I Wish I Could Have Told Him
Warning: This story contains angst...poor Draco.
Summary: Draco's thoughts leading up to him receiving the Dark Mark the summer before Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Slightly AU but follows cannon (with the exception of the H/D lovin lol)
A/N This is going to be a one-shot but I like to think that Harry and Draco do have a happy ending...I love the story 'A Love so Belated' By SlashPervert and I would like to think that's the kind of ending they get eventually. If anyone hasn't read that story then after you read mine, you can find that story on .(not that I'm saying my story is an opening for that one or anything...SlashPervert's story was just sort of an inspiration) So...on with the story! P.S. This is my first attempt at HP fiction of any kind so be gentle lol and please comment! If you don't like it, let me know what I need to work on. P.S. I don't have a beta so all mistakes are my own.
Disclamer: Everything Harry Potter comes from the wonderfully brilliant mind of J.K. Rowling. I'm just borrowing them for my own fun. So even though I don't own Draco (oh how I wish I did!! lol) or any of the HP verse I hope you enjoy the story anyway!
He woke up in a daze, lying on something very cold and uncomfortable. He opened his eyes and let them grow accustomed to the dimly lit room. "I wonder how long I was out? I wonder where I am?" He said to himself while stretching his arms over his head and rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes. He slowly sat up and realized he was sitting on a cot, a small, dirty, very uncomfortable cot. He knew why he was being kept here but he tried to remember the events that had led up to him being trapped in this place, but he couldn't remember anything after having a brandy with his father in Lucius' study the day after he returned home for summer hols. They had been chatting about Draco's grades and such. Draco pretending to be completely outraged that that mudblood Granger had managed to best him in his O.W.L. scores. In reality he didn't care that she had beaten him, it impressed him truth be told. She was exceptionally smart for a muggle-born Gryffindor even he had to admit. He must not have been paying as close attention as he should have been because it seemed Lucius must have slipped some sort of sleeping potion into his glass. Sneaky bastard! Damn him to the four corners of hell! Well it was Draco's own fault really, he knew better than to drink from a glass without performing a wandless scanning spell on it first. "Damn it Draco!" he thought angrily to himself, "You know better you moron!" Oh well, beating himself up over it wouldn't get him out of here now would it? He must have passed out and been put into this cell. Well it wasn't technically a cell per-se, but it definitely felt like a cell, a prison cell.
A small stone room with nothing in it but a sink with a faded grungy mirror hanging over it, a small dirty cot, and a toilet. "Wonderful accommodations, thanks old chaps! You've been far too kind!" he said, smirking to himself, pleased he could still be his snarky, sarcastic self even while trying to clear the potion induced fog from his mind. The entire room was lit by a torch on the wall by the door. It gave off very little light and made the room seem, somehow, even creepier in Draco's opinion. This was probably one of the rooms in the Manor dungeons, Draco realized. It was probably deep underground. It had no windows and only one large metal door, one exit, he couldn't get out even if he wanted to. Hell he wanted to, but he couldn't get out even if he tried. He knew there were probably several different locking charms on the door and the room itself was probably protected by anti-apparatian wards. Plus, he realized, he didn't have his wand. He also knew there would be someone guarding the door, there always was.
It seemed to be that way ever since he was a child, someone was always watching him. Waiting for him to try to escape or make a mistake. If it wasn't his father it would be someone else, McNair, One of the Carrows, Crabbe Sr., Goyle Sr., maybe even his dear auntie Bellatrix. He knew he was important enough to the Dark Lord that he could spare Bellatrix for the night if it meant he wasn't able to escape. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named knew his newest recruit needed to rest up tonight. The night of his initiation into the inner circle, the night when he would loose what was left of his soul forever, the night when he would loose any chance he ever had with Harry forever, the night he was becoming a Death Eater. A slave to the red-eyed snake like creature that everyone around him had seemed to worship his entire life.
He however couldn't fathom the reason that his father, the purest of pure-bloods, the strongest person he'd ever met or thought he had, until he met Harry of course, would bow down to such a disgusting, foul, loathsome, creature. It absolutely blew his mind. Malfoy's bow to no one! He wasn't becoming a Death-Eater by choice, as his father had done, oh no. Hell if he had his choice he'd he hidden off somewhere safe, preferably where ever Harry was, wrapped in Harry's strong Quidditch toned arms. Living the dream he had been dreaming since he was eleven years old.
