Disclaimer: I don't have any right to Draco Malfoy, or Harry Potter. All credit goes to J.K. Rowling, which you know unless you live under a rock. =P
Sitting alone in the cold Slytherin common room was a teenage boy with broad shoulders, blond hair and quite the remarkable tattoo, if you could call it that. He was staring ahead, unseeing, at the fireplace before him.
He was lost in his thoughts. This was how he spent most of his time nowadays. He couldn't find peace in them however; he sat, always alone, and let his thoughts and memories haunt him. He moved his eyes from the dying embers in the hearth before him to his left forearm.
The skull and snake he saw there tortured him worse than any other thing in the world. This was what would take everything away from him, the thing that would ruin him beyond return. His thoughts swirled around the only thought that kept him sane, the only thought that forced an ounce of hope into his soul; the thought of a tiny girl with auburn hair and green eyes the exact same shade as her older brother's. The older brother his family was out to kill, the older brother who he had been forced to torment, the older brother that was the only hope of the Wizarding world. If he stayed on the path he was being led down by his father he would destroy the girl. If he strayed he would destroy himself. It wasn't a hard decision for Draco; or it wouldn't have been if his mother's life didn't hang in the balance as well.
He couldn't keep his thoughts on the girl for long before they circled back to the mark on his arm. They were practically inseparable thoughts now; the mark would hurt the girl, there was really no way around that. Allowing his thoughts to traverse a path he had refused to until this moment he sunk into the memory of the night he had lost all control over his life.
Draco was standing before a floor length mirror examining the image that was being reflected to him. He could easily recognize his own face; he had the same defined features, grey eyes, and blond hair. The thing that made his mirror image of heightened interest to him was the robe he was wearing. It was a long, billowy, satin black. The hood, when pulled up, covered his face until he could hardly see. He noticed that his face, while normally composed stoically to show no emotion, was contorted in pain, frustration, and the emotion he detested most; helplessness.
In Draco's right hand he clutched a golden mask. He was gripping it so hard his palm was dripping blood into a pool on the floor. His left hand was clenched into a fist, shaking from the effort of trying to rein in his rampant emotions.
Tearing his eyes away from the mirror they landed unwillingly on a picture on his desk. It was unlike any he had ever seen before; it was not moving, and it was thin and long showing four pictures that seemed to have been taken only seconds apart. It was a Muggle picture Draco had found after one particularly violent incident with Harry Potter during their firth year at Hogwarts.
All four pictures were of the same girl, Elle Potter—Harry Potter's closest confidant, best friend, most precious person; his younger sister. In the first picture she was sitting normally, smiling hugely at the camera, her green eyes sparking with happiness. The second was of her making a ridiculous face, with one hand in her hair, ruffling her crazy curls. The next picture showed her in the process of demonstrating what Draco had come to learn was an extremely rude Muggle hand gesture. In the last picture she was blowing a kiss towards the camera and winking outrageously.
Striding over to his desk he plucked the picture up and put it back into the enchanted miniature vault he kept in his room. He turned suddenly as someone entered his room, trying hastily to compose his face so it would not show his thoughts too plainly.
"Darling?" the sweet voice of Narcissa Malfoy said. "You were thinking about her again?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Mother," Draco responded, turning away so that she could not see his face.
"Why won't you tell me about her? Why can't I know who the girl is that captured my only son's heart?" Narcissa beseeched.
"It doesn't matter. It is an impossibility. She is unattainable to me," Draco whispered to his mother.
"How is she unattainable to you, my son? You are a Malfoy," Narcissa wondered.
"Which is the entire problem," seethed the teenage boy, whirling to face his mother; pain and anger written on his face for her to see.
"So she is not of pure blood?" the poised woman conjectured.
"She's not," Draco admitted.
"And this is your dilemma? I could attempt speaking with your father. I could try to convince him that the Malfoy line would benefit from the introduction of new blood," Narcissa rushed to come to her son's aide.
"It is not my only dilemma," Draco cringed.
"Then she is not half-blood? She is Muggle-born?" she questioned.
"She is half-blood," Draco stated.
"Then it is possible, Draco, for me to attempt reason with your father," she said, placing her hand on her son's shoulder and looking up into his eyes.
"Do you not remember what I am being forced to do tonight, Mother? Have you forgotten that I will be branded with the Dark Mark? That I will be forced to serve the Dark Lord? Father is not my concern. My concern is much larger," he said, shrugging his mother's hand from his shoulder and pacing to the far side of his room.
