A/N: Again, so sorry for the late update! I just graduated college so it's been a really tough time with finals, and getting everything together and trying to spend the last couple weeks with my friends since we're all moving to different parts of the country : (

I hope you guys aren't too mad at me for the lateness, it's been such a wild ride and I'm so happy you guys have kept up with it all so far! I practically grew up writing this story (No, literally, I started writing in middle school at age 12 lol) and it has been amazing to see how much I've grown since then. I'm really proud of all of this, and I hope you guys are too (so hopefully you won't be TOO harsh on me for this chapter hehe)

As always, I hope you enjoy and please review if you can! I always love hearing from you all!

Hospital Wing [April 2nd]

When Draco Malfoy finally cracked his eyes open, it took a while for his sight to adjust to the soft light in the room. Just as his brain was starting to distinguish between the blurry shapes that made up his surroundings, an onslaught of pain slammed into his chest and a cloudy haze began to seep through his vision.

He let out a low gasp, feeling his skin alight with fire with each shuddering cough that wracked through his chest. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed there was some movement beside his bed, but he felt too exhausted to fully turn his head in that direction.

He could hear someone shouting and the thud of heavy footsteps, but he paid no mind to them as an impossibly soft hand covered his own. A whispered word later, he felt the world start to fade away again.

After what felt like an eternity, Draco opened his eyes again and was surprised to see he was in the hospital wing. His eyes adjusted easily enough to the pitch darkness in the room, save for the small candle that burned brightly on his nightstand. A chill suddenly ran up his spine and he curled his hand around his blankets, attempting to pull them more firmly over his exposed torso when he noticed the small witch hunched over at his side, her hand still holding onto his.

He frowned, glancing down at the thick, foul-smelling paste that was slathered across his chest and the harsh, zig-zagged scars poking through. He wrinkled his nose at the sight and hesitantly pressed his finger to one of the scars that ran straight across his stomach, flinching immediately at the sharp pain.

He must've moved too abruptly because the witch at his bedside stirred and slowly raised her head up to glance at him. A second later, her lids lowered, and she dropped her head back onto the bed, clearly out of habit.

"Granger," Draco cleared his throat quietly. When she didn't move, he sighed and nudged the hand that was still clutching his, "Hermione."

"Hmm?" She mumbled sleepily, though when he flexed his hand underneath hers again, her eyes flashed open, and she jolted awake. "Draco?" She whispered, tightening her hold over his fingers and glancing over at him, "Oh Merlin, I thought I was dreaming."

"Do you dream of me often, Granger?" He raised an eyebrow, feeling the corner of his lips quirk up into a teasing smile. "Tell me, what exactly am I doing in these dreams?"

A most endearing flush crept up her neck and blossomed over her cheeks, although she refused to answer his question. Instead, she reached over to brush a strand of almost translucent blonde hair from his eyes, "You've been out for almost a week, Draco. We've all been so worried."

"A week?" He cursed under his breath, feeling his shoulders tense up once more. A sudden thought occurred to him and he turned to stare at her. She barely came up to his shoulders, even though she had stood up from her spot beside his bed. "Have you–" He swallowed hard, "Have you been sitting here for an entire week?"

Hermione bit her lip and nodded at him. "Madame Pomfrey forced me to attend my classes, but I would come back as soon as they were finished," She averted her gaze and confessed, "I snuck in here after visiting hours every night," As if sensing he was still staring at her, she hurried to add, "Don't worry, I brought your homework, so you won't be behind at all."

"Granger that's not what I was–" He cut himself off abruptly and shook his head, "You came to see me every night?"

"Well, yes– I mean, all of us came to see if you're alright. Your mother stopped by earlier today, but you've been out cold since the incident," Hermione paused before amending her statement, "You did wake up a few hours ago, but the pain potions had already worn off, so you passed out again. I thought I was just hallucinating when I saw you open your eyes this time around."

"Granger," His jaw clenched, "What happened with Potter?"

When he saw her eyes harden considerably, he realized he already knew the answer. Nevertheless, he waited until the anger that flashed across her features slowly faded away into a fatigued expression and she let out a shaky breath. "He claimed that you provoked him. He said he didn't mean to hurt you, and he didn't know much about the spell he had used to curse you. He said it was an accident."

"Let me guess," Draco spoke dryly, struggling to sit up in his bed, "Our old Headmaster took pity on him and let him off, scot free?"

"He has detentions," Granger offered meekly, "With Professor Snape every Thursday, until the end of the term."

"Detentions," Draco repeated, unimpressed. He threw his head back into his pillows and closed his eyes, "What a fitting punishment for almost killing a student."

