The Devil in Me

Between Heaven and Hell, The Devil in Me

A/N: Parts of the dialogue are out of 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince' because of the nature of the story, it has to begin with canon until it diverges into AU. Of course DISCLAIMER: JK Rowling owns the characters, the places, etc. I'm just twisting my own narrative out of it.

The story (and chapter title) are lyrics from the song:

War on a Desperate Man by Eli Young Band.

"So the boy must die?"

Severus asked the question calmly, but his heart pounded in his chest. His head spun at the revelation that had just fallen from Albus Dumbledore's lips.

Dumbledore looked at him over the top of his half-moon glasses and bowed his head.

"And Voldemort himself must do it, Severus. That is essential."

The older man prattled on about the reasons behind this logic, and although Severus heard him, he didn't give the words his full attention. Dumbledore closed his eyes, but Severus very much doubted that this confession caused him pain, he doubted that Dumbledore cared what happened to Harry Potter, but he did.

He cared because Lily had cared. He cared about keeping Harry alive because the boy was the only part of her that he could hold onto.

When Dumbledore opened his eyes, he looked at Severus sceptically. No doubt because of the expression of mingled horror and disgust on his face.

"You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?" Severus asked quietly.

Dumbledore mistook his tone for one of calmness when, in reality, it was quiet anger.

"Don't be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?"

That hit hard. Those words were like a punch to the gut. Yes, Severus knew he was far from perfect. He was by no means the good guy in all of this, but then again, neither was Dumbledore. He had used Severus, but worse than that – he had used Harry. From the ripe old age of one, he had used that baby to shape his own plans.

Severus did not let his discord show. Instead, he looked Dumbledore in the eye and evenly replied, "Lately, only those whom I could not save."

Dumbledore raised a curious eyebrow.

Severus rose from his chair and moved towards the door. He did not leave, though.

"You have used me."

"Meaning?"

Severus took a breath but made sure not to let his anger show. He kept his tone even, and his gaze steady.

"I have spied for you, and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter's son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter-"

"But this is touching, Severus," Dumbledore said with a sincereness that Severus did not believe.

"Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?"

Severus almost scoffed. Yes, he cared about the boy's welfare, but it had nothing to do with him; he was ignorant just like his father, but then there were moments when all Severus could see in him was Lily.

"For him? Expecto Patronum!"

A silver doe erupted from his wand and danced around the office. The two men watched it silently, Severus cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from the Patronus.

"After all this time?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"Always."

His reply was merely a whisper, but he knew that Dumbledore had heard it. He did not wait for a response before he swept out of the Headmaster's Office, his black robes billowing behind him.

Severus was loyal to Dumbledore, but he was under no illusion about the man's true nature. He was one straw short of being a psychopath as far as Severus was concerned, but he had offered him protection when he needed it.

Loyalty did not come into his decision-making anyway. Severus had always been a true Slytherin, and as such, his only motivator was keeping himself alive and thus far, he had done that by picking the side that he felt would win and serving them as best as he could.

The decision he needed to make now was a difficult one. Did he go behind Dumbledore's back and tell Harry Potter the truth now? If he did, he would be giving the boy a fighting chance, and if he did not, Harry would surely die. He could not help but wonder what Lily would want him to do.

Severus sighed and entered his quarters. Whatever he did, he had better decide soon because he knew what Draco had been planning all year, he knew what the Dark Lords next steps were. Soon Dumbledore would be dead, by his hand or Draco's he did not know, but when the old man fell, Harry Potter would swiftly become the Dark Lord's next target.

Would Lily want him to fight nobly and die a martyrs death? Or would she just want to give him a fighting chance of survival?

It was May – the days were longer, the sun was brighter, but Harry had never felt more miserable. He had developed an unhealthy obsession with Draco Malfoy as of late and to make matters worse, none of his friends believed that the blonde boy was a Death Eater. His recent crush on Ginny Weasley made him just as miserable because she had spent the majority of the year dating Dean Thomas. He had no idea where the jealous monster in his chest had come from, just last year she had been nothing more than his friend and Ron's little sister.

Harry sighed and looked out at the setting sun. He was supposed to be doing his homework, but he wasn't in the mood, which was why he had come to the dorm room to avoid Hermione and her nagging.

