A/N:

Lots of getting inside Draco's mind here, just to help everyone understand his mindset … hope it's ok :)

Dawn broke early, pink and gold streaking the pearly sky.

Draco hissed as his bare feet touched the floor. The stone was like ice. Teeth chattering, he pulled on his dressing gown and tiptoed down the corridor to the bathroom.

Wormtail's snores issued gratingly from behind his bedroom door. Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste. No-one in the Manor cared much for the fetid little man, apart from the Dark Lord himself, who held him unusually close.

Probably because he's a treacherous little swine who'd betray anyone as soon as look at them.

Thankfully, the bathroom was deserted. Draco locked the door before switching the hot shower tap on full blast.

He surveyed himself in the vast mirror and frowned. Something was wrong. He had gone to bed early last night. So why were his eyes ringed with deep grey shadows? He looked pallid and ill.

With a shrug, he dismissed it. Anyone would look ill with the Dark Lord threatening to kill them every few hours.

Before long the bathroom was filled with billowing steam, obscuring the black marble walls and silver serpent taps.

Draco let the water stream over his tired body, easing away the aches in his muscles.

Funny, that. He hadn't done anything physically demanding in the last few days.

After showering, he splashed his face with cold water and towelled himself dry.

Back in his bedroom, he dressed quickly in jeans and a dark shirt. He glanced in the mirror, again perturbed by the dark circles under his eyes, and dug in the bedside drawer for his wand.

Cold glass met his hand.

He recoiled. An inexplicable sense of foreboding crept over him.

Slowly, he drew the object out.

"What the …" he breathed. The insubstantial silver mist inside the vial swirled mysteriously, beckoning him in.

Draco hesitated. Some part of his subconscious told him he didn't want to know its secrets. But it must be important, for someone to have put it there.

He stood for a moment, torn by indecision.

Then he ran to the cupboard and pulled out an old chipped ceramic bowl.

With shaking hands, he set the bowl on his bed and decanted the swirling memory into it.

Was he doing the right thing? He took a deep breath, and before he could change his mind, bent his head toward the memory.

It did not take long.

A few minutes later he sank, gasping, against the side of the bed.

Of course he remembered now. The whole stupid thing.

The elaborate memory loss set-up was a precaution against Voldemort's Legilimency skills. If Voldemort found out, Draco had no doubt his life would be cut abruptly short.

But despite the risk involved, the thought of stopping made his stomach turn. Cowering away here like a frightened rabbit felt ten times worse than actually doing something, albeit something very dangerous.

It was being forced to torture Ollivander that had done it. The others, the strangers, didn't matter as much, but as he watched the old man – the man who had beamed as he sold Draco a wand – writhe before him as Voldemort laughed in pleasure, something inside Draco had snapped.

That night as he lay in bed, he had though it over. He had to do something. There must be some way to bring Voldemort down and end this terror.

With a jolt, he had remembered all Potter's secret meetings with Dumbledore. And the way that Dumbledore had appeared on the top of the tower on the night of his death, mysteriously weakened. With Potter.

It had taken a while, but finally Draco had resolved to find out what Potter and his friends were doing. Maybe even help them. Even though the thought of helping Potter was about as pleasant as sticking pins in his eyes.

Potter. He ground his teeth.

Potter had everything. He was under his own control. No-one to answer to. And still, everyone felt so sorry for him. Tragic, they called it. Poor boy, all alone in the world.

Being alone would be such a blessing. For his whole life, Draco had been groomed to act, think and live like a Death Eater. Not a chance to make his own life and break free of the stigma surrounding the name of Malfoy.

To one side of the wizarding world, they were despicable. A family immersed in the Dark Arts for centuries upon centuries, obsessed with their pureblood status.

To the other, they were a laughing stock, disgraced by Lucius's failure to capture the prophecy. A family of cowards.

Well. I can't deny that.

Draco scowled. That was another thing about Potter that he envied. The ability to go about this war with nothing to hide. Of course, they had to do everything in secret, but everyone knew without a doubt what side they were on.

He, on the other hand, was expected to revel in the Dark Lord's presence. It was an honour to do his bidding.

And Draco did his bidding. He couldn't deny it. He was scared. Scared of what Voldemort might do if Draco disobeyed.

Did that make him a coward? Wanting nothing but the Dark Lord's downfall and at the same time doing exactly as he commanded?

When he was younger, the idea of being a Death Eater had been his highest ideal. A way to inspire fear and respect, to be followed and admired.

He had revelled in his family's association with Voldemort. Pride from being part of something he did not fully understand had given him confidence and made him arrogant.

Stupid child.

He understood all too well now. Reality was nothing like his malicious, juvenile conception.

He grimaced and pulled himself to his feet. All this had seemed like a good idea at the time. Something to help lift the shroud of fear hanging over the wizarding world.

Well.

If he was completely honest with himself, it was more like something to help assuage the mantle of guilt that weighed so heavy on his shoulders.

But to no avail.

He felt worse than ever, now. All his efforts so far had been a miserable failure. He had discovered nothing, and reliving last night's venture was more painful than the rest.

He shook his head to clear the unwelcome images from his mind, but they lingered like cobwebs.

Don't be stupid, he told himself. I'm no saint, but I'm not a demon either.

After a slight pause, he shoved the crystal vial under the loose stone and quickly rewove the enchantments around it.

A/N: review review review review reviiieeeeeww please.