(fic) The Worst Intentions (Chapter Twelve)
Title: The Worst Intentions
Rating: PG - 13 (this chapter)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Wordcount: 3160
Summary: What if Draco's task was not to repair the Vanishing Cabinet, but instead, to learn Dumbledore's secrets through Harry? Bitter enemies from their first meeting, Draco must find a way to forge a bond with Harry.
Author's Notes: This is an alternative reality fic in which Draco's mission differs from that of J.K Rowling's book. However, some elements of the canon will be used.
Feedback: Yes please!
Disclaimer: None of this is mine as I'm sure you already know
Previous Chapters: Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine / Chapter Ten / Chapter Eleven
Draco could vaguely remember Madam Pomfrey lifting his head so as to pour the contents of a smoking goblet, probably a Sleeping Draught, down his throat. He wondered what had managed to wake him from such a deep, dreamless sleep when he caught the sound of cautious footsteps trying to make their way quietly across the hospital wing.
The office door remained closed with all light extinguished, though at this hour it was unlikely to be Madam Pomfrey checking up on him anyway. Draco tried to raise his head from the pillow to find out who the intruder was, but a sharp, tearing pain from his chest forced him to lie still.
He suddenly became aware of a warm, solid pressure resting on the bed beside his legs and the nervous breathing of another person. Draco had his suspicions as to their identity and stretched his fingers out slowly, trying to avoid damaging his healing skin. His hand came into contact with a piece of familiar slippery material and he grasped a piece, pulling it towards him.
A chink in the hospital wing curtains cast enough moonlight into the room for Draco to make out the tense form of Harry with the Cloak swathed around his shoulders. The Gryffindor sat hunched on the bed, looking as if he was prepared to make a run for it should the situation turn confrontational.
His head was bowed and he spoke so softly under his breath that Draco had to strain his ears to hear.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean....I had no idea.......”
Draco was able to stretch his arm just enough to brush Harry’s hand with his own, but at the touch the other boy flinched and pulled away.
Speaking urgently, Draco whispered,
“It’s okay, really, it is. I don’t blame you for it, especially considering I was going to use an Unforgiveable on you.”
“But you’re........”
Harry couldn’t continue, but his meaning was perfectly clear to Draco, who finished the sentence,
“.......a lying, untrustworthy Slytherin.”
He had meant to keep his tone light, but was unable to prevent a note of bitterness creeping in. Harry looked ashamed, even repulsed, by his own behaviour and Draco was desperate not to let his guilt ruin whatever had grown between them.
He tried to distract the other boy from his self-loathing by asking,
“Where did you find that curse? I’ve never heard of it before.”
“It’s one of the spells in my Potions book that I hadn’t tried. I know it sounds stupid, but I can’t help feeling........betrayed. I always the thought the Prince was just a particularly bright student, not someone who would invent curses like that. I’ve hidden the book away somewhere safe so no one else will make the same mistake.”
He still didn’t raise his head and still refused to look over at Draco, who was becoming increasingly alarmed at the depth of Harry’s guilt.
“Harry, look at me.......Harry!”
Draco’s voice had risen well above a whisper in his urgency and at the sound of his name, Harry finally turned his head. Having captured his attention, Draco wasn’t prepared to lose it, so he ignored the agonising pain as he forced himself to lean forward and grasp Harry’s hand.
“It wasn’t your fault, so please don’t punish yourself for what happened. Madam Pomfrey has managed to heal me completely and I’ll soon be out of here.”
In truth, Draco had no idea how much damage had been done, but as he lay back down, exhausted, Harry appeared to be comforted by his words and asked tentatively,
“Did it......did it scar?”
Draco hadn’t considered this possibility and frowned.
“I don’t know; I haven’t looked.”
He pushed the covers back and attempted to unbutton his pyjama top. Harry must have noticed his wince because he quickly reached out and stilled Draco’s hands.
Sighing, Draco said,
“Well, if you’re not going to let me do it myself, the least you can do is help.”