A tap at the window distracted him. Harry looked up sharply and saw an owl outside the dorm room window. He jumped up and opened it, taking the letter from her anxiously. Very few people wrote to him when he was at Hogwarts, and it puzzled him further when he didn't recognise the writing.

Harry unrolled the scroll all the same and scanned the words within the letter.

I know you have been using my book this year, and I presume you are intrigued about my identity. I knew your parents, and I have information about them, Voldemort and Dumbledore. Meet me in the Shrieking Shack tonight at 10 pm.

I know that you have an invisibility cloak, but you must come alone."

Harry breathed in sharply when he read the signature. The author had signed the letter as "The Half-Blood Prince."

He looked at the clock on the wall – it was almost 9 pm, minutes away from the curfew. He had time to go down to the common room and drag Ron and Hermione into a corner. Better yet, he could wait until Ron came up to bed and tell him about the mysterious letter.

But something told him not to. Something told him to trust the Half-Blood Prince. Harry kept his gaze on the silhouette of the Shrieking Shack in the distance. Hermione didn't trust the prince; she had been on Harry's case about the book from day one and Ron, well Ron was just envious that Harry had become so good at potions because of it all of a sudden.

Harry bit his lip and tapped his quill absentmindedly. Should he tell Ron? And if he could trust the prince, then why was he asking Harry to come alone?

"You okay, Harry?"

Harry jumped – Merlin; he was paranoid. He had thought that he was alone in the dorm room, but the familiar voice had come from Neville's bed.

"Uh, yeah, Neville," Harry said distractedly, "I thought I was alone, sorry."

"It's alright," Neville said. He pulled the curtains back around his bed and smiled weakly at Harry.

"I had a headache, so I came up here for some peace. You seem like you've got a lot on your mind?"

Harry sighed. Yes, he did have a lot on his mind, but how was that any different from usual? He barely slept; he never wanted to eat; all he did was worry. It was no life.

"I have to do something tonight, Neville," Harry said, "And I need to do it alone. You can't tell Ron and Hermione, okay?"

Neville frowned at him, "Harry, you're scaring me with that kind of talk."

Harry shook his head, "I need to meet someone, and they…they can't know."

"Why?" asked Neville.

Harry couldn't give him a straight answer because, in all honesty, he didn't know himself. He frowned and looked down at the letter in his hands, "I…I don't know Neville. Something is off this year. They aren't…they just don't seem the same."

Neville frowned but said nothing.

"If I'm not back by midnight, tell Dumbledore that I met someone in the Shrieking Shack," Harry said. He folded up the letter and put it in his pocket.

"Harry," Neville said. His tone of voice made Harry look up; he hadn't heard Neville sound that tentative for a long time.

"Yeah?"

"Just be careful."

Harry nodded, "I will be."

He had meant it. Harry was well aware that he might be walking into a trap so he would be going in prepared. The prince had told him to come alone and had mentioned his invisibility cloak – he had taken that as a warning not to hide anyone else under it. Still, he would wear it the minute he emerged from the whomping willow tunnel into the old shack.

It never hurt to be too cautious, and Harry had learned that at a young age. He grabbed his cloak and the Marauders map and snuck out of the Gryffindor common room. He camped out in an empty classroom until it got closer to 10 pm, then he headed for the grounds.

The darkened grounds always made him shiver, no matter the time of year. The darkness created shadows and the sounds of strange creatures could be heard on the wind when it blew away from the Forbidden Forest. Harry used a stick to freeze the branches of the old willow, and then he crawled into the passageway, his heart pounding with fear and anticipation.

He reached the trapdoor and held his breath, listening for any movement within the old house. When Harry heard nothing, he pulled his cloak on and clambered out. He couldn't see anyone in the shack which was lit only by moonlight, streaming through the cracks in the rotting timber.

Instinctively, Harry headed upstairs towards the room where Sirius had taken Ron, back in third year. He knew the prince wasn't Sirius, he was dead, and he had been a pureblood. But all the same, his gut told him that the prince would be in that room.

Harry took a breath and pushed open the door. When he stepped inside, somebody pulled his cloak off, and his eyes widened.

"You?"

"Who, pray, did you expect? Godric Gryffindor?" Severus Snape drawled.

Harry shook his head, angrily, "You're the Half-Blood Prince?"

