Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or the Half-Blood Prince. This is meant to be the first chapter of the 7th (and final book), which I also do not own.

A/N: When I finished the 6th book sometime Sunday morning, I made a series of loud and exasperated noises that, had there been anyone besides me in my apartment, would have made them think I was as delightfully mad as the sadly deceased Dumbledore (which, of course, I am). I was very disappointed at JKs' lack of imagination at her romantic pairings (Harry and Ginny? Wow, didn't see that one coming note the sarcasm), and the abruptness in which Harry realizes he likes Ginny reminded me of a bad Draco/Hermione fan fiction (completely off the subject, "Suddenly and without warning I realize I love you" is a really good parody of D/H). However I was really pleased to see us finally get into Draco's character, which I have been waiting for for the last four books.

Summary: It's Harry Potter's seventh year as a wizard and his final encounter with Voldemort is drawing ever closer. His determination and will force him to trudge on, despite the death of those closest to him, but they turn his face away from what may be the only way to survive, a mistake that may be his last.

Spoiler Warning: This take place two-three weeks after the end of book 6, so there will be references to the Half-Blood Prince. So if you haven't read the book yet, please don't flame me. Thanks.

Chapter 1: A Last Plea

The rain fell from the sky in heavy torrents, drenching the skinny black-haired boy that stood underneath it, completely unprotected from nature's wrath. This boy- now a man, at 17 years of age- didn't seem to care that he was slowly drowning in a flood of rain. In fact, he seemed to be welcoming it- even being soaked to the skin was preferential to thinking about what he was doing in an overgrown field overlooked by the charred husk of what had once been a cheery and happy home. Better men then he would have avoided the subject at all costs, but Harry Potter was not other men. Harry had avoided the inevitable for long enough, and what better place to finally stop running from his destiny then Godrics Hollow, the one-time home of his parents, Lily and James Potter, and now, the site of their graves.

They had died for him, given their life to keep him safe. It seemed to be a habit of people close to him. First his parents, then Sirius, and now Dumbledore. He shed away from that line of thought- it was too new, too raw a wound- and thought instead about the Horcruxes. It was the only thing that kept him going- the cup, the snake, something of Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's. And the locket that had cost Dumbledore his life.

"For nothing." He said aloud, thinking of the false locket buried deep within his pocket.

"Everything does something, Potter." a voice drawled behind him. Harry whirled, heart beating furiously.

"You." He snarled furiously.

"Me." Draco Malfoy said, almost companionably.

"What do you want?" Harry said, reflexively reaching towards his pocket for a wand he knew wasn't there.

Draco sighed, head down and muttered something unintelligible.

"You'll have to speak up. That sounded a bit like 'nitwit oddment tweak', but I don't think even Dumbledore could have deciphered that." Harry said nastily, expecting something like a glow of triumph to come from the pale, pointed boy, or perhaps a variety of the smug smile he had so oft applied in Harry's direction. Instead, surprising, Harry thought, the both of them, Malfoy gave a barely perceptible wince and took a deep breath.

"I need your help." He said quietly, avoiding Harry's gaze.

"My help? My help!" Harry sputtered, "You want my help! Are you mad! You killed Dumbledore!" Harry was no longer sputtering, but bellowing.

"I didn't kill him, Snape did." Malfoy said quietly, but he didn't seem to be putting up much of a fight.

"You killed him the same as if it was you who put the wand to his head!"

Malfoy didn't answer, merely bowing him head. If Harry had been paying proper attention he would have realized that Draco, who everyone said was the very model of his father, had never looked less like Lucius Malfoy.

"And another thing! I- I mean you- you- well…" Malfoy's quiet submission had taken the steam out of Harry and he felt oddly deflated. "What do you want, anyhow?"

Malfoy looked up for the first time since the beginning of the conversation, and Harry noticed the blue-gray shadow beneath his eyes. It looked like he hadn't slept properly in weeks. "Dumbledore offered me- well he said that he would- that I could-"

"I know." Harry said. Malfoy's head jerked up in surprise. "I was there." He briefly considered lying, but something inside of him rebelled. "Dumbledore put me in a Full Body-Bind while I was underneath my invisibility cloak. I saw everything."

For the first time, Malfoy's eyes filled with what looked like hope. "So, um, will you? I mean, I know Dumbledore offered, and you aren't him and-" Malfoy broke off, seeing Harry slowly shaking his head. "Please." He whispered, dropping to his knees. "Help me."

"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do. And there's too much chance you'll end up like-" Harry said, feeling twinges of true regret and pity. He remembered Malfoy's face when he had seen him in the bathroom "No one can help me," he had said, shaking, "I can't do it…I can't…it won't work…and unless I do it soon…he says he'll kill me…" Malfoy's true voice shook him out of his reverie.

"Like Snape? I don't have to be a double agent- I can tell you when he meets with the Death Eaters- you don't have to tell me anything-" Malfoy's voice was desperate, begging, pleading, "Please help me. Merlin, I don't want to die…"

"What do you mean, 'die'? I'm not going to kill you-"

"He will- he will-he'll kill us all- and I can't do it- I won't do it- help me- you're my only hope-" Malfoy was babbling now, past desperate.

"No, Malfoy. Go back to your Death Eaters and leave me in peace." Malfoy's eyes lowered, and, walking away, defeated at last, he melded into the shadows, leaving the man alone with his thoughts.