Hesitantly, Harry undid the buttons so Draco’s thin, pale chest was completely exposed. From his position, Draco was unable to tilt his head enough to see. He looked over at Harry who was staring down at his chest with both horror and fascination. His expression was perplexing and he didn’t seem willing to speak, much less touch Draco.
Speaking in a voice much quieter than before, Draco asked,
“Is it bad?”
Very slowly, Harry inched his hand forward, hovering over Draco’s skin until he gently pressed his index finger to one of the healing gashes. Though his touch was feather-light, Draco felt the aching pain of a serious bruise and prayed that the effects of the curse wouldn’t be lasting.
Eventually, Harry spoke with a touch of awe in his voice,
“They’re healed completely, but there are fading marks all over your chest. They show up more because you’re so pale and........”
He didn’t finish and, instead, leaned over, carefully holding his weight above Draco’s body. They were barely an inch apart when Harry breathed,
“Can I?”
For an answer, Draco lifted his head slightly to capture Harry’s mouth. The strain of holding his neck up became too much, but Harry was unwilling to break off, so he allowed Draco to rest back on the pillow and kissed him with a touching level of gentleness.
As the moonlight gradually faded, only to be replaced by the pale light of the morning, Harry reluctantly took his leave. He concealed himself with the Invisibility Cloak and crept out of the hospital wing, but not before he fastened the buttons on Draco’s pyjamas and covered him with the blankets.
****
It took another week for Madam Pomfrey to release him with the promise that he would not partake of any further duels. The cuts had mostly faded to a pale pink, edged with silver and Draco suffered no discomfort, save a dull ache if he moved abruptly.
Even if such an impossible task hadn’t hung over him like a storm cloud, Draco would have had great difficulty spending time alone with Harry, but now he was doing all he could to avoid the boy. The hurt, bewildered expression Harry wore when looking over at him only increased Draco’s attempts to keep his distance. He could no longer continue deceiving the boy, not when they had grown closer than he thought possible.
Draco was unable to face the idea of formulating a complex plan and, instead, resorted to lingering outside Dumbledore’s office whenever he had the time. He dutifully kept a record of all the headmaster’s doings that he was aware of, but the constant strain he had been under since last summer had gradually gnawed aware at his sense of purpose.
By day, he became distant, staring vacantly out of the windows during lessons, though at night he struggled to sleep as he sweated and thrashed about in his narrow bed.
Outside the sky changed to a clear periwinkle blue, the grounds bursting with colour as summer approached, but Draco remained in the shadow of the castle and tried to ignore the excited shouts of the other students enjoying the warmer weather.
After his initial panic, Draco had felt an immense surge of honour at being chosen for Voldemort’s task and he had returned to Hogwarts in September brimming with confidence. The great sense of self-importance he had felt at having such a huge responsibility had faded over time, until he finally accepted Snape’s offer of help.
The professor eyed him coldly, but made no mocking comments as Draco destroyed the last of the Malfoy pride by admitting his incompetence. However, he was disappointed to find that Snape didn’t have a flawless plan ready to put into action and only ordered Draco to maintain a watch on Dumbledore’s office, reporting any strange occurrences.
****
As another beautiful, cloudless day drew to a close, Draco was on the point of leaving his post outside the headmaster’s office when Harry came racing down the corridor with a scroll of parchment clutched in his hand. Draco shrunk back behind a suit of armour, but Harry had already spotted him.
“Why are you hiding here?”
Unable to think of a convincing excuse, Draco shrugged and tried to look anywhere but the other boy. Harry appeared to be in a great hurry because he didn’t demand a response and continued,
“Draco, we need to talk about this,” he gestured between them. “One minute you’re begging me not to blame myself for cursing you and the next; you’re avoiding me for weeks. I don’t understand it, but Dumbledore has asked to see me urgently. I’ll speak to you when I get back.”
Harry spoke the password and disappeared before Draco could reply, so he made his way to Snape’s office slowly. Reporting everything he had seen and heard during his watch, Draco was surprised at the agitated manner of the professor when he learnt that Harry was leaving the school with Dumbledore. Usually he dismissed Draco instantly, but today he ordered him to conceal himself in the Astronomy Tower and wait for the headmaster’s return.
