"You want me to what? I'm having a hard time believing this, Malfoy."
"Believe it, Potter. I want the man fucking dead."
"But he's your father, an-"
I kept my voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, Potter. My father. The man who used Unforgivables to punish me as a child, the man who would beat my mother while she was pregnant with me, the man who tries to kill me every holiday because I can't beat Granger – a Muggle-born – in class, the man who sold me out to Voldemort to save his own fucking arse, and Potter-"
Harry's eyes widened. He could barely trust himself to speak. "Yes?" He said, barely audible.
"Voldemort wants me to kill Dumbledore. I can't do it, Potter; I just can't. I need your help. My father only helps feed his ange-" I stopped. "Holy shit. I said his name."
"Yeah. Yeah, you did."
I didn't care about my surroundings; I just dropped to my knees. "Merlin." I whispered.
"Yeah."
I ran my hands through my hair several times. "I know this is hard for you to believe, Potter. Use Veritaserum, call the whole damn Order of the bloody Phoenix, sic Ginevra Weasley on me; I don't care. I'm telling the truth and I want the bastard dead. And-"
"Yes?"
"I can't do it without you." I didn't care that I was in a position subordinate to Harry Potter, my hopefully former enemy. I looked him dead in the eyes from where I was kneeling and said, "My father supplies Voldemort with so much money it's sick, and without that money," I laughed darkly, "everything will come to a screeching fucking halt until he finds another pathetic source to leech."
Potter just looks at me for a minute, then for some reason, he helps me to my feet. Maybe he's not so bad after all.
He looks me in the eye and says, "Malfoy, if you're being serious, which I hope you are-"
"I am being serious. Serious, honest, candid, pathe-!"
"I get it; I get it! Meet me in the Room of Requirement after dinner tonight."
"Seven?"
"Great. Oh, and Malfoy?"
"Yeah?"
"Hermione's got her own stash of Veritaserum I'm sure she'd love to use on you." He smirked.
I smirked back. "I would expect no less. Bring it on, Wonder Boy."
Again, not mine. Not making moolah. Blabbity blah. I sure am having fun with this one, though! :wink:
