Prologue

"Sectumsempra!"

The last thing he remembered was Harry Potters face as he realized what he had done. Horrified by the blood that soaked every fiber in his shirt, Dracos eye's rolled shut. Just before blacking out he forced them open once more, through flickering spots and shuddering eyelashes he could faintly make out professor Snape just above him. Never had he felt something so terrible in all his life, pain like this was too unreal, weak hands clutched and pulled at his shirt. A horrible cry pushed through his wet throat, the taste of copper on his tongue make him sick to his stomach. Whispers above him and cradled arms melded together and no longer could he make out what was real and what was a delusion.

When next he woke Draco was alone. The curtains around his bed in what had to be the school's infirmary were drawn. Time was lost to him, he had little idea how many days it had been. All he knew was his throat burned; he needed water. The blond rolled onto his side and reached for his glass, a sharp pain shot from his chest and he flinched, knocking the glass to the stone floor where it shattered. Something wasn't right about this, he should have healed already. Shaky fingers pulled up the thin fabric of his infirmary gown to reveal a horrible series of raw scars across his once perfect flesh. A weak noise, most likely a groan escaped his lips and he released the gown and sunk back into his mattress. What he could recall of the spell was its foreign nature. Draco, even with having dealt with dark wizards had not heard that incantation. He would have questioned it further had he not been swept up in the waves of exhaustion that now plagued him. The last thought in his head before he surrendered to sleep once more was that Potter would pay for what he had done.

One month. He had counted the days numerously. The plan was going swimmingly, the cabinet was almost functional enough to transport a wizard. Each time he worked on it the closer it came to the day. If it were not for the Dark Lord he would have considered sabotaging it. It wasn't that the plan went against his morals, Draco had little problem with the thought of killing Dumbledore, it was more the common knowledge that the Dark Lord was hardly satisfied and this job was only given to him out of spite for his fathers failure. Malfoy's weren't stupid. Draco was sure his mother saw it just as plainly as he, and for that reason he loathed what was put before him.

Options were slim. Either he did what he was told. Bring the Deatheaters to Hogwarts and Dispose of Dumbledore, or the alternative. A plan so weak that he was almost sure it wouldn't play to his advantage even when he began to enact it. There he was, eye to eye with the portrait of the fat lady. It was rumored to be the Gryffindor portal, and if it wasn't taking him a great deal of contemplation he would have been able to man it up enough to knock and find out.

His pride ached from such betrayal. Not in a million year would he ever thought he'd go crawling to Potter. It was so very absurd he had half a mind to turn tale and continue as told. It was then his pride fought back and told him if he didn't go through with this there was a very likely possibility he'd be dead in a few years time and he just couldn't let that happen, now could he?

His knuckles nearly scathed the paintings face when he heard a familiar voice just behind him.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

With a scowl he was sure Harry expected Draco replied, "ah, Potter. Just the insufferable git I came to see. May I speak with you in private?"

As usual Ronald Weasley was glued at the hip to Harry. No matter the hour it was deemed impossible to find one without the other.

"Get stuffed Malfoy." Ron spoke through a mouthful of junk food. Draco couldn't help but cringe.

"No. Thanks, seems you're already doing it and I wouldn't want to copy a Weasley. I have a reputation to hold up. That's something you would know nothing about. Now-if-you-don't-mind Harry, I'd like to have a word with you."

Begrudgingly Harry nodded, "catch you later, Ron."

Harry seemed even more amused then Ron had been. Draco couldn't blame them. He liked neither of them, and it was only expected they would feel the same. Pleasantries were something Draco was unfamiliar with, so starting this conversation in a way that would capture Harry's interest without pissing him off proved rather difficult.

"Look, Potter, You owe me."

Not off to a bad start, in Draco's opinion.

"Owe you?" Harry laughed. It was hard for the boy who lived to grasp the concept that he owed one of the most horrible he had ever met anything.

Draco paced, arms crossed. When Harry finished laughing he turned to face him and in all seriousness mentioned a single phrase – no – single phrase, " sectumsempra."

Whatever humored expression Harry had worn before was gone now with no trace.

"Get on with it, What do you want Malfoy?"

Draco lifted his piercing gaze to meet Harry's. His lips were drawn tight and his arms tightened their hold.

"I need your help. Severely. I have no where to turn and as much as I'd hate to admit it you're all I've got."

Harry motioned for him to continue.

" I have been initiated into the Deatheaters," Harry gave him a look that plainly read as he expected no different, " well, I'm going to be. But I have been given a task to complete first."

Draco looked around himself and deemed the empty hall as too risky to divulge such information publicly. With out remorse he roughly latched onto Harry's arm and pulled him into what seemed a rather useless nook. Under his breath he spoke, "I have to kill Dumbledore."

Out of instinct Harry shoved Draco roughly. Finding himself grabbing at Harry's arm for balance Draco blurted, "Now wait a minute. I didn't say I was going to do it." The look in Harry's eyes made Draco feel that what he done was a mistake and soon he'd be rotting in a cell beside his father before he could blink. Harry settled and the blond felt it the opportunity to continue.

" Like I mentioned, I don't want to do it. The Dark Lord hopes – and I know he does – that I will fail. He wishes to punish my father for what happened at the Ministry, and he supposes that by taking his only son and only blood heir he will succeed. I don't want to die, and I don't want to kill in the Dark Lord's name, and you, Harry Potter, happen to be the only wizard I know capable of getting me out of this."

"And what do you expect me to do?"

Draco was getting flustered. It took a lot to make him lose composure, it seemed the risk of telling such a secret to Harry Potter was enough. "I don't know! Tell Dumbledore, tell anyone! Find me a place to go so I don't have to return to them. If I don't do what I was told I will die, just incase you didn't get that through your thick skull."

"How can I even trust you?" Harry approached Draco, brows furrowed and lips drawn tight. It was a side of the boy who lived that not many saw. If it weren't for the severity of the moment the Slytherin might've found it impressive.

"How do I know this isn't apart of your ploy? What if Voldemort sent you to tell me this so that you could get in, so you could be his little spy?"

" Ha!" Draco laughed in Harry's face. "If this had of been the Dark Lords plan do you think this would be the story I'm telling you now? It would not be something as plausible – as real – as killing Dumbledore. It's common knowledge the Dark Lord wishes him dead. The plan to kill him would be one so secret and so well worked that it could not be spoiled. He thinks he has me in a vice. He knows I have no where to run, no where my pride would let me run. This plan in his eyes is fool proof. It couldn't be false. And above all else, why would he ever think that I would be able to get into your group? If he wanted a spy he would have chosen someone who had an easy in. Someone acceptable. Not Draco Malfoy, the Dark Lords joke."

It wasn't what Draco had said that made Harry believe him then, it was the look in his eyes, normally they were so cold and indifferent, but now they were begging. Harry saw the fear, the desperation. It looked as though Draco Malfoy was about to break, and Harry knew then something had to be done. The threat was real. He watched the breathless boy try to compose himself as he mustered a coherent response.

"All right, okay. I believe you." It was earnest. The boy who lived, the savior of wizards and witches alike was now metaphorically lending a helping hand. It was instinct to push it away but Draco knew he must accept it.

" Good." It wasn't the most thankful response, but again the look in Draco's crystalline hues betrayed him.

Authors Note: Trying out something a little more creative this time. R & R's appreciated!