"Hey," Granger lightly brushed her thumb over his knuckles and murmured, "It's not over yet. He'll get what he deserves, don't worry about that." She pressed her lips to his cheek and said in a hushed tone, "The cabinet is fixed. It won't be long before Potter will be the one suffering."

He turned his head to face her, slightly awed by the fiery determination in her gaze. He was so close to her that he could feel her soft breath dance across his skin, and he realized he suddenly wanted her much closer. She seemed to notice the shift in his intentions because she took a step back and threw him a warning glance. "Malfoy…" She chastised, "You're already hurt. I don't want to risk your recovery."

"Granger," He turned the full weight of his silvery gaze on her, "I just want to be near you," He resisted the urge to smirk when he saw her hesitate at his pleading tone, "I could have died, you know."

Hemione let out a heavy sigh and he knew he had won. Even though it caused him a great amount of discomfort to simply shift to the other side of the small hospital bed, he concealed his wince as she hoisted herself onto the mattress and nestled into his side.

"For the record, I know you're manipulating me," She informed him, careful to watch his open wounds as she rested her head on his unbandaged shoulder. "You're going to milk this forever, aren't you? This is going to be worse than that time in third year when you provoked that hippogriff into attacking you."

"I didn't provoke it!" He defended himself automatically, letting his arm wrap around her petite frame. "It just attacked me–for no reason!"

"Oh, of course," She scoffed. He couldn't see it very well in the darkness, but he was sure she had rolled her eyes at him.

"Come off it, I know you missed me," He stroked her back slowly, trying not to sneeze at the frizzy curls that tickled against his nose.

She snorted, "I don't know about that. I got so much more homework done while you were stuck in here, Sleeping Beauty."

He pinched her side and she squeaked, batting his hands away as gently as she could without actually injuring him. His brows furrowed and he asked, "Who's Sleeping Beauty?"

"It's a muggle fairy tale," Granger glanced up at him with a curious glint in her eyes, "It's about this princess who was cursed to sleep forever because she was tricked into pricking her finger on a spindle."

"That sounds like a boring story," He yawned. "Why would anyone want to hear about a narcoleptic princess?"

"Well," Hermione tried to clamp down on the amusement coloring her tone as she watched his lids become heavy, "The story was about how this brave prince tries to break the curse by–"

"How did he break a curse?" Draco interrupted her, though his eyes had fluttered shut, "Was he a wizard? A curse breaker, perhaps?"

"Muggles can hold their own against magic, you know," She tried to remind him. "But that's not the point, the curse was broken with true love's kiss."

"How did he know it would even work? She could've woken up because there was some strange bloke snogging her," Draco mumbled, "Sounds a bit far-fetched for me."

"That sounds a bit far-fetched to you?" Hermione arched a brow. "We live in a world with magic and ghosts and dragons, but true love's kiss sounds far-fetched?"

"I don't mind testing out the theory," He shrugged innocently, "I can go back to sleep and then you can try to wake me by–"

"Oh, shut up," She huffed, annoyed that she had walked right into his trap. "It probably wouldn't even work on us: the curse is broken by a true love's kiss, not a sneaky-Slytherin's manipulative kisses."

"Who said it wasn't both?" He whispered into her hair. She froze at his words and turned to look at him with wide eyes, but he had already fallen fast asleep.

Room of Requirement [April 13th]

"Are we sure this will work?" Blaise surveyed at the dark wooden cabinet standing in front of them with a critical stare. "Your admittedly phenomenal marks in Charms and Ancient Runes doesn't necessarily guarantee your expertise with magical carpentry."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "If you'd like, I can shove you inside the cabinet and if you somehow live, I'll gladly accept your heartfelt apology for doubting my intelligence."

Blaise scoffed, affronted. He turned to his other fair-haired friend and fixed him with an accusing glare, "You know, ever since you two started–whatever it is you call this–she's been so much snarkier than usual. I don't like it."

Draco snorted, wrapping his arm around the smaller witch standing between them with a smug smile, "What can I say? She's always been a vengeful little harpy, but now everyone else is finally experiencing the treatment I've had to endure for years. I don't envy you, Zabini, but you should have known better than to question her intelligence."

Hermione scowled at him, shrugging off his arm easily enough and moving forward to wave her wand over the intricately carved doors of the vanishing cabinet.

Blaise squinted at the pair, not bothering to hide the grimace twisting at his lips, "So you call her a harpy and she barks at you–and what exactly is that for you two? Foreplay?"

"You know," Daphne spoke up from where she and Hadrian were standing off to the side, patiently waiting for Hermione to run her diagnostic spells over the cabinet once more, "For a Slytherin, your sense of self-preservation is alarmingly nonexistent."

