Draco Malfoy couldn't remember ever being as pissed at Harry- fucking- Potter as he was right then. Who the hell did he think he was? Standing him up! Him, Draco Malfoy! After Draco had had the humility to send him a message and ask for his help!

Thoughts still racing, Draco forced himself to begin to calm down. He couldn't face the Dark Lord (Voldemort, he muttered through clenched teeth; just Voldemort) like this. He had a hard enough time shielding his mind in the Dark Lo- Voldemort's presence when he was calm. And Draco knew that this would be the most important meeting he would ever have…

He knew. Voldemort knew. Draco didn't know how he knew, but he did. Draco had been a spy for the Order of the Phoenix, very nearly the most valuable they had, for almost a year. For almost a year, Draco had been feeding the Order information on the whereabouts of wanted Death Eaters, warnings about attacks, clues on where to find the horcuxes- ever since he had taken the Dark Mark, Draco had lived a double life. But now… he shook his head. His mark had been burning now for almost a week, and as time passed, the more intense the pain became. It was damned near impossible to concentrate on anything else now, impossible to ignore his Lord's call. Draco had no doubts about his fate: he would be tortured and killed. The Dark Lord was not slow to dispose of the unfortunate souls who displeased him, and there was always another to take the place of the last slain. Draco shuddered at the knowledge of what awaited him; his father had used Unforgivable Curses on him before, and the pain was unfathomable. But Draco knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what he had to do.

Sighing, he rolled up the letter he had just finished writing to Potter and tapped it with his wand, sealing it with the strongest protection spells he knew. Draco knew that the chances of Potter getting it were basically none, but it was worth a try, and at this point, there was nothing left to do. There was no time. If it hadn't been midnight, he would have gone looking for Potter, Mudblood, and Weasel; he was sure that they would be accessible. He could have tried to send Potter an owl or floo the letter to the Gryffindor dormitories, but there was too great a chance of it being intercepted. His spells were good and would outsmart most any students, but they weren't impenetrable. It would have to do. He stuck the softly glowing parchment in a crack in the nearest tree he could find, and set off for the gate blocking the path into the school. Another major problem he'd always had with Hogwarts: you couldn't Apparate or Disapparate on the grounds. Shoving his hands into his robes to keep them warm, his thoughts turned to Potter again. That damned Potter! Why had it been him, anyway? Draco suddenly questioned himself. Why had he sent that message to Potter? He could have sent it to Mudblood, who would have at least had some intellectual idea of what was going on; he could have sent it to Dumbledore or any other Order member, for that matter, who would have had the power to protect him; but no. It had been Harry- fucking- Potter, the Boy- Who- Lived. Damnit! He slammed his fist palm- first into the stone wall beside the gate before he realized that he had reached his destination. Stepping through the gate, he sighed and looked up at the stars for what he was sure would be the last time. Taking a deep breath, he trained his mind on his master, feeling the pain of his mark intensify as he did so. And with a CRACK, he was gone.

Harry Potter stood stunned for a few moments, staring at the piece of parchment in his hands. His first thought upon reading the letter was that it must have been a joke; but as much as he had always disliked Malfoy, he had to admit that this was a little far to go just to pull a prank. Besides, Harry reminded himself, Malfoy had been on their side ever since taking the Dark Mark; he has fed them true and useful information at Order meetings that he never would have spared if he was truly working for Voldemort. And now, he had asked Harry here and left him this note…

Potter,

I do not know why I asked you here, as you apparently couldn't spare a few moments away from your precious fans to help out a fellow Order member; but as you are the noble Saviour of the Wizarding World, I thought that you might have been of some help. However, that is of little consequence now; time has run out.

He- Voldemort- has found out about my work for the Order. I am not sure how, but there is little time now for me to try and puzzle out such trivialities. The important thing is that he knows. My mark has been burning for a week now, and the pain is growing more intense by the hour. I know that even if he did not plan to kill me before, he certainly will now; the Dark Lord does not appreciate it when his followers keep him waiting. I am at peace with the fact of my death, even if I do not look forward to the pain I will surely have to endure and the torturous questionings about Order business. I do know how to resist a truth serum, which is a talent taught to all Death Eaters, but I know that the Lord's followers will not have any qualms about torturing me for the information. The Unforgivable curses are called "unforgivable" for a reason.

I did not ask you here tonight to request your protection. However, I feel the need to explain myself and some of my past actions to you so that the record will be set straight when I am gone, and no one will think me a coward or a deserter.

Time is short, as is my story: I apologize, first, to Weasely and Weaselette, or Ron and Ginny if you prefer. I was raised to hate anyone considered inferior to me in terms of physical wealth, and so I did; but they did nothing to deserve my hate.

I apologize also to Granger- Hermionie. I was raised to hate anyone without the "pure blood" my family is so proud of, but in this last year I have come to realize that blood is only blood and in the end one's ancestors matter not at all.

I apologize, finally, to you, Potter. I was raised to hate you as well, and after you refused my hand offered in friendship on the train first year, I thought that I was right to do so. But I have grown over time and I have learned that I am to blame for many of my problems, not any of you. Working alongside the infamous "Golden Trio" and the Order in this last year has changed my perspective a great deal.

I must end this now. Time is short. Please, if you can, tell all of those I have hurt in these past six and a half years that I am truly sorry. I can only pray that you receive this, that you can accept my reasons, right or not, for all that I have done, and most importantly that my death might redeem my life.

Always, Draco Malfoy

As Harry finished reading those last seven words again- that my death might redeem my life- he saw what he would have to do.