"Draco, I only wish to help you. I wish you to be happy," Narcissa whispered.
"I know, Mother. But it is impossible," Draco told her.
"Why, Draco? What concern is larger than your father? The Dark Lord will not protest a half-blood. Severus is half-blood. The Dark Lord is only against Muggle-borns," Narcissa said.
"The Dark Lord is not my concern. At least his opinion is not my concern. You know, Mother, that I do not wish to serve him. I am not my father. I do not wish to become him. The only reason I have not fled the company in this manor is because of you. You know full well that they blackmailed me into joining the cause with your life," Draco said, glaring at the floor.
"I know this, Draco," his mother hissed. "You know I do not ask you to stay on my behalf, I wish that you would flee. Find safety, stay far away from this war. You know I want nothing but for you to be safe and happy. I do not care about my own life. Nothing is stopping you from leaving. Seek help, Draco! I am sure it will be given! Dumbledore…"
"He will not help me! They will not accept me! Not after all I have done to them! Not after the names I have called them! They will send me away. I would be of no use to them. I could lend them no power. They want for nothing, you must realize this! They are stronger!" Draco exclaimed.
"How? How are they stronger than the Dark Lord? How do they want for nothing? How do they not fear him?" Narcissa demanded.
"Do you not listen, Mother, to the meetings we are forced to attend? The prophecy about Harry Potter? The Dark Lord is the one who is afraid! He fears Dumbledore, he fears the Potters! Harry has defeated him time and time again. And have you simply dismissed the rumors about the younger one? The girl, Elle Potter? She is rumored to be the most powerful witch ever born!" Draco ranted, trying to impress his point to his mother.
"How is that possible? You do not know the Potters are so strong!" Narcissa denied.
"I go to school with them. I have classes with Harry. He is the best in our year at Defense Against the Dark Arts; he's the best in the entire school, so good he teaches other students in some secret organization. And Elle is an extraordinary witch; she's top in the school without even trying. She knows spells you or I couldn't even dream of. I've seen her when she's angry, or determined to do something, I've seen her fight. Parkinson pisses her off all the time, and the things the girl Potter does to her are scary. She barely even has to raise her wand! She mastered nonverbal spells her second year," Draco insisted.
"But the Dark Lord. They must fear him, it is unreasonable not to. He is… terrifying," Narcissa said.
"They are Gryffindors. They will not give in until the Dark Lord is vanquished. And they are fighting for things more important to them than the Death Eaters are," Draco noted.
"Explain!" Narcissa demanded.
"They fight for their lives, for the lives of the people they love. They fight for their memories, for all of the people the Dark Lord killed, continues to kill. The Potters were orphaned because of him, grew up unwanted because of him, knew nothing of love until they met people like the Weasleys and Muggle-borns all because of the Dark Lord. The Potters intend to fight to the death! And none of them see, they think the goody Gryffindors will not deal in murder; they think they are safe and that all the Order wishes is to put them all in cells in Azkaban. Mother, this war will be like nothing the Dark Lord expects; he underestimates the bonds he's broken and the ones he threatens," Draco railed at his mother.
"Your girl, Draco, she is a supporter of the Order," Narcissa said, her voice held only a hint of question now.
"She is," Draco mumbled, shoulders finally slumping. He felt defeated. Knowing the only girl that had ever, could ever, have his entire heart would never even acknowledge him ate at his very soul until there was scarcely anything left. Draco wished he could tell his mother, so that he would not be holding on to the thought of her alone; he wanted to share the idea of her with his mother. He held his tongue, though, knowing his father had the dirtiest ways of prying information from his mother. Therefore he would not divulge a single thing to his mother; he would protect both of them by doing so.
Again the door to Draco's room burst open and a scraggly middle aged man hobbled in, caressing one silver, glowing hand with his other, normal hand. He motioned for the two in the room to follow him. He was smiling a crazed, hungry smile as he whispered loudly and dramatically, "It is time."
Draco straightened his shoulders and pulled himself to his full height, towering over his mother and Wormtail. He shoved his lingering emotions and thoughts of Elle Potter into the furthest pits of his heart and crevices of his mind, and pulled his features to express nothing but arrogance and confidence. He was determined to show nothing of his real self to Voldemort; Draco would show him no fear, he would let him see no pain, and he would show him no outward signs of the desperate loyalty the rest of his depraved followers exhibited—Draco knew these were the things the vile wizard wanted to see from him most, but Draco would give him no such pleasures; not when he was ripping from Draco the only thing he had ever coveted.