The dream had changed over time, obviously, when he was eleven it was whispering secrets to each other that no one else was important enough to be privy to, running hand in hand to classes, giggling madly together over who knows what, mundane things only eleven year olds would find funny. But over the years his dream relationship with Harry became more, deeper, passionate. He couldn't fathom why. This ordinary green eyed boy, this messy haired, savior of the wizarding world, green eyed BOY! He had no idea how or why Harry had this sort of hold over him, but he did. He always had. Ever since Draco first layed eyes on him in the robe shop Harry was all he could think about. That's the reason he struck up a conversation with him in the first place, to impress him. He had no idea who he was and yet still, those peircing green eyes drew him in somehow. There was something about that frumpy, messy haired imp that urged Draco to talk to him, to become his friend. He knew Harry was someone who would be important to him, even then.
He made a spectacular mess of things of course. Acting very much the spoiled, arrogant, aristocratic Malfoy that he had been bred to be. Going on and on about himself, Gods but he was such a brat! Ranting about purebloods, Slytherin, and even insulting Hagrid. He didn't know how much the half-giant meant to Harry at the time of course. If he had, he would have kept his spoiled little mouth shut, but the past is past. Mistakes can't be unmade. What a glorious first impression he must have given Harry. No wonder Harry was so rude to him on the train that day. Draco didn't blame him, if he would have been in Harry's shoes he would have refused his hand too. No wonder he hated Draco so much. He'd never given Harry any reason to think he wasn't anything but his fathers son from day one. He let out a deep sigh. "By Gods what a fool." he said out loud quietly to himself.
How stupid he had been back then. How naive. Soaking up everything his father threw at him. Father could do no wrong in Draco's eyes. Father was perfect, smart, the greatest wizard he had ever known or would know. Ha! He knew better now of course. He had learned so much since then, so much had changed. Except for his love for Harry. That hadn't changed. It had only intensified, grew as they grew, changed as they themselves had changed. It had been innocent at first. Then over the next few years it changed, it became an almost burning desire. Kind of like a muggle heroin addiction. He had to have Harry. Craved him. If not in the way he really wanted him then he would get him any way he could. So he picked fights, threw insults, punched, hexed, anything to have Harry's focus on him. To have those eyes burning into him like a green flame. He hated the look of hatred in those eyes whenever they did happen to look his way, but it was better than being not looked at at all.
Merlin, it wasn't like they could actually be friends anyway, let alone lovers. He knew the way things were. He was a pure-blood, a Death-Eater in training, a Slytherin. He was the Malfoy heir, destined to marry some pure-blooded ninny and have lots of little Malfoys to carry on the line. Harry was a Gryffindor, the bloody boy-who lived, the epitome of Light. Plus Harry wasn't even inclined "that way." He knew all about his little romp with that Chang bint. Ughh but he bloody hated her! Things would never work between them and Draco knew it, but damn it it was his mind and he could fill it with what-ever Harry filled fantasies he wanted, thank you very much!
He knew falling in love with Harry wasn't the smartest thing he had ever done. In fact, It was probably THE stupidest thing he had ever done. "I mean come on Draco!" he would think to himself, "The bloody boy-who-lived! This is the stupidest thing you could have ever done in your entire life Draco! Stupid, Stupid Stupid!" He would repeat internally over and over to himself, sometimes wanting to bang his head up against the wall just to see if it would rattle his brain long enough to let the thought actually sink in (not that he would ever actually do it of course! It might muss his hair and scratch up his face and that would never do!). "You don't need him Draco. You're too good for him He's just some raggedy Gyffindor fool anyway." He would repeat this to himself anytime he caught himself getting lost in fantasies of "what if", which was pretty much constantly. Oh it hurt to think about "what if." The Cruciatus had nothing on this. But telling himself these things lessened the pain. It never made it go away, but it lessened it so he could go back to being his usual stuck-up, unfeeling self. Ever the dutiful Malfoy.
After a few years he became almost numb to the constant ache in his heart. He knew it was there, like his love for Harry it would always be there, but it became easier to deal with. And after tonight there would definitely be no hope. If he thought Harry had hated him before, just wait until he found out Draco had the Dark-Mark. After tonight any chance he ever had would be gone. Lost forever, replaced with a lifetime of servitude to a monster and a hideous tattoo. It wasn't like he wanted to become a Death-Eater but he had no choice. He hated Voldemort. Hated the thought of killing anyone. Of bowing to anyone. He had nothing against muggle-borns or half-bloods. If the pure-bloods were all there were everyone would be marrying their cousin! But he wasn't allowed to think that way, so he stayed silent. Vomiting up his fathers words about pure-blood perfection and mudblood filth. Now it wasn't like if given a choice he would run to old Dumbledork either. He didn't trust that old man enough to put his safety in his hands, plus after this coming year the old man couldn't help him anyway. But he could have gone to Harry. Any side with Harry on it was ok with Draco.
