Disclaimer: I own the rights to Harry Potter! In my dreams. And since I am currently awake everything belongs to J. K. Rowling.
The room was huge, dark and silent. Great mountains of objects banned and hidden from the school cast deformed shadows across the floor, giving the place a seemingly crypt like appearance. Eerie, menacing, cold. The only living beings were two small songbirds, twittering madly as they fluttered hither and thither in a pathetic attempt to escape the cage enclosing by the small window that cast an unknown and unchanging sky in their direction.
There had been three.
The corpse of the third lay rotting in a corner, kept out of sight by the shadow of a black cabinet that was surrounded by imprinted footprints in the dust covered ground. And yet the tiny particles of earth seemed to steer clear of it as they settled all around the room. The cabinet stayed the same, perhaps forgotten by time but still touched by its cruel forgetful hand.
Suddenly, the noise coming from the cage rose dramatically as a hand reached into it and attempted to grab a bird. For a few seconds the commotion continued until Draco Malfoy emerged from the shadows; holding a fowl carefully in his cupped hands. The bird was small and white and terrified. It sat quite still, apparently too scared to move as its beady eyes scrutinized the face of its captor. The young man sighed. He had needed a living creature to see if the vanishing cabinet was working properly or not. And the room of Requirement had granted his wish immediately – providing three little caged birds. Convenient, of course, but did it have to be birds? Couldn't it be hamsters or some other stupid land cursed rodent instead? Draco had no idea why the fact that they were birds disturbed him. He had never even liked birds. Not songbirds at any rate; their chirping usually got on his nerves back at the manor. But for some reason, watching the desperate attempts of the feathery creatures to escape their cage made him feel very uncomfortable. They reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.
Draco walked a few steps towards the cabinet, then hesitated. The bird had shifted slightly in his hands and he strengthened his hold on the creature. For a moment he thought it was going to fly away but it remained where it was, still staring up at him. Paralyzed by fear. And then, without noticing what he was doing, without even thinking about it, Draco leaned against a wall and started speaking to the bird he was holding.
"I know what its like...", he murmured.
Draco had dreamed of becoming a Death Eater since the age of five. Partly because the Dark Arts fascinated him, partly because he supported Voldemort's cause wholeheartedly and partly because Lucius had always bragged about the Dark Mark that was branded on his left forearm. And Draco had always looked up to his father.
So, when he was asked to join Voldemort's inner circle, Draco had seized the opportunity eagerly. Longing to prove his worth.
He had never expected it to be like this. Had never anticipated the hours he spent in the Room of Requirement; kneeling in front of the vanishing cabinet with only a few doomed birds to keep him company. He had never really imagined what it was like living in constant terror. Terror of failing. Terror of dying. And, though Draco would never admit it, not even to himself, terror of killing. He knew it was an impossible task for him. How could he succeed in something that even the Dark Lord himself hadn't been able to do? He didn't have the power nor the skill for such a feat. But if he didn't kill Dumbledore then...then...
Draco didn't even dare think about what would happen to him then.
No matter how Draco looked at it, he was stuck in a cage of circumstances and he had no way out.
"I know what it's like to be trapped", Draco whispered to the bird though clenched was the only being in the castle that knew what he was doing. He could talk to it, pretend it comprehend his worries even if it couldn't understand what he was saying.
The truth was that Draco had wanted to talk to someone for quite some time. One of the most difficult things about his mission was that he had to keep it secret and his wasn't as easily kept as he had predicted. Teachers demanded to know why he wasn't concentrated in class. He kept getting detention for neglected homework and everyone seemed to have realized that something was wrong with Draco Malfoy. A few of his fellow Slytherins noticed how unnaturally pale he had become, how little he must be sleeping and how, every so often, his eyes were red from crying. People repeatedly asked him if he was feeling alright. And he kept receiving letters from his mother who seemed to understand that her son was slowly loosing his mind.
His mother... She would die too, were Draco to fail. So would his father. And it would all be his fault. He had to live with that knowledge, wake up with it every single day. Then he had to pretend that everything was alright. That everything was wonderful; absolutely spiffing! And the pressure was cracking him. What was more, the plans born from a nervous breakdown had all failed spectacularly; neither the necklace nor the mead had reached Dumbledore. And fixing the cabinet was proving much more difficult than he had thought. But Draco didn't give up, he couldn't! He had to mend that cabinet! Because he had to let the other Death Eaters into the school! He had to!!!! HE HAD TO!!!!!!
"I know what it's like to be desperate. ", Draco whispered to the bird, grip tightening once more around the small body.
He needed the other Death Eaters helping him, to at least have a small sliver of a chance. A distraction that deflect the headmaster's attention from him until he had the opportunity to cast the killing curse.
Snape had offered to help him more than once. But Draco wouldn't let Snape interfere with his plans. It was Snape who had replaced Lucius as Voldemort's right hand man. Snape who kept sucking up to the Dark Lord. Strange... There had been a time when Draco had liked Snape, had almost admired him. Funny, how things change. Now, Snape was one of the people who Draco detested most. He wouldn't accept any help from the slimy bastard that took his father's place, no matter what!
The terrible truth was that Draco was alone. Sure, he had Crabbe and Goyle, but even he knew they were no more than puppets. Yet he was glad he had them. As long as his last name was Malfoy they wouldn't betray him, and that mindless loyalty that drove them to stick with him even when they knew nothing about what he was doing was oddly comforting. But that still meant that he had no-one to turn to; no-one to ask for help. And that, in a way, was the worst thing about his situation. For what seemed like the hundreds time, Draco's thoughts wandered to contemplate his fate should he fail to kill Dumbledore. What would it feel like to die? Would the Dark Lord murder him quickly or would he have to endure the Cruciatus Curse first? Draco's hands shook at the very thought.
"I know what it's like to be afraid", Draco told the bird and for some reason his hold on the animal lessened. Not enough for it to escape but just the slightest to allow it to breathe.
He stood there for a few more seconds before moving towards the cabinet, placing the bird inside and shutting the wooden door. The bird resumed its frantic chirruping once inside, apparently not liking its new location any better than the last. Draco closed his eyes, concentrated and muttered an incantation. The sounds coming from the cabinet ceased. Draco opened it to check. The cabinet was indeed empty.
If something went wrong this time, he didn't know what he would do next. He would likely never be able to fix the damn cabinet. He had already done everything he could think of.
Draco understood now, what the birds reminded him of. They were helpless, trapped, desperate and afraid. Just like him.
'Please come back alive you stupid bird!', Draco thought. 'Please come back alive and I'll set you free, I promise!'
Pulling himself together the boy mouthed the incantation once more. He heard a whooshing sound, but there was no twittering. Holding his breath, he opened the cabinet door and was greeted once again with its dark, cold interior. With the beautifully carved wood that had been mocking him for so long. The fowl was in a corner, concealed by the shadows the little light that was able to enter created.
The bird was dead.
Draco barely registered the spark of desperation as tears began rolling down his face. Slowly, he reached into the cabinet and picked up the limp, lifeless form within.
"I'm sorry", he whispered, running a finger over the incredibly soft feathers. The apology hung in the air along with the flutters of the last, still trapped, bird. He leaned on the wall letting himself slip to the floor.
"I didn't want you to die."
Please Review!!