Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story contains some details and dialogue borrowed directly from the text of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I reiterate that I am making no money off of this, and that it's all in good fun.

Chapter 13

Draco found himself falling into a sort of a routine over the next several weeks. Eat, sleep, try to kill the headmaster, fuck Granger… Pretty typical stuff for a sixth-year at Hogwarts, really. He snorted. Who the hell am I kidding? Things are completely fucked up!

Yet, as fucked up as everything was, he couldn't deny that he found an odd sense of comfort in the monotony of it all. For the first time since the Dark Lord's return, Draco had stability in his life. Fucked up stability, but stability nonetheless. The prefect schedule had him on rounds with Granger twice a week, Tuesday and Thursday nights, and the end of the evening usually found them breathless and covered in a sweaty sheen, lounging in the bedroom version of the Room of Requirement. It didn't take long for them to begin meeting on Saturday nights too, the wait between Thursday and Tuesday being too long for either of them.

Whenever they weren't otherwise occupied by attending class or meeting for a midnight rendezvous, they were both in the library, though for different reasons. Granger was there with Potter, apparently still avoiding Weasley, and Draco was maniacally pouring over book after book, looking for the perfect murder.

It was nearing Christmas break, and the stress was beginning to take its toll on Draco. Almost half the year had passed, and he was no closer to killing Dumbledore than he had been at the start of the term. Every spare moment was spent desperately trying to complete the Dark Lord's task. Draco was losing sleep, his grades were slipping, and he was even ducking out on Quidditch. It was getting bad. Not oops-I-let-the-milk-expire bad, but oops-I'm-about-to-get-my-entire-family-AK'ed-by-a-psychopath-without-a-nose bad. To be sure, his meetings with Granger were about the only thing holding him together, which was a fact that was no more reassuring to him than the idea of his mother being subject to the Dark Lord's every whim.

There was no doubt about it, Draco Malfoy was falling apart.

The week before Christmas, Draco spent more time in the library than he had during his entire first year at Hogwarts. By Thursday, he was so tweaked out from lack of sleep and abuse of Pepper-Up potions that he was developing an embarrassing twitch in his left eye. He was skulking about in the stacks, searching for any book that might help him with his task, and trying not to let his non-twitchy eye wander over to the table where Granger and Potter sat. He was accomplishing the latter with a reasonable amount of success, at least until he heard Potter utter his name.

"…Filch is being fooled, isn't he? These girls are getting stuff into the school disguised as something else! So why couldn't Malfoy have brought the necklace into the school --?"

Moving a bit closer to the pair, Draco attempted to look like he was casually perusing the books, and not eavesdropping on their conversation. It sounded like they were bickering about something, and he caught the next thing that Granger said.

"…Secrecy Sensors detect jinxes, curses, and concealment charms, don't they? They're used to find Dark Magic and Dark objects. They'd have picked up a powerful curse, like the one on that necklace, within seconds. But something that's just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn't register – and anyway, love potions aren't Dark or dangerous –"

Potter mumbled an interruption, and that gave Draco pause enough to notice Madam Pince approaching with an expression that was more unpleasant than usual, preparing to swoop in on the pair. He took that opportunity to duck around a bookshelf and make haste toward the library exit.

He hurried back to the dungeons with the overheard conversation repeating itself in his head. Not surprisingly, Pansy was waiting for him near the entrance of the Slytherin common room.

"Draco!" she exclaimed, taking his arm. "There you are! I've been waiting for you since supper. Did you find anything helpful in the library?"

He glanced sideways at her. "Maybe. But I'd prefer finding somewhere slightly more private to discuss it."

Pansy smiled. "Of course. Perhaps we should take this to your room, then."

Draco nodded. "That will do."

"Let me just run to my room first," Pansy said, peering into his face critically. "You're not looking so well, and I've got some soothing eye cream that will do wonders for that twitch."

Rolling his eyes, he muttered, "Fine," and headed off to his dormitory to get settled.

A moment later, Pansy appeared, carrying a small jar. She unscrewed the lid and dipped a finger in. "Now hold still, Draco," she instructed as she smoothed a dab of the cream on the skin around each eye, applying an ample amount to the twitchy left eye. Within moments, the tic had stopped. Pansy smiled brightly. "There! Now isn't that better?"

