said it. I regret even believing what the Dark Lord thinks is right.

I regret being a Malfoy.

I never thought I’d live to see the day when I said that. For my whole life, I had always been proud of my ancestry and family. If anything, I was the most Malfoyish Malfoy there was. And now, I’ve defied all I believed in. Ironic, isn’t it?

Granger has been of great help. Just having someone to talk to has been quite beneficial. Sad as it is, she’s the only one I have right now. I guess we’re considered…friendly acquaintances. But it feels like I’ve known her forever, so maybe it’s a little more…

Oh, screw this. We’re friends, and I can’t deny it.

We’ve had fun conversations since we made our truce. We haven’t talked as much at one sitting as we did right after we shook hands, though. I think that was probably the longest conversation I have ever had with anyone since…ever.

Just the other day, we were completing our rounds (we rescheduled them so that we patrolled together like we’re technically supposed to). I swear, that girl has an infinite amount of things to talk about. One minute, we were in a deep debate about which Minister of Magic was the worst (I chose Fudge, of course, though I’d never tell my father that). The next minute, I was listening to Granger complain about Potter’s and Weasley’s behaviors.

“Honestly, you’d think they would have learnt by now that spitting on the teacher’s shoe isn’t exactly discrete!”

I shook my head—I had no idea that her friends were pranksters. I always thought that they were both dull and dim-witted.

“When did they do that?” I asked, chuckling.

“In McGonagall’s. Can you believe it?” she incredulously replied.

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief—maybe they were dim-witted. “She’s probably the worst to prank. She’s got eyes of a hawk.”

“Exactly,” she agreed, briefly glancing at a portrait of a woman who looked as if her shirt was far too clingy for her hefty build, her buttons threatening to pop out. “I’ve tried to reason with them, but do they listen?”

“Never.”

She smiled. “That’s right. I sometimes feel like I’m their mother. Maybe it’s a male thing.”

Hey!”

She looked down at the floor. “Not you.”

I felt like making it hard for her. “It sounds to me like you’re taking a jab at the male sex.”

“No,” she tried to reason. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“No, Granger,” I stopped her, trying to seem irritated at her—it was hard to do so since we had just passed a humorous picture of gay chimpanzees (don’t ask how that was indicated). “I think you do have something against us all. You think you’re too good for us—”

“I never said—”

“—when really, we’re just too good for you.”

She knew I was just joking at this point.

“Oh, dream on, Malfoy,” she said. “You know we’re far more intimating, us girls, so don’t deny it.”

I smirked. “I won’t.”

We laughed as we neared the common room after having finished patrolling.

“We should really change the password again,” she suggested once we stopped in front of Mr. Scammander (who was digging especially deeper up his nose than was usual for him, which is unusual in the first place). “We’re behind schedule.”

“There’s a schedule for that?”

“Of course,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing ever. “Didn’t you notice? We change the password every week. We haven’t changed it in two weeks this time!”

“Oh, my!” I faked surprise. “Send for the press! This is a particularly juicy one!”

She placed her hands on her sides and did the hip thing that girls do when they disapprove of something (I never understood that).

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Aye, miss.”

“Well, then!” She turned back to the portrait and said, “Alright Newt. It’s time for a new one.”

The man in the portrait smiled. “Fire away, m’dear.”

She made sure I was paying attention.

Draco, the dragon bully.”

“Oh, c’mon. I was just joking,” I complained, but it amused me, all the same. She “hmph!”ed at me dramatically before stepping into the portrait hole and climbing out the other side. I followed suite.

“By the way,” I mentioned after squeezing through, “The password is rather redundant.”

She was puzzled. “And why is that?”

I sat down on the couch and she sat on the other end. “My name means dragon. So, the password literally translates as dragon, the dragon bully.”

She narrowed her eyes at me and looked away, pretending to be insulted. We didn’t talk for quite a while.

She finally broke the long, comfortable silence. “Malfoy…can I ask you something?” Her voice was very quiet and her tone serious.

“What is it?”

She sighed, seemingly testing the waters, “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

Her voice was even softer as she elaborated, “Why did you join Vol—You-Know-Who?”

I hadn’t seen that coming. I looked away and stared at the fire in thought. I wasn’t quite sure if I could give her a good answer. I’m not sure if I even knew an answer to give.

“You know,” I said, still looking away from her, “to tell you the truth, I’m not sure.” She didn’t comment, but I could feel her eyes on me.

I added truthfully, “All I know is that it was a terrible mistake.”

She nodded in understanding. But she didn’t understand, not one bit. She wasn’t a death eater. She wasn’t forced a task upon her that required sending an innocent girl to her death. She wasn’t forced to live with the paranoia I had to live with.

“Do you,” she chose her words carefully, “Do you…not…want to be a death eater anymore?”

I had to tell her the truth. “The Dark Lord killed my mother. It’s hard to keep following someone who’s done something like that.”

Her jaw dropped open, and she raised both hands to her cover her mouth in shock.

“Oh, my god…I didn’t know…”

“No one does. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

She turned back toward me, and I could tell that she was looking at me differently.

“No, of course not. Not if you want to keep it secret…but, oh, I’m so sorry…”

I glanced at the floor than back at her. “Yeah, me, too.”

She leaned her elbows on her legs and placed her face in her hands, massaging her temples.

“When did it happen?”

“I got a letter last Sunday night.”

She gazed at me sympathetically, confirming, “So, it was really recent.” I nodded. It felt good to tell someone about Mum. I wasn’t too fond of keeping it all bottled up inside as I had been.

“Is your dad still…is he—”

“Yeah, he’s still in Azkaban,” I finished her thought, adding something I just realized, “And frankly, I’d like him to stay there.”

I heard her sigh beside me. I suddenly felt like a little child who needed someone to help them feel better. I had often felt like that when I was a little child, but rarely did anyone come and comfort me then.

“I’m sorry, Malfoy. I really am. I wish there was something I could do—”

“You don’t need to do anything, Granger,” I said too loudly. I don’t know why, but her being the comforter role set me off, maybe even made me close to angry. She noticed my negative tone and sadly sighed. Now that I was irritated, I was annoyed by everything she did. Why did she sigh so often? I’ve never heard anyone sigh so frequently in my life. I suddenly didn’t want to be in the same room with her anymore. I wanted to be alone.