"Yes, Potter," Snape replied, "I am the Half-Blood Prince. My father was a Muggle, and my mother's maiden name was Prince. I knew that you had that book the moment Slughorn told me about your prowess in Potions class. A dunderhead like you could hardly become a skilled potioneer overnight, after all."

Harry scowled at the greasy-haired man.

"You lied to me in your letter."

"I did no such thing," Snape remarked, "I did know your parents, and I do have information about them."

"And Voldemort and Dumbledore," Harry said, eyeing him suspiciously, "You said that too."

Snape bowed his head, "Congratulations – you have learned how to read."

Harry scoffed, "Well, this has been a delightful meeting, Professor, but since this is obviously a trap, I reckon I'll be going now."

Snape rolled his eyes, "A trap? Potter, you have no sense of what a good trap entails if you think this is a trap."

Before Harry could yank the door open, Snape dropped his wand and looked Harry dead in the eye.

"I am unarmed. Does it seem like less of a trap now?"

Harry frowned and narrowed his eyes.

"What do you want?"

"To tell you the truth - something our esteemed Headmaster should have done a long time ago," Snape replied dryly.

"But…but…you hate me," Harry said stupidly.

"Well, it seems that you have learned something over the past six years," Snape drawled. He took a step closer to Harry.

"I very much doubt that you will believe anything that I tell you, so I am going to show you."

Harry frowned and took a step back. He hit the door, and Snape smirked at his uncomfortableness.

"The last time someone said that it was Tom Riddle and then he sucked me into his diary," Harry said sarcastically, "So forgive me if I'm a bit wary, Professor."

Snape scoffed, "Did you learn nothing last year? I can invade your head with just one word, and unless you have drastically improved your Occlumency skills, there would be nothing that you could do about it."

Harry said nothing because it was true. He hadn't improved his Occlumency skills, Snape was right.

"You may recall an occasion when you managed to see inside my mind," Snape said, his eyes flashing angrily, "That is proof that you can cast the spell so you must do it again. I will open my mind to you, so there will be no resistance."

Harry's frown deepened, "But…"

"Simply say the incantation – Legilimens – and focus on my mind," Snape drawled.

Harry had no idea what was happening, but he was too curious to argue. He raised his wand and pointed it at Snape, something he had wanted to do for a long-time, but to curse the greasy-haired git not to read his mind.

He took a breath and said, "Legilimens!"

As Snape had promised, there was no resistance. In his mind, memories began to play out, but they were not Harry's, they were Snape's.

Harry watched a young Snape meet a young Lily Evans – his mother. He watched their friendship blossom, watched her be sorted into Gryffindor while Snape went to Slytherin. He watched his parents fall in love; he saw Lily's friendship with Snape fall apart. Then came the painful memories – the ones that ultimately broke Harry.

Snape heard the prophecy. He told Voldemort about it. He was the reason that Voldemort had come after Harry's parents. Yes, he hadn't known, and yes, he regretted it. Harry saw him meet with Dumbledore, and he realised why Snape had turned spy, what he had risked to protect him, to protect Lily Potter's son.

Harry began to understand Snape, but as the memories became more recent – he began to hate Dumbledore more. Harry saw Dumbledore ask Snape about his cursed hand, and Snape told him that he had a year to live.

Dumbledore knew that Voldemort had tasked Draco with killing him? He knew, and he had decided to do nothing about it? Had he decided to let a 16-year-old boy rip himself apart with guilt over such a monumental task? That made Harry's blood boil with rage because he had been forced into difficult decisions, he had made the wrong choice sometimes, like when Sirius died. Knowing that Draco, a boy he had once hated, had been forced into something so terrible made him angry, but not at Voldemort for giving the order. At Dumbledore for knowing and deciding to let it happen. Dumbledore knew that Draco would be unable to perform the task; he asked Snape to kill him to gain Voldemort's complete and utter trust.

The last memory played out, and this one dealt the fatal blow. It was the moment that Harry discovered that Dumbledore had engineered his entire life, that he had raised him to die at precisely the right moment. He was a Horcrux, and suddenly, everything else made sense – his strange ability to speak to snakes, the absurd connection between himself and Voldemort.

