A/N: I love Draco Malfoy, especially in the sixth book! So I tried to write his perspective of one of the most powerful(in my opinion) chapters of HBP. It'll be two or possibly three chapters.
PIT-FIT (Praise in truth, flame in truth)! I despise being patronized or getting compliments just because "it's nice to say". If you hate it, TELL ME! This story is a feeler into the world of fanfiction, to see how readers like my style and to get used to authordom. At the same time, if you flame, tell me why- I dislike mudslinging as much as the next guy.
ennJOY! I think I'll actually let you read it now. ;-) tiger-SAMBA
Malfoy was smirking. He had been for the past ten minutes. Everything was going precisely as planned.. Everything in his mission- his mission. What a lovely sound the words made in his mind. Finally, a chance to be independent and prove his abilities- he had power to do things now. And all he had to do was wait for Harry Potter and the beloved headmaster to come back from their drink at Hogsmeade. Knowing Potter, he had not been contentedly sitting there drinking butterbeer, but rather off on some othe,r glorious mission against everything evil- with Dumbledore, of course. Suddenly Malfoy felt a few pangs of feelings he did not immediately recognize, and so turned his thoughts back to the outside world. He was almost at the end of the secret passageway he had been using to get to the rest of the Death Eaters, letting out by the Room of Requirement. Ah, how well that room had served him! He'd used it to plan everything that was to happen this very night. Disturbingly, he had often felt that someone was trying to get in, even though no one burst through the door. He strongly suspected Potter, who had used the room last year for his group- the "D.A.", he had called it, a league against the darkening Ministry. Malfoy suddenly suffered another pang of some odd feeling, this time feeling as if he were being weighed down, and looked around uncertainly to see if someone had hexed him. The hall was empty. He mentally shook it off- surely some subconscious childhood-memory thing that he didn't really care about at the moment- and continued with his jubilee at the well-formed plan as he rounded a corner.
There, in black robes, was Amycus Carrow, proof that his company had arrived.
"They've set the Dark Mark off, Draco. Be ready," Amycus said with a wicked grin. Draco nodded, smirked again and continued, not wanting to be found with a Death Eater just yet. He just had to wait, wait for the heat from the little communication coin, a signal from Rosmerta that the headmaster was coming. As if on cue, the coin started buzzing in his pocket, and a quick glance at it told him to go to the Astronomy Tower. Draco's smirk faded as he concentrated on getting to the tower but he felt no less power-hungry glee as he sprinted, this way, that way, down that corridor. Panting, he stopped for a moment after a minute of hard sprinting, right beside the final corridor to the tower, not wanting to collapse at the top of the steps. People were scuffling in the direction he'd come from. Malfoy took one last deep, rejuvenating breath. He took off again, down the hall, up the stairs- he was at the door, he slammed it open-
"Expelliarmus!" he yelled wildly. Dumbledore's wand went flying- he already had it out as if waiting for him to take it, perhaps attempting to cast a spell to lock the door. Too late, he thought mercilessly. Well, he tried. It surprised Malfoy, but he found it hard to think entirely mercilessly while staring his headmaster of six years in the face. No matter, he was going to kill him, that was it. He semiconsciously tried to push aside all memories of Dumbledore from the image of the man in front of him. He had to think mercilessly, there was no option, the plan simply had to be carried out, and he could not let anything get in the way, not this close to his very own success!
"Good evening, Draco," said the Dumbledore-shell lightly, helping him come back from his inner thoughts. Malfoy shook his head slightly- it was awfully hard to keep down the nasty voice reminding him of who Dumbledore was and still be able to concentrate- and looked around to assess the situation. Dumbledore was very white in the face- or so it seemed to proud Draco in his foresight of death- and was clinging to the castle ramparts. He wondered what kind of little mission could have gotten Dumbledore so tired. Continuing to look around, he noticed two brooms by Dumbledore.
"Who else is here?" he said authoritatively.
"A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?"
Malfoy felt a sudden rush of pride at his own organization and replied immediately. "No, I've got backup." He paused for dramatic effect- he wanted this to hit hard. "There are Death Eaters in your school tonight."
"Well, well. Very good indeed," replied the headmaster, much more coolly than Draco might have liked. "You found a way to let them in, did you?"
"Yeah, right under your nose, and you never even realized!" Draco retorted, trying desperately to impress upon Dumbledore fear, shock- something! Why did the first person he could tell about his mission remain totally indifferent?
"Ingenious- yet, forgive me- where are they now? You seem unsupported," said Dumbledore softly. Draco felt rather frustrated. Dumbledore didn't believe him! Come on, he thought, get up here! I mean what I say, Professor, you just wait...Come on, quickly...
The desperate barrage of thoughts at both Dumbledore and the Death Eaters continued as he spoke again. "They met some of your guards, they're having a fight down below. They won't be long," he said loudly, making sure Dumbledore knew they were still there. Then he swallowed, trying to remain fierce. "I came on ahead, I've got a job to do."
Dumbledore smiled softly and beyond irritatingly. "Well then," he murmured, "you must get on and do it, my dear boy." Draco felt like screaming, though neither the prickle in his stomach nor his dignity would let him. It was a terrible feeling. Two things pressed for attention at his mind.- the one, how hard it was for him to endure Dumbledore's... taunting, it seemed... and the other- well, he wasn't quite sure what that one was. It was too subtle and he was not in the right gear for subtle thought. He was going to kill- and somehow, that thought made the feeling flare up in his stomach even more. He hated it.
But after a moment, he snapped back to attention as Dumbledore smiled at him again. Almost reading his mind, he spoke.
"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."
Draco felt so extremely indignant that he blurted out what came to his mind first. "How do you know?" He was growing angrier and more indignant by the minute and felt his face flush.
"You don't know what I'm capable of!" he nearly exploded, trying desperately to get it through to Dumbledore that he was not a child and he was capable! "You don't know what I've done!" His frustration mounted higher; words were ultimately incapable of holding as much vehemence as he wanted to put into them. They trotted along indifferently, never carrying anything but a fraction of his meaning!
"Oh, yes I do," Dumbledore was continuing. "You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco,"- Draco tried to sneer but the feeling in his stomach overrode it-"but they have been feeble attempts. ...So feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has really been in it."
This would have been the absolute breaking point for Draco; he felt an angry and ominous twitch in his spine, but was fortunately so furiously searching for a way to counter every consequent sentence that he didn't quite catch its full brunt. The term "full" was relative, however.
"It has been in it!" he growled in an ominously low tone, as he could not raise his pitch any higher. "I've been working on it all year, and tonight-" But he could not complete the sentence because of a sudden, muffled yell from behind them. Draco stiffened. He hadn't much time left.
His stomach clenched again.
A/N Ehh? Ehh? Tell me how you like it, folks!
