A/N: Much of this chapter was taken directly from HBP, I really did not want to (nor did I feel the need to) change Dumbledore's dialogue much. Anyway, as always, no copyright infringement is intended, and I do not mean to portray any HP content as my own. Thank you so much for reading!

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Draco was surprised to find that Dumbledore's wand felt like the wand of any other; ordinary. He'd expected to feel something else entirely— unstoppable maybe, or at least more powerful.

It's not the wand that makes the wizard great, a voice that sounded very much like Hermione's whispered through the panic in his mind.

"Good evening, Draco."

Draco stepped forward, glancing around quickly to check that he and Dumbledore were alone. He'd heard two voices, and he spotted not one, but two brooms propped up against the ramparts.

"Potter— where is he? I know he was with you tonight."

"Harry is safe, and quite unable to interfere at the moment. That is all you need to know. I might ask you Miss Granger's location— or are you acting alone this evening?"

Draco swallowed hard and tried not to let his gaze glance toward the shadows, were Hermione was hidden.

How does he know? Draco wondered.

"No," Draco said, trying to play the part of dutiful Death Eater. "I've got back-up. There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight."

"Well, well," said Dumbledore, as though Draco had just shown him an ambitious homework project. "Very good indeed. You mended the connection between the vanishing cabinets, did you?"

His Occlumency training stunned into ineffectiveness, Draco gaped in disbelief.

"How did you know—?" the words tumbled from his lips.

"That is unimportant now, but I will say, your idea to use the connection between the vanishing cabinets was ingenious," replied Dumbledore. "I see my book was useful in mending said connection."

"Your—" Draco sputtered, completely stunned.

That was Dumbledore's book Hermione gave me? But that means…

Dumbledore's expression did not change, his eyes twinkling even in the hollow greenish light of the Dark Mark.

Everything suddenly came together. Hermione. Hermione told Dumbledore.

Draco was quite sure he could feel her gaze bore through his back.

Draco felt instantly betrayed. He wondered when she had told the Headmaster, how long she'd held the book— and more importantly, the answer to mending the cabinets— before that night in the hospital wing. Dumbledore had given Hermione the answers, but had he given her the answers knowing she would give them to him? And if so, the more pressing question— why? Draco didn't understand.

"Did you mean for me to get that book? To fix the vanishing cabinets? But then—"

"Forgive me… where are the Death Eaters now? You seem unsupported," Dumbledore interrupted evasively.

"They met some of your guard. They're having a fight down below," Draco answered hurriedly, frowning, distracted by the question of how many casualties would be on his hands. "Not that I need them—"

Or want them, Draco thought bitterly.

"—but I'm sure they won't be long…" he continued, only now realizing with dread that this was true. Greyback had been hot on his trail, and by the looks of her neck, he'd been on Hermione's trail too, more than eager to be the one to kill Dumbledore… and anyone who got in his way.

"I came on ahead," Draco continued, unconvincing to his own ears. "I— I've got a job to do… but you seem to know that already."

"Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy," said Dumbledore softly, his tone confirmation to Draco that Dumbledore knew exactly the job he had been given.

There was silence. Draco found himself immobilized, not by a spell, but by the very irrefutable fact that he did not want to kill Albus Dumbledore.

"I don't understand. The book— and now— now you're acting like you want me to kill you."

"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."

"How do you know?" Draco replied weakly, knowing he sounded childish.

Draco remembered Hermione's little yellow bird, the one he'd been unable to kill, and a day so very long ago— the day Dumbledore himself had presented him with his Hogwarts' acceptance letter— the ferret in the garden, the one his father had used to make an example of his weakness, his inability to use the killing curse. It was as if Draco could still feel the ache in his hands from digging the little creature's grave… as if he could still feel the dirt under his fingernails—

"You don't know what I'm capable of," he said stoically. "What I've done." Draco could not hide the shame in his voice.

"You are capable of great things, Draco, I knew from the day I gave you your acceptance letter," said Dumbledore. "And I dare say Miss Granger knows this too… which is why I felt confident giving her my book, and the answers within."

Draco stood in disbelief at the gravity of Dumbledore's words.