I rigidly stood up from my seat on the couch and began to leave.

“Malfoy, I’m—”

“Yes, yes. You’re sorry. I know,” I spat, turning back to look at her. She cringed at my angry voice. Let her cringe all she wants; it’s my burden to bear, not hers.

She appeared hurt again as she whispered cooly, “Goodnight.”

I must have forgotten to return her cold gesture.

Once at the top of the stairs, I slammed my door shut. Hard. She was giving me pity. I don’t need her sympathy, nor do I need her kindness.

Her kindness.

Why was I angry with her, anyway? What had she done to provoke me? All she wanted to do was help, be a good friend, and what did I give in return? I lashed out at her for no valid reason. I hadn’t done that since before our truce.

It took me too long to fall asleep that night. Not only was that because of my mother, as it had been during the past nights, but also due to Granger. I was really rash down there. She had done nothing wrong. In fact, she had done everything right. How did she always manage to do that? I always faltered to do the right thing, and I suffered the consequences. I used to think that right was wrong, so I’m a bit challenged in that area.

The next morning, I made sure that I saw her before she left for breakfast. She didn’t look all that pleased to see me, and I didn’t blame her. She brushed right past my shoulder without a glance in my direction on her way to the portrait hole.

“Granger, wait,” I summoned her. She hesitated, than turned my way.

Yes, Malfoy?” I could hear the coldness in her tone.

I walked up to her and apologized (shocker), “I’m sorry about last night. I don’t know why I lashed out at you. You hadn’t done anything wrong. I just…snapped.”

I was a tad bit surprised how easy apologizing came to me this time. Last time, it had been quite difficult to summon the courage, but it was quite simple this time round.

She didn’t look at me when she replied, “All is forgiven.”

I tried to make her see that I truly was sorry, for the look on her face told me she wasn’t convinced that I was.

“I’m sorry, I really am, alright?” I added, “And I appreciate your concern, too. No one’s ever cared about me like that before.”

This caught her attention, as it did mine. Where had that come from? Though it was true, I hadn’t ever thought that I would tell her that.

It did the trick, however, for she smiled. Gosh…why did the odd feeling come again? I didn’t mind it, in fact it felt possibly good, but it was still not comprehendible. Being friends with Granger brought about the strangest things.

“I’m glad to know I could fill that role.”

I didn’t reply, but smiled briefly. We were than outside of the common room on our way to breakfast. I wanted to continue walking with her and ask her what she meant by what she had said, but I knew I mustn’t. If we walked to breakfast together, we would announce our secret friendship to the world. Though I wish we could do that—I was past caring what the Slytherins would think—, I didn’t want to make anything dangerously complicated. It would especially be bad if Blaise received word of it, for he could and would share the news with the Dark Lord. I wouldn’t even have a chance to live if that ever happened. Head duties were different, of course, for we were supposed to patrol with each other, anyway. We would just have to be careful not to act too nice to each other whenever other students were out in the halls; that wasn’t often, for it was against school rules to be out after hours (that’s when we patrolled, by the way).

But what had she meant by filling in that role? Did she mean my mother’s role in my life? I’m not too sure. That would relatively make sense, now that I think about it. I told her that no one has ever cared about me that way before…and my mother was the only person who cared for me at all. I suppose Granger was right, then.

She really has taken up that role, though. Once I apologized, she has been quite a good friend and has supported me a great deal. In being friends with her, I’ve realized that I never really had true friends before her. I used to believe that I couldn’t have chosen any better than Zabini, but look at our “friendship” now! I consider him close to an enemy, at this point. He never really did have the qualities friends are supposed to have, did he? And yet, we are still united, whether I like it or not. We still are under the rule of the same leader, the same barbaric leader who murdered my mother.

I will never forgive him for that.

Though Zabini knows about my mother from other death eater sources, he doesn’t seem affected at all. He hasn’t even thought about how it must be affecting me, but why would he? He’s a devoted death eater now. He believes that we as death eaters shouldn’t ever be too attached to anyone, so why should I have been saddened by my mother’s death?

What he doesn’t know is that I’m different now. Sure, he’s disappointed in me and probably thinks me a pansy since I’ve been procrastinating with my orders, but he doesn’t know how much I’ve changed, really. He doesn’t know that I am now friends with Hermione Granger, the Gryffindor bookworm, the mudblood. Friends! Can you believe that? I hated her with a growing passion, and yet here I am depending on her to be there for me and support me! How had this happened so quickly?

And I had distanced from Blaise just as fast. I feel like we’re completely different people now that I believe different things than he. Perhaps we are. But we didn’t used to be. We had been quiet alike, he and I, though I felt I was much braver than he was. That assumption hasn’t changed, though. I still think he’s a coward. He just wants to have to ability to say that he is death eater, a big boy. He’s really hard core now, let me tell you. He just wants to be able to please someone that is so powerful, so high and mighty, so high up in ranking that he may be powerful and mighty someday, too. Though I strongly suspect he doesn’t know it, he is very insecure.

Than again, maybe I am, too. I wanted to join the death eaters to be praised by my father, by the Dark Lord, even more. I wanted to complete my assignment last year with flying colors to be congratulated, honoured.

My pride stood in the way.

Does it still, though? Looking back at my journal entries recently has been hard for me. I don’t like myself. I can tell that my ego is too high and my selfishness too prominent. Zabini was right—I was a narcissist (still may be now). That’s not because my mother’s name was Narcissa, either, though I find that terribly ironic that her son turned out to be so self-absorbed.

I’m practically laughing now. Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy would be writing this about himself? Who could have imagined that I would one day hate the self that I used to be? And yet, that self may still be there inside of me. It still may be me. I may hate myself, my present self, too. I’m still obeying the Dark Lord’s orders, aren’t I? I’m still sending an innocent girl to her doomsday. I’m still a coward, too scared of what will happen if I don’t obey. I would face death, no doubt. And I couldn’t have that, could I?