Exiting the room behind Wormtail Draco situated his robes so they slithered around him royally and placed the golden mask upon his face, making sure to hide the cuts on his palm from his present company. The walk to the hall where Draco would endure the ceremony of initiation into the circle of Death Eaters that were closest to Voldemort was excruciating. Draco could hear his mother as she struggled to muffle her sobbing, but he could lend her no comfort. He saw the giddy shaking of the rat-like man leading the way, and he knew the man wished to witness the pain of Draco's branding. He did not think once of Elle Potter, for he knew there would be minds attempting to dig into his in a matter of seconds and he would not let her become more of a target to the sadistic worshipers of the Dark Lord waiting above him.
"Through here, through here," Wormtail muttered, pulling a curtain aside for Draco and Narcissa to pass through before him.
Draco stepped through the opening and into the large hall his mother had previously used to throw her lavish parties in. It looked nothing like it normally did. It was dark and eerie, there were no decorative lights shining in the room. The only light came from the wands of the Death Eaters that rimmed the hall, and they were purposefully keeping them as dim as possible.
The circle of Death Eaters shifted as they pushed and shoved to be able to see Draco. His mother was pulled from him and off to the side by his Aunt Bellatrix, who made sure to station them so that she had the best view possible of the ceremony. Directly in front of Draco stood three men; the furthest to the left was the hooded figure of Severus Snape and the furthest to the right was Draco's own father, his hands clenched in excitement. In between his two favorite lackeys was the Dark Lord himself. He was not hooded, his dark robes swayed in a wind that was nonexistent. His blood red eyes took in Draco with a hunger the teen had never seen before, though he knew why.
Draco was Voldemort's most sought after acquirement. He had been petitioning for Draco to join his highest ranks ever since he had returned; Draco was powerful, more so than his father. He was cunning and intelligent. He was in the position to become the Dark Lord's lieutenant, the highest ranking Death Eater of the whole bunch. Draco enticed Voldemort further by having been uninterested in the proposition; it was not until Lucius stepped in and convinced his son with brutality and threats that the teenager had finally accepted the offer, though not as graciously as the Dark Lord had desired.
Voldemort stepped forward several feet towards Draco. This was the signal the boy was supposed to take to kneel in front of the Dark Lord, however; Draco remained at his full height, several inches taller than his future lord and kept his eyes distinctly uninterested and surveying the nighttime scenery through a window behind the Dark Lord. Gasps and hisses sounded from the gathered and Draco heard Bellatrix seethe, "He is not worthy!"
"You will not kneel before me Draco?" Voldemort asked in his snake-like voice. "You do not wish to show me the proper respect?"
Draco kept his mind blank and his body unmoving. He gave no outward sign that he was aware at all that he was in the presence of the most feared wizard the world had ever known.
"Sometimes, dear Draco, I believe that you were sorted wrongly at Hogwarts. I believe you would have fared better in Gryffindor; you show such bravery, such stupidity," Voldemort said in a voice full of fake praise. "If it were not for your cunning and your desire to serve only yourself in order to achieve your own goals at any cost I would truly worry."
Every Death Eater was still as they waited for a response from Draco. Behind his mask Draco smirked, he would give no such thing. If the Dark Lord was trying to rile him up with remarks he thought were derogatory about Gryffindors it would fail. Draco took no offense to being compared to the side he truly supported.
"You are being insolent, Draco," Voldemort continued. "But I do not have all night. Do not bow, it is no matter. You have already agreed to take the mark. You will either leave branded or dead."
"Brand me," Draco finally responded to the twisted wizard. He held his left arm out, offering it to Voldemort.
"This may hurt just a bit, Draco," Voldemort said, grasping Draco's hand and jerking the sleeve of his robe back to expose the flesh of his forearm.
Draco did not lower his eyes to either the wizard, or his wand that was digging into the skin of his arm. He kept his gaze locked forward and willed his arm not to shake. As the burning commenced in his arm Draco fought the urge to tear his arm from the Dark Lord. The pain grew worse, and Draco knew it was being drug out as punishment for refusing to give the typical display.
He let his mind go then to a place that would keep him safe from insanity, and separate from the pain. He reached out for thoughts of Elle, knowing all gathered would be too distracted to pry into his mind at the moment.
