Hell Hath No Fury
Draco Malfoy leaned over the basin sink, his platinum blond hair in a disarray, his sweatshirt thrown somewhere across the room and his forehead dripping with water and sweat. His hands were placed evenly on each side of the sink, his knuckles stark white as he grip on the sink did not relent, it would seem as if he was holding onto it for dear life and perhaps he was. He was drowning in his anguish, his failures, he was mourning himself, his mother, he knew that the task set for him was impossible; how, for Merlin's sake, were you meant to kill one of the greatest wizards of this age?
His task - that is to kill Dumbledore - was impossible, how could one seventeen year old boy meant to kill Dumble-freaking-dore? Draco looked into the pale face, etched with his anguish, in the mirror, the grey eyes could not fathom a smile let alone show any hope. It was pointless, useless to hope, there was no way to kill Dumbledore and he knew it.
Draco didn't know what to do. If he didn't kill Dumbledore than his father would die - though that wouldn't be a great loss to the world - his mother would die and he would die. Not only would his family die but she would never look at him the same, if he somehow managed to do the impossible. She had unknowingly and irrevocably changed his every belief since he met her.
His father had taught him - more liked drilled into him - that mudblood's were filthy, stupid and ugly, that they were worse than even a troll. But then he came to Hogwarts and she had been the complete opposite of what his father had told him. She was beautiful - if in a natural way, with her bushy hair and caramel eyes - and smart, she had beaten him in everything; well except flying but you didn't have to be smart to be able to fly so that was beside the point.
"Draco," Her voice called out as if his mind wanted to torment him more with the sound of her voice. He didn't look up, he didn't turn around, she wasn't here and even if she was she would have called him Malfoy not by his first name.
"Draco," Her sweet voice called out to him again and this time he cursed under his breath. It was pleasurable and painful to hear that sweet voice echoing his name, as if it was it was giving it a lover's touch. She was here, he could fucking smell her now and she had no clue as to the effect that she had on him. He turned around slowly, almost as if it was physically painful for him and there she was, her soft brown curls flowing down her back, her caramel eyes fixed on his grey ones and he couldn't break the contact. He wanted her to know who he truly was instead of all the lies that Potter planted in her mind but he couldn't let her know, she could never know.
"What do you want mudblood?" He sneered. He wanted to apologize when he saw the hurt in her eyes but he couldn't; he had a role to play.
"I.. I just wanted to see if you were alright." She replied, worry and concern now recognizable in her caramel eyes. He groaned inwardly as he realized that her worry and concern was for him. I have a role to play, I have a role to play. The mantra repeated in his mind as the tidal wave of emotions started to boil inside of him.
"I don't need your concern Granger and it'd be wise for you to remember your place. Now go and run along to Potter and Wesalbee, I have things to do which do not concern you." He could feel the venom in his words and hated himself for it. She walked up to him then and he couldn't help but steal a quick look to her plush, kissable lips. He was losing his mind over a lot of things but he had lost his heart to her ever since the Yule ball. Fuck, she had to leave before he did something that he would regret.
It wasn't until she was an arm's length away that he recognized the anger in her eyes and it was a second later that his left check was stinging from her left handed slap. The pain was welcomed, it cleared his head and it forced the emotions back down but it still fucking hurt knowing that it had come from her. He watched her walk away and then turned back to the mirror. He unloosened his tie and filled the sink with ice cold water. He allowed it to fill up completely before shoving his head into the water. It would help clear his mind and he needed to clear his mind if he was going to be able to do the impossible. Kill Dumble-fucking-dore. He wished he could drown himself, be over and done with it but he knew that if he did his mother would die as well at the hands of a monster and he couldn't have that. He'd go on if only for her, He'd go on.