I haven’t changed as much as I thought I had.

But I can’t help but wonder if I will change even more. Maybe I’ll be on a different side in the war, place my loyalty elsewhere. I can tell that Granger thinks so. Whenever I say something nice or just say something that goes against what I as a Malfoy should believe, this odd sort of smile appears on her face. It’s as if she knows something I don’t.

She’s so different from who I had imagined her to be. I thought she was only about schoolwork and Gryffindor pride. I never really placed a personality with her other than an empty, business-like one. Instead, she’s got some depth to her. She’s only absorbed in school because she enjoys being that way, she loves to learn; she thinks everything about the wizarding world is fascinating. She only talks about schoolwork if I seem interested in hearing about it, which is quite considerate. Sometimes, I actually fake it and pretend to be interested, just to hear what she has to say. However, the more she talks about our classes, the more I stop faking it; now, my interest is often genuine. When she puts everything into perspective, her perspective, witch burnings and goblin rebellions don’t seem so boring anymore. Perhaps, it’s because Professor Binns isn’t the one talking about it. I would even rather Crabbe or Goyle to discuss history with me than be lectured by that monotone ghost. Just the thought of having a conversation like that with either of those buffoons makes me want to crack up; having any intellectual conversation with them would be laughable.

Granger’s interests branch out way further than her studies, though. I was surprised to find that she’s quite fond of the famous music band, Hex Me. I personally could do without their singing, but I happen to know that the majority of the female population at Hogwarts are die-hard fans of the group; that’s probably due to the attractive lead vocalist, Orlando Plume. She even admitted that she was a fan of Lockhart’s back when the prick was our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. She insisted that she was, by no means, still drawn to him, now that she knew what a poser he was.

“All he wants to do is give everyone his autograph, and this is after he lost his memory. Can you believe him? And to think, I actually fancied him with the others. It’s humiliating!” she exclaimed after ranting about him for a while. Getting to know this side of her was like seeing McGonagall flipping out in mosh pit at a Celestina Warbeck concert, or something. It was so out-of-context for Granger to actually have a life; she probably always had a life before now, but I never knew it. I wouldn’t know it.

I noticed just how selfless she was just yesterday night, and this was after she had vented to me about house elves’ rights. SPEW…honesty.

“How do you do it?” I asked her as I slumped back on my back in defeat (Granger and I were seated on the floor in front of the fire). Granger was about to clobber me at wizard’s chess—again. One more move, and she’d beat me. I had to find a way for my king to veer from her queen’s path. “You’re too smart.”

She glared at me; I learned the hard way that she hated to be reminded of her intelligence. “Actually,” she explained coolly, “I’m dreadful at it. Even Ginny beat me, and it had been her first time ever playing.”

My stomach dropped a few feet inside me, causing me to feel light-headed. Even the mention of Ginny Weasley gets to me. As each day wares on, I become more and more anxious about my assignment.

I tried not to look phased as I sat back up and sighed, stumped when I took another glance at the board. “Erm…than why are you so brilliant at it now?”

She smirked, taking her eyes off the board. “Who ever said I was?”

Even after becoming friends, we still enjoy throwing a few insults at each other from time to time.

“Alright,” I pretended to sound hurt. “So, you’re saying that I’m so poor at chess that, pathetic as you say you are at the game, you’re an expert compared to me?”

She nodded.

What she didn’t know was that I had found a way to escape her queen, and I had just developed a foolproof strategy that would win me the match no matter what move she made. It was a first.

“You’ll eat your words one day. And, you know what?” I said calmly as I maneuvered my bishop with confidence, leaving her hanging with my question. I watched for her reaction out the corner of my eye, noting that she was still smiling; she had neglected to notice that she had fallen straight into my clever trap.

She asked, “What, Malfoy?”

I threw my well-practiced straight face down the drain. “That day is today.”

She looked confused at first before she snapped her eyes back down to the chessboard. She gasped after recognizing my fabulous play, than turned her gaze back to me, her jaw open slightly in surprise.

“Checkmate, Granger,” I announced with a smug smile. “Check and mate.”

I had never beaten her at anything before. I wondered what she would do now that I had. I expected possibly a forced smile and a mumbled “congratulations”—the typical sore loser’s reaction. However, I received the contrary.

“Good job, Malfoy!” she blurted, her eyes wide in excitement. “I didn’t even see that coming!” I thought for a moment that she was about to hug me, or something, but thankfully, she didn’t. She just beamed.

This was the point when I realized how selfless she is. Instead of feeling down about her loss, she felt happy for me winning. I wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t even disappointed in the slightest! Why is she like that, so focused on others instead of herself? How is she like that?

She told me about how Weasley is such a stellar chess player, possibly the best in school. I recall hearing that he got past McGonagall’s chessboard under the school back in first year.

“So, there’s actually something he’s good at,” I sneered, not meaning to say it aloud.

She frowned. “He’s actually quite smart.” I raised my eyebrows, doubting it.

She added, sighing, “He just doesn’t apply himself as often as he should.”

I wasn’t convinced, and I’m still not. Weasley may be smarter than he seems, but he can be awfully slow at times, at most times. I’ll give him some credit, though; he’s nowhere near as thick as Crabbe and Goyle. In fact, other than me, he’s probably smarter than all the Slytherins. They don’t apply themselves, either.

“What about Potter?”

“He’s very intelligent,” she answered the instant I asked, “He’s had the highest marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts ever since third year. I haven’t had him ask me to check over his homework in ages.”

I couldn’t help but snap, “It’s about time he’s taken everything seriously.”

Granger didn’t answer right away. I could tell that she was thinking quite hard about something. She had the look of someone who wasn’t sure whether they wished to say what was on their mind.

She chose her words carefully as a result. “He hasn’t any choice but to take it all seriously.” She wasn’t looking at me; she was levitating each of her chess pieces back into her bag. “If he doesn’t…well…” She trailed off, finishing slowly, “H-he’s got to be prepared for…for anything.”

I frowned. “You mean the Dark Lord?” She didn’t answer, nor did she look up at me from the now empty board.

