Once again, for good measure, I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. Don't be afraid to comment and tell me what I could do better. Hope you enjoy it,

Kit Kat

Draco was starting to worry. Needless to say, things weren't going well. He had employed Crabbe and Goyle to watch over the entrance to the Room while he worked. As to not attract attention, they took turns standing in the hall while Draco was inside, disguised as young girls. Polyjuice Potion sufficed in the costume department. They were not exactly happy about this and Draco didn't blame them. He knew Astoria would avoid entering the Room if anyone else was present in the hall, but that was a sacrifice he was going to have to make. Somethings were more important than Astoria Greengrass.

Crabbe and Goyle's irritation with there situation worsened; as Draco refused to tell them what exactly he was doing in the Come-and-Go Room. He couldn't have it leak out that he planned to assassinate the headmaster of Hogwarts, and both Crabbe and Goyle had notoriously large mouths.

Harry Potter was as irking as ever. That pathetic louse never failed to show off his faux talent. Slughorn was definitely favoring him and Draco was left in the dust. As for Defense Against the Dark Arts, well, Snape was no longer his favorite teacher. He appeared to be giving Draco the cold shoulder ever since the night of the party. How immature.

Draco trudged alone across the courtyard to the Great Hall. It was his first Apparation lesson today. The sky was overcast with lavender clouds. His best pair of black shoes were getting ruined as he sloshed through the almost-melted snow. His mother was sure to get on him about that. He was halfway across the courtyard when it started raining. He ran, holding his arms over his head making a fruitless attempt to shield himself from the pouring rain. Thunder boomed behind him up in the heavens. He burst through the double doors and up the staircase to the entrance to the Great Hall. His white-blond hair was soaked and plastered to his pale forehead. A few small Hufflepuff girls giggled and pointed at him. He took about three seconds to glare menacingly at them before bursting into the Hall. Some heads turned towards him. Many people had already arrived. Draco knew he was late, which added to his dramatic entrance. He went over to stand by Crabbe and Goyle.

"'Sup," said Goyle stupidly, avoiding eye contact with Draco. Crabbe was trying to keep from laughing as Draco magically dried his drenched Hogwarts robes with the tip of his wand. Once he again looked somewhat respectable, Draco asked in a low voice,

"Crabbe, would you and Goyle mind keeping watch for me again this evening?"

"No," said Goyle bluntly, answering for Crabbe, "We're not your little watchdogs. And I hate looking like a girl."

"You look like a girl even without Polyjuice Potion," Draco spat.

"Well, it would be one thing if you told us what you were doing," Crabbe objected loudly.

"I've told you…"

"Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!" Professor McGonagall barked at him. Several heads turned in his direction. Draco felt blood rush to his cheeks. He stepped away from Crabbe. Potter and his posses smirked. Fury boiled in side him. How dare she reprimand him like that. And Potter, perfect Potter, was standing there looking so haughty. Draco hadn't even realized the lesson had started. The Heads of Houses tried to usher them into a line. Draco took the opportunity to continue his argument with Crabbe, and positioned himself at the back of the line.

"Only a little while longer."

"How much longer? We can't put up with this forever…"

"I don't know how how much longer, alright?" Crabbe opened his mouth to say something, but Draco already knew what it was,

"Look, it's none of your business what I'm doing, Crabbe, you and Goyle just do as you're told and keep a lookout!"

"I tell my friends what I'm up to, if I want them to keep a lookout for me," said a voice behind him. Draco spun around, reaching for his wand. It was Potter, grinning and waiting for Draco's reaction. He was about to blast Potter's head off when the four Heads called things to order. Draco was forced to turn around and pay attention.

The instructor, called Twycross, was going on about the letter D and the careful science of Apparation, but Draco wasn't listening. Did Potter know about his task from the Dark Lord? He should be more secretive. If anyone knew Lord Voldemort would surely kill him. Draco gulped at the idea.

He tried to Apparate into the golden hoop on the floor in front of him, but with no avail. His concentration was nonexistent.

They spent the next hour or so there, trying to Deliberately Disappear,, or whatever. Some Hufflepuff girl got splinted. Draco breathed a sigh of relief when they were finally dismissed.

As he was walking upstairs to the Room of Requirement, he was stopped on the marble staircase by Zabini.

"Malfoy," he began solemnly, "Pansy and I were wondering if you and Crabbe and Goyle would care to hang out with in the common room for awhile." It would look suspicious if he declined, Draco didn't have another class scheduled for two hours, so he agreed.

Soon they were all seated comfortably in the Slytherin common room. Zabini shared a black leather loveseat with Pansy, holding her hand. No pang of envy stuck Draco. In fact, he had never seen Zabini so content. He really was better for her, anyways.

"I just wanted to clear the air," Zabini began, "I wanted us to get along again." He was speaking to everyone, but he looked at Draco when he said it. Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy murmured in agreement. Draco only nodded.

"So…,"Zabini said awkwardly, "everybody, come on, have a Butterbeer."

Bottle caps were popped and the fire crackled. Draco sipped his drink carefully. The eerie green light from the lake illuminated the stone walls.