Draco hurried back to the Slytherin dungeon for his thicker cloak, but was waylaid by Peeves who blocked the corridor and forced him to take a much longer route. He eventually made it to his dormitory, only to be accosted by Pansy on his way out.
Draco knew that it took a great deal to worry Snape, so Dumbledore’s absence this evening must be extremely important. As he realised this, a shiver of dread coursed through Draco’s body and he knew that this was to be his only chance to complete the task. After tonight he would never succeed and would have to face the wrath of Voldemort.
He finally made it to the foot of the Astronomy Tower and rushed up the steps with his wand drawn. Pausing near the top to catch his breath, he listening intently and heard a murmur of voices above him. As he crept up the last few steps, Draco stumbled and cursed under his breath, hoping that he hadn’t been heard.
Bursting through the door, Draco directed his wand at the silhouetted figure on the parapets and shouted,
“Expelliarmus!”
He had expected his spell to be easily deflected, but Dumbledore’s wand flew instantly from his hands as if he hadn’t even tried to block the Disarmament. The headmaster’s voice was courteous and almost pleasant,
“Good evening, Draco.”
Stepping out of the shadows, Draco cautiously approached him and was shocked when the light of his wand illuminated Dumbledore’s ashen, exhausted face. He glanced around quickly and noticed two brooms propped against the stone walls.
“Who else is here?” He demanded, but even as he asked, Draco was straining his eyes in the darkness to find Harry. The Gryffindor was nowhere to be seen, for which Draco was extremely grateful because with Harry watching he knew he would be unable to continue.
Dumbledore answered with a question of his own,
“I might ask you the same, or are you acting alone?”
“Snape’s been interfering all year, but he was he who told me to come here tonight.”
“Ah, I see. You are, in fact, quite alone then because Professor Snape had been keeping watch over you on my orders.”
Draco fought the urge to laugh scornfully at Dumbledore’s words. The headmaster really was going senile in his old age if he believed someone as slimy and deceitful as Snape, and Draco told him as much.
Dumbledore seemed unconcerned by the question of his own judgement and replied,
“I happen to trust Professor Snape. How could he have known I would return here if I hadn’t told him myself?”
Although Draco sneered again, he felt a small twinge of doubt which grew with alarming speed when he examined it.
How had Snape known to send him to the Astronomy Tower? Of all the places Dumbledore could have returned to, this was hardly the most likely, and yet Snape had been so certain when he had given the orders.
Dumbledore’s voice, weak though it was, managed to interrupt his thoughts.
“Draco, Draco, you are not a killer.”
The understanding in Dumbledore’s tone stung more painfully than a curse as he hit upon the fear that had threatened to overwhelm Draco all year and now suspend his wand arm in mid air.
Draco retorted immediately, but his words sounded pathetically childish,
“How do you know? You don’t know what I’m capable of! You don’t know what I’ve done!”
“Oh, yes, I do. You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying with increasing desperation to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they were feeble attempts.....so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder if your heart has really been in it.”
Dumbledore was right, of course he was right and Draco noticed with a stab of unease that the headmaster was breathing erratically, leaning against the stone wall as if he was on the point of collapse. He was only a defenceless old man at Draco’s mercy, but his words held more power than an Unforgiveable.
“I don’t think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe. There is little time, one way or another, so let us discuss your options.”
“I haven’t got any options!” Draco voice rose in terror as he was reminded once again of the price of failure. “I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill my whole family!”
“Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. Your mother can be brought to safety, too, and your father will come to no harm at the moment in Azkaban.”
Images of Narcissa’s haggard face, her beauty corroded by endless anxiety and Lucius: once so proud and imposing, now wretched in a prison cell, flashed before Draco’s eyes. Wand slick with sweat beneath his trembling fingers, Draco’s heart pounded furiously, his pulse racing.