I took a chance, elaborating, “He’s got to destroy the Horcruxes and destroy him, doesn’t he?” I had been yearning to ask her about the things since I stole a peek at her notes a few months ago. I hadn’t dared take a look at them recently, nor had I thought much about it. I was too overwhelmed with my task and my “change of heart” to really think about anything else, what with homework adding to the load, as well. For some reason, I didn’t really want to know about the objects called Horcruxes. I didn’t want to have any more knowledge about things my master is ignorant of than I did already; by knowing more, my chance of living would be less.

I had a gut feeling that they had to do with soul splicing, a rather strong gut feeling, mind. Why else would Granger have researched it if it did not have to do with the Dark Lord? I decided that, when the time came when I dared to bring the Horcruxes up in conversation, I would make myself appear more educated on the subject. It worked.

Her jaw dropped open and eyes widened.

She gaped at me, “Y-you, you know about the Horcruxes?”

“Yes.” Sort of. 

“How?”

I wasn’t sure if I should tell her the truth, so I didn’t—but I didn’t tell a lie, either. “I’m not really allowed to say.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but she held her tongue. She must have thought I found out because I was a death eater, therefore, if I told her anything, I would be killed on the spot. In a way, that is true, but it didn’t apply under these circumstances; however, I probably would get killed on the spot if anyone found out I wasn’t telling the Dark Lord anything that I’ve found out.

She was being extra cautious at this point. “How much do you know?”

I felt I should set out everything I’d uncovered so she thought I was more educated about the Horcruxes than I really was. “Well, there are probably seven in all, one of them being the Dark Lord, himself. I’m not too certain about what each of them are, but I know of some of them.”

“Which ones?” she practically shouted, but it wasn’t angrily, only in excitement.

“Well,” I tried to sound knowledgeable, “there’s this diary—”

“Umm, hmm?”

I smiled at her eagerness. “…It’s already been destroyed. I think Potter did it…yeah, he was the one. That was the year the Chamber was opened again. There’s also a ring; it belonged to one of the Dark Lord’s relatives originally. Then there’s—wait…” I suddenly had a thought—why should I be telling her all this? She doesn’t know that I don’t know any more or nearly as much as she does about it all. In fact, she doesn’t know that I know that she knows anything…if that makes any sense in the slightest.

Approaching it from her perspective, I would seem a bit too open about it, sharing as much as I was.

“What?” she asked, wondering why I had suddenly ceased from speaking.

I put on a suspicious face. “How much do you know about this?”

She gave me a peculiar look, strangely matching what I imagined mine to be than. “It depends on how much you know.”

“But, if you know less than I,” I reacted—Or more than I. “than it can’t hurt telling me all you know, eh?”

She sighed while the words sank in. I wondered if she would actually tell me everything she knew; it would seem too trusting of her to do so, in my opinion, though, as much as I don’t want to know things against the Dark Lord, my Slytherin curiosity wouldn’t complain if she did tell.

“But what if I know more than you do? What then?”

I knew she wouldn’t give in that easily.

“Oh, I doubt you know more than I.”

“But what if I do?”

“What if I do?”

“But you don’t, do you?”

Do I?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Well, I do know.”

“What do you know?”

“I know what you know.”

“Then what do I know?”

You know what I know.”

“What if I don’t know what you know?”

“Then you won’t find out, will you, Granger?”

I smiled in satisfaction, amused at her new expression—utter confusion and complete concentration as she tried to win the argument. Or was it an argument? It was so discombobulated that I hadn’t a clue what it was.

She spewed out, probably in one breath, “If what you said about you knowing what I know and I knowing what you know is a true statement, then, if I don’t know what you know, then you don’t know what I know. Then again, if I know what you know, and you know what I know, then we’d both be in the know, you know?”

And I thought it was confusing already!

“Come again?”

She must have ignored me, for she continued in the same manner, “Therefore, since what I know is the same as what you know, would it really matter if we share what each of us knows?”

Maybe if I agreed with her, she would tell me everything she knows. Maybe if I agreed with her, she would shut up. 

“No, I don’t reckon it’d hurt.”

“Than who should share first?”

I paused for a beat. “You.”

“Why me?”

I reasoned, slightly irritated, “Because it matters not who shares first, and, since I shared a bit already, it’s technically your turn.”

She pondered on that for a moment, than gave in, “Y-you’re right.” She shook her head, then started to explain to me, “Alright. So, you’ve already mentioned two of them…no, three, including V-Voldemort, but there are…hold on—” She glanced at me suspiciously. “What made you think that we know the same thing in the first place?”

I scowled; and I had her going for a while! She had almost spilled out everything.

I threw my hands up in defeat, answering feebly, “Lucky guess?”

She frowned, standing up and doing that girly-hip-thing again.

“How much do you really know, Malfoy?” She was glaring at me at this point. I had forgotten how frightening she could be when she does that.

I stammered, quickly pulling myself up from the floor, “I know what they are.”

She snapped, “What they are?!?” She gaped, “All you know is what they are, their function?”

“No,” I answered truthfully, backing away from her slightly; she was rounding on me. “I know what they are…what each of them are…l-like the diary, the serpent. The locket…that sort of thing.” I chanced the next part, “A-and of course, I know they’ve got everything to do with soul splicing, too.”

Her glare slowly changed to a regretful stare.

“Erm…sorry, then. I didn’t give you enough credit…” she murmured in embarrassment. I sighed in relief, my muscles finally relaxing. Granger could really be intimidating sometimes! But I also discovered what Horcruxes really were, what they really were meant for. I now knew that soul splicing really did come into the equation. I now knew why the Dark Lord was so powerful, why he wasn’t defeated the night he killed the Potters.

And I knew how he could be defeated.

I suddenly felt a rush of guilt flash through me—I had stolen that information from her, not found it out by other means. I did not deserve her “credit”, what’s more, what she defined as “enough” credit.

“I,” I gulped, suddenly feeling the impulse to tell her the truth, or, at least, some of it, “I-I also know that you’re trying to destroy them.” She didn’t look angry as I thought she would. Instead, she looked worried, fearful even.