"I know you almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they have been feeble attempts… so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has been really in it… a young man capable of so much more…"

"It has been in it," Draco replied, but even he could hear the lie in his voice. He thought of his mother. "I've been working on it all year, and tonight—"

Somewhere in the depths of the castle below, Draco heard a muffled yell. He automatically stiffened and glanced over his shoulder.

"Somebody is putting up a good fight," said Dumbledore conversationally.

The sound of the confrontation below continued; Draco stood paralyzed by the thought of Greyback emerging in the stairwell, the thought of Hermione, unguarded, the bruising around her neck…

"I— I don't understand—

"Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone," interrupted Dumbledore. "What if your backup has been thwarted by my guard? As I'm sure you have realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight, too. And after all, you don't really need help… I have no wand at the moment… I cannot defend myself."

Draco stared at Dumbledore's wand his own pale grasp.

"I see," said Dumbledore kindly, "I don't think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe… so tell me, while we wait for your friends—"

"They aren't my friends," Draco replied instinctively.

"It seems I had a momentary lapse of forgetfulness— I am reminded you keep better company these days… Mister Nott and Miss Granger…" Dumbledore replied.

Draco did not reply, but watched the Headmaster with increased intent as he noted him slide a little down the ramparts, as if the strength in his legs was fading, and fast.

"Why didn't you stop me?" Draco asked, the weight of this particular question greater than the weight of his task, still incomplete.

"I've tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders—"

Draco's eyebrow raised at this.

"He hasn't been doing your orders, he promised my mother—"

"Of course that is what he would tell you, Draco, but—"

"He's a double-agent, he isn't working for you," Draco replied searchingly. He had his own doubts about the Professor's true allegiance and intentions.

"We must agree to differ on that, Draco. It so happens that I trust Professor Snape with my life—"

"He's been offering me plenty of help—but I never told him what I'd been doing in the Room of Requirement…

"—but you must have had an accomplice, all the same…" Dumbledore interrupted. "Someone in Hogsmeade, someone who was able to slip Katie the— the— aaaah…" Dumbledore closed his eyes and nodded, as though he was about to fall asleep. "… of course… Rosmerta. How long has she been under the Imperius Curse?"

Draco swallowed.

Before he could reply, there was another yell from below, rather louder than the last. He gripped Dumbledore's wand more tightly, his knuckles turning as white as his face.

"So poor Rosmerta was forced to lurk in her own bathroom and pass that necklace to any Hogwarts student who entered the room unaccompanied? And the poisoned mead… well, naturally, from Rosmerta before she or you got it to Slughorn, believing that it was to be my Christmas present… yes, very neat… very neat… poor Mr. Filch would not, of course, think to check a bottle of Rosmerta's… tell me, how have you been communicating with Rosmerta? I thought we had all methods of communication in and out of the school monitored."

Draco hesitated. He already knows everything else, what difference could a little more information make? Theo's sarcastic voice asked intrusively.

"Enchanted coins," Draco said. "I had one and she had the other and I could send her messages—"

"Isn't that the secret method of communication the group that called themselves Dumbledore's Army used last year?" asked Dumbledore. "Miss Granger's invention, I believe?" His voice was light and conversational, but Draco watched in concern as he slipped an inch lower down the wall as he said it.

"There's a saying about imitation…"

Again, Draco said nothing in reply. He could not yet acknowledge aloud the connection that had formed between him and Hermione— more than the connection made from a piece of jewelry… so much more.

"As for being about to kill me, Draco, you have had several long minutes now," Dumbledore spoke, his feet sliding yet again, a grimace of pain clear on his face. "We are quite alone. I am more defenseless than you can have dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted…"

Draco's frown deepened. Finally admitting to himself he couldn't kill Dumbledore, that he didn't want to kill the man— not if he appeared healthy and strong, and certainly not now, when it seemed the Headmaster's body was failing him, not with Hermione there in the shadows…

"Now, about tonight," Dumbledore went on, filling the silence, "I am a little puzzled about how it happened… you knew that I had left the school? But of course," he answered his own question, "Rosmerta saw me leaving, she tipped you off using your version of Miss Granger's ingenious coins, I'm sure…"

"Not quite," Draco replied quietly, forcing his gaze not to wander toward Hermione, but Dumbledore glanced that direction anyway. A small smile formed on his lips despite the clear pain he was experiencing.