Despite his terribly weakened state, Dumbledore managed to retain his dignity and calmly surveyed Draco over his half-moon spectacles. The startlingly bright blue eyes fixed on his own with a penetrating stare, so different form Voldemort’s malicious red glare and Snape’s icy black gaze, that expressed only compassion and pity.
In that moment, Draco felt as if time itself had stopped completely and in a dream-like state he found himself wondering if Dumbledore knew of his relationship with Harry. Voldemort frequently mocked the headmaster’s insistence that love was the single most powerful force on earth, but a part of Draco’s mind far removed from his current predicament acknowledged that Dumbledore was, in fact, right about that too.
What else could have driven him to act as he had all year, but love of his family and an indefinable emotion he felt towards Harry?
All this rushed through Draco’s head in a matter of seconds and he was on the point of lowering his shaking arm when someone thundered up the stairs and burst onto the ramparts. His black robes swirling about him, Snape strode to Draco’s side, his cold voice cutting harshly through the air.
“Well, Draco? Are you going to do it?”
Frozen in terror, Draco swallowed with great difficulty, unable to tear his eyes from the slumped figure of the headmaster. Snape’s mouth twisted in disgust and he sneered,
“Clearly you aren’t capable of finishing the task, even when I laid it out so easily for you. The Dark Lord knows what is to happen tonight and will not be pleased with your inaction. Perhaps he is travelling here as we speak.”
“Severus......please......”
With a groan, Dumbledore had spoken softly, his plea barely above a whisper. Snape gazed at him for a moment, revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face as he raised his wand, pointing it directly at the headmaster’s chest.
“Avada Kedavra!”
There was a flash of blinding green light as Dumbledore was blasted into the air, falling backwards over the parapet and out of sight. Paralysed with shock, Draco’s mouth gaped open in a silent scream. Snape clenched his arm tightly, dragging him back down the stairs and through the school filled with sleeping students, each one blissfully ignorant of the murder.
Draco’s legs moved automatically as he followed Snape in a trance, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. They left through the main entrance, a slight balmy summer breeze ruffling their hair as they made their way across the grounds. Draco stared back at the base of the Astronomy Tower and caught sight of an indistinct figure sprinting across the moonlit grass towards them.
A jet of red light shot over their heads just as they reached the trees and Snape forcibly pushed Draco into the forest, shouting,
“Run, Draco!”
An all too familiar voice yelled a curse and, ducking behind the protection of a tree, Draco watched helplessly as Harry attempted to duel with Snape. The professor blocked every half-articulated spell with ease and refused to retaliate, even when Harry screamed,
“Fight back! Fight back, you coward!”
Staggering blindly, Harry drew nearer to the trees until he was mere feet away from Draco. A look of fierce concentration blazed across his face which Draco recognised as the intense effort needed for performing a non-verbal spell.
Snpae must have been using Legilimency for he appeared to hear the spell before it was cast and deflected it, spitting,
“You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them - I, the Half-Blood Prince!”
Draco lost his balance on hearing this revelation, his movement betraying his position. Harry stared past Snape, catching Draco’s eye and they shared a fleeting moment of mutual realisation about the Potions textbook. The brief contact was abruptly severed as Snape Disarmed Harry and knocked him off his feet when he tried to retrieve his wand.
Sprawled on the grass, gasping with exertion, Harry’s only weapon left was his words and he panted,
“Kill me, then. Kill me like you killed my parents, you coward.”
He must have touched a raw nerve because Snape immediately lost any semblance of self-control and shrieked,
“DON’T CALL ME A COWARD!”
With a whip-like motion, he sent another curse in Harry’s direction and turned his back on the school, his eyes ablaze with anger. Roughly grasping the back of Draco’s cloak, Snape strode through the trees to the boundaries of Hogwarts just as Harry managed to heave himself into a sitting position.
Draco pulled out of Snape’s grip in time to see Hagrid burst out of his hut and rush over to Harry. Eyes meeting with the other boy for only a second, Draco tried to convey all his grief and regret in one glance before he retreated into the forest after Snape, knowing that he could never return to Hogwarts again.