She was scared that the Dark Lord knew about their knowledge of the Horcruxes.

“Oh, no,” she gasped in a whisper. “Wh-where did we go wrong? How could he have found out?” She was talking to herself. I didn’t like seeing her worried. She seemed like the sort of person who is not meant to worry, not meant to have a burden upon their shoulders. And yet, hadn’t she always been burdened? Hadn’t she always been scared for her family, just like everyone else? Hadn’t she always been scared because she was a muggleborn? Hadn’t she always been worried about Potter through the years? For some reason, I couldn’t let her be worried about this. I couldn’t let her be burdened even more than she already was.

“Don’t worry,” I assured her while seating myself on the couch. “That’s not how I found out. I-I didn’t find out from the Dark Lord, nor any of his followers.”

At first, she looked relieved, but she soon was suspicious again. “How did you find out, then?”

I don’t know why I told her the truth. I don’t know why I felt it necessary, either. It’s not like I would ever peek at her things ever again; I’m past that.

I stood up again, saying cautiously, “Don’t be mad at me, Granger, please, but—”

Anger surged through her eyes as her voice rose once more, “What did you do?”

I gulped, backing away slightly. Just perfect.

“I-I…well, let’s just say my curiosity got the better of me one day, and—”

“Just tell me what you did, Malfoy!”

“I looked through your stuff once, alright!” I blurted. “I’m sorry, I really am, but—”

My voice halted from shock—Granger had not had the reaction I thought he would have. I thought she would start chewing me out and not talk to me for a few days, but it turned out a bit different; I didn’t like it at all. Instead, her face looked hurt again, though not the same as when we fought last. It was, if possible, even worse, for this time, she looked betrayed. I couldn’t stand it!

“Look, I haven’t done that in forever, not since we’ve been on good terms, and I don’t plan to d—”

“Why? Why?” Her voice was shaky. “I…I thought you…I-I really thought—”

I did something I’d never done before and grabbed her shoulders, causing her to cease from speaking.

I sighed, “I’m sorry,” I looked her in the eye. “I was a prat, a jerk, a…whatever. And I guess I still am…but I’ll never do that again, I swear.”

She slowly backed away, still looking at me skeptically.

She whispered feebly, turning her gaze, “Wh-what did you find out?”

And so, I told her. I told her exactly what I had read from her notes, from her books…everything. I was scared that she would look all the more hurt, knowing what I had done in detail, but she was not. Instead, she looked content, which was very strange for her. She no longer seemed angry or hurt in the slightest, only tired.

“Thanks, Malfoy,” she muttered after I had finished explaining what I had found out. We had sat down on the couch by this point, gazing at the fire.

“What…why?”

She chuckled, “You’re funny when you’re confused.” She than elaborated, “And as to why I thanked you, well, you were honest with me.”

“It’s a new thing for me, being honest,” I admitted, laughing with her. After a while, though, Granger frowned, our laughter dying.

She seemed skeptical again as she asked me, “Do you…did you tell anyone?”

“No,” I answered immediately. And I might lose my life because of it.

A sudden thought occurred to me; I turned to her, “H-how many people know about…about what really happened that night, on the Astronomy Tower?”

“Well,” she wondered. “I’m not quite sure. Probably, just the Ord—I-I mean, j-just the…erm…the—”

“I know about the Order,” I informed her. “So, you don’t think it’s spread to any, erm, others?”

She cocked her head to one side, puzzled. “Why? You’re not scared people will find out you messed up, are you?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, “Well, let’s just say I’d rather it not reach certain ears…”

“You mean V-Voldemort?”

I cringed at the name; not only was I taught to never say his name, but I also never dared to. Whenever a death eater says his name or is in the presence of someone who says it, their dark mark burns terribly.

I grabbed my arm instinctively. The pain was so intense, just like…

Damn it,” I cursed under my breath. The pain wasn’t just from Granger saying the name, but also from…

“I have to go,” I muttered, my hand still gripping my arm.

“What?”

I ignored her as I staggered away from the fire and to the portrait hole. Why was he calling me now?

“Wait!” she called, chasing me, for I had begun to run swiftly. I made it through the hole, but she had followed me out.

“Malfoy,” she said, grabbing my arm to prevent me from rushing off. “Where are you going?”

I freed myself from her grasp and just shook my head, trying to signal to her that I couldn’t say. I needed to get off the grounds as fast as possible…maybe I could avoid a punishment for being late, though I doubt it…

I continued at a brisk pace down the corridor, but Granger just ran after me. When would she ever just get a hint?

“Malfoy! Tell me where you’re going!” she demanded, practically yelling. She caught up to me and swung me around.

“Let me go!” I hissed. I didn’t have time to deal with her. I tried to pull away, but she kept a firmer grip on my arm than before.

She snapped, “First, you’ll tell me where you’re going.”

“You’re not my mother!”

“Than don’t force me to act like it!”

“Just let go, will you?”

“No!”

“Fine.” I ended up lying, “I’ll explain later. Now’s not the time, alright?”

“But—”

Please, Hermione.”

“I—wait…y-you called me Herm—”

But I didn’t hear the rest. I had already broken free from her grip and sprinted down to the Entrance Hall. I was thankful that no teachers were lurking about, in fact, I was quite lucky they weren’t, for they normally were posted everywhere in the school when they weren’t teaching. Before I left the premises, I whipped out my wand and tapped my head, sending a Disillusionment charm to keep me hidden from any of the Aurors that would most definitely be stationed outside on the grounds.

As I forced the grand doors open and stepped out into the freezing cold outdoors, my mind was racing. Why had the Dark Lord called for a meeting now? He hadn’t had one in months, or, at least, none that I was called to attend. I spotted Zabini at the front gates; he, apparently, had been called, as well. I wondered if it would be a full out meeting with all the death eaters present. If so, what was the reason to have one? Had there been something big that happened? Was there something big in the making to be discussed?

Would I be punished?

