A/N

Hi guys, had a sudden inspiration, so… Yeah. Enjoy!

Draco smirked from where he sat. "You wouldn't understand, Potter. You've never understood the pull of power." The boy standing a little way off snorted, emerald eyes becoming visible for a moment as he looked up before hiding them behind his dark, messy hair again. His wand was held loosely in his hand, and his clothes were torn.

"No, I've never understood the pull of Tom's power." He stepped closer. "But do you know why?"

Grey eyes gazed up at the man as he stood there, hardly moving, waiting. There was a sudden burst of movement as he started to pace, legs moving quickly in his anger. He turned on the spot to face the other, and spoke again.

"It's not yours. It has never been yours!" Legs began to move again, not that the man noticed, caught up as he was in his own thoughts. "Voldemort doesn't share! All you get for your service is a life of pain and fear!" His arms moved wildly, violently, his wand sparking as it picked up on the agitation of its wielder.

Draco's eyes clouded in confusion. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about? The Dark Lord will give us power over the rest of you pathetic fools. He'll lead us into a new age where the purebloods are where they should be: at the top!"

Potter looked at him in disdain. "Good to see you can spout the bullshit your father's been feeding you so well, Malfoy, but here's the thing. It's lies. Sure, Tom's started the wheels of reversing the miniscule progress that's been made. He's destroyed the monitoring system for muggleborns. Great. So now, what? You get a massive reduction in both students and funding for an already struggling school. Congratulations." Draco looked surprised. The possibility that the removal of the mudbloods might create issues hadn't even occurred to him.

"But back to you great purebloods!" He spoke the word as an insult, almost spitting it out of his mouth as he turned for another pace of the room. "You get to live in fear of an insane, immortal halfblood with a penchant for crucios!" He stopped and looked into Draco's eyes with emerald orbs piercing him. "Tell me, how is that better? So you had to deal with a few muggleborns doing well? How is a life of terror, pain and mistrust for not just you, but for your children, grandchildren, for the rest of the time until the madman's finally bumped off, better?!" He had turned to face Draco again, and the passion in his eyes, wide and staring, half covered by his untameable hair, struck him like a hand across his face.

'He's right.' A treacherous part of his mind whispered, but he shook his head, desperate for it not to be true. The Dark Lord would give them power!

"The only thing you'll get is a tiny little rush from the power the mask the gives you. The fear it causes. Not you. Even this will recede as time goes on. Leaving you with nothing to comfort you as you and your school friends torture and kill." Draco flinched away from the look of pity in the other man's eyes. "Is that what you really want?"

And with that, the man turned away again as if to resume pacing, only to disappear with a muted bang. Draco stared at the empty space, mind desperately trying to understand what had been said. One stand-out part was the casual way Potter had informed him of the Dark Lord's hypocrisy. Branded by a half-blood.

Draco only just managed to contain his revulsion as he was pulled into a hug by the Dark Lord. What did Potter call him? Tom. The Dark Lord Tom. Good Merlin.

One thing ran through his mind as he joined his parents; his father with mad, haunted eyes and his mother with her aura of cool disdain that she only dropped when along with him.

'Was this what you really wanted?'

Potter was moving. The half-breed carrying him hadn't noticed, but the idiot was still alive. He could tell the Dark Lord. He could make sure Potter stayed dead. But was that what he wanted? Did he want the madman to win? He wasn't so sure anymore. Oh, a year ago, he wouldn't hesitate. Even six months ago wouldn't see this indecision. But now…

Potter rolled out of the groundskeeper's hands, making his decision for him. The gasps of the other Death Eaters swept over him, and he felt his mother take his hand and turn. He didn't hesitate. He turned and left.

This wasn't what he wanted.