Draco let himself remember the first time he had seen Elle; he had sat down at Slytherin table to await the sorting of the new first years.
"Did you hear who's starting at Hogwarts this year?" Theodore Nott asked the table of Slytherins.
It was the beginning of Draco's second year at Hogwarts, and he was sitting in the Great Hall waiting for the sorting to begin. He wasn't very interested in who was beginning at school, he was just impatient to get the sorting over with so he could eat and have a nice sleep away from his strict father.
Draco was glad that before the conversation could continue the door at the side of the Hall opened and in marched a line of terrified first years. They lined up facing the student body, just as Draco had done the year before, and watched anxiously as Professor McGonagall strode to the center of the line and placed a three-legged stool and a ratty old hat before them. Most of the children were looking at the hat with expressions of utter confusion.
Draco's attention was stolen not by the Sorting Hat as it began its song, or his fellow Slytherins who were laughing at the bewildered looks on the faces of most of the first years. What caught his eye was a tiny girl, the smallest first year in the entire line, who glanced at the hat nonchalantly and then stood on tiptoes peering around the room, as though hats singing wasn't extraordinary and the seating arrangements were.
She was dressed nicely, in new robes and new shoes; she had skin that had just a faint hint of a tan to it and deep red hair. At first Draco suspected she was a Weasley, but then noticed that next to the girl there was a much taller girl with ginger hair and freckles that he recognized as the Weasley's youngest child. Another thing that set the girl apart from the rest was her emerald eyes, shining with curiosity and worry. Draco felt like he had seen them before.
"That's her!" Daphne Greengrass hissed and pointed to the small girl, showing her to Pansy Parkinson.
"Merlin, she's small. Probably as pathetic as her brother," Pansy said, and for some reason Draco wanted to tell Pansy to mind her own business and keep her thoughts to herself.
"Lovegood, Luna," McGonagall called. A small girl who looked confused and half asleep wondered up to the stool and was sorted into Ravenclaw. Draco watched as the green-eyed girl clapped loudly for her; they had been standing in line next to each other.
Draco cheered with the rest of Slytherin and MacDougal, Simone was sorted into Slytherin after her brother MacDougal, Neil.
"Potter, Elle," McGonagall called next. Draco hushed right along with the rest of the hall and watched as the tiny girl with red hair glided to the stool. She slipped the hat on and it shouted out "GRYFFINDOR!" almost immediately.
She took the hat off not looking the least bit surprised and waltzed over to the cheering table, taking a seat between the Weasley twins. She continued to peer around the table, ignoring the rest of the sorting and not even clapping as Weasley, Ginny joined the table and the sorting concluded.
Draco watched her interact with the Weasleys and Hermione Granger, not able to keep his eyes from her. He was so wrapped up in observing her that he jumped in his seat as she leapt off the bench and started sprinting towards the doors to the Great Hall that had just slammed open.
In the door way stood Harry Potter and his sidekick Ron Weasley. As soon as Elle reached them she began to speak animatedly, waving her arms about and poking her finger at the taller boy with messy raven hair and green eyes that matched hers more exactly than was normal for most siblings.
All eyes in the Hall were on the pair as Harry responded to her. She rolled her eyes at his answer and waved a hand in a dismissive manner. She bounced as she began talking to him again a huge smiling beaming from her face as she pointed at the Gryffindors. The older boy smiled and they started towards the table together as he slung and arm over her shoulder and messed with her chin length hair with the other.
The burning in his arm increased tenfold as he felt Voldemort jab his wand further into his skin. He had to concentrate harder on his memoires to put the newly heightened pain out of his mind. The next image that sprang up before his eyes was one he hadn't thought of in years.
In Draco's third year times were beginning to darken. There had been a break out from Azkaban and security had been doubled for the castle, and though most students didn't notice special protection was being placed on the Potter siblings. Draco wasn't even sure it they noticed it themselves; the constant presence of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at their sides, McGonagall observing Gryffindor Quidditch practices from a spot where she wouldn't have been noticed if it hadn't been for the Slytherins trying to sneak into the closed practice.
Draco thought it strange the level of attention paid to Elle and Harry by Professor Lupin. He spent time outside of class tutoring Elle on the lawn or just sitting with her deep in discussion in the library.