“Psst!” I called to the boy as I gained on him. He turned his head and hesitated for a moment, then he scowled, waiting for me to catch up. I snatched my wand out of my robes and quickly summoned my death eater robe to me, hastily throwing it over my body. I didn’t care whether the Disillusionment charm was still in effect at this point; I was too worried about what my master would do if I was delayed any further. Zabini was surely in even more danger of being spotted by an Auror than I was, for he was completely visible.

“We’ll be late, Draco!” he seethed once I reached him. We quickened our pace. Finally reaching Hogsmeade, we Apparated on the spot.

Immediately after we disappeared, we landed smoothly at our destination. As I pulled my mask on, I wondered where we were; we never know ahead of time where our master is calling us. He programmed the dark mark on each of our arms to take us wherever he is, even if we haven’t been there before. It sort of defies the laws of Apparition, but somehow, it works.

I was thoroughly surprised that the circle was almost completely made—since when had there been an escape from Azkaban?

I glanced around through the narrow slits of my mask to get my bearings. It seemed as if we were in some sort of valley, though my visibility was quite limited, so I wasn’t sure. There were several torches lit and stuck in the ground around the death eater circle in which we stood, illuminating unkempt grass that swayed back in forth in time with the subtle breeze.

I was not able to take in any more of my surroundings, for it was time—the Dark Lord had arrived. He appeared from the shadows and moved snake-like to the center of the circle, as he always did. He eyed each one of us. I noticed that his red slits lingered on me for a bit longer than was custom, but I dared not stare back at them; he did not approve of eye contact, for we were not “worthy”.

“Welcome death eaters, and welcome back to those faithful among you who have recently been freed from Azkaban’s walls,” he hissed while bowing dramatically. “We meet again as we have met numerous times before—with a traitor in our midst.”

I gulped, using all my strength to assess what I had learned from my father about Occlumency. There was a large hush among us when he spoke of a traitor. Did he mean me?

He began pacing, each step destroying the grass at his feet. “But that is a matter that will be dealt with later.” He smiled wickedly. “The most pressing issue hand is far more crucial to my goal than killing the wretch who has betrayed us. The issue I speak of brings me great pleasure to announce. My friends,” he motioned behind him to an unknown source of interest. “Our allies have returned!”

To my horror, several of the beasts stepped out into the light and into the middle of the cicle. They were monstrous and most obviously dangerous. All had clubs and dried blood from killings covering their fleshy, pale skin. What struck me more was the way they all seemed to smile in the same creepy fashion as each other, as if they were in a trance of some sort. I wouldn’t put it past my master to Imperious them all. Perhaps, they had been brainwashed. They did not stop coming for what seemed like ages until there were at least one hundred of the massive creatures standing before us. We had to make the circle much, much wider for them all to fit.

And the Dark Lord was cackling, cackling like a madman, only was he mad? Surely. Surely he was—and is—mad. He has to be to be able to kill so many and do such inhumane things without a second glance.

“Our forces are powerful!” he yelled in triumph. “And the dementors have already pledged their allegiance and are on their way to join us soon; the Azkaban release has confirmed this. The werewolves have long since joined our company, by leadership of our dear friend, Fenrir Greyback. We are stronger than ever before, stronger than last time. Stronger than all time!”

The circle of death eaters let out hoots of mirth, but I couldn’t bring myself to join in.

Out of the blue, he snapped his head toward one of the death eaters two spots away from me.

“Ah, Nott…you’re in a rather inconvenient knot, now, aren’t you?”

“M-My lord, I—”

“What a shame, what a shame. And your wife, too…there will be consequences, I assure you.”

I briefly wondered what the Dark Lord was talking about, but, before I had more than a spare moment to ponder, my master struck him across the face with his pale, bony hand. Nott was sent to the ground. I always hated seeing the Dark Lord strike someone, even if they did deserve it. It was something about the way he could care less about inflicting the pain that was disturbing.

When Nott recovered from the blow, he began to kiss the Dark Lord’s robes shakily.

“My lord, it was not I that forced her into hiding. It was merely—”

“Crucio!”

I turned my gaze away from Nott’s wriggling body on the ground, but that did not take away the painful, echoing screams from his lips. I have been struck by that curse more times than I can count, mostly from my father, but once from the Dark Lord; he made us suffer under the curse for one of our tests of initiation into the death eaters’ circle.

Nott was not under the curse for long, but it was enough to shake him immensely. I wonder what he had done to deserve the punishment.

“You must suffer for your wrongs, Nott. Consider that a mercy—you have been insufferably foolish.”

Nott nodded fervantly, kissing his master’s robes again. “Yes, my lord. You are most merciful, my lord. You are most high. My lord, I don’t deserve—”

“That will do,” the Dark Lord snapped, shoving Nott away from his robes and moving back into the center of the circle.

“The soul purpose of this gathering was to acquaint you with our new friends, the giants. You will fight alongside them as you fight alongside yourselves. My spy at the Ministry—are you present?”

The Dark Lord searched the circle and locked his eyes on one man on the other side. He wormed his way around the numerous giants until he reached the man. He brought him forth back into the center so everyone could see him.

“Yes, I thought you’d be here. Perfect.”

“It is an honor, my lord.”

The Dark Lord snatched him by the arm and twisted it slightly, possibly breaking it. I tried not to let out a gasp when the man cried out in anguish.

“Not an honor, Scrimgeour,” he hissed in his ear, still gripping his arm, “A privilege. You have learned that the hard way.”

“Yes, my lord, the hard way, yet the most necessary way. You are most wise, my lord.”

The Dark Lord smirked. “I sense bravery in you, Rufus, unlike the majority within the circle. They are weak, but you…you have potential and have been quite useful, Minister.”

And then it clicked; I couldn’t believe it—the Minister of Magic was a death eater! How had this managed to happen? That’s probably how the death eater release was kept quiet. Somehow, he had been able to thwart everyone into believing he was a happy-go-lucky prick instead of a death eater. Or perhaps, he had become a death eater long after his Ministry position was given to him.

I double-checked my mind barriers, just in case I had let one down in my shock.

“You may leave, my death eaters. Resume your positions among the powerless.”

This was our sign to scram, yet, before I could even think about Apparating, the Dark Lord spoke again, “Malfoy, stay behind…Zabini, also.”