Chapter Thirteen
Rating: PG - 13 (this chapter)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Wordcount: 3160
Summary: What if Draco's task was not to repair the Vanishing Cabinet, but instead, to learn Dumbledore's secrets through Harry? Bitter enemies from their first meeting, Draco must find a way to forge a bond with Harry.
Author's Notes: This is an alternative reality fic in which Draco's mission differs from that of J.K Rowling's book. However, some elements of the canon will be used.
Feedback: Yes please!
Disclaimer: None of this is mine as I'm sure you already know
Previous Chapters: Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine / Chapter Ten / Chapter Eleven
Draco could vaguely remember Madam Pomfrey lifting his head so as to pour the contents of a smoking goblet, probably a Sleeping Draught, down his throat. He wondered what had managed to wake him from such a deep, dreamless sleep when he caught the sound of cautious footsteps trying to make their way quietly across the hospital wing.
The office door remained closed with all light extinguished, though at this hour it was unlikely to be Madam Pomfrey checking up on him anyway. Draco tried to raise his head from the pillow to find out who the intruder was, but a sharp, tearing pain from his chest forced him to lie still.
He suddenly became aware of a warm, solid pressure resting on the bed beside his legs and the nervous breathing of another person. Draco had his suspicions as to their identity and stretched his fingers out slowly, trying to avoid damaging his healing skin. His hand came into contact with a piece of familiar slippery material and he grasped a piece, pulling it towards him.
A chink in the hospital wing curtains cast enough moonlight into the room for Draco to make out the tense form of Harry with the Cloak swathed around his shoulders. The Gryffindor sat hunched on the bed, looking as if he was prepared to make a run for it should the situation turn confrontational.
His head was bowed and he spoke so softly under his breath that Draco had to strain his ears to hear.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean....I had no idea.......”
Draco was able to stretch his arm just enough to brush Harry’s hand with his own, but at the touch the other boy flinched and pulled away.
Speaking urgently, Draco whispered,
“It’s okay, really, it is. I don’t blame you for it, especially considering I was going to use an Unforgiveable on you.”
“But you’re........”
Harry couldn’t continue, but his meaning was perfectly clear to Draco, who finished the sentence,
“.......a lying, untrustworthy Slytherin.”
He had meant to keep his tone light, but was unable to prevent a note of bitterness creeping in. Harry looked ashamed, even repulsed, by his own behaviour and Draco was desperate not to let his guilt ruin whatever had grown between them.
He tried to distract the other boy from his self-loathing by asking,
“Where did you find that curse? I’ve never heard of it before.”
“It’s one of the spells in my Potions book that I hadn’t tried. I know it sounds stupid, but I can’t help feeling........betrayed. I always the thought the Prince was just a particularly bright student, not someone who would invent curses like that. I’ve hidden the book away somewhere safe so no one else will make the same mistake.”
He still didn’t raise his head and still refused to look over at Draco, who was becoming increasingly alarmed at the depth of Harry’s guilt.
“Harry, look at me.......Harry!”
Draco’s voice had risen well above a whisper in his urgency and at the sound of his name, Harry finally turned his head. Having captured his attention, Draco wasn’t prepared to lose it, so he ignored the agonising pain as he forced himself to lean forward and grasp Harry’s hand.
“It wasn’t your fault, so please don’t punish yourself for what happened. Madam Pomfrey has managed to heal me completely and I’ll soon be out of here.”
In truth, Draco had no idea how much damage had been done, but as he lay back down, exhausted, Harry appeared to be comforted by his words and asked tentatively,
“Did it......did it scar?”
Draco hadn’t considered this possibility and frowned.
“I don’t know; I haven’t looked.”
He pushed the covers back and attempted to unbutton his pyjama top. Harry must have noticed his wince because he quickly reached out and stilled Draco’s hands.
Sighing, Draco said,
“Well, if you’re not going to let me do it myself, the least you can do is help.”
Hesitantly, Harry undid the buttons so Draco’s thin, pale chest was completely exposed. From his position, Draco was unable to tilt his head enough to see. He looked over at Harry who was staring down at his chest with both horror and fascination. His expression was perplexing and he didn’t seem willing to speak, much less touch Draco.
Speaking in a voice much quieter than before, Draco asked,
“Is it bad?”
Very slowly, Harry inched his hand forward, hovering over Draco’s skin until he gently pressed his index finger to one of the healing gashes. Though his touch was feather-light, Draco felt the aching pain of a serious bruise and prayed that the effects of the curse wouldn’t be lasting.
Eventually, Harry spoke with a touch of awe in his voice,
“They’re healed completely, but there are fading marks all over your chest. They show up more because you’re so pale and........”
He didn’t finish and, instead, leaned over, carefully holding his weight above Draco’s body. They were barely an inch apart when Harry breathed,
“Can I?”
For an answer, Draco lifted his head slightly to capture Harry’s mouth. The strain of holding his neck up became too much, but Harry was unwilling to break off, so he allowed Draco to rest back on the pillow and kissed him with a touching level of gentleness.
As the moonlight gradually faded, only to be replaced by the pale light of the morning, Harry reluctantly took his leave. He concealed himself with the Invisibility Cloak and crept out of the hospital wing, but not before he fastened the buttons on Draco’s pyjamas and covered him with the blankets.
****
It took another week for Madam Pomfrey to release him with the promise that he would not partake of any further duels. The cuts had mostly faded to a pale pink, edged with silver and Draco suffered no discomfort, save a dull ache if he moved abruptly.
Even if such an impossible task hadn’t hung over him like a storm cloud, Draco would have had great difficulty spending time alone with Harry, but now he was doing all he could to avoid the boy. The hurt, bewildered expression Harry wore when looking over at him only increased Draco’s attempts to keep his distance. He could no longer continue deceiving the boy, not when they had grown closer than he thought possible.
Draco was unable to face the idea of formulating a complex plan and, instead, resorted to lingering outside Dumbledore’s office whenever he had the time. He dutifully kept a record of all the headmaster’s doings that he was aware of, but the constant strain he had been under since last summer had gradually gnawed aware at his sense of purpose.
By day, he became distant, staring vacantly out of the windows during lessons, though at night he struggled to sleep as he sweated and thrashed about in his narrow bed.
Outside the sky changed to a clear periwinkle blue, the grounds bursting with colour as summer approached, but Draco remained in the shadow of the castle and tried to ignore the excited shouts of the other students enjoying the warmer weather.
After his initial panic, Draco had felt an immense surge of honour at being chosen for Voldemort’s task and he had returned to Hogwarts in September brimming with confidence. The great sense of self-importance he had felt at having such a huge responsibility had faded over time, until he finally accepted Snape’s offer of help.
The professor eyed him coldly, but made no mocking comments as Draco destroyed the last of the Malfoy pride by admitting his incompetence. However, he was disappointed to find that Snape didn’t have a flawless plan ready to put into action and only ordered Draco to maintain a watch on Dumbledore’s office, reporting any strange occurrences.
****
As another beautiful, cloudless day drew to a close, Draco was on the point of leaving his post outside the headmaster’s office when Harry came racing down the corridor with a scroll of parchment clutched in his hand. Draco shrunk back behind a suit of armour, but Harry had already spotted him.
“Why are you hiding here?”
Unable to think of a convincing excuse, Draco shrugged and tried to look anywhere but the other boy. Harry appeared to be in a great hurry because he didn’t demand a response and continued,
“Draco, we need to talk about this,” he gestured between them. “One minute you’re begging me not to blame myself for cursing you and the next; you’re avoiding me for weeks. I don’t understand it, but Dumbledore has asked to see me urgently. I’ll speak to you when I get back.”
Harry spoke the password and disappeared before Draco could reply, so he made his way to Snape’s office slowly. Reporting everything he had seen and heard during his watch, Draco was surprised at the agitated manner of the professor when he learnt that Harry was leaving the school with Dumbledore. Usually he dismissed Draco instantly, but today he ordered him to conceal himself in the Astronomy Tower and wait for the headmaster’s return.