But unfortunately for him he didn't have a choice. They would kill him if he didn't take the mark. They would kill his mother if he didn't take the mark. Voldemort himself had told him that. He remembered the night vividly, like he was watching it in a penseive. Every word forever burned into his brain. His father had set a house elf to tell Draco to come his study to talk one evening during Christmas hols. This was a normal occurence, the both of them, sitting in Lucius' study sipping brandy, and talking about school and politics and such. Draco hated pretending like he was actually interested in anything his father had to say, but it was play along or die so he chose to play along. He happened to like living very much and wanted to continue to do so for as long as possible. He told the elf to tell his father he would be there right away and started to make his way from his room to his father's study. The request didn't seem out of the ordinary so he saw no reason to worry, until he walked in the door. There, in front of his eyes, was Voldemot himself.
"Come in Draco. Have a seat." he told him in a harsh snake like hiss of a voice. At first Draco was too frightened to move, then he saw his father standing to his left, Lucius gave him a slight nod and that was all it took for Draco to regain his senses.
Draco walked over to one of the high backed wing chairs that sat in front of Lucius' desk and sat down. The Dark Lord walked slowly around the desk and stood in front of Draco. His blood-red eyes seemed to bore straight into his soul. He tried to empty his mind of everything Harry related and put up his occlumency sheilds into place like his godfather, Severus, had taught him just in case. He still felt exposed.
"Now Draco" He said. "I haven't the time or need to explain my reasons for this but I need you to do something for me, a mission of sorts, beginning your sixth year"
Draco took a deep breath and replied, "Of course My Lord. Whatever you wish I will gladly do." Wow he actually managed to keep his voice steady.
Voldemort smiled slightly and turned to look at Lucius. "You were right Lucius, he seems like the perfect choice for this task." Draco never turned his head from the Dark Lord's direction so he couldn't see his fathers face, but he suspected it was full of pride. Disgusting.
"Yes My Lord, I knew Draco would be fit for the job. He is my son and a Malfoy after all." Lucius' voice was full of pride and confidence in his sons willingness to please their Lord. It made Draco queasy.
Voldemort turned his stare back to Draco, "Alright Draco, I have pride in your fathers decision and I shall now tell you what it is you must do. You are a Slytherin and therefore cunning enough to plan it yourself so I will not do into detail. The task is simply this, kill Albus Dumbledore and find a way to get my Death Eaters into Hogwarts."
Draco felt his entire body freeze. Kill Dumbledore! Oh Gods! Kill Dumbledore! How could he do it? He couldn't, there was no way. What was he going to do? All these thoughts were racing about in his brain but he somehow still managed to reply, "Yes My Lord, If you want it done, then it shall be done." What in the hell was he going to do?
"Wonderful." The Dark Lord replied. "You have until the end of the year. I don't have to tell you what will happen to you if you fail, or what would happen to your beautiful mother." Draco's heart stopped. He would be killed, his poor mother would be killed. Oh no. The Dark Lord continued, "You will be marked during the summer, begin your plans as soon as possible." He turned to Lucius, "Good day Lucius, make sure your son does not fail." Then he dissapparated.
Draco was frantic. He tried not to let it show. His fathers voice interrupted his inner turmoil, "I know you will not fail in this Draco. You are a Malfoy and Malfoys do not fail. You may go to your room now to begin planning. Tell no one of this mission Draco. No one."
"Yes father. I will not fail you." Draco said stoically as he stood to leave. He turned to his father to see if maybe, just maybe, he would have some kind words to offer, some hope, but he was already absorbed in something on his desk so Draco knew that was the end of their conversation. Draco left the study and went to his room, where he promptly put locking and silencing spells on the door and then proceeded to lie face down on his bed and cry like he hadn't done since he was a baby.
That was one of the worst days Draco had ever had. He still got chills everytime he thought about the entire experience. Voldemort's words constantly rang in his ears, "Kill Albus Dumbledore." Gods! What was he going to do? He had to figure out something. He was very clever after all so maybe he could find some way to get the Death-Eaters into Hogwarts, make sure Harry would be safe from the attack, and keep anyone from finding out all at the same time. Oh yeah, he could do that, no problem. Yeah sure!! But still came the killing Dumbledore thing. There was no way he was going to be able to do it. Even if he actually hated Dubledore, he didn't think he could kill him. He wasn't sure he was capable of killing anyone. But it was do or die, and it wasn't just his life hanging in the balance. His poor sweet mother would be killed too and Lucius would probably be the one to do it.