Snape pushed Harry out of his mind, and for a moment, Harry didn't even notice that he was back in the real world. He gripped one of the four posters of the bed in the room and breathed heavily as this knowledge crushed him.

"He betrayed me," Harry breathed.

"He betrayed both of us," Snape replied icily, "I have spent years protecting you just so that he can have you die at the right moment. He wants you to die a martyr."

Harry shook his head, torn between disbelief and anger.

"I debated telling you the truth," Snape said honestly. His tone was quiet and hard to read, "In the end, I did what I thought Lily would want."

Harry looked up sharply, "What?"

"Your father would want you to die a martyr," Snape said distastefully, "He was the epitome of Gryffindor house, but your mother was not and nor are you."

Harry frowned, "You know that I was a hat stall?"

"No," Snape confessed, "But I see many Slytherin traits in you, and now, I wonder if perhaps that is the part of the Dark Lord inside you. All the same, Lily would not want you to run blindly into the fire. She would want you to make a decision and face the future with the facts; she was highly logical and far more suited to Ravenclaw house in many respects."

Harry stared at the potions professor. All of a sudden, he saw the older man in a whole new light.

"She would want you to make your own decision," Snape continued, "She would not want a chess master to make it for you. Our Headmaster has made enough decisions for you already."

Harry sank onto the moth-eaten mattress and sighed heavily.

"Is that everything?" He asked.

Snape eyed him, warily, "Unfortunately not."

Harry rose angrily, "What else has he kept from me?"

"There was a reason that Hagrid accompanied you to Diagon Alley when you first received your Hogwarts letter," Snape informed him, "Ordinarily a muggle-born or a witch or wizard who has been raised by muggles is accompanied by a Head of House. This is because of the questions such young witches and wizards have, questions I doubt that oaf could answer."

Harry's frown deepened.

"Minerva certainly offered, but Dumbledore assured her that Hagrid was up to the task. This was because he knew that Minerva, as loyal as she is, would not spy on an eleven-year-old boy for him," Snape said distastefully.

"She was already too invested in your welfare, and she had been from the moment Dumbledore left you with Lily's repulsive sister."

"She didn't want him to?" Harry asked in surprise.

Snape shook his head, "She observed them and told Dumbledore that leaving you with them was a bad idea, but he convinced her that it would be better for you to grow up away from the spotlight."

Harry scoffed angrily.

If Snape noticed, he did not comment on it. Instead, he said, "Dumbledore knew that Hagrid would report back to him, and he did. When Hagrid told him that you had been conversing with Draco Malfoy, he made sure that you would befriend Ron Weasley on the train to Hogwarts."

"What?" Harry barked.

Snape bowed his head, "He asked Molly Weasley to point out the platform loudly, and he paid her to convince her son to befriend you, to take you in and help influence you towards his cause."

Harry looked at him in disbelief, "So Ron didn't sit in that compartment by chance…he became my friend because his mother told him to?"

"Indeed. Dumbledore felt that his plans for you would be dashed if you were sorted into Slytherin house, so he made sure that you had Gryffindor influences from the moment you entered the wizarding world."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He was so angry that he was physically shaking; he had felt angry before but never like this.

"I have also noticed stocks of the supplies that are required to make Amortentia going missing," Snape informed Harry.

"And I do not think it is a coincidence that Dumbledore asked Slughorn to include it in the N.E.W.T curriculum this year when we should not teach it until seventh year. Your sudden infatuation with Miss. Weasley took me by surprise, but when I noticed the missing supplies, I quickly linked the dots."

"No," Harry said quietly.

"I very much doubt that the Weasley girl has the ability to brew the potion, however," Snape added, "I suspect Miss. Granger has helped her, and to prove my point, take this."

Harry frowned as Snape pulled a vial of clear liquid from his robes.

"What is it?" Harry asked before he reached for the vial.

"A simple flushing potion," Snape replied, "It will flush any potions from your system and tell you if your feelings for the Weasley girl are genuine or not."

Harry took the vial warily, "How do I know it's not poison?"

"Why would I show you the truth only to kill you?" Snape asked, quirking an eyebrow up.

"Because you're a slimy git?" Harry countered.

"Sir," Snape corrected.

"No need to call me sir, Professor."

Snape fixed Harry with a stern look, "Take the potion, Potter, before I do switch it with a poison."