"I don't mind," Pansy said out of nowhere, directing her words toward Draco, "I really don't mind if you like Astoria Greengrass. Her words said on thing, but her face said another. Her grumpy expression was set in stone. Draco had a feeling Blaise had asked her to say so. He would believe it when she meant it.

They started to talk about Quidditch, and they all became more and more relaxed. They all enjoyed their Butterbeer and Crabbe said something actually funny. For the first time in awhile, Draco laughed. Genuinely laughed. He leaned back in his chair and smile. He didn't forgive Blaise yet, his actions were inexcusable. He didn't forgive Pansy, either. But that wasn't any reason he shouldn't have fun, or at least pretend to.

"Yeah, Gryffindors," Zabini began, "Just a bunch of wannabe Slytherins." They all laughed, Pansy giggle ostentatiously.

"And Hufflepuffs?" Pansy added, "Airheads, I tell you." Pansy could be a hypocrite at times.

"Hey, guys." It was Daphne, holding a stack of books, "Can I join you?" She seemed nervous.

"Of course you can," Pansy said generously, gesturing to the seat next to her, "After all, it's not your fault your sister's a boyfriend snatcher." Draco nearly choked on his drink. Daphne tentatively took a seat, setting her books on the coffee table. Blaise offered her a Butterbear.

"I was not snatched by anyone."

"Oh?" Pansy exclaimed.

"So you're…not dating my sister?" Daphne asked, curious.

"I don't know if I'd call it that," he said elusively.

"But you're…together?" Daphne asked, definitely sounding jealous.

"If that's how you describe it," Draco answered nonchalantly. He quickly changed the subject. Everything was much less tense after that. Daphne laughed and joked with the rest of them. Draco even thought she was flirting with him at times. Her hazel eyes were green with envy. With her blonde waves and pale skin (like her sister), Daphne strongly resembled her mother. Draco found this sad and ironic. Everyone always said Draco looked like his father. His father, who was no longer so highly esteemed. Who was now wasting away in Azkaban. Thinking about Father brought on a heavy feeling of deep sadness, but he didn't let it show. Draco's face was like a map, happy and carefree. When, in reality, he was dying inside. It was so strange, lounging here having a good time, when darkness was consuming the world. People were dying, and they say here chugging Butterbeer and listing to the Quidditch game on the radio. Who cared if the Whimborne Wasps won? What matter was the looming chill that surrounded them. Draco was ashamed of himself for spending so much time not working on the Dark Lord's orders, even if it only was an hour and a half. He was getting tired of having to be social anyway.

"If got to leave," he said, standing up, "I'll catch up with you all later." Then he stood up and left. As he walked down they hall, he bummed into a certain redhead.

"I heard you all the way down the hall," Astoria commented, "You must of been having a good time." Draco smile when he saw the emerald glinting on her neck.

"I should have invited you," he said awkwardly.

"No, really," she insisted, "it's fine, I don't like being around a lot of people. Especially for long periods of time. I'm just worried about you giving away the position of our common room."

"Well, thank you," he said smoothly, regaining his composure, "you're sister is quite the charmer."

"Charming little snake if you ask me." She then walked past him, leaving him standing by a very ugly painting of a troll by a Greek water fountain.

Draco was still in denial. There was no humanly way he was in love with Astoria. He was simply using her. He was alone. Completely alone and set an impossible task.

Draco needed a new plan. The cabinet wasn't working out. Try as he might, it would not yield. He refused to try it on the other bird. Midnight, she'd called it. He wouldn't harm anything else. Except what was necessary, of course.

Another Hogsmeade weekend approached, and Draco formed yet another plan. It was weak, and it probably wouldn't work, but he needed to do something.

He paid yet another visit to Borgin, who sold him the poison. He bought the mead from Rosmerta. He mixed the two to make a very lethal drink. Now was the hard part.

Draco concealed the bottle in his cloak when he passed through the Hogwarts gates. The Secrecy Detector did not pick it up, only mead. The poison wasn't Dark enough, but it was still a killer.

He headed for Professor Slughorn's office. He rapped sharply on the cedar door.

"Come in!" said the jolly voice within. The old Professor was reclining by his desk, enjoying a box of crystalized pineapple.

"What is it Draco?," Slughorn asked joyfully, "Need help with the homework, eh?"

Draco slipped the wand of of his pocket, and gripped it firmly.

"What's wrong Draco?" Draco slowly raised his wand level with the old man's head.

"Draco…?" Slughorn looked confused. Surely a student wouldn't attack him?

"Imperious."

The old man's eyes slid back in his head. He looked cold and limp. Draco didn't panic, he knew some people reacted differently to the Imperious curse.

"You will give this as a present to Professor Dumbledore," Draco said clearly, setting the mead on the table, "A late Christmas present. You will speak of this to no one. You will forget I was the one who gave this to to you." He emphasized the last sentence more than any other. Than he left.

Draco worried he had not tone the spell strong enough, that Slughorn would disobey some of his orders. All were imperative to the plan. Worse, he feared he had done the spell to strongly and addled the old man's brain. But, sure enough, Slughorn was jolly and alive as ever the next day at Potions. He showed no signs he he remembered the night before.