Lucius had always been cruel to his mother. For as long as he could remember Lucius had never treated her with love or kindness. That was just one more thing that made Draco hate his father. Everyone thought Draco was a spoiled little brat and in truth, he was. But he wasn't spolied in the way they all pictured him to be. Loving Father, loving Mother, perfect home, showered with gifts every chance he got. No, that wasn't his life at all. Oh he did get what ever he wanted of course, but it came with a price. He had to work for what he got just like normal children did, maybe not in the ways others would have worked for things, true, but he had his own trials and tribulations to get through and they all centered around one, Lucius Malfoy.
His mother had tried to protect him from his father when he was younger. But the older Draco got the worse Lucius got and the less Narcissa was able to help. Draco knew what his father was capable of so he tried to keep his mother out of it. Tried to mask the pain and seem okay so she wouldn't worry or get angry and start a fight with Lucius. Lucius put her through enough already, she shouldn't have to endure any additional suffering on Draco's behalf. His mother had been the only one in Draco's life that he felt he could really talk to or trust. The only one that ever looked at him with real unconditional love. The only one who really loved him. The only person, besides Harry, who actually meant anything to him. He so wished she was here now. He needed some encouragement, some comfort. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself and it almost felt like her hugging him close. He could hear her whispering words of comfort in his ear right now, "Shhh my little Dragon" she would whisper, "Everything will be alright darling. Mother will keep you safe." No, he would do anything to keep her safe. He just couldn't let her die!
So he would try. He would actually try to find a way to kill Dumbledore. He had to do it, he would go through with this mission he was given for sixth year. His classmates would be going to school to learn, to better themselves. Readying themselves for exams, filled with excitement for their upcoming seventh year, just enjoying being young. But not Draco, no he would be spending sixth year planning. Creeping through dark corridors and loosing sleep with worry and anxiety, with no one to talk to. Hell, the only person who could possibly understand what he was about to go through would be Harry and there's no way he could go to him. Funny that, the only person who would actually understand is the person he could never speak to about it. Maybe he could talk to Severus. The man was his godfather after all and he wasn't nearly as cold as he would like others to think he was. Draco knew where Sev's true loyalties lied and maybe, just maybe, he could help him.
But talking to Severus may only help with one problem. He still had nothing to help with his feelings for Harry. Still nothing to make Draco's love for him any less intense. "By the Gods, I wish I could have just told him!" he said to himself in his head. "At least he would know how I felt, at least then I would know there was no chance. Instead of still holding out some hope of a "what if." Of a maybe." He thought this over and over while he layed there on his cold, hard cot as time ticked by. As he waited for the call for his life to end. He felt like he was waiting to be lead to the gallows. "Maybe if I wasn't such a fucking Slytherin coward." He thought. Yes, he knew Slytherins were cowards. But that's also why Slytherins almost always managed to live through everything. They were cowards yes, but they were also cunning and with that cunning came a strong sense of self preservation, or maybe that came with the cowardice he wasn't sure, but never the less he was proud to be a Slytherin. They didn't run foolishly into situations like Gryffindors. Slytherins ran from danger and planned revenge from a safe distance. They always put their own safety first. In Slytherin the most important life to you is your life. It's all about pride. He did sometimes wish he didn't have so much damned pride. His pride is what kept him from apologizing to Harry all those years ago. Slytherins don't apologize because Slytherins are never wrong. Ha! That was rubbish! He should have apologized, if not right then in front of all those witnesses then he could have talked to Harry in private later. Explained things, become his friend. He wished he had at least had the chance to be friends with Harry. To apologize for all the shit he had said to him and put him through. But he didn't even get that much, and he knew there would he no chance of apologizing, of even getting close to Harry after tonight. After he was marked.
No after tonight his life was finished. After receiving the mark his life would be nothing but lies and murder. Slavery and silence. And he would suffer alone. Surrounded by people he had known his entire life but had no real connection to at all. He had no one in Slytherin he could talk to, no one he could trust. They were all as eager to become Death-Eaters as Lucius thought he was. He had Blaise and Crabbe and Goyle, and of course Pansy (stupid bint would follow him anywhere) but they weren't really friends. More like cronies, followers, he was their king. He used to relish it when he was younger until he grew up and realized how idiotic and one-minded he really was. They didn't follow him becasue they liked him, they followed him because they feared him. Because of his name. His stupid, powerful name. His last name, Malfoy. Malfoy translated means bad faith. How appropriate.