"You carry poison on you?" Harry asked in alarm.

"I am a Death Eater who has been forced to spy for the light. I would be a fool if I did not carry poison on me."

Harry couldn't argue with that logic. Snape had a point anyway; he had shown Harry the truth against Dumbledore's orders, so he failed to see why he would kill him now. If he were on Voldemort's side, he would take Harry to his lord first. Everyone knew that Voldemort wanted to kill Harry himself after all.

So, with a sigh, Harry knocked back the foul potion. It tasted like pure alcohol, and it made his throat burn. He coughed and felt his stomach instantly churn unpleasantly; he had just registered that he was going to throw up when he began to retch.

Snape, rather unhelpfully, took a step back and let Harry spend five minutes throwing up the contents of his stomach until there was nothing left, not even any stomach acid.

"Scourgify," The professor muttered.

Harry rested his head against a pillar.

"You could have told me it was going to do that," he moaned.

"What did you think a flushing potion was going to do?" Snape asked dryly.

Fair point - Harry thought to himself.

"How do you feel about Ginevra Weasley?" Snape asked pointedly.

Harry frowned. Suddenly he didn't care that she was dating Dean. She was Ron's little sister, and she had been irritating them since that first summer he spent at the Burrow. Yes, she was exceptionally talented with nifty little spells, and she could stick up for herself, but she was one of the lads. She would play Quidditch with them and get covered in mud, she would bump elbows with him and tease him, but he felt the same way about her that he did about the rest of the Weasley's. It wasn't how he had felt about Cho…

"Oh, for fucks sake!" Harry snapped, "Is anything in my life real?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at him, "I hate you; that's real."

"That's great, thanks for that," Harry retorted, "Dumbledore lied to me about everything! Hagrid betrayed me, Ron lied to me, Hermione lied to me, Ginny drugged me! Has Neville lied to me too?"

"Mr Longbottom is as ignorant to all of this as he always has been," Snape drawled.

"Well, at least one of my friends isn't a complete bastard then!" Harry fumed. He kicked the rotten old bed and turned to Snape.

"What do I do now? My whole life is a lie!"

"Perhaps you should tap into your inner Slytherin," Snape said, his eyes not leaving Harry's, "Take matters into your own hands and do not rely on anyone."

Harry thought that sounded like a miserable life, never relying on anyone again. He didn't want to end up bitter and alone like Snape, but clearly, he could not trust the majority of the people who claimed to love him, the people who he called his friends.

The only person who hadn't lied to him was Neville.

And Draco, a small voice at the back of his head reminded him. It had been what Snape said about how he hated him that triggered the thought. Draco hated him and had never hidden it. Like Snape, he had never hidden his true feelings for Harry and right now, that was the best he had. Draco understood what Harry was going through; he was going through his own nightmare right now.

"I need to go," Harry said abruptly. He pulled the door open and paused. He could not bear to turn around and say this to the potions professor's face, so he resorted to keeping his back turned, "And…thank you, sir. I don't agree with all of your choices, but I can understand them."

Snape said nothing, so Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak from the floor next to the doorway, and he took off as fast as his legs would carry him.

His mind reeled as he made his way into the tunnel that would take him back to Hogwarts. Snape was in love with his mother, and all of this time, he had been protecting Harry. He hadn't been trying to kill him; he had been keeping him safe because of his love for Lily. Dumbledore, on the other hand, had kept him safe to kill him at the right moment. Every time that mans name popped into his head, Harry had to fight an urge to growl with unadulterated rage. He could feel his anger growing, and it was worse than it had been even after Sirius's death.

As he walked across the grounds, he began to get angrier with every step that he took. All he could think about were the people he called friends and how they had all lied to him. They must have all been laughing behind his back this whole time. He had probably been right about that dreadful summer he had to spend with the Dursleys after Cedric died – he had thought they were all having a great time without him at Grimmauld Place and they must have been because clearly, they did not give a damn about Harry.

Harry looked up at the school, his anger growing. His entire life had been a lie. Dumbledore was playing a game, and he was a piece, not just any piece either but the key one – he was a pawn in Dumbledore's great game, he was dispensable. So what if he died? As long as Voldemort died too then it didn't matter, right?