My stomach sank like lead inside me, causing me to feel sick and fearful. I continued to use my Occlumency, but, behind the strong barriers, I was scared for my life.

When all the death eaters had Disapparated and all the giants were on their sluggish way back to wherever they came from, the Dark Lord’s eyes fixed on me. I immediately turned my gaze from him and looked instead at his feet.

I noticed that another figure other than Zabini stood beside me, but I didn’t dare turn my head to see who it was. I needn’t have, anyway; I found out who stood there only seconds later.

“Lucius, you may leave. I was referring to your son.”

My father! I had not seen him in many months, and the last time had been at his jail cell in Azkaban. I suppose I shouldn’t have been all that surprised, for he obviously would have been released with the rest of the death eaters. Anger toward him threatened to leak through my mind barriers, but I pushed it aside. I was thankful when he stalked away, leaving only Zabini and me for the Dark Lord to deal with.

“Your task is taking far too long to complete, Draco,” he said with the slightest bit of impatience in his tone. “I would have expected more from you. Why the delay?”

I tried to sound calm and not let my nerves take over me. “I am sorry, your lordship. I have been waiting for the most opportune moment to arise.”

Zabini spat, “Plenty of opportune moments have passed by, Draco! And you haven’t taken any action at all—”

Silence!” the Dark Lord sneered in disapproval, grabbing hold of Blaise’s neck.

“Do not speak out of turn, servant,” he threatened in a hiss. He threw Zabini aside. I tried not to seem affected by the violence.

“Your fellow Slytherin has a point, Draco. Many chances to capture the girl have passed you by. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that you are having second thoughts about your assignment.”

“I am not, my lord,” I attempted to explain, “I need to wait until—”

“Do not lie to me!” he bellowed. I felt a burning sensation in my left hand and soon realized that it was turning red rapidly. The Dark Lord must have used a nonverbal spell. A searing pain ignited in my palm. I saw as the flesh began to boil, wincing the entire time. I would not cry out. I would not show him that I was weak, that I was in pain.

“Crucio!”
I had no control over whether I showed my pain or not this time. I could hear my cries quite clearly. No matter how many times I had been under the curse in the past, I never got used to it. Never.

I felt my muscles relax, but the pain still lingered, especially in my burnt hand.

“I-I am sorry, my lord.”

“No, you’re not,” he chuckled wildly, kicking me in the side. “You are neither sorry nor grateful for my mercy. You do not deserve to live after all your mistakes.” My eyes widened as I accidentally let him see fear in them for a split second. Did he know that I had not killed Dumbledore? Had Snape told him, after all, or had he found out by other means?

He smiled evilly. “Yes, I know about your little slip up at the school, Draco. You cannot hide anything from Lord Voldemort. I really should kill you right now. In fact, I’d relish in your death, making it an unendurable painful one. Wouldn’t you like that, Draco? Wouldn’t that be a treat?”

“I do deserve it, my lord,” I confessed, improvising, “I have failed you, the all mighty, the most powerful. My lord, I am most ashamed of my doings.”

“Being ashamed does not cut your consequences—Crucio!”

My insides seemed to be screaming to burst out from my skin from the burning pain.

“So,” he hissed, leaning down to where I laid. “You would take death, then? You admit that I have every reason to kill you now?”

“Yes, my lord. I have been a disappointment, sir…useless.”

“Crucio!”

I was writhing around on the grass, the cold, cold earth whose temperature was exaggerated due to the cold, evil torture I was forced to endure.

“A disappointment, indeed, but perhaps, not useless…” he said while standing up again, now towering over me, finally having lifted the curse. “Stand up, weak servant, and let me look at you.”

I tried to do as I was told, but my body did not allow it.

“Zabini! Assist your fellow death eater!”

Zabini did not pull me up carefully. He grabbed me by my robe and pulled back roughly. I was surprised I was able to keep my balance once I was standing upright. I wished the Dark Lord would just get it over with and kill me sooner rather than later. What was he going to do?

He rid me of my mask and threw off my hood. “You show no fear…” he muttered, impressed, as he examined my face. “I would have expected you a coward. You are worth much more than I previously thought, boy.” He continued to stare at my face, and it took all my effort not to make the dreaded eye contact with him. All I wanted to do was rest in my dorm away from the world. I was quite thankful for my Occlumency expertise. I had been practicing the art ever since I could walk and talk. My father provided me with quite a few convenient skills during my childhood—I’ll give him credit for that.

“And a skilled Occlumens, I see,” he muttered—I hoped he didn’t think I was trying to hide something. “You would have been useful; what a shame it is to lose you.” He let out an eerie laugh that echoed through the night.

I gulped again; did he mean that he would kill me?

“Crucio!”

I almost wished he would.

I was sprawled out on the ground once again. “And yet,” my master said, moving away from my face after laughing at my being tortured by his curse. “Your resourcefulness is my gain. I cannot afford losing your station at the school.” He turned his head toward Zabini’s, whom I just realized was still there. “Nor yours, Zabini.”

I glanced at Zabini; he was smiling. How could he be smiling? He had just witnessed my being tortured. Seeing anyone tortured, despite who they were, would shake even the coldest of hearts. Evidently, this was not true; there were hearts colder than the coldest.

The Dark Lord put a hand on our shoulders in what normally would have been a friendly gesture, but, seeing as it was the Dark Lord, it was anything but friendly.

He looked from one of us to the other as he said, “You two are the most vital pawns in my playing field. What you do determines the outcome of this war. If you fail,” he stared pointedly at me this time. “My mercy will be at my utmost least.”

He wasn’t going to kill me, after all. Yet, I didn’t like the fact that my mission determined whether we would win the war or not…I’m not so sure whether I want him to win the war. In fact, I think I’ve recently been pulling for the good side, the right side. But he does not need to know that.

He paused for a moment, breathing animal-like through his slits for nostrils.

“Zabini, keep an eye on this filth,” he said, indicating me. “And report when I call you. You have done well so far. Be gone with you.”

“Yes, my lord.” Zabini bowed and kissed our master’s feet before Disapparating back to Hogwarts.