"Ah—" said Dumbledore. "It seems Miss Granger has made her choice."

"What do you—"

"So you decided to spring a trap for me?" Dumbledore interrupted.

"I put the Dark Mark over the Tower to get you to hurry up here, to see who'd been killed," Draco replied joylessly.

"So am I to take it, then, that nobody has been murdered?"

"I can't be sure."

There was a bang and shouts from below, louder than ever; it sounded as though people were fighting on the spiral staircase that Draco and Hermione had ascended not long ago.

Draco's heart thundered unheard in his chest… someone was likely dead… and it was his fault…

"There is little time, one way or another," said Dumbledore, his voice now matter-of-fact. "So let us discuss your options, Draco."

"My options!" Draco replied, his patience lost, his fear getting the better of him. "I haven't got any options!" "I've got to do it! He'll kill my mother! He'll kill me!"

"I appreciate the difficulty of your position," said Dumbledore. "Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? That I hoped Miss Granger would pass along the information in that book? That I asked your aunt to teach you Occlumency? Because I was trying to keep you alive. Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized that I suspected you."

My aunt… but…

"I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case Voldemort used Legilimency against you," continued Dumbledore.

"He tried."

"In that case, it seems I made the right choice. But now at last we can speak plainly to each other… no harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived… I can help you, Draco."

Draco thought of Hermione and her offer… '"We could leave now…"'

He shook his head. "No, you can't," he replied, his voice even. "Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill my mother. He's already taken my home. I've got no choice."

"Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban… when the time comes we can protect him too… come over to the right side, Draco… there is good in you, and you can choose to act on it…"

Draco stared. His offer was almost as tempting as Hermione's, and in it, there did seem to be a narrow thread of hope. But it would be the coward's way out, wouldn't it?

"It's not a sign of weakness to want to live!" Hermione's words rang through his mind. Hermione wanted him to live, and that was enough, wasn't it?

More than enough…

He began to lower his wand, but suddenly footsteps were thundering up the stairs and a second later, with a sickening lurch that gripped him through his core, he was buffeted out of the way.

Draco gritted his teeth at the sight of the four dark-cloaked figures; Amycus and Alecto Carrow— more grown, powerful, and vindictive versions of Crabbe and Goyle— Corban Yaxley— a man as cruel as Nott Senior and as proud as Draco's father, and— worst of all— Fenrir Greyback.

Draco's mind raced desperately, wondering if perhaps he should release Hermione's binds. A vague plan began to take shape in his mind.

Amycus gave a wheezy giggle that would make anyone cringe.

"Dumbledore cornered!" he said, and he turned to his sister who was grinning eagerly. "Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!"

Draco felt sick.

"Good evening, Amycus," said Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. "And you've brought Alecto too… charming..."

Alecto gave an angry little titter.

"Think your little jokes'll help you on your death bed, then?" she jeered.

"Jokes? No, no, these are manners," replied Dumbledore.

"Do it, Malfoy," Greyback barked, stepping forward. "Or I'll do it myself." His eyes were eager as they darted between Dumbledore, the Carrows, Yaxley, and Draco.

"Is that you, Fenrir?" asked Dumbledore.

"That's right," rasped Greyback. "Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?"

"No, I cannot say that I am..."

Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth— teeth Hermione had narrowly escaped. Blood trickled down the werewolf's chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely.

Draco hoped Greyback was distracted enough by Dumbledore to overlook Hermione's scent nearby.

"But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore."

"Am I to take it that you are attacking even without the full moon now? This is most unusual… you have developed a taste for human flesh that cannot be satisfied once a month?"

"That's right," said Greyback. "Shocks you, that, does it, Dumbledore? Frightens you?"

"Well, I cannot pretend it does not disgust me a little," said Dumbledore.

Draco found it difficult not to smirk at Dumbledore's response, despite the circumstances.

