Draco Malfoy was a coward.
At age seven, he heard the word coward for the first time. Yelled at him across Diagon Ally by a man he had never seen before, towering above him in an auror's robes. I'm shocked to see you out of your mansion, Lucius. Finally got up the courage to crawl out now that we've put away Rodolphus? Now that you don't have to worry about one of your Lord's followers slipping you a quick avada kedavra while you shop for your luxuries? You're a coward, Malfoy. You and your whole stinking family. And Draco's father had stood there in the street, his stiffening upper lip the only sign of his increasing ire. What more could he do while still under such suspicion from the Ministry? Insulting one of its employees was not the wise course of action.
His father did not argue, because the auror was right. Draco could see it in the clenching of Lucius's hand on his cane. He never let false accusations affect him like this.
Draco Malfoy was a coward.
He was ten when he learned that cowardice could sometimes push a person to actions that would appear courageous.
It was a few months before his eleventh birthday. A few months before Hogwarts. His father had purchased him a broom, despite the fact that Draco was deathly afraid of heights. Draco stood with his father in the garden at the back of the mansion, his fingers strained white as they clenched the glossy, new wood handle. His face was a mild green color. Draco, you must learn to do this. The Malfoys cannot afford to show any sort of weakness. Not so soon after the downfall of the Dark Lord. And Draco had fought off tears. I can't. I can't. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'msorrysorrysorry. Lucius had stared down at his heir and raised one eyebrow. Slowly, his eyes shuttered and closed off. His lips were bleached of color as they pressed together in disapproval. And somehow Draco found the courage to mount the broom and lift off, just the way he had been told to. The ground sped away and his stomach made a desperate climb up into his throat, but he kept going. Fear of his father's disappointment would overcome any other worry.
Draco Malfoy was a coward.
That was why he was in Slytherin. There was no option. Malfoys belonged in Slytherin. So it did not matter that he was actually quite clever and that, when put to the test, he could be hard working. Malfoys were cowards, and Draco feared letting his family down more than anything else. He was so resolved that the Hat barely touched his head before it shouted out SLYTHERIN and he had not failed his father.
What did it matter that Draco had considered being friends with a few of the people he met on the train? They were not in his house and he would not shame his parents by befriending a Gryffindor. A glance at the staff table showed a small smile on Severus's face, and that contained everything Draco needed to know. He had done well.
Draco Malfoy was a coward.
And when Potter tumbled to the grass of what used to be the Quidditch pitch clutching a dead body and shouting that the Dark Lord had returned, Draco felt his heart skip a beat. This was everything that Lucius had warned him about. Everything Lucius had prepared him for. The Dark Lord was back and it was time for Draco to show his loyalty to his family. That very night, his father regaled him with the story of what happened in the graveyard. Draco clenched his fists in his lap to stop them shaking and smiled a cruel little smile when his father described Harry Potter's torture in detail.
He was going up to bed, leaving his father to his nightly tradition of a glass of firewhisky when he was called back. The left sleeve of Lucius's robe was pulled back, baring the inflamed skin, festering around a tattoo dark as pitch that had suddenly returned after a long absence. The Dark Mark is only given to those who swear their life to the Dark Lord, Draco. It is my wish that you should take it soon. These upcoming years will be turbulent, but you must trust me. You must not falter. Any question of loyalty is punishable by death. And Draco stared down at the bright red skin and felt an echo of injury-fever on his own arm. Yes, his palms were slick with sweat and yes, there was a dark haze spreading across his vision, but that did not matter. His father had expressed his expectations. And Draco would meet them.
Draco Malfoy was a coward.
And when he stood before the Dark Lord for the first time, it took everything he had to not allow it to show on his features. Yes, he could feel the snake-featured man sifting though his head, but there were others to impress. All around him were black-cloaked figures. People he had grown up knowing but now could not recognize. Soon, he too would be shrouded in a skull-like mask that would hide his fear from the world.
A sharp pain lanced through Draco as the Dark Lord traced his wand, almost lovingly, along Draco's left forearm. At the same time, the man was in his head. Planting ideas in his mind that were so artfully crafted they felt like his own. Without needing words, Draco understood what his mission this year would be. He also knew that it was impossible, but he would do it anyway. Because if he didn't, his family, already cast into shame, would be wiped off the earth. He was his family's last chance, and he felt that weight settle onto his cowardly shoulders. It was up to him alone to show the Dark Lord that it was worth the effort to free Lucius from Azkaban.
The pain in Draco's arm reached a climax almost rivaling the Cruciatus Curse, but Draco did not move or make a sound. He used the pain to fuel his fear for his father. He would need all the help he could get.
Draco Malfoy was a coward.
But it wasn't until this year that he truly understood what that meant. He was afraid for his father. He was afraid for himself and his mother. He was afraid for Dumbledore. He was afraid to get caught and to fail and to appear weak and to eat and to sleep. He knew that he was running himself ragged, but there was no time to think on that, because there was too much resting on his shoulders. Too much pressure and too much potential for failure.
So it really was quite peaceful to be lying here, on the floor of a slowly flooding girl's restroom, tinting the water a light pink color. Would his blood flow into the lake and stay there forever? A lasting legacy for a Malfoy who had committed the highest offence. Failing his family. And yet, Draco Malfoy, the coward, could not draw up a fear of death. Surely nothing could be worse than what he was going through in life. Surely someone up there would see the reasoning behind what he had done in life and, if nothing else, they would grant him peace after death.
Draco Malfoy was a coward.
And standing on the top of the Astronomy Tower, he wondered if it was obvious. He was not here because he was brave enough to attempt to kill Dumbledore. He was here because he was petrified to his very soul, and he had learned at a young age that cowardice could force him to do courageous things. Like killing a man who had never done him wrong. The first person he would ever kill. The first person he would ever even see die. He stared down the length of his wand at the man pleading to be spared and felt fear for his family well up in his chest. You don't know what I'm capable of; you don't know what I've done! They felt like the first true words he said this year. Like a gasp of truth to hold on to for what would come next. What had to come next.
And Dumbledore was going on about mercy and safety but Draco knew that it was too late for him. He was too much of a coward to take that leap of faith. His duty to his family came first. I haven't got any options! I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family! And that was what mattered. More than anything else, Draco needed to keep his family safe. So he allowed his fear to overcome him and fill him with resolve. This was the only way to end this. This was the path out that the fear had provided. Settled onto a path of action, Draco relaxed and prepared to utter the two words that scared him, but not more than the death of his father.
And then Snape was there and Draco was pushed to the side. He had failed his mission and his family's life was forfeit. It was up to the Dark Lord now. If Draco had done enough by providing the Death Eaters with the means to kill Dumbledore. His body moving on automatic, Draco followed his godfather and his aunt out of the castle.
The fear inside of the cowardly teenager was raging. Everyone around him had thought that his relaxing meant that he was giving up. That he wouldn't be able to kill the old coot that was standing between his family and safety. But they had all been wrong.
Draco Malfoy was a coward, and he could have done it.
AN: So, this was my first one shot and my first Harry Potter fanfic. Please let me know what you thought of it! As you know, I don't own the Harry Potter books, though I would give anything for it to be otherwise.