There were footsteps on the stairs and Draco jerked awake, stood up and stared wairly as Snape came into view. He relaxed slightly, and greeted him "Sev."

His godfather narrowed his eyes and looked him up and down, checking for marks of abuse. "You're a fool, Draco." He said in a hushed voice.

"I couldn't keep doing it. I'm not a Death Eater and they shouldn't have made me one in the first place. I'm not going to bend to them again. I can't." His voice choked slightly on the last sentence and he looked away.

Severus looked at him intensly and felt a swell of pity for the young man before him."There is a plan to get you out. In three days there is a full moon, so Greyback and the other two werewolves won't be on guard. That means they won't smell you, and Narcissa will be able to smuggle you out using a concealment potion. We can't use charms as they will be detected, which is why I'm here. As well as this; give them to Potter." He handed a number of potions to Draco through the bars. "They're labelled – I trust you know how to administer each of them?"

Draco nodded, he was relieved but not surprised of the escape plan. "Of course I do." He looked over at the sleeping raven-haired boy on the floor. "Is there any way we can get him out too?"

"No, it would be impossible and unwise for us to try - leave it too the Order and Potters sheer luck. The others do want him kept here and will seek him out and find him the moment they realise his escape. They won't seek you out when you go missing because you are not a major concern or threat." He looked at the blonde for a moment, and then added "Or at least, they don't believe you to be one."

"If I have to fight, it will be against them." Draco confirmed, "And I will fight with everything I have – I don't want to live in a world ruled by Voldermort. I don't believe I can anyway."

"You will have to go into hiding. Both sides will be against you, take care and trust no-one."

"Of course."

The two surveyed each other for a moment, before Severus sighed and nodded. "Good luck, Draco."

"Thank you, Severus. Thank you; for everything."

The potions master nodded once, then turned on his heel and left.

.

Harry considered what he had overheard, but there wasn't much to think over. Draco would escape. Harry would rot. Lucky Draco. Poor Harry. He sighed.

"Don't pretend you didn't hear that, Potter."

Harry sat up, a red tinge around his battered cheeks. "Sorry." he muttered. "Good for you, then."

Draco looked through the potions and chose the relevant healing ones which would not interfere with the each other. He handed them to Harry wordlessly, other than "Half the bottle. One mouthful. All of it. Six sips with two secconds between each."

Afterwards they sat in silence for a while, and Draco would have happily kept that way, but Harry seemed to have other ideas. He had craved human company, and his curiosity was eating at his heart.

"Why didn't you do it?" He asked, referring to the uncast cruciatous curse.

Draco glared up at him, and for a moment thought not too even bother answering. But then he decided he might as well. It would break the boredom, and if his side won and, somehow, he managed to escape (this was Potter, after all), he might be able to give some kind of testimony to lessen Draco's thus impending sentence in Azkaban. So Draco gathered his thoughts and tried to explain.

"I never chose anything. My opinions, my friends, my future wife, my... everything; was chosen before I was even born. And I had to stick by it no matter what. Some of the stuff I agree with. Blaise is a good friend; I don't think we should live underneath or in fear of muggle's; every mudblood I've met has annoyed the hell out of me. But I don't want to be a Death Eater. When I was a kid it seemed like great fun, my dad used to be one and he could do almost whatever he wanted, people had a lot of respect for him. Abarax, my grandad, had been an early Death Eater too, so it mde sense for me too carry on the tradition and be one as well."

He frowned deeper then, immersing himself in memories. "I started to question things, I suppose, in the summer before fourth year when we were at the Quiditch World Cup. I realised that, as much as I wanted to be like my father, I didn't want to join what they were doing. I stood out. Then I saw you three, in line of where they were marching."

He broke off and looked at Harry irritably. "How could you be that stupid? I hated the Granger girl, but I also realised that I didn't want my father and the others to catch her. So when I saw you three idiots, I had too tell you to get away. And you just wanted to fight; she escaped by whisp thanks to me."

Harry thought back, and remembered. They had been trying to get away from the crowd and were at the outskirts of the woods. Ron had fallen over and Malfoy had sneered at it, leaning against a tree looking utterly relaxed, viewing but away from the chaos. They exchanged a few heated words...

"Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldnt want her spotted , would you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Granger, they're after Muggle's – d'you want to be showing off your knickers in mid-air? Because if you do then hang around... they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."

They continued to talk, the rest was kind of irrelevant. He'd pointed out that they would recognise Hermione as a muggleborn (or mudblood, as he'd put it). But his last words had been "Keep that big bushy head down, Granger,"

.

Harry looked at him softly, in shock. He'd never thought about the scene like that, but it made sense. "Thank you." he murmed. Draco waved it away and continued where he left off.

"When we got back home my father was furious. He'd seen us talk and then you three hurrying away. I told him I was trying to hold you up, but he didn't believe me."

Draco broke off and shuddered. He paused a minute, as if editing what he would say in comparison to the memory.

"I hated you even more that year. But I overheard my father talking about how he was sure it was a Death Eater's work to get your name into the cup and hopefully you would die competing. I could do nothing to help, two days before the first task I tried hexing you to make you incapable of competing, I didn't care if you got hurt but, for some reason or another, I didn't want you dead. But there was a Death Eater standing right behind me, wasn't there?"

He winced at the memory as pink tinged his cheeks – Moody (or rather Crouch in diguise) had turned him into a ferret and thrown him up and down in the air. "So you got through, you won, met the Dark Lord and somehow escaped alive.

"During fith year things started getting more intense. When I was at home father constantly talked about the Dark Lord, drilled me about hating muggles, hating mudblood's, hating you. How our ideal world should be, with muggles as slaves to us and mudbloods sub-serviant. He taught me dark magic, hundreds of hexes, curses, the lot.

"I remember him talking about me meeting the Dark Lord, and how I was going to become a Death Eater and make him proud. There was a plot he was part of that involved getting into the Department of Mysteries, and capturing you there.

"And then you were caught in Umbridges fireplace. I knew this was to do with the plot, and when Umbridge brought Grangers story about a weapon I tried to persuade the hag to let me come with you. But she didn't and I had to stay with in the classroom. The others escaped, but at the Department, so did you. Alive again."

He closed his eyes, and shuddered once again. "My father was punished. The Dark Lord was still on the rise, but now the world knew about it. I saw him in the flesh for the first time that summer, and had to kiss the hem of his robes and give my alleigance. He branded me with the Dark Mark; I asked for it myself. But I knew if I didn't my parents would... that I..." He refused to finish the sentance, and left it hanging.

"I was given my task. Kill Dumbldore. Not even he had accomplished the feat, it was too punish my parents again, too watch me try, fail and die in the process. I didn't want to kill him. Or anyone, for that matter. But I could not refuse – the consequences if I did, or if I failed...

"My father told me of the Vanishing Cabinet. He said he would check at Borgin and Burke's that I had secured it, and if not he would himself. He told me the other one was at Hogwarts in the Room of Hidden Things, he expected within a few months to send a message and receive a fast reply the same day– it was his way of checking I was working on it – not only did I have to mend the cabinet but be there everyday if my father sent a note through it, so I could reply.

"I also got the cursed necklace and poisoned the drink, both presents intended for Dumbldore. I knew they were futile attempts before starting, but I had to make some effort, even if it was to keep up appearances. I knew if I managed to suceed my familys' honour would be fully restored, but... of course, I didn't want the old coot Dumbledore dead either anyway.

"I was constantly pestered by father asking what I had done, why hadn't I done more, why was the bumbling codger still unharmed. There was a seventh year, Mullciber, who was told to keep an eye on me, though he didnt know what my task was, he was constantly dogging my footsteps, checking up on me. And there was Snape, trying too help when I knew I had to do it on my own... and then there was you! Everytime I turned around you were watching me, suspecting me, trying to catch me out. You seemed to know exactly where I was, even knew where look for the Room of Hidden Things.

"I almost wanted some-one, not you but almost anyone else, to figure things out and to stop them; I became reckless but Snape was there, someone fiding out would have to be 'accidental' but he wouldnt allow that to happen. If I outright told somebody me and my family would... would be at the Dark Lord's mercy.

