He ran.
He ran like the wind through the twisting corridors, his feet leading his body. He travelled with purpose; however he had no idea where he was going, all he knew was to get away. He needed a place, a place where he could be alone.
Draco finally saw his destination, the door swung open as he flew into the bathroom, water splashing his legs as he ran across the wet floor, the cold air hitting him like a thousand knives. Panting and sweating, Draco clenched the sides of the sink, tears streaming down his face. He ran the tap, cupping his hands splashing water onto his face. The young boy looked up to see his reflection in the frosted mirror, his blonde hair was un-kept; he had bags under his eyes with lack of sleep, his face pale and sickly. Suddenly he started sobbing, tears pouring out of him as he choked out the wines of self-pity. Thoughts and memories whizzed into his brain; his father was in prison for doing the job he now had to do, he had been chosen but how could he do such a thing? He had no real friends, no one liked him, not really, he longed to be loved like so many others but he had to accept it wasn't possible. "Why me?" he asked himself, scrunching up his face with anger, punching the mirror. Glass shards pierced his skin but stayed motionless, as if he could no longer feel pain. He had such a strong weight on his shoulders, how could a mere boy of sixteen intentionally kill his own headmaster? He saw images now in his head: of Dumbledore falling, the daily prophet report, everyone mourning the great loss. He couldn't do it, how could he? Draco fell to the floor, his head in his hands.
A figure appeared at the doorway, watching the boy sitting in the pool of water, he daren't go closer, but couldn't walk away. All Draco wanted to do was make his father happy, and that meant doing what the Dark Lord wanted, whatever the cost: "If I don't do it he will kill me." He coughed out through muffled sobs, he didn't know who he was talking to; he could not see the shadow that edged towards him as he cradled himself. Voldemort had given him other tasks, everyone hated him because of what he did to Katie, but they didn't understand, "No one understands" he shouted aloud.
"Enlighten me, Malfoy." Sneered the familiar voice, Draco turned his head to see Harry Potter's face staring into his own. Standing up, he pointed his wand at the boy; Harry blocked the jinx and flew one back, it missed only by a centimetre or two. A flood of hatred suddenly filled Draco,
"You know nothing Potter!" He spat out, Harry had always hated him, Malfoy knew not why, he had wanted to be friends, well, when they had first met, but now they were here, shouting curses and spells at eachother in the middle of the boy's bathroom. Harry seemed to enjoy watching Draco suffer, being unhappy and frightened, Malfoy was just the same as this boy, but Harry did not see it that way. Another jet bright light shone from his opponent's wand, he turned his body to hide behind a cubicle, narrowly missing the spell, he pushed his neck from behind the wooden frame, taking a good look at his attacker, "Petrificus Totalus" the words slipped off the tongue as he pointed his wand at Harry. Both boys dropped to their hands and knees, either side of the cubicles, looking through the gap to see one another. Draco shot another jinx, but Harry moved quickly, the spell hit a mirror, shattering glass on every available space. They stood up in the attempt to find eachother. The veins in Draco's neck stood out as his heart pumped faster with the adrenaline, but he didn't enjoy it, this was not the type of duel he found fun, he needed to get away, but Harry had other ideas, "Sectumsempra" he bellowed.
Draco was immediately shot backwards; he lay on the floor once more in a pool of his own blood. Blood spurted from his chest like a fountain as if he had been slashed with a sword. Harry moved closer to the limp body, all he could hear was the strained cries pouring out of Draco, all he could feel was the bitter cold on his tight skin, his heart locked as he stared down at the near Scarlett figure.
He ran.