Draco hurried back to the Slytherin dungeon for his thicker cloak, but was waylaid by Peeves who blocked the corridor and forced him to take a much longer route. He eventually made it to his dormitory, only to be accosted by Pansy on his way out.
Draco knew that it took a great deal to worry Snape, so Dumbledore’s absence this evening must be extremely important. As he realised this, a shiver of dread coursed through Draco’s body and he knew that this was to be his only chance to complete the task. After tonight he would never succeed and would have to face the wrath of Voldemort.
He finally made it to the foot of the Astronomy Tower and rushed up the steps with his wand drawn. Pausing near the top to catch his breath, he listening intently and heard a murmur of voices above him. As he crept up the last few steps, Draco stumbled and cursed under his breath, hoping that he hadn’t been heard.
Bursting through the door, Draco directed his wand at the silhouetted figure on the parapets and shouted,
“Expelliarmus!”
He had expected his spell to be easily deflected, but Dumbledore’s wand flew instantly from his hands as if he hadn’t even tried to block the Disarmament. The headmaster’s voice was courteous and almost pleasant,
“Good evening, Draco.”
Stepping out of the shadows, Draco cautiously approached him and was shocked when the light of his wand illuminated Dumbledore’s ashen, exhausted face. He glanced around quickly and noticed two brooms propped against the stone walls.
“Who else is here?” He demanded, but even as he asked, Draco was straining his eyes in the darkness to find Harry. The Gryffindor was nowhere to be seen, for which Draco was extremely grateful because with Harry watching he knew he would be unable to continue.
Dumbledore answered with a question of his own,
“I might ask you the same, or are you acting alone?”
“Snape’s been interfering all year, but he was he who told me to come here tonight.”
“Ah, I see. You are, in fact, quite alone then because Professor Snape had been keeping watch over you on my orders.”
Draco fought the urge to laugh scornfully at Dumbledore’s words. The headmaster really was going senile in his old age if he believed someone as slimy and deceitful as Snape, and Draco told him as much.
Dumbledore seemed unconcerned by the question of his own judgement and replied,
“I happen to trust Professor Snape. How could he have known I would return here if I hadn’t told him myself?”
Although Draco sneered again, he felt a small twinge of doubt which grew with alarming speed when he examined it.
How had Snape known to send him to the Astronomy Tower? Of all the places Dumbledore could have returned to, this was hardly the most likely, and yet Snape had been so certain when he had given the orders.
Dumbledore’s voice, weak though it was, managed to interrupt his thoughts.
“Draco, Draco, you are not a killer.”
The understanding in Dumbledore’s tone stung more painfully than a curse as he hit upon the fear that had threatened to overwhelm Draco all year and now suspend his wand arm in mid air.
Draco retorted immediately, but his words sounded pathetically childish,
“How do you know? You don’t know what I’m capable of! You don’t know what I’ve done!”
“Oh, yes, I do. You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying with increasing desperation to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they were feeble attempts.....so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder if your heart has really been in it.”
Dumbledore was right, of course he was right and Draco noticed with a stab of unease that the headmaster was breathing erratically, leaning against the stone wall as if he was on the point of collapse. He was only a defenceless old man at Draco’s mercy, but his words held more power than an Unforgiveable.
“I don’t think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe. There is little time, one way or another, so let us discuss your options.”
“I haven’t got any options!” Draco voice rose in terror as he was reminded once again of the price of failure. “I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill my whole family!”
“Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. Your mother can be brought to safety, too, and your father will come to no harm at the moment in Azkaban.”
Images of Narcissa’s haggard face, her beauty corroded by endless anxiety and Lucius: once so proud and imposing, now wretched in a prison cell, flashed before Draco’s eyes. Wand slick with sweat beneath his trembling fingers, Draco’s heart pounded furiously, his pulse racing.
