Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything.

Lord Voldemort walked slowly and purposefully towards Draco, his cloak swishing around his ankles. The row of Death Eaters gathered in the dim, dusty hall seemed to shrink away from him as they would shrink from a particularly nasty and frightful insect. The wizard's long, white fingers that so reminded Draco of spiders fingered his wand as though itching to use it on him.

Draco felt sweat beading on his upper lip. He shot a desperate look at his father, who nodded at him, his expression unreadable. Voldemort slowly approached, a cruel smile forming at the corners of his lips. His fingers crept into his pocket for his wand, but when he realized what he was doing, he hastily withdrew his hand. He didn't really think he could win in a duel against the Dark Lord, did he?

Voldemort was getting closer now. Draco could see the red eyes, merciless slits in the pale face. Somebody stop him, Draco willed the Death Eaters silently. Somebody…anybody…

Nobody moved. The faces of the rest of the Death Eaters were so expressionless, they might as well be masked. Voldemort's footsteps echoed on the hard floor.

Draco had known something like this was going to happen ever since he'd failed to kill Dumbledore that fateful day on the Astronomy Tower. He just couldn't do it. But Draco wasn't weak. No. Draco was strong. Draco was the hero. He had made it possible for the Death Eaters to get into Hogwarts through the Vanishing Cabinet. He had made the whole thing come together. He had spent all his time and energy fixing the Cabinet. He deserved the credit.

Then Snape had butted in. Snape had killed Dumbledore himself. Draco resented Snape. Snape, who was always sucking up to Voldemort. Snape, who was always in the way.

Voldemort was a pace away from him now. Draco gulped. The walls seemed to be closing in on him.

Mmphmmwwww!

Voldemort stopped walking.

Draco looked around, half-grateful, half-confused. He hadn't made the sound unconsciously…had he?

Mmmmpppphhhhhwwwwwwww!

There it was, again, more urgent this time. Voldemort slowly turned around, looking for the whimperer. His eyes flashed maliciously.

"Who said that?" His voice was dangerously soft.

The Death Eaters each held their breath. Voldemort strolled down the hall, staring at everyone with those slits he called his eyes. Draco was flooded with temporary relief. At least he wasn't the one being dissected by Voldemort…at the moment.

Voldemort glared at each person for several more minutes. After a moment, he pointed his wand at the nearest Death Eater, a man with a long, pale, and twisted face whom Draco recognized as Dolohov, and flicked it lazily.

There was a flash of blinding red light, and Dolohov fell to the ground, rolling and twitching in agony. Voldemort smiled idly, enjoying the other man's pain.

"Was it you?" Voldemort asked, flicking the wand repeatedly. When Dolohov only groaned, Voldemort kicked him.

Mmmmmphhhhwwwww!

Dolohov couldn't have made the sound. He was still moaning in pain. Voldemort flicked his wand again, and Dolohov straightened up, drenched in cold sweat and panting.

Voldemort paced the row of Death Eaters again, his walk slow and menacing. "Shall we try the Cruciatus Curse on everyone? That may get us some answers, won't it?" he said to no one in particular.

Admit it, someone, Draco thought. Maybe he'll forget about punishing me.

"No one?" asked Voldemort. "I'll deal with you when I'm finished with the boy, then."

He turned with a swish of his cloak to Draco. There was no escaping it; he was going to die. Draco wondered if it would hurt.

"Draco, Draco, Draco," said Voldemort slowly. You're just like your father. A coward. Like father, like son, no?"

Draco didn't trust himself to speak. His heart pounded loudly in his ears.

Then, just at the right moment, it came.

"M-my Lord?"

Voldemort whirled around. "Who dares to interrupt me?"

"M-my Lord…" It was Yaxley, a respected Death Eater with a brutal face. "M-may I…I…"

"Spit it out," Voldemort demanded, his scarlet eyes narrowing.

"M-my Lord…I have to…"

Draco had never seen Yaxley like this before. Sweat dripped from his nose, and he was squirming uncomfortably.

"SPIT IT OUT!" roared Voldemort. A spider fell from the ceiling.

Yaxley crossed his legs and performed a peculiar dance involving excessive squirming and jumping up and down. "M-my Lord…can I use the…restroom?"

"NO!" thundered Voldemort, and turned back to Draco, who flinched. Now he would die.

"So," continued Voldemort. "You managed to disarm Dumbledore and corner him in the Astronomy Tower. But then—"

Mmmmmmmph!

Voldemort spun around again. "What?"

Yaxley's dancing was even more vigorous than before. He jumped up and down, tripping over his own feet. "My Lord!"

"What?"

"May I use the restroom?"

"NO!" Voldemort spun sharply around to face Draco again. "As I was saying…you managed to get my followers into the castle, corner Dumbledore, and disarm him. Why didn't you kill him, Draco?" Voldemort was speaking dangerously slowly now.

MMMMMMPHHHH!

Voldemort spun around. A vein pulsed visibly in his temple. "WHAT, YAXLEY?"

Had he not been in mortal danger, Draco might have laughed. Yaxley was doing an absurd potty dance now, crazily tangling his legs and waving his arms. A few Death Eaters suppressed laughter at the sight of the usually brutal man flailing about as a result of his apparently full bladder.

Voldemort's chalk-white face was contorted in rage. "Yaxley! Shut up!"

Yaxley whimpered. "Please! My Lord!"

"NO!" Voldemort yelled. "LORD VOLDEMORT FORBIDS YOU TO TAKE A PEE!"

Yaxley whimpered.

"Speaking of which…" Voldemort muttered under his breath. The Death Eaters turned their pale faces toward him, listening. He seemed to realize that everyone was waiting for him to finish his sentence and turned away, clearing his throat. "Never mind."

Go on the floor, Draco thought silently. He tried to push his thoughts into Yaxley's mind. Distract him. Please.

Voldemort turned back to Draco, seeming to calm down a bit. "So," he said. "You refused to kill your dear Professor Dumbledore. Could it be…are you considering going over to the other side?" He addressed Draco as he would a small child.

Draco tried to speak, but his tongue felt like sandpaper. He shook his head forcefully.

"Oh? Is that so? Then why, Draco, did you refuse to kill the potty?"

"The potty?" Draco repeated, confused.

"No! The headmaster! Stay on task, Malfoy! Why did you refuse to kill the headmaster?"

"Oh," said Draco, forgetting his panic for a moment. He could have sworn Voldemort had said "potty…"

"Why, Draco? Don't keep me waiting. The Dark Lord does not like to use the bathroom."

"Huh?" Was his mind playing tricks on him? "You don't like to use the bathroom?"

Was that his imagination, or was the skull-like face suddenly tinged with scarlet?

"No!" Voldemort screamed. "I said…I mean, I meant…I said, 'The Dark Lord does not like to wait!'"

"Oh." Draco furrowed his brow, more confused than ever now.

"Now," said Voldemort, "answer me or I will go to the bathroom!"

"What?" Draco asked.

"No! I said, 'answer me or I will kill you!'"

"Oh," said Draco. "Um…" Heat crept up to his face. He felt sick.

Suddenly, at the very last minute, Voldemort gave a start as if he had received an electric shock. His white face flushed pink, and he looked down at his robes.

"Igottagopottyyyyyy!" The Death Eaters heard him yell as he ran out the door. Yaxley followed him.

Draco ducked out the back door of the abandoned Muggle house that the Death Eaters had been using for the past few days.

Suddenly, Draco realized why he'd been so uncomfortable. It turned out it wasn't only because of fear.

He followed Voldemort and Yaxley outside in search for a bathroom.

Author's note: Please review!