Well, it mattered to him. Harry hadn't spent six years fighting for his life just to let it end now. Dumbledore had put him through enough, and he wouldn't let the old man put him through any more. Harry was going to survive, and he was going to channel his inner Slytherin just as Snape had suggested. He knew enough about the likes of Snape and Malfoy to know that to survive, you had to act like a Slytherin, and Slytherins learned how to adapt to the changing circumstances.

By the time Harry stepped into the entrance hall, he was so angry that there was no doubt in his mind that he would be capable of casting the killing curse the moment he looked into Albus Dumbledore's deceitful eyes.

But he wasn't going to do that just yet. There was something else he had to do first, so instead of climbing the grand staircase up to his common room, Harry went downwards, into the depths of the dungeons.

"Greengrass. Where's Malfoy?"

The pretty girl who Harry had just made jump, spun around. Her long blonde hair flipped around as she did so, and her cynical, dark blue eyes narrowed.

"Why are you asking me, Potter?" asked Greengrass.

"Because unlike most of your housemates, I knew you wouldn't tell me to fuck off on first sight," Harry replied sarcastically.

"At first sight? No," She agreed, "But after the first words have come out of your dumb mouth? Maybe."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Where is he? You must have some idea."

"Even if I did, why would I tell you?" She quipped.

She was on the defence and Harry didn't blame her. He had been lurking in the shadows outside the Slytherin common room when he called her name. As usual of late though, Draco wasn't on the Marauders Map.

Greengrass did not take her eyes off of his. Those eyes surveyed him; it was as if they could sense the change in him as it was happening.

"Aren't you on different sides?" Greengrass asked finally.

"At the moment," Harry replied darkly, "And I'm not stupid, Greengrass. Your family are neutral; you don't want to be on either side of this war so since you don't have a stake in either side, just tell me where Malfoy is."

She rolled her eyes, "If you hang out in the sixth-floor boys' bathroom, I'm sure you'll come across him. It seems to be where he spends most of his evenings, crying his heart out."

Harry felt a tug of sympathy, or maybe it was empathy, for Draco Malfoy upon hearing that but he didn't let it show. Instead, he nodded and said, "Thanks, Greengrass."

It was only as he walked away from her, that a thought struck him. Harry turned around and cocked his head at her, "It's almost 11 pm, you shouldn't be out so late after curfew."

Greengrass raised an eyebrow at him, "Neither should you and nor should you be hanging around outside the Slytherin common room, but hey, we all have our mysteries, Potter."

Harry smiled slightly and said no more on the subject. He left the dungeon corridor and put his invisibility cloak back on the moment he had slipped inside a secret passageway. He looked on the map as he walked, but after a scan of the sixth-floor, he still could not see Draco.

All the same, there was only one boy's bathroom on the sixth floor, so Harry made his way to it in the hope that Greengrass was right. Harry sat on a toilet seat in one of the cubicles with the map on his knee and eventually, Draco's name appeared on the map.

It appeared on the seventh floor, just outside the Room of Requirement, but Harry had already known that Draco had been doing something in that area. He just had no idea what. With any luck, that would change tonight.

Harry stashed the map in his pocket and waited by the sinks. Draco ran into the bathroom, and Harry thought he was running from something because of the fear in his eyes. The blonde boy leant against a sink, and as Daphne had suggested, he began to cry.

Harry didn't have time for this, he needed Draco to give him information, and he needed it quickly.

Draco did not know what had hit him when an invisible force grabbed him and pinned him against the sinks. A hand appeared from nowhere and clamped itself over his mouth. He began to panic, his eyes wide with fear and his breath hot against Harry's hand.

Harry threw the cloak off and let go of Draco. The blonde boy immediately reached for his wand, but it was too late. Harry held it up and gave it a teasing wave.

"Looking for this, Malfoy?"

"Give me that back, Potter!" Draco spat.

"Keep your voice down, and I might think about it," Harry retorted.

Draco lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Give me back my wand right now, or I will curse your half-blood arse into next week," he seethed.

"Really? You won't just cry at me?" Harry asked mockingly.

Draco's jaw set, his eyes narrowed.

"I could kill you, Potter."

"You could, but I doubt that you will," Harry said, pocketing Draco's wand and training his own on the blonde boy.

"The man you serve wants me alive, for starters."