"He's been like that since we were children, I'm afraid," Hadrian smirked, leaning down to gently rest his chin on his fiancé's head as he dutifully ignored the bright red flush that crept up Draco's neck and the gleeful glint to Blaise's eyes as he watched the drama unfold.

"Where's Neville?" Draco grunted, eager to change the subject as quickly as he could. "I can't believe he decided to be late tonight of all nights."

"Well, it was your bright idea to send Neville to escort Destiny." Blaise crossed his arms across his chest, "They're probably shagging in some broom closet as we speak."

Hadrian immediately shot the Italian a withering glare, "You know, just for that, I'm sending you to go check on them."

Blaise huffed, "I thought you needed me to help lead the–"

"Blaise, darling," Daphne gave her friend a strained smile and her tone practically dripped with honey as she suggested, "Perhaps you should go see what's holding them up–hopefully before your little remarks land you in a hospital bed."

Blaise grumbled a bit to himself, but eventually he backed away to the door and slipped outside the room without another word. He made his way through the halls as stealthily as he could, all the while trying to ignore the way his friends had abruptly dismissed him.

True, it was mostly his fault, he thought to himself. But getting kicked to the side to be a search dog was definitely a demotion he didn't take very lightly.

He couldn't help it if the troubling thought slowed his pace down significantly as he walked through the corridors. He flinched when he heard a loud crash reverberate throughout the castle walls, signifying the successful arrival of their fellow allies–but he still took his sweet time sauntering around the school under the pretense of searching for Neville and Destiny.

He had a feeling Destiny was probably getting held up in Gryffindor Tower and when he finally climbed up the staircase to the portrait of the Fat Lady, his suspicions were confirmed when he saw Neville anxiously pacing outside the portrait.

"Loyalty."

"Wrong again, Mr. Longbottom," The portrait sniffed. "You know I cannot grant you access to Gryffindor Tower unless you know the correct password."

"For fuck's sake ," Neville growled, loosening the tie around his neck. "Bravery–"

"Incorrect."

"You let that other kid in!" The sandy-haired man protested. "I didn't even hear him say anything!"

"Just because you didn't hear it doesn't mean he didn't know the password," The Fat Lady retorted, "I've told you a thousand times now, I cannot let you enter without the password."

"Is it 'Potter's nonexistent honor'?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Seriously, Neville?" Blaise shook his head and stepped around his disgruntled friend. "You've been stuck outside this entire time?"

"I expected Destiny would have the courtesy to at least meet me outside her common room, but she's almost half an hour late," Neville tried to explain, glancing down at his watch. He gesticulated wildly at the stubborn portrait, "And someone won't let me inside! I ought to blast her stupid face off the wall."

The portrait gasped, "Why I never–"

"Tapeworm," Blaise quickly interjected, cutting off what was sure to be a long, angry tirade. The Fat Lady squinted at him suspiciously, but after a few mumbled curses she allowed the portrait to swing open.

Neville jumped back as the door almost smacked into him. He turned to frown at Blaise, "How did you–"

"I shagged Allison Doyle two weeks ago," Blaise smirked, pushing past his friend and stepping into the Gryffindor common room. "I'm surprised they haven't changed their password since."

"Doyle?" Neville raised an appreciative eyebrow, whistling softly. "Finally, your one-offs are useful for something."

Blaise bristled, "I'd like to think I bring more to the team than just my dashing good looks."

"Yeah, keep dreaming, Zabini," Neville laughed, clapping his friend on the back as he walked through the portrait hole. Almost immediately, however, he was forced to stop in his tracks as he caught sight of the scene unfolding in the Gryffindor common room.

The Gryffindors had all crowded around something by the fireplace with their wands drawn and wearing matching menacing expressions. Something truly hateful was etched into the hard lines of their pursed lips, but Neville didn't understand the cause of their resentment until he saw a glimmer of blonde hair peeking through the crowd.

His eyes narrowed in on the panicked form of Destiny as she backed up against the fireplace with a deadly grip over her drawn wand. Her gaze nervously swung around the room and her wand arm wavered slightly as she kept adjusting her aim towards whoever looked the most threatening.

"Oi, what the hell is going on here," Blaise called out, stepping past his friend and walking headfirst into the crowd of Gryffindors without a care. "Thirty against one? Doesn't seem very honorable of you lions, now does it?"

"How did you two get in here?" A lone Gryffindor called out, but he was shoved backwards into the mob of his housemates as Ronald Weasley pushed himself to the front.

"Don't speak to us about honor, you snake," Weasley hissed at them, holding his wand out in a manner that was meant to be intimidating. "You don't know a thing about what it means to be honorable."