Draco stood watching with the crowd that had gathered around the Potter girl and the Defense professor as they dueled near the lake one evening during the fall. Elle was only in her second year and she was keeping up the more experienced wizard with ease. Deflecting hexes and sending jinxes that many gathered hadn't heard of before. She was starting to generate rumors about herself being the greatest witch ever born. Draco had even heard people saying it was a good thing she was in Gryffindor, because if she had been placed in Slytherin she'd go bad and terrorize the world far worse than what the Dark Lord had.
Draco snorted at rumors like that. He had never really interacted with the girl outside when he and Harry were having a row but he observed her enough to know she wouldn't have gone dark, even if she had been placed in Slytherin; her heart was too good, and she loved too strong. Those things wouldn't have changed about her just for being in his House.
He watched in awe, though, as she fed the rumors that claimed she was the brightest witch ever born. She dodged an attack from Lupin all while whipping her wand towards the lake and then at her opponent in one swift motion, calling a wave of water from the lake forward to soak the surprised teacher.
Lupin stood sputtering, glaring at the girl that had doused him with a look that held no real anger. The shabby man strode towards her and once he was close enough he shoved the grinning girl into the lake.
Elle rose from the water after a moment's struggle righting herself, to see Lupin and Harry pointing at the girl and chuckling. Ron was doubled over clutching his side as he roared with silent laughter.
Draco, hidden amongst the crowd, was the only one who hadn't laughed at the sight. He had had trouble stopping himself from entering the water in order to make sure Elle was alright. He watched, shaking his head in attempts to clear it, as she trudged out of the water, her Muggle clothes stuck to her body and her hair clinging to her neck and shoulders. Her emerald eyes were sparkling with joy and the sun reflecting from the water droplets on her skin gave her the allusion of glowing.
It was that moment that Draco realized she was more than just a powerful witch; much more than the little sister of The Boy Who Lived. She was enchantingly beautiful. It was the moment when Draco understood why he watched her, why she was on his mind, and why he always felt the need to protect her; he wanted her.
But she was the only thing that Draco could never have. She was the most valuable witch fighting for the light side, Dumbledore's protégé, and with Harry Potter as her shadow Draco was forced to stay away from her.
He had hoped that things would change over time, but as his third year closed and fourth began he was doomed to be alienated from her further. He spent hours upon hours after that moment in his third year planning and wishing of ways to get out from beneath his father's thumb to be his own man. But to avoid his father's painful punishments "for not keeping up the pretense of hating the scum of the world and repaying that Potter freak for ruining their lives" Draco had to insult everyone every which way, and as the hatred Harry felt for him grew so did the number of times Elle would glare daggers at him in the corridors.
Sightings of her during his fourth year had been few and far between. When he did spot her she would be striding briskly through the corridors, always with her brother; their heads close and their whispers quick and violent. The two spent most of their hours in the library with Hermione and Luna, the Weasley boy curiously absent from their efforts. All her time was thrust towards keeping Harry alive through the Triwizard Tournament and Draco found himself looking forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts more than normal; as Elle had taken to attending it with her brother since she had a free period at the same time.
She had grown more and more stressed as the year went along, he was glad the year was almost over for her sake. It was the last task of the Tournament and the student body, plus the students from the visiting schools, along with Ministry officials and visiting family members were all seated in the stands of the Quidditch pitch. They were watching anxiously as they champions entered the maze one by one.
Draco had ended up seated directly behind Elle who was on her feet shouting things at Harry as he was about to enter the maze. They weren't supportive, more like instructions to curses and spells. As he disappeared into the hedges and was no longer in view she plopped down onto the bench between Luna and one of the Weasley twins. She was muttering under her breath and craning her neck to check between Dumbledore and the maze.
As time passed and Fleur had to be retrieved from the maze, and then Krum she began to shake and stood on the bench to try for a better view. Draco could see the trembling in her legs and wished he could comfort her somehow.
"George," she whimpered to the red headed twin next to her.
"C'mon Elle, pop back down," George said, laying a comforting hand on her leg.
"Nothing we can do but wait," said the other twin, Fred. They sounded much more somber than they normally did. Cedric and Harry had been in the maze for longer than expected and teachers were beginning to debate over whether they should go in after them.
Draco's attention was drawn to the field then by a thundering 'pop.' He saw the form of Harry clutching onto the Hufflepuff boy—neither of them were moving.