He felt like a sheep in wolfs clothing. He wondered if he was the only one in his house who had doubts, who wanted to break free and not follow in their parents footsteps. He would have bet every galleon in the Malfoy vault (which was a lot!) that he was. So he went on pretending to be the King of Slytherin, the leader of the snake pit, the ultimate Slytherin, but in reality he hated them all. Hated everyone, except his mother and Harry. Hated himself. He wondered when they would be coming for him. He was anxious to get it over with. He wanted to have it over and done so it would be out of his mind and he could focus on getting though his mission and then, well then he would be finished. He would go on to fight in the war he supposed. Maybe he would be killed. Maybe it would be Harry himself that dealt the final blow. At least he could see him one last time, if that were the case. At least he would die with the vision of burning green eyes flowing through his mind.
He had no doubt Harry would win the war. Harry was strong, he may have lost a lot in his life but he was strong and the losses only fueled his rage against the Dark Lord. And with the weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders he knew Harry wouldn't let himself fail. Draco had that much faith in him. Draco knew without a doubt that Harry would defeat Voldemort and bring peace back into the wizarding world. Harry may not be the most powerful wizard on earth but there was something about him that just radiated to Draco, and he was sure everyone else, to not worry, I will save you. He may not know Harry as well as he wanted to (such an understatement!) but he knew enough to know who would come out victorious. That fact alone gave him peace. Even if he didn't survive this war, even if he did become a Death eater, even if Harry looked at him with nothing but disdain for the rest of his life, even if he ended up in a cell much like this one in Azkaban awaiting the dementors kiss, as long as Harry won the war, as long as Harry was alive Draco would be okay.
"Gods how long am I going to be in this fucking room!" Draco screamed.
He was getting restless now. He wished there was at least a window, some small window where he could see outside. To see life, to know that he was still amongst the living. He wondered if it was day or night. He got up from his cot and started pacing. He did a few circles around the room then stopped in front of the door. He banged his fist hard against the cold metal door. He wished it was bars. At least with bars you could see outside. See who was watching you. See some sign of life. He banged his fist again. Nothing. No sound from the outside. He continued his pacing. Looking at his hands, feeling sort of stupid for banging on the door. What did he think he was going to accomplish? And now his hand hurt like hell. Stupid door! He stopped pacing and stood in the middle of the room. He put his hands on his back and arched his spine hearing a few satisfying pops. Gods he felt old. He was only just 16 but he felt years older. Life can do that to you he guessed, at least his life had. He walked over to the mirror and looked at his reflection in its cracked, filthy surface. He could still see himself, white blonde hair falling into his face. It needed to be washed, it was dingy, mussed, lacked is usual shiny glow. Again it made him wonder how long he'd been in here. A thought suddenly crossed his mind and he found him smiling in spite of himself. "My hair looks almost as unkept as Harry's, almost." He thought. Immediately though the smile vanished. He looked older. His skin looked sallow, way more pale than normal. There were circles under his eyes, not quite purple yet but getting there. In spite of it all he was still gorgeous. That made his smile return. That was one thing he could always count on.
He ran some water over his hands in the sink and then splashed some onto his face. He wiped it away with the hem of his shirt. "Ahh that's better." he thought to himself. "Well not better, but not as bad."
He continued his slow pacing around the room. He hated waiting. He was a very impatient person by nature, after all growing up getting what you want, when you want will do that to you. He also hated not knowing where he was or when it was. He could guess, but he hated not knowing specifics. He was a creature of specifics. He had to have everything a certain way, a certain color, a certain style. Yeah he was anal.
"Ha" he couldn't help but laugh out loud at his own joke.
"Trust me to think filthy thoughts in a situation like this." He mumbled. Of course these sorts of thoughts could only lead to one person, you guessed it, Harry. His beautiful green eyed savior. Gods but how he wished Harry loved him.
"I wonder what you would be doing right now if we were lovers, would you come to my recsue" He said out loud to himself.
Of course he would. Ever the noble, courageous Gryffindor. He could see Harry, green eyes blazing, wand held high, running through the manor hexing Death Eaters left and right looking through every room, down every corridor until he found this room. He would burst through he door and yell "Draco there you are! I've been so frantic! I was so worried!" I love you!" and then they would embrace and kiss and ride off into the sunset. Blah, bah, blah, yeah right! Like that would ever happen. Still it was a nice fanasy.
