•
"You had to carry Malfoy to the infirmary? Oh, mate, I'm sorry."
"Technically, Ron, Harry could have simply levitated Malfoy." Hermione looked at me curiously. "Why didn't you just levitate him?"
"Because I'm an idiot who forgot he's a wizard, 'mione. By the way, have you noticed how solid he is now? Do you think he's been working out?" Ron and Hermione shared a look over my shoulders. I pretended to ignore it. "I mean, where could he be getting exercise? Quidditch isn't that athletic, and he would only have time to work out if he got up early every morni-which would explain the bags under his eyes! He's not getting enough sleep because he's working out so that he can bring us down-"
"Harry, may I remind you that Malfoy is a wizard? He doesn't need to 'work out' to be powerful." Hermione stated this without even glancing at me.
"Besides," Ron said, "You're being annoying again with the whole Malfoy-is-plotting-and-I-just-happen-to-notice-every-bloody-thing-about-him."
I sighed. I had received this talk multiple times over the years. But, how did they not know that the only reason I noticed everything about Malfoy was so I could fight him better? 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer' right?
"Tapeworm." Hermione's voice interrupted my moping as the Fat Lady swung back. Ron and Hermione plunked down on a plush red sofa, but I headed to the dorms.
"I'm going to bed early. See you in the morning."
"Don't forget the Herbology essay!" Hermione's voice floated behind me. I wasn't tired so much as drained. I also wanted to know what had happened to Malfoy. Sure, he was a drama queen, but it didn't look like he knew that I was there. Why would he put on a show if there was no one there to see it? And if it was genuine, as it appeared to be, what would make him pass out like that? I knew that he was a lot stronger than he let on, so it had to be something big. Did he take a wonky potion?
I took off my robe and draped it on the back of a chair. A tiny piece of paper drifted out of its pocket and landed at my feet. Suddenly remembering the note I had seen in Malfoy's hand, I picked it up.
"Kill Albus Dumbledore. End him, and your family will be safe. The Dark Lord asks this task of you. Do not fail him.
-Lucius Malfoy"
The small letter fell from my hand. Malfoy is going to kill Dumbledore. I didn't complete the thought before I was out the door.
"Harry! Where're you going?"
I barely registered Ron's voice as I dashed out of the common room.
I crashed through the med wing doors, my wand already out. A few candles were still lit, and Malfoy was sitting on the same bed that I had left him on, reading some book. I raised my wand as he raised his blonde head. "Stupif-"
"Expelliarmus!"
My wand flew across the room, and suddenly I was the one with a wand pointed at my neck. Honestly, how does he move that fast?
"Do you have one good reason that I shouldn't make you forget your own name, Potter?"
"I do, and if you don't get back in that bed this instant, Mr. Malfoy, I will tie you down."
Both of us turned our heads to see Madame Pomfrey; she was dressed in a printed nightgown and looked like she was entertaining the idea of murdering at least one of us. Malfoy lowered his wand, and walked back to his bed, glowering. Madame Pomfrey continued to glare at me.
"Is there a special reason you felt the urge to burst through my doors and disturb Mr. Malfoy?"
"Yes, actually. You see, Madame Pomfrey, Malfoy is planning to kill Professor Dumbledore." I glanced over at Malfoy to see his reaction. All colour drained from his face. "I found a letter from his father that he dropped in the corridor. The letter said that Voldemort wanted Malfoy to kill Dumbledore. The Malfoys are Death Eaters."
I returned my gaze to Madame Pomfrey. I suppose I expected her to be horrified or at least surprised, but she just looked tired. "Mr. Potter, we are aware that all three Malfoys are Death Eaters, and while I was not told about this letter, I am sure that Dumbledore has been."
I gaped are the med witch, but she continued in a drained tone. "Now, Mr. Potter, seeing as you are out past curfew, I cannot send you back to your house. You will spend the night here." My jaw could not have dropped any lower.
