Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor am I affiliated with it in any way.

Summary: After failing to kill Dumbledore and narrowly escaping Hogwarts grounds that fateful night, Draco Malfoy must make a decision. Some say the good die young, but is being evil really what it takes to live?

(the a/n is at the bottom)

This story begins somewhere near the end of Half-Blood Prince.

Chapter One

TODAY WAS THE DAY, and there was no escaping it. The only choice I had left was to swallow my pride and follow the orders I'd been given. I mean—all I had to do was kill Dumbledore right? Not that hard. I just needed to point my wand at him and shout 'Avada Kedavra!' and it'd be all over . . .

Hell. Who was I kidding? Who in the bloody right mind would be stupid enough to think that killing Dumbledore would be easy? Albus Dumbledore wasn't just some random bloke someone could simply swoop in and kill like he was a bug. One of the greatest wizards of all time, surely, wouldn't go down without a fight.

I'd gone through too much trouble to give up now, though. That Vanishing Cabinet took too much time and effort not to be put into good use. The Dark Lord probably wanted an audience to witness my success anyway . . . or maybe laugh at my blunder after watching it firsthand. No one could rule out the fact that I was more than just bloody scared—I was bloody petrified, so chickening out might be something I'd do, but since I didn't have a choice . . . Merlin, this was killing me.

I groped the sides of the sink and glanced at my reflection in the mirror. I looked horrible. My hair was more than just tousled—it was a ruddy hippogriff's nest—and it was so bright, and platinum, it was pretty much just white. Did it always look like this? Dark circles stood out from under my eyes, and my lips were chapped and bleeding. All the color was gone from my face. I narrowed my eyes into slits as I tried to absorb this image. It wasn't easy. It was frightening seeing myself this way—white as a sheet, obviously lacking proper sleep and food, and pretty much a blatant cry for help. I might as well have spent a few, maybe ten years in Azkaban. That might have made this new look of mine work.

I wiped my eyes once more, getting rid off any sign of weakness, or evidence that I'd been having doubts about this whole . . . charade.

"This is ridiculous," I told myself; trying to find that commanding voice I always used to torment everyone. "Get a grip! You call yourself a Death Eater? Merlin, you call yourself a Malfoy? Pathetic," I insulted myself in an attempt to get that swagger I was famed for back. I needed to get angry. I had to. Anger is what gave me nerve. I needed nerve. Especially for what was in store for me.

"Prove them wrong, Draco. Prove to them that you aren't just all bark, and that you've got more bite in you than they've got in a strand of their hair," I said bitterly. I could feel the anger and resentment coursing through my veins. I could feel the negativity . . . the thirst for approval and accomplishment welling up inside of me. "The Dark Lord chose you, and not any of them for this task. You—are—bloody—brilliant!" I threw in some pep talk in there just for the hell of it, I mean; I also needed a confidence boost. It was a very iffy thing, what I was going through. This was not something a wizard my age would normally go through. It was the chance of a lifetime. A blessing.

Merlin. Could I really pull this off?

My mind was racing. Doubts were drowning my thoughts, consuming it with everything that could go wrong. All my initial doubts were resurfacing, along with new ones I had just come up with during the walk from the loo to the Great Hall. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, their gazes burning, making it feel as if they could see right into my soul. It was as if they all somehow knew my dirty little secret. I laughed to myself. Ridiculous. There was no way in hell. The possibility, however, still gnawed at me. I felt trapped inside my own body. My whole being felt like an alien locked inside a shell, dying to escape . . . dying to get out.

"There's no backing out now, Draco," I told myself. "You, and only you, were given this chance. A chance any other Death Eater would have killed for. Don't waste it."

I felt hostile. I shoved anyone who got in my way, and I told anyone, everyone, to shut up. I was not in the mood to deal with people right now. My eyes wandered until they met Snape's. I felt a shiver down my spine as he stared me down. I averted my gaze and thoughts started to fly in and out of my mind once more.

Everything, I thought to myself.

Everything. Every single event, every single word said, every single minute that passed by . . . they were all just leading up to one final event. They were all just waiting for that moment where I would be face-to-face with him, Dumbledore. My wand would be raised, my hands shaking, my target locked with nowhere else to go, and with no other choice but to accept the fate that was chosen for him.

I was surer, more than I'd ever been, that I was not ready for this—for any of this. It was all happening so fast . . . too fast. I felt like time was leaving me behind to run after it. Impossible as it sounds, that's what was happening.

"Draco."

The sound of Snape's drawling voice snapped me out of it.

"It's almost time," he said.

I nodded. I felt a ridiculous kind of fear wash over me. I saw myself as a newborn cub released into the wild before I could even open my eyes. The anxiety was driving me mad, causing my thoughts to become absolutely ludicrous. No. Ludicrous was an understatement.

My hand flew inside my pocket, gripping the polished piece of hawthorn I would soon have to use as a murder weapon. A little smile flickered on my face as I pictured the unicorn, the very one that was generous enough to lend my wand its hair for power, seeing its pure magic being used for such an evil purpose. How ironic is it that unicorns, beings of compassion and healing, would have its power used for destruction and malevolence? It was outrageous.

I gripped my wand tighter, closing my eyes and mouthing the words I would later have no choice but to utter, all my thoughts and emotions recklessly abandoned.

Avada Kedavra.

Avada Kedavra.

Avada fucking Kedavra.

REVIEW!

Now of course that was just a prologue and a little taste of the story, and I can assure you that the chapters to come will be a lot lengthier and filled with a lot more than this one. I actually got the idea for this story last year, but I didn't quite know how to write it out then. So I waited, read around a bit more, 'became another year wiser' (hahaha) and when I had felt inspired one particular afternoon, I finally decided to finish this chapter/prologue. My friend told me to go all out with the angst at the end, and so I followed. Hahaha.

This story is Draco-centric, and is basically what he had gone through after failing to kill Dumbledore up till the war. I remember when he reappeared in Deathly Hallows, described to look pretty deathly himself, I felt really sorry for him. And after having an epiphany regarding how "live" spelled backwards is "evil" and vice-versa, the plot for this story began to form in my mind. Most of the things I plan to write out are off my own imagination, but I do plan to weave it into what J.K. Rowling (the genius that she is) really wrote out. I basically want to fill in the gaps regarding Draco and what happened to him when he had disappeared.

I have most of it planned out, but most of them are tentative and still subject to change, so please review and tell me what you think. Your ideas and opinions are always welcome :)

Also, because I wanted to preserve the authenticity of the book within this story, I tried my best to use UK English, from the way the sentences are structured down to the spelling differences, but because I'm not really British, I'm bound to make mistakes and overlook a few of them no matter how many times I edit, so feel free to let me know if you've noticed any errors.

Sorry for the extremely long a/n. I just felt like putting an explanation. Hehe.

Sincerely - Schoe B. (: