Chapter 1: No Choice

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and other characters don't belong to me. This story, these chapters, do.

I feel elation, I feel glee at this prospect. I am going to prove to everyone what I am capable of, and I am going to be become a Death Eater and as much as this makes me feel accomplished, I am slightly frightened. Always duel minded, always battling. The constant duality and conflicts of my personality, of my mind, has tormented me my entire life. I hate myself for it. I try to look in the mirror at see someone I like reflected back but I cry, because I hate what I see. And I'm a coward, I'm ashamed, I'm incompetent. I can't do it. Savagely, I glared at myself. I can't do it because I'm not capable enough, and I can't do it because I can't. Murder Albus Dumbledore… I know I don't have it in me and I shutter to imagine what HE would think, what father would think…even what Severus would think.

'Don't ' that childish voice crooned, but she had been my only comfort. She listened. 'Don't…tell me what's wrong…I can help you…' Thoughtful, but a naïve and ridiculous notion. I could barley breath.

'No one can help me.' I gasped, shaking violently. 'I can't do it…I can't…it won't work…and unless I do it soon…he says he'll kill me…' I choked. Gasping and shuddering, I finally lifted my head up and saw Potter, of all people, watching me. Anger surged through my veins. Fury and humiliation. It made me instantly draw out my wand, trying to hex him, but it missed. I glared at him. I hated Saint Potter so much I could barley contain it. He thought he'd try that on me? I'd make him suffer, and he would suffer my pain. I uttered 'Cruci-' but it was too late. Suddenly I felt my body rip and tear and felt excruciating pain seep through my body, into my very bones. I could only see blood everywhere, could only smell and feel blood, as it squirted ruthlessly from my body and my entire face and chest felt as if it were being slashed by a sword. But there was no sword. A faint thought formed in my mind. Potter, The Chosen One, had inflicted Dark Magic on me?

I vaguely became aware of Severus stalking into the bathroom. How had he known? Or had he just heard my screams? Was I even screaming? I wasn't sure. I felt the wounds close over, and hazily glanced up. The blood had gone, and it was Severus who was now wiping the blood off my face with his sleeve, and muttering another spell that made the wounds close over.

'You need to go to the hospital wing. There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that…come…' I felt myself being heaved by him and supported away. I heard him say something to Potter, but I don't know what. He took me very quickly to the hospital wing, and then I heard a shriek.

'What happened, Severus?' Madam Pomphrey's voice shrilled and I was immediately thrust onto the bed.

'Potter cursed him with a very dangerous spell. Although, I don't believe he knew what the spell did, it was nonetheless ruthless to use a foreign spell on someone' Severus replied coldly and I felt my face and chest sting as she applied what must have been dittany. Madam Pomphrey had gasped when she had learnt precious Potter had done this.

Severus turned to leave and I found myself gasping 'Where are you going?' he looked at me curiously for a moment.

'To sort Potter out' he said. 'I will be back, don't worry' he added gently. Even with allies, he was not a man to usually be described as gentle, but that was written in his expression, his voice…

He left and I sat there, laying there in silence. Not one of my friends knew I was here, but Crabbe and Goyle, those idiots weren't friends. They were people I used and Pansy…maybe she was a friend. I don't think I had real friends, not really. Rain splattered against the roof and windows furiously and it only made me feel more sombre. Madam Pomphrey kept coming over and fussing, she gave me another potion which tasted rank. 'Leave me alone, I'm fine now.' I hesitated. 'Thank you' I muttered and her affronted expression softened. She left.

I was laying on my side, away from the entrance, but I knew he had arrived. It must have been his energy, which was a distinct aura of the serene, actually. Without a word he sat in the chair by my bed, and I knew he was looking at me. For a long moment, he said nothing.

'How are you…feeling?' he finally asked.

'Fine' I drawled.

'Potter's got detention with me on Saturday - he - have you been crying, Draco?'

'Before his attack, during, or after? Yeah, all three, actually.' I had cried as I sat in silence here.

'You will heal perfectly, don't worry about that…'

'It's not that!' I snarled. 'Yes, Potter's a fucken bastard' (did his eyes flash dangerously? And he flinched? Just because I swore?)

'I had no idea Potter was capable of such dark magic, but I know where he learnt it. He learnt it from me.' Severus spat, and answering my quizzical expression, replied, 'Potter has been in possession of my old Potions book that had been written in with spells…and curses…I had invented.'

'You invented spells? That was your spell?' I asked, wide eyed. My mouth was slightly agape, too.

'Yes' his black eyes glittered. It unnerved me. 'It was invented to inflict pain, so I quite understand -'

'I told you' I snapped. 'I'm fine now. I'll be ok. That - that's not why I was crying'

'Well, then, what could possibly be affecting you so? You know, as I'm sure your charming Aunt Bellatrix has taught you, you have to control your emotions!' He looked frazzled.

'And be a cold, expressionless, unfeeling, person like you? I shot back. I saw for the first time in my life that very expressionless façade pass. Vanish. Something I recognized as hurt and pain flashed past his face.

'If you want the Dark Lord to read your every thought, know your every fear…be my guest' he spat. Anger flashed in his eyes. I turned my gaze away from him and looked out the window instead.

Ever since I had allowed myself to feel emotion, to cry, to face myself and even let someone else in…even if she was a ghost, I had felt better. A pressure had been lifted. Ever since I had felt my emotions and confided in someone…suddenly something occurred to me. It hit me and I frowned, but hadn't it been obvious?

'I think Potter got away as a baby…and I think he keeps defeating him…because…because he doesn't control his emotions. He…the Dark Lord can't stand it. Think about it. He harps on about what a fool Dumbledore is…how he thinks love is so powerful. He doesn't love anyone, so maybe Potter's…I don't know, ability to love? Saves him?'

'Who would have thought, Draco Malfoy, jumping on the Dumbledore, Power of Love bandwagon?'

I felt colour rise in my face. But I felt angry.

'What?!…how did Potter escape him all those times? He's got no special power, right? So how does he keep escaping a wizard as powerful as…as….him?"

'Luck and more talented friends' he murmured.

I laughed harshly. 'More talented friends? Granger maybe, but Weasley? That fool Longbottom and the Lovegood weirdo?'

Severus said nothing.

'Well?' I pressed.

'Perhaps…perhaps you're right. For Potter and anyone actively against the Dark Lord. But we're not against him. We do not require such a defense.' He did not look at me. For the first time, he avoided my glare.

'So why are we with him, then? If we change sides, Dumbledore will protect -'

'You are…to kill Dumbledore. You know that' he whispered. 'If you fail to do so, he will kill you and your parents'

I felt my stomach clench and my heart pound.

'Dumbledore -'

'Can't save you now' He snarled viciously. He looked livid, and he turned, stalking away.

Dumbledore can't save me now. I felt like smashing something, like destroying something. Destroying something beautiful, maybe. But there was nothing beautiful. Nothing. I thought of this whole mess I was in and it wasn't my fault, and I found myself thinking about my parents and I resented them for it. Was he making me kill Dumbledore because father had failed him? Father had got me and my mother into his life, I had been born into it. But mothers family thought he…the Dark Lord, had the right idea. Was she conditioned to this life from the very beginning…did she really support him? I thought of the Aunt Andromeda I had never seen and wondered. She had come from these beginnings, a pureblood obsessed family, interested in the Dark Arts and the Dark Lord…but she had left. Mother never spoke of her. I thought of the time I had warned Potter, Granger and Weasley at the Quidditch World Cup. They thought I had been cruel. But I told them the Death Eaters would snatch Granger. Why did father join him again as soon as he returned?

I had no choice and I never had.