"And, yes, I am a little shocked that Draco here invited you, of all people, into the school where his friends live..."

"I didn't," Draco breathed without hesitation.

"I wouldn't want to miss a trip to Hogwarts, Dumbledore," rasped Greyback. "Not when there are throats to be ripped out...delicious, delicious…" He raised a yellow fingernail and picked at his front teeth, leering at Dumbledore.

"I could do you for afters, Dumbledore…"

"No," said Yaxley sharply. He had a heavy, brutal-looking face. "We've got

orders. Draco's got to do it. Now, Draco, and quickly."

Greyback growled.

Draco stared into Dumbledore's face, a face that was paling with each passing moment, a face that sunk lower and lower as Dumbledore continued to slump down the rampart wall.

"He's not long for this world anyway, if you ask me!" said Amycus with glee, to the accompaniment of his sister's wheezing giggles. "Look at him — what's happened to you, then, Dumby?"

"Oh, weaker resistance, slower reflexes, Amycus," said Dumbledore. "Old age, in short… one day, perhaps, it will happen to you… if you are lucky…"

This gave Draco pause— is Dumbledore dying?

His eyes flickered to the Headmaster's shriveled, blackened hand. Draco has seen curses before, but none so severe as that.

"What's that mean, then, what's that mean?" yelled the Death Eater, suddenly violent.

"Always the same, weren't yeh, Dumby, talking and doing nothing, nothing, I don't even know why the Dark Lord's bothering to kill yeh! Come on, Draco, do it!"

Draco knew he had to act, even if his plan was hasty and foolish. He turned toward Dumbledore, but instead of aiming a spell in Dumbledore's direction, he cast a silent 'finite incantatem' Hermione's way.

Instantaneously, the room became alight with the flashes of of spells that were not his own— there was such a cacophony, Draco could barely make out the path of the Stupefy he aimed in Yaxley's direction.

Renewed sounds of scuffling from below echoed up the stairwell, and a voice shouted, "They've blocked the stairs - Reducto! REDUCTO!" The room filled with dust and debris from the blast.

Draco's heart stuttered; help was on the way.

Hermione— his light gray eyes searched for her through the chaos.

"I'll do it!" Draco heard Greyback snarl.

"I SAID NO!" shouted Yaxley; there was a flash of light and Draco saw the shadow of the werewolf blasted out of the way; he hit the ramparts and staggered.

Draco noted Alecto had gone silent, but he could not see her form anywhere. Amycus was maneuvering in a wild circle, defending himself from an onslaught from a hidden attacker.

Stay hidden, Draco thought, thinking the unseen attacker must be Hermione, considering perhaps his 'finite incantatem' may have only ended his petrification charm, not his disillusionment spell.

At that precise moment, a door burst open and there stood Snape, his wand clutched in his hand as his black eyes feverishly swept the scene.

Apparently, Snape's arrival had been enough of a distraction, and suddenly, Draco found Hermione at last, struggling against Yaxley's grip.

"Look what I've got—"

Draco tried in vain to free Hermione with a silent spell, but suddenly found he was immobilized against his will, his nonverbal spells also rendered useless. He turned his fearful eyes toward Hermione, and hoped at the very least Greyback would keep his distance.

"Severus..."

The sound startled Draco beyond anything he had experienced all evening. Dumbledore was pleading.

Draco tried and failed to fight against his invisible bonds; he could feel beads of cold sweat run down his temples. It was apparent whatever effect the liquid luck might've given him tonight had worn off.

Snape said nothing, his gaze resolute as he walked toward Dumbledore. Amycus, Yaxley, and Greyback did not move.

Draco watched with dread as Snape observed Dumbledore for a moment, and he noted there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his sallow face.

He trusted you… Draco thought.

"Severus… please..."

Draco winced at the sound, thinking a wizard as powerful and good as Dumbledore deserved so much better.

Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.

"NO!" Hermione screamed at she fought with all her might against Yaxley's hold; Draco's heart wrenched at the sound. He hoped he would never hear it again.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape's wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest.

Draco's scream never left him; silent and unmoving, he was forced to watch as Dumbledore was blasted into the air. For a split second he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly backwards, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.

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