"I don't serve anyone," Draco hissed.

Harry grabbed Draco's left arm and squeezed. Draco let out a guttural cry of pain, and Harry raised an eyebrow.

"No?"

Draco yanked his arm back and cradled it.

"What the hell has gotten into you, Potter?"

"Knowledge," Harry replied, his eyes flashing darkly, "You're a Death Eater, Malfoy. I've known it all year, even if nobody has believed me, and I also know what you're doing this year."

Draco paled and tried to take a step back, but Harry had already backed him into the sink.

"Are you going to kill me?"

Harry scoffed, "Kill you? No, I don't want to kill you. I want in."

Draco let out a short, sharp laugh, "Then I think this is one big misunderstanding, Potter. If you had any idea what I was doing this year, you would kill me on sight."

Harry didn't let Draco's attitude faze him. If anything, he revelled in being able to get one over on the arrogant little prat.

"You're trying to kill Dumbledore," Harry deadpanned, "And so far, all you have done is fuck it up and let innocent people get caught in the firing line. A cursed necklace? Poisoned mead? What is this, a game of fucking Cluedo?"

Draco looked utterly dumbfounded. So much so that he couldn't even find words to respond to that with.

"So," Harry continued, "I have a proposition for you - let me help."

"What?" Draco spluttered.

Anger bubbled up in Harry as he thought about Dumbledore, as he thought about seeing his face again, about looking into those eyes and seeing them twinkling to hide the lies beneath.

"Dumbledore is a liar," Harry spat vehemently, "All he has done is lie to me and betray me. My entire life has been a lie, engineered by him, and I am sick of being used as a pawn in his game. He deserves to die because he caused all of this and he knows that, he wants to die."

Draco stared at Harry in disbelief.

"He knows you're trying to kill him," Harry told the Slytherin, "Something cursed him, he's dying. He thinks you won't be able to do it and let's face it, he's right. You're a bit of a wet towel."

Draco broke out of his daze, "Oh but you could do it? Saint Potter, who can only use the disarming curse? You would kill Dumbledore?"

"Yes," Harry said, his green eyes darkening a whole shade, "Better than that, I want to. I won't let Snape mercy-kill him. He deserves to die, knowing how much I hate him. He deserves to die, knowing that his grand plan has failed."

Draco searched Harry's eyes for any hint of deceit, but there was none.

"Trust me, I'm not that good a liar," Harry promised.

Draco sighed, "There's more to it than that. The Dark Lord has me fixing a vanishing cabinet which has a sister in Borgin and Burke's. It would allow the Death Eaters access into the school."

Harry shook his head, "You can't let that happen. Dumbledore deserves to die, but most of the kids in this school are innocent."

"If I don't do it, he'll kill me, Potter," Draco said. But he wasn't angry anymore, he just sounded terrified.

"Not if we bring him Albus Dumbledore's body," Harry said fiercely, "He would forgive anything else if we did that."

"We?" Draco scoffed, "He will kill you the minute he sees you."

"No, he won't," Harry said. He knew that Voldemort wouldn't; he had learned enough about him this year to see that he would be intrigued. He would want to have a conversation with Harry before he blindly killed him. Or at least, Tom Riddle would have done. The man who existed now, with his Horcruxes and torn up soul? Well, Harry was taking a gamble on him but no more so than he would have been if he went along with Dumbledore's grand plan.

"What makes you so sure?" Draco asked sceptically.

"I have something he wants, and I have something he wants to hear," Harry said with a shrug.

"Which is?"

"None of your business," Harry said sharply, "So, are we doing this or not?"

"Well…I mean… what do we do?"

"We kill Dumbledore," Harry said simply.

"What…you mean right now?"

"Why wait?" Harry asked coldly, "He has no idea that I've found out about his betrayal. If you go into his office, he'll know why you're there, but he will never see it coming when I appear."

Draco looked at Harry warily, "You just found out about this, and you already have a plan?"

"I had plenty of time to think about it while I was waiting for you," Harry said, his features shrouded in darkness, "Trust me, it will work."

Harry knew Draco didn't trust him, not as far as he could throw him. But the Slytherin boy also knew that, right now, Harry was his best chance. So he nodded and swallowed a lump that had risen in his throat.

"Fine. What's your plan?"

* TBC *