"Oh! And I'm confiscating your wands. I am exhausted and not dealing with any hex from either of you. Acio wands!" I was wrong: my jaw could drop lower. "Good night, gentleman. Try not to kill each other." And she was gone, leaving me with a wannabe murderer. Well, fuck.
•
Potter sank onto the bed across from mine; he looked dazed. Normally, I would smirk and make some snide remark, but I simply didn't have enough energy. "You read the letter?"
Potter looked up at me, slowly. "You want to kill Dumbledore. You're a Death Eater, just like your father. You ought to be locked up in Azkaban." He practically spits this at me. I just lay back in my bed.
•
The bastard was to ignore me. I hate him.
•
Potter was illuminated by the moon peeking through the window; he had a sort of silver lining around him. His glasses looked like they were glowing. He was glaring at me. I couldn't see his eyes (glowing glasses) but I could see the hard line that his mouth was set in. He looked like a furious dark angel. He always looked like a dark angel of some sort. I hated it. I hated that I had made him look so stunned. I hated that Father and The Dark Lord had made me do this. I hated that I couldn't choose anything. I had to do what was ordered or-
"Why?" Potter's voice startled me.
"Why what?"
"You're not stupid; you know what."
I sighed. "I didn't have a choice. I had to become a Death Eater."
Potter let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, you didn't have a choice. You always have a choice, Malfoy! You could have just-"
And I exploded. I had been strung fit to snap for years, and Potter had prodded once too many times. "NO, Potter, I didn't have a choice! You're the Boy Who Lived! You always have everything going for you, don't you? Me? My choices are to obey or watch my family die. That's it. So, you shut up, Golden Boy. You. Know. Nothing."
•
Malfoy erupted. He started yelling in my face, his own flushed. "NO, Potter, I didn't have a choice! You're the Boy Who Lived! You always have everything going for you, don't you? Me?" His voice was shaking now; he was shaking. His gaze shifted down to his clenched laced hands. "My choices are to obey or watch my family die. That's it. So, you shut up, Golden Boy. You. Know. Nothing." His voice had become a ragged whisper. The moonlight made his hair glow like a wicked halo.
I was silent for a long time. Long enough for the moonlight to shift in Malfoy's hair. I guess I had never thought that he wouldn't want to do all of this, wouldn't want to follow Voledmort's every command. Guess I was wrong.
I shifted and put one hand on Malfoy's [hands]. I could feel him tense even further. "Malfoy, you're hurting yourself. Draco, stop." It was true: his fingernails were biting deeply into the backs of his hands, creating angry half-moons.
I slowly detangled his grip, pulling both hands into my lap and holding them firmly. "Draco. You're right: I don't really know you, so I can't truly judge you. You've been an absolute prick to me my whole life, but I don't know what your life is like.
"But, you're wrong too." He looked up, frowning. "You're wrong if you think everything comes easily to me. You and I both have it hard-"
Draco yanked his hands from mine and sat back on his bed. I stood up and settled beside him. "I notice that you flinch when someone comes near to you with a raised hand or wand. You tensed up when I touched you just now. I do the same."
Draco let out a huff. "Potter, I doubt you and I have the same reasons for that-" His breath suddenly became sharp. "Harry. Who did that?"
I had lowered the collar of my shirt to reveal a jagged scar that Dudley had given me when I was ten; he had some cronies over, and they decided that it would be great fun to beat me with empty cans. Those lids are sharper than you would think.
I told Draco this; his eyes never left my scar. As I finished, he reached out to push my shirt down further. His fingers gently brushed my collar bone and it was my turn for a sharp intake of breath. He finally met my eyes. "I guess we're not so different after all."
Draco suddenly moved back, his cool hand leaving my skin. My breathing returned to a steady rate. "I suppose you want a truce, then?"
A small smile played on the edge of my lips. "Truce it is Draco. Now, how do you want to take down old Voldy?"