Despite his terribly weakened state, Dumbledore managed to retain his dignity and calmly surveyed Draco over his half-moon spectacles. The startlingly bright blue eyes fixed on his own with a penetrating stare, so different form Voldemort’s malicious red glare and Snape’s icy black gaze, that expressed only compassion and pity.
In that moment, Draco felt as if time itself had stopped completely and in a dream-like state he found himself wondering if Dumbledore knew of his relationship with Harry. Voldemort frequently mocked the headmaster’s insistence that love was the single most powerful force on earth, but a part of Draco’s mind far removed from his current predicament acknowledged that Dumbledore was, in fact, right about that too.
What else could have driven him to act as he had all year, but love of his family and an indefinable emotion he felt towards Harry?
All this rushed through Draco’s head in a matter of seconds and he was on the point of lowering his shaking arm when someone thundered up the stairs and burst onto the ramparts. His black robes swirling about him, Snape strode to Draco’s side, his cold voice cutting harshly through the air.
“Well, Draco? Are you going to do it?”
Frozen in terror, Draco swallowed with great difficulty, unable to tear his eyes from the slumped figure of the headmaster. Snape’s mouth twisted in disgust and he sneered,
“Clearly you aren’t capable of finishing the task, even when I laid it out so easily for you. The Dark Lord knows what is to happen tonight and will not be pleased with your inaction. Perhaps he is travelling here as we speak.”
“Severus......please......”
With a groan, Dumbledore had spoken softly, his plea barely above a whisper. Snape gazed at him for a moment, revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face as he raised his wand, pointing it directly at the headmaster’s chest.
“Avada Kedavra!”
There was a flash of blinding green light as Dumbledore was blasted into the air, falling backwards over the parapet and out of sight. Paralysed with shock, Draco’s mouth gaped open in a silent scream. Snape clenched his arm tightly, dragging him back down the stairs and through the school filled with sleeping students, each one blissfully ignorant of the murder.
Draco’s legs moved automatically as he followed Snape in a trance, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. They left through the main entrance, a slight balmy summer breeze ruffling their hair as they made their way across the grounds. Draco stared back at the base of the Astronomy Tower and caught sight of an indistinct figure sprinting across the moonlit grass towards them.
A jet of red light shot over their heads just as they reached the trees and Snape forcibly pushed Draco into the forest, shouting,
“Run, Draco!”
An all too familiar voice yelled a curse and, ducking behind the protection of a tree, Draco watched helplessly as Harry attempted to duel with Snape. The professor blocked every half-articulated spell with ease and refused to retaliate, even when Harry screamed,
“Fight back! Fight back, you coward!”
Staggering blindly, Harry drew nearer to the trees until he was mere feet away from Draco. A look of fierce concentration blazed across his face which Draco recognised as the intense effort needed for performing a non-verbal spell.
Snpae must have been using Legilimency for he appeared to hear the spell before it was cast and deflected it, spitting,
“You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them - I, the Half-Blood Prince!”
Draco lost his balance on hearing this revelation, his movement betraying his position. Harry stared past Snape, catching Draco’s eye and they shared a fleeting moment of mutual realisation about the Potions textbook. The brief contact was abruptly severed as Snape Disarmed Harry and knocked him off his feet when he tried to retrieve his wand.
Sprawled on the grass, gasping with exertion, Harry’s only weapon left was his words and he panted,
“Kill me, then. Kill me like you killed my parents, you coward.”
He must have touched a raw nerve because Snape immediately lost any semblance of self-control and shrieked,
“DON’T CALL ME A COWARD!”
With a whip-like motion, he sent another curse in Harry’s direction and turned his back on the school, his eyes ablaze with anger. Roughly grasping the back of Draco’s cloak, Snape strode through the trees to the boundaries of Hogwarts just as Harry managed to heave himself into a sitting position.
Draco pulled out of Snape’s grip in time to see Hagrid burst out of his hut and rush over to Harry. Eyes meeting with the other boy for only a second, Draco tried to convey all his grief and regret in one glance before he retreated into the forest after Snape, knowing that he could never return to Hogwarts again.
Chapter Thirteen