“Draco, Draco, Draco,” he chuckled, sending a cold shiver up my spine. “Whatever will I do with you?”

I said with false confidence, “Do whatever you wish with me, my lord. I am forever in your debt.” Of course, this was a lie. Fortunately, I had gotten quite a bit of practice lying throughout my life that it came naturally to me. I’m not sure if that is a good thing as a whole, but it certainly had its advantages with the Dark Lord, especially when supported by my blocked mind.

The Dark Lord’s lips formed his famous wicked smile. “I know, and you are very honest, Draco. You have pleased me with your words, yet not your actions—Crucio!”

Once again, I keeled over in unbearable pain. I always saw death flash before my eyes whenever under the curse. I always wondered whether I could just reach out and embrace it, ending the agony. It certainly seemed an appealing idea. I suppose that’s how many victims die from the Cruciatus curse; they accept the death that is thrust in front of them.

The pain seemed to never end. I hoped, prayed that he would lift the curse from me. I knew that, if he continued for any longer, I would surely forfeit my life. No sooner had I thought this thought did my muscles relax and my body quit lurching about on the ground. However, much pain lingered, though it was hard to tell whether exhaustion amounted to more than the pain or not. I knew it would be quite difficult to get up from my position.

The Dark Lord laughed for a bit, which didn’t help my current condition in the least. I just wished that I could flee. He kneeled down next to me and pulled me up to his face by my hair. I was too weak to cry out.

“You will bring the blood traitor to me as late as the twenty-seventh day of this month. Any later and I will risk having only one spy at Hogwarts.”

In other words, I would be killed.
I choked, “My lord, y-you will not be disappointed.”

He slammed my head back down on the ground. The impact nearly winded me.

“Yes, you had better be right, Draco, for your sake.” And with that, he Disapparated, a wisp of smoke remaining where he stood.

I do not recall how long I stared up at the empty sky, too weak to move a muscle. How could the sky be so full of nothing? No clouds were out, yet the stars did not reveal themselves. Is the world like that? Is the world so dark that the light cannot shine through it?

I finally mustered enough strength to stand, though it took quite a few minutes to do so; I fell back down numerous times before I was successful. I took one last glance at the valley in which I stood before Disapparating back to Hogsmeade. Once in the village, I shoved off my robes, for I was hot from sweat and pain. I fumbled for my wand and sent my school robes and death eater robe and mask safely into my trunk back at the school.

I performed an extra-effective Disillusionment charm upon me once I reached the Hogwarts grounds, for I spotted several Aurors about with sharp eyes for people like me. Though in a daze due to exhaustion, I managed to creep my way back to the castle, up the many staircases, and into the Heads’ dorm without being seen. Unfortunately, I took my Disillusionment charm off of me a minute too soon; Granger was waiting for me in the common room.

“Malfoy! Explain.” She demanded when she first spotted me. Having not heard voices for possibly hours that I had been lying in the valley, hers caused my head to start throbbing.

Once she got a good look at me, her eyes of fury changed to those of worry.

“Wh-what happened to you?”

I staggered over to the coach in front of the fire and collapsed into its soft haven of comfort. I was vaguely aware that Granger was next to me, concerned.

“You’re a wreck…I’d better take you to Madam Pomphrey—”

“…N-no…not—”

“—you’ve been hurt! I have to take you!”

“No, Granger. I can’t—”

“What…what happened to your hand?”

“Well, it’s a long story, I—”

“That burn has to be taken care of; it may get infected. You—”

My headache was unbearable at this point, and I groaned, “Granger…just…shut up…please?” She didn’t need telling twice. I closed my eyes; flashes of what happened that night in the valley came back with each throb of my head.

After a few minutes, the ache was bearable—at least, the ache in my head. That does not apply to the rest of my body. I ached all over, and the burn really did need attention or it would get worse. Of course, I already knew how to take care of it; I had been burnt and whipped plenty of times at home.

“Granger,” I asked weakly, “Will…will you do me a favor?” I had never asked for favors before. Normally, I did everything myself, but in my condition, I knew I would hardly be able to reach the bottom of the stairs, much less up them.

“Yes,” she nodded fervantly, for I could tell she was glad she could be helpful.

“Would you bring down a potion vial from the lavatory? It’s on the vanity—my side…the blue one.”

She didn’t need telling twice and was back downstairs with the vial in record time.

“Thanks,” I grunted. I began to cough—I needed water. That would have to wait.

I opened the bottle with my good hand and drained it completely. I had a lifetime’s supply of the nasty liquid at home for when the beatings got rough as they often did. Its effects were instantaneous, for my headache completely subsided and my hand had stopped burning. I knew it would heal completely by the end of the week.

Granger was fascinated through her worry, asking, “What does it do to you?”

I swallowed, trying to prevent another coughing fit from occurring as I answered simply, “It numbs the pain and heals anything.” She looked confused, so I added, “It’s a slow form of the healing potion. It takes about a week to heal a burn like this one, but the pain goes away instantly.”

“So,” she said timidly, “You feel a lot better now?”

I nodded. “I just need some rest is all.” She looked as if she would question me further, maybe ask about what I was doing. She would have to know, eventually, but now was not the time.

I laid my head back and immediately felt like falling asleep, so, I did just that—I fell asleep into a deep slumber, not waking up until late this morning. Thankfully, today was the start of the weekend, so I hadn’t missed any classes.

I am still on the coach. I summoned this journal to me to write. I don’t know where Granger is; she must be at breakfast, or something.

My head, though the ache went away after downing the potion, feels like it is about to explode, due to the thoughts that have been rushing in and out of my mind. I felt like a victim of serious blackmail. The only difference was in the place of something against me—my death. If I did not kidnap Ginny Weasley, my life would end. If I kidnapped her, I would fall into a pit of unending guilt. As I wrote before, I am in a lose-lose situation.

But which loss should I choose?

-Draco Malfoy


AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ooh...decisions, decisions. Which path will Malfoy choose? I hope that you have enjoyed this story so far. It has been my favorite to write. Please ReViEw with any comments, critiques, or questions. Stay tuned for the next entry!


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