Draco had spent his entire life knowing that Hogwarts was the safest place on earth. Unfortunately for him, all illusions of safety had disappeared as soon as Dumbledore had hit the floor, dead. Suddenly, the man didn't seem like a bumbling old fool anymore. Agreeing to kill the man was his biggest regret, hands down. At the time, he didn't feel like he had a choice: he would agree, or he would die. If only he had known that he would probably die anyway, he could have saved the wizarding world a lot of grief. He was certain that things would not be this way if the man were still alive. Hogwarts would still be a home.
The horrible, most ridiculous thing was that Draco had never actually wanted any of this to happen. He had never wanted to be a part of any of it. There was no denying that he wasn't the nicest person in the world - eleven years living non stop with his parents had seen to that. He was a Slytherin, yes. He was more than happy to taunt others and spend the family's fortune, yes. But Draco Malfoy was not a murderer. His Dark Mark itched constantly, a lie etched into his skin. It was the symbol of the most evil wizards humanity had to offer, and Draco had been accepted amongst their ranks without a word of objection. Because of his name.
Another regret was how hard he had tried to live up to it. He, alone, had been chosen to murder Albus Dumbledore. The Dark Lord, the one with the name even his closest followers feared, had picked Draco to kill the only person he was scared of. It had been a bloody big ask from the start, if you asked him, yet it was supposed to be an honour. Everybody knew that Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard on the Earth: that was why Voldemort was scared of him, why he didn't dare touch Hogwarts. Draco had spent an entire year preparing for the duel he was so certain he would face, desperately hoping that he would not fail, and that he would not die.
Perhaps, if Dumbledore had fought back, like he was supposed to, Draco would've been able to kill him. Killing in defence was acceptable. Killing a defenceless old man was not. It was only when he truly looked into Albus' eyes, moments before his death, that he'd realised he couldn't do it. He was, after all his efforts, not a murderer. He had a conscience.
That was the beginning of his problem. A select few people knew that Draco had not killed Dumbledore because he could not: most notably Professor Snape and Harry Potter. Not that Potter would do him any good. The Boy Who Had No Hairbrush was probably in hiding, hoping desperately that he wouldn't be discovered, and, simultaneously, hoping that he'd walk straight into Voldemort's nest and be able to blow the man's head off. Everyone was looking for an end to the war, hoping for safety, regardless of what side they were on. Snape, however, could be a problem. His godfather had always treated him in the same, condescending way he had his other students, but, at the same time, he had always been there for him. Far more than Lucius Malfoy ever had been, in any case.
But Snape was in a far more favoured position, now. Voldemort was winning and Snape had killed his biggest rival. If Snape had any hint that Draco wasn't as sympathetic to the Death Eater cause as he once had been, he could have him killed in a minute. The unconditional trust he had had for the man had disappeared the moment he killed Dumbledore, for, in doing so, he could have killed Draco, too. There was no predicting how Voldemort would react when his plans went wrong, but it was not wild to assume it would be with murder.
See? He had a big problem on his hands. What did you do when you were born into an institution you didn't believe in? When you lived in the heart of its murderous workings, and no longer had anyone you could trust? For a while, he had assumed his only options were to play along or be killed. But the way in which Hogwarts students were now being tortured as a punishment rather than polishing trophies was brutal. And if it was brutal in Hogwarts, it was almost certainly murderous outside. It would not be long until he was expected to officially join the ranks of the Death Eaters, and murdering people was top of their duty list. It would not be long until he would have to refuse to kill another innocent person, and thus, it would not be long until the Death Eaters killed him. He could imagine that they would force his father to do it.
It was beginning to dawn on him that his only chance of survival was to run.