Chapter Two: Memories

"You must kill Dumbledore," announced a high cold voice.

The boy froze. His knees were cold. "M-me?"

"Yes. You."

"My Lord…" began Narcissa Malfoy. With a flick of his wand, the Master silenced the woman. She opened her mouth and couldn't speak. Her terrified features loomed in the boy's mind.

"You, boy, will kill Dumbledore…or suffer the consequences."

"Yes, master. I will not fail you." His voice trembled.

"See that you don't."

Draco woke with a start. Memories haunting him. It had been a long time since he had slept the whole night without waking. He shuddered and glanced at the clock.

2:45 a.m.

He rolled over and went back to sleep.

"You have not succeeded."

"Please, Master, give me time. I'm almost there. Just a little more time…"

"Really? You have not completed your task. You must suffer."

"Please, Master—"

"Crucio!"

Pain! A thousand knives stuck in his flesh! Hot irons! Searing through his head oh make it stop stop it please help!

"Master, my son!"

"Move, Narcissa. He failed."

"Master, please!"

"Out of my way, woman. Crucio!"

Draco woke up and stared at the ceiling. He had failed. His mother could not protect him. He was hurt. That dream was one of the worst. He glanced at the clock.

3:32

He moaned and tried to stay awake. He failed.

"Severus…please…"

Green light.

"Dinner, Nagini."

4:17

The boy groaned and tried hard to suppress the memory of his former teacher crying, falling, dying…

Yes, Charity Burbage had been his teacher, if only for the first semester of third year. And only because that's all I could get away with, he thought wryly. She had not understood, then, what he meant when he told her that his parents would not let him continue taking the course.

Personally, he had found it fascinating. Life without magic was unthinkable, yet these people managed daily, even coming up with their own inventions to take the place of simple wand-work. Despite what his parents, especially his father, said, Muggles were actually not idiots. It wasn't their fault they couldn't do magic.

But, naturally, his parents had been furious when they found out he had been taking a course he knew they disproved of.

Draco screwed his eyes shut in a futile attempt to block the memories. Soon he was fast asleep again.

"So let us discuss your options, Draco."

"My options! I'm standing here with a wand—I'm about to kill you—" The wand felt sweaty in his hand. After all that, he could not fail. The consequences would be great. This must be done. But he could not do it.

"My dear boy, let us have no more pretenses about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means." The old man was actually smiling.

"I haven't got any options!" The wind pushed at him and he stumbled back a step. "I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!"

That was the truth.

"I appreciate the difficulty of your position. Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort," Oh don't say the name, "realized that I suspected you. I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you. But now at last we can speak plainly to each other…No harm has been done, you hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived…I can help you, Draco."

Yeah, right. "No you can't. Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice."

He kept speaking his voice like a calm cup of tea. "We can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise…"

He'll kill me he'll find me I can't kill you don't die they're coming I'm scared I succeeded I'm going to die…

People stormed up. His friends?

Whirling images…a bloody man, a half dead one he had to kill!

Hand shaking, couldn't do it, help! New man, tall, favorite teacher—

"Avada Kedavra"

Big rag doll falling falling he fell to and—

Woke with a start on his bed. For the three hundred and fourth time, he cursed himself for not taking Dumbledore's offer.

Too late.