His eyes shot to Elle in front of him as she fell from her standing position a scream ripping from her throat. The crowd began to surge forward and she was separated from the Gryffindors and her Ravenclaw friend.
Elle was prone, as still as the body of her brother on the field below as Draco made his way to her through the crowd. No thoughts of what others would think of him assisting the sister of the boy he supposedly hated, nor of the punishment he may receive from his father if he were to find out. Draco kneeled down next to her, shielding her shivering body from the continuous onward motion of the onlookers. He grabbed onto her and pulled her to him, helping her to stand.
She looked up and Draco saw the tears pouring from her eyes; he had never seen someone cry so hard, though she was completely silent. She did not pull away from him, but clutched him closer to herself and trusted him to guide her out of the mass of bodies.
As they grew closer to the edge of the rim of people surrounding the figures of Harry and Cedric Draco could see above the heads of the rest what the much shorter Elle couldn't see. Dumbledore was beside Harry, grasping his shoulders and pulling the struggling boy from the other student.
"He's fine," Draco whispered to her urgently. "He's alive. He's moving, I can see him. Dumbledore's got him."
"Oh, god," Elle gasped, smiling a bit.
They finally forced their way to the front of the crowd, and upon seeing Harry for herself Elle crumbled back into Draco and he continued to support her. They watched, confused and trying to figure out what had happened. Elle hadn't yet found the strength to move to her brother, and depended on Draco to keep her standing.
"My son! My only son!" sobbed the man Draco recognized as Cedric's father.
"He's back! HE'S BACK!" Harry shouted in Dumbledore's direction.
"Back? Who's back?" Draco wondered aloud.
"V-V-Voldemort," Elle sobbed, ripping away from Draco and sprinting the rest of the way to Harry. When she reached him she feel to her knees and wrapped her arms around him, as Harry pulled her into his lap. They sat rocking and trying to comfort one another until Moody moved to them and pulled both of them out of the stadium and out of Draco's sight.
"You think you are so strong, Draco," the chill voice of the Dark Lord called Draco from his memory as he removed his wand from Draco's arm and replaced it with his finger. Draco didn't look down but he knew Voldemort had placed his thumb at the top of the mark. He suppressed a shudder as he heard the vile wizard begin the last phase of the ritual; pouring a bit of his own dark magic into the wound, so that Draco would know when he was required.
The pain of the last part of the ceremony increased, and Draco could no longer keep his thoughts clear enough to remember memories in their entirety. He was left relying on just flashes that he grappled with, trying to find solace.
In his mind's eye he saw Elle being hauled up the stairs of the Entrance Hall by an outraged Umbridge, a smirk that rivaled the one Draco had perfected slipped onto her lips, there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
He remembered her standing facing the Inquisitorial Squad her wand drawn, her face set in determination, though her eyes were shining brilliantly; excitement present at the prospects of a duel.
The last glimpse of her he saw before he passed out from the pain was of her smiling at him as they passed in the hall, her eyes holding no hostility at the very beginning of his fifth year.
Draco shook his head, forcing himself back to the present. He thought over everything he had to do, racking his brain for options he knew didn't exist.
Elle Potter, she was the most important thing in his life, and he'd actually been able to spend time with her this year, getting to know her. He'd held her, been near enough to her to soak up the warmth that seeped from her body. Draco didn't know why he couldn't rid his life of the girl, but she had a firm grip on him without even knowing.
For one delusional second Draco toyed with the thought of just sitting on the couch, waiting the night out and not playing his part. But he couldn't bring himself to be so selfish; his mother's life depended on him being able to follow through with his mission.
He tried to push the feeling of foreboding from his body, but to no avail. He couldn't shake the thought that Elle would end up more than emotionally hurt by his actions. He sighed, holding his head in his hands; the choice between his mother and Elle strangling his heart, he felt overwhelmed.
Getting up from the couch he walked towards the exit of Slytherin's common room. He pushed through and walked down the corridor as quietly as possible, his hands in his pockets. He kept his eyes on the ground, not having the emotional strength to look his destiny in the face quiet yet.
His trip to the highest tower at Hogwarts seemed to take an eternity. The castle, normally filled with warmth and magic, was a home for Draco unlike his own. It was another stab at his shredded soul that Hogwarts itself seemed to sense that something dark and wicked was going to take place within its walls that night.
This is a one-shot POV from my story "She Was A Hero." Leave a review so I know what you think? =) Next chapter of the actual story is ready and will be up in a few days. =D