How he wished there was some way he could escape this. He could always kill himself. There was a torch one the wall...no waaay to painful, and I would never want to ruin my perfectly good face. There was the mirror on the wall, he could break it and use a peice to slit his wrists. But knowing Lucius, if he was in the manor dungeons it would be shatterproof. "Damn it! Can't even kill myself properly!" He said. He was too much of a coward to do himself in anyway. Wanting to die and actually killing yourself are very different things. But at least then he woud never have to face Voldemort. Never have to be marked. Never have to do this stupid mission. Never have to see the real and utter revulsion and hatred in Harry's face when he found out Draco actually was a Death Eater. Even facing all these wonderful scenarios Draco knew he still wouldn't be able to actually kill himself. Coward.
He knew he would go through with it, he would be marked. He would hold his head high and stand proud. Ever the dutiful Malfoy. Bad Faith indeed. He would try his hardest to complete his mission. He would follow his father and the Dark Lord into the war and then, maybe, someone would kill him. These thoughts sickened him. Made him ill to his core. He sighed a loud sigh. It's echos reverberating off the cold stone walls around him. Damn but it was quiet. Too fucking quiet. Too much quiet gave him too much time to think, think about everything he wants but can't have, think about everything he has but doesn't want.
Suddenly he heard something outside his door. He ran over and put his ear to it. He could hear the shuffling of feet outside the door. The mumbling of voices. He heard a key enter the lock and he backed away quickly. Preparing himself for whoever happened to enter. The door opened slowly to reveal the unmistakeable figure of Lucius Malfoy. Draco felt his stomach drop. This was it.
"Ah hello Draco. Glad to see your awake and about." His father said in his "It seems like I care, but I really don't give a shit" voice. "I brought you a change of clothes and some grooming products so you can ready yourself for tonight."
It was then Draco noticed the items in Lucius hands. One of his best black dress shirts, his best black slacks. His dragonhide black boots. His best dress robe. A comb, hair gell, collogne, a toothbrush. "Ah yes, can't have a Malfoy looking like he spent Gods knows how long in a cell, in the pressence of the Dark Lord can we father." Draco thought disdainfuly.
"Of course father. Thank you. I'll change and be ready in a moment." Draco replied as he took the iems from Lucius' hands. Here it comes, the begining of the end.
"Wondeful. Knock on the door when you are ready then we will make our way to the ball room." Lucius said as he turned and exited, closing the door behind him. Draco heard it lock again.
"Well I may not have a way to get out of this but I can make you wait, you bastard." Draco said to himself under his breath.
Draco layed his clothes on the bed and took his grooming supplies to the sink. "Of course we would be having my initiation in the ball room, this is a big event. A reason to celebrate." Draco said sarcastically.
For him it was anything but a reason to celerate. He felt as if he was dying inside. As if every cell in his body that made him who he was, was dying. He was about to become one of them. A slave to that "thing." A souless follower. He was terrified. But he couldn't let it show. He took deep breaths and slowly got himself presentable. It took probably about fourty-five minutes. He wanted to draw it out further but he knew his father was probably already angry with him for taking this long. He took one last look at himself in the mirror. One last look at Draco, the free man. He walked over to the door and took a deep breath. He let it out slowly.
He took the few seconds he had to think about Harry. His bright eyes, his messy hair that begged for Draco's fingers in it, that beautiful smile, the way he looked playing Quidditch, laughing with his friends in the great hall. Draco let himself imagine Harry looking at him with love shining in those green eyes. He imagined him running his fingers through Draco's hair, then putting his hands on each side of his face and looking into his eyes. He could hear Harry saying "Everything will be fine love. I promise. I'll always watch over you. I love you." Then smiling and leaning in to give him a bone melting kiss. "Oh Harry." Draco sighed. "I will always love you. Know that this was not my choice. I'm so very sorry." He said to the air, wishing with every ounce of magic he had that Harry, where ever he was, could hear it and feel the truth of it.
He liftted his hand and knocked on the door. He heard it unlock and open. Lucius was there "Ah, son finally. You look presentable. Lets go shall we." He said and then turned and begain walking.
"Yes Father." Draco replied stoically and begain to follow after him, head held high, shoudlers back. Leaving behind himself, leaving behind Harry, leaving behind his soul. He was on his way. On his way to become a Death Eater. On his way to the end.