"On the top of the tower – I had succeeded, the Death Eaters could get into the school, Dumbldore was unarmed and I was able too kill him. But I couldn't. And then he threw me a lifeline. He would protect me and my family, we would be safe from the Dark Lord, I didn't have to become a murderer. Severus didn't know this, of course, so when he found us he killed Dumbldore and I had too run with them, and meet the Dark Lord's wrath." His eyes were closed and he suddenly looked incredibly vulnerable, hiding his face in his hands it was a few minutes before he could resurface and continue.

"I've been trying, at school, to do what I can for the students there – but not only can the Carrows not know but neither can the students unless their occlumency isn't up to scratch, which goes for most of them. They don't trust me anyway, to them I'm another Death Eater. I tried to help a couple of second years out of the dungeons in October but Filch caught me and alerted the Carrow's. All of us were punished far worse than what they'd originally been sentanced too that I swore not to do such a thing again.

"And then you turn up in my house and its so obviously you that I cant say its not but I don't want to tell the others imediately either. And Bellatrix got Granger and there was nothing I could do, just like Lovegood and the others I used to know who end up here. All I can do is stand and watch.

"And then, for a moment, I think you're going to get away like you always seem to. But you don't, and my family is on you like a pack of dogs. And then im supposed to do the same thing and the first time, when it hardly did anything or worked, was when I realised this whole thing was based around hate and anger, rather than its dwindling logic. And I have to summon up all the hate I can muster and torture you with my own anger, and it felt as if the curse was a two-way thing. Watching you writhe about..." He sighed deeply, lost for words.

"I'm just sick of everyone getting hurt because of me. I don't want to be a torturer. A murderer. I'm not some bloody psychopath like Bellatrix, and I never intended to be. I saw you on the floor today, beaten and helpless, and I just knew I couldn't keep doing this. It was the last straw. We've thrown hexes at each other for the best part of seven years, but the last seven months are beyond comparison. I hated you before but now I... I don't really care. I just don't want to torture anything that doesn't deserve it. I'm not some kind of psycopath, suprise to you."

In the dim light Harry noticed a pink tinge appear on Draco's face, he suddenly looked a little defensive and almost haughty. "I don't think your a psycopath." He replied, mildly.

Harry thought over what the newer prisoner had said, and decided to begin at the beginning "You say you had to stick by your... predetermined...-"

" -Everything"

"Well yeah, but why? Before, why not just stand up to your dad every now and again? Tell him to stick it where the sun don't shine"

Draco wrung his hands unconsciously, debating wether to tell his darkest secret or not. He wasn't just weighing up his potential placement in Azkaban either...

"You can trust me." Draco threw him such an incredioulsly doubtful look it almost begged comedy. "Honestly, it's not like im going anywhere, and I give you my word I wont tell a soul if you don't want me too."

Draco sighed laboriously before deciding that if he had revealed this much of himself to Potter already he may as well tell this last, burning secret. So he explained about his sister, about unwittingly killing her and the proceeding fear and blackmail. Halfway through this Harry sheilded his eyes, but although Dracos breath grew shaky, he didn't break down again. His tears for this were shed long ago, and crying and breaking down again simply wouldnt help matters.

"By the time I started wising up to the probability that it would probably come down on his head rather than mine, there was the threat of Voldermort. You don't just up and leave, even if I could slip away, my parents would be in great danger. So I carried on. As me. You know the rest."

Harry bit his lip and rubbed his temples, thinking over what Draco had told him. Things both made more sense and became incredible confusing at the same time. "So you're saying... you never really had a choice, huh?"

"That is exactly what I'm saying."

Silence fell again, both lost in thought and memory.

.

And then Draco realised, finally, that if he didn't have a choice, he would have to make one.

He knew what he had to do.

.

***Thanks, for the reviews – ShadowEntity my god yes! Dont know how that one slipped me by but dear Godric poor Harry too! I'm glad you like it, I've been trying not to make the characters to OOC in previous chapters so I'm glad it didn't come across that way.; this was harder to write in character but I gave it my best shot.

Oh, and that conversation just after the Quiditch World Cup did happen, I edited out the descriptions and left a load out but the dialouge that's written is all correct if you want to check. Was re-reading the book and stumbled across this – so shocked but glad I can use it :D

So, what's the choice Draco's made? Update as soon as I can, thanks for reading so far, and reviews are always great! :)