Summary: What if Draco and Harry had both won the Felix Felicis in sixth year potions? It would probably have gone something like this.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Draco
He couldn't do it. Draco had been thinking about this for hours, days, months and it had been to no avail. He was running out of ideas and he was becoming more and more resolute; he would not be able to kill Dumbledore and therefore he would surely die. Draco Malfoy was normally fantastic at devising clever plots; he was after all, a Slytherin. Yet somehow, ever since he'd been given the chance at a real plot – one that mattered- he froze up. He just couldn't think of anything.
Why did the old man have to die anyway? If the Dark Lord thought that Draco could handle it than surely the man couldn't be that big of a threat. He was growing old, his reflexes were slow, surely the Dark Lord could do off Harry Potter and take over the world without Draco needing to kill an elderly professor. Draco knew, however, that he was not being asked to kill Dumbledore because Voldemort couldn't do it. Draco was being told to kill Dumbledore as punishment for Lucius's royal screw up at the ministry last year.
So here Draco sat, on his four poster bed, in the dormitory he had resided in since he was eleven, trying to come up with a way to save his own life by ending another. His roommates were in the common room with the rest of the Slytherins. They were no doubt gossiping about mudbloods and discussing the grand plans they had for the holidays. Draco would never have admitted it, but he envied the lot. He scolded himself internally every time he thought it, because he was given a huge opportunity. He wasn't even of age and he was still considered good enough to become one of the Dark Lord's ranks. None of this peers had that chance. He was the chosen one. Yet somehow, as he heard their muffled laughter, he wished he still belonged there. He wished he still had nothing to worry about other than besting Harry Potter and getting the best toys. Yet, Draco sucked it up. He was a grown up after all and the rest of his housemates were all still children.
Draco let out a sigh. He was not making any progress tonight, his mind was too distracted. He swung his legs over the bed and looked around the green room. It may not be the most comfortable of all rooms, but it was familiar; it would be a shame that after this year he might never be back. He shook his head and stood up; he might as well go join his peers. There was no harm done by indulging in a night of normalcy. It was only fair; he would be able to come up with a plan for taking down one of the most powerful wizards in history later.
As he entered the common room, everyone looked up. It wasn't much of a secret in the Slytherin house that Draco was affiliated with the Dark Lord. They respected him before, but now they practically worshipped him. He was the epitome of success. He had wealth, status and soon enough he would have power – and anyone who is anyone knows that power is everything. A few people who knew him well smiled at him, the others didn't dare in case it offended him. Draco used to crave attention from these people; he used to long to see them all stare at him like they had been staring at him this year. For some reason, though, it had been making him slightly nauseous. Of course it was just because he was nervous, but he still wished that it was all as glamorous as he had expected it all to be. Maybe it would be, he told himself; maybe it would get better once he solved the Dumbledore problem.
He sat down in the empty spot next to Pansy, lazily slung an arm around her shoulder and made himself comfortable. She gave him a swift peck on the cheek to keep up appearance and then went back to telling Daphne Greengrass about who she caught making out in a bathroom stall yesterday.
Draco and Pansy had been friends for a long time, yet everyone readily assumed they were dating. It was an alliance that just made sense. So in fourth year, Lucius informed Draco that he would take Pansy to the Yule Ball, and they were told that it would be prudent to not deny the rumors that they were dating. Ever since then, the school assumed they were together. Draco, however, had never been romantically interested in Pansy. Luckily for him, she felt the same way. In reality, their feelings for each other were strictly platonic.
Draco sometimes wondered why Pansy never was frustrated with this arrangement, surely she had someone she was interested in and surely everyone believing she was already taken would hinder the hope of getting another boy's attention. Pansy never complained though, and whenever Draco asked, Pansy would just shake her head and tell him not to worry about it.
So, there Draco sat, amongst the people he'd associated with since he was just a boy, amongst people who respected him and some who feared him. And all Draco could wonder was how many of them actually liked him. Crabbe and Goyle, of course, they were so simple minded that they liked anyone who would do the thinking for them. Blaise Zabini probably, because his mother didn't have anything to do with the Dark Lord, so his friendship with Draco was most likely genuine; not influenced by parental values. And of course, there was always Pansy. But other than that, Draco wondered if the others in the house honestly enjoyed his company. He knew it didn't matter. In the long run, emotional ties only give a person weakness. Yet despite this knowledge, a part of Draco wanted to be liked, wanted to have friends. There was always a part of Draco Malfoy that would always be that eleven year old boy, who extended a hand of friendship to Harry Potter, and had been rejected.