"It is. Thanks, Pansy." Finally free of the awkward eye issues, he granted her a smile in return.

"You're welcome. You can hold on to this jar. I've got more at home, and I'm sure I can live without it for the next two days. You, on the other hand, may need it." She set the jar on the desk next to his bed. "What did you find in the library?"

"I'm not sure exactly," he responded, pulling a notepad out of his desk. "An idea." He began scribbling on the paper, writing down the key points of Granger and Potter's conversation. Thankfully, Pansy remained silent, patiently waiting for Draco to resume speaking. After a few moments, he obliged her. "Have you heard about the love potions that are being smuggled into school as other things?"

She nodded. "Of course I have. Lots of girls have ordered them. They come disguised as perfumes and such. What does that have to do with your task?" she questioned. Then she gasped knowingly. "You're going to try to make Dumbledore fall in love with you?"

Draco glared. "Don't be stupid. I'm talking about the fact that Filch and his Secrecy Sensors can be fooled!" He gestured at his notes. "See, bottled liquids are the weak link! If love potions can make it in successfully, what other potions can make it past Filch?"

Pansy's expression lit up in understanding. "Okay, I follow. So we sneak in some kind of poison, right? How does it get to Dumbledore once it's in the school?"

"That's what I'm not sure about yet," Draco responded.

"Well, it's not as if you can just tip it into his pumpkin juice at breakfast. It will need to be much sneakier than that," Pansy continued.

His eyes widened in realization. "No. It won't need to be much sneakier than that. What was it you told me? The simplest solution is often the best? I just need to keep it simple, because then less can go wrong."

Pansy frowned. "How are you going to do it then? You're not seriously considering just adding it to his goblet at breakfast?"

Draco grinned. "What if I didn't have to? What if it were already in his goblet?"

"Fine. So how are you going to manage that?"

"Well…" Draco paused, thinking. "I still have Madam Rosmerta under the Imperius, don't I? Tell me, Pansy, what is Madam Rosmerta surrounded by?"

"Bottles of liquid," Pansy answered slowly.

"Exactly! Madam Rosmerta can poison a bottle of something, and then send it to the castle. She can send it straight to Dumbledore, even. Nobody would find a bottle of ale from the Three Broomsticks suspicious, and even if they did, there's the gap in security that would most likely let it through anyway!" he finished triumphantly.

Pansy was nodding in agreement. "Not bad, Draco. This could really work."

Draco was already fishing his enchanted coin from an inner pocket of his robes. He touched his wand to it, and a message sprang up on its surface in tiny, glowing letters: "Poison a bottle of drink, to be sent to Dumbledore. Use whatever means necessary." The words shimmered, and then faded away as the message was sent. He tucked the coin into the pocket of his trousers, and ran his fingers through his hair.

Sighing heavily, he said, "Now all I can do is wait, and hope that this plan turns out better than the last." He stood up and faced his reflection in the mirror above his desk. "I really look like shit, don't I?" he asked rhetorically. His eyes were sunken and rimmed in purple. His complexion was no longer the flawless alabaster trademarked by the Malfoy family. It looked dingy and paper-thin. Seeing himself in that state was almost worse than receiving a swift kick in the bollocks. He wanted to cry. "This has to work. I don't know what I'll do if it doesn't."

Pansy's arms encircled his waist. "We'll just have to wait and see, Draco. As far as your appearance is concerned… Well, I still think you're sexy as fuck." Her hands began to creep down his waist. "Why don't I help relieve some of this stress of yours, how does that sound?" she murmured into his ear.

His eyes fluttered shut as her fingers worked their way under his waistband. Unfortunately, the inside of his eyelids bore the picture of Hermione Granger's face, lips parted enticingly. It was Thursday night. Why would he waste his time with Pansy when he could be balls deep inside of the girl he really wanted? "Fuck!" Draco growled, shoving Pansy away from him.

Without a backwards glance, Draco stormed out of the dormitory muttering, "I have to… prefect… Thursday…" leaving Pansy standing there, miffed, in his wake.