"Spare us the theatrics, Ron," Neville growled, "Why are you attacking my girlfr–I mean –our friend?" He stumbled over his words slightly, but still crept towards the group of Gryffindors.

"You have a lot of nerve, barging into our common room and interfering in house business," A girl with long, black hair sneered at him, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Hello, Allison," Blaise winked over at the curvy witch, "You're looking fit as always."

There was a murmur that spread through the group as the girl turned a bright shade of red at his comment. After a beat of awkward silence had passed, she shook her head and straightened her shoulders haughtily, "I suggest you leave, Zabini. This has nothing to do with you."

"Au contraire, love," Blaise smirked, easily walking through the crowd of livid Gryffindors as though they were nothing more than playful little lion cubs. He made his way to Destiny and slung a casual arm around her shoulders, "It seems as though you were about to attack my friend here, which has everything to do with me, I'm afraid."

"Your little friend here won't tell us what trap her Death Eater mother has laid out for Alexander," Ronald Weasley grunted, eyes flashing with fury, "He's been gone for hours now."

"As I've told you for the hundredth time now, Weasley," Destiny groaned, rolling her eyes upwards as though she were begging the heavens for patience, "I don't know where your bespectacled sidekick went. I have nothing to do with his disappearance!"

"Aha!" Ronald exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at her, "So you admit he's disappeared."

"You're the one who bloody said that!" She shouted at him, flushing with anger at the ridiculous situation she was in. "I don't know where he is, nor did I have anything to do with it!"

"He's been gone for hours now," Dean Thomas murmured quietly, stepping forward to place a placating hand on Ron's shoulder to calm him down. "If you know anything at all–"

"I think she's already told you all she knows, Thomas," Neville finally spoke up, "At this rate, even if she figured out where he was, your hostile treatment would prevent her from breathing a word to you lot."

"We're not letting you go anywhere until Alexander returns," Ron glared at the trio, "If anything happens to him, it's your heads on the line."

"Now I understand why you were a little held up in here, these idiots are relentless." Blaise muttered into Destiny's ear.

"Hey!" The redhead frowned and pointed at the two, "What are you two whispering about!"

Blaise straightened back up and shot the other man a lazy grin, "Isn't it obvious? We're planning to run away together and name our kids after Potter in his honor."

"This isn't a light matter," Parvati Patil spoke up, shaking her head at the three Slytherins. "Nobody has seen or heard from Alexander since this morning. If he's in danger, then…," She pursed her lips and gestured towards the blonde with a frown, "I can bet you her mother is involved."

"I don't even know how they still let you attend this school," Weasley sneered, "Your Death Eater mother belongs in the criminally insane ward in Azkaban. It's a shame they couldn't throw you into a cell right beside her."

Destiny tried to lunge at him, but suddenly a heavy body tumbled out of the fireplace, crashing into her back and sending her barreling into a small first-year Gryffindor standing just a few paces away.

Neville and Blaise quickly pulled her back up onto her feet, attempting to drag her through the crowd as quickly as they could in the midst of the chaos. They were only able to get a couple feet within the door before a startled voice cried out, "Stop them!"

Destiny groaned as two older Gryffindors threw themselves in front of the door, crossing their arms and glaring at the trio as they blocked the exit. Slowly, the three turned around to face the voice that had spoken, and Destiny raised an eyebrow at the haggard appearance of Alexander Potter.

His glasses were cracked and almost falling off his face, but he was too red-faced and furious to push them back up the bridge of his nose. His clothes were soaking wet, and he looked to be shivering slightly, as though he had fallen into the Black Lake and hadn't taken the time to change. There was an intense expression painted upon his face that made Destiny swallow hard and stiffen with caution when she regarded him.

There was something completely unhinged in his eyes that made her bite down the scathing remark she was about to hurl his direction.

Blaise, however, had no such reservations.

"Alright there you go," The Italian called out, gesturing to the other man, "You can quit harassing us now, your precious Potter is here, looking perfectly horrible as usual." He gestured to the door and huffed, "I demand you let us leave at once."

"Alexander?" Ronald Weasley ignored the Slytherins for a moment and grimaced as he took in the disheveled appearance of his best friend, "What's going on? Where have you been?"

"How long have you all been in here?" Alexander wandered through the group gathered in the common room, stopping to peek outside the windows that overlooked the grounds, "Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"What's happened?" Parvati questioned, glancing around the room to see similar confusion swimming in everyone's eyes. "Why are you–"

"The castle is being attacked," Alexander Potter hissed, letting his hateful gaze fall on the three Slytherins lingering close to the door. He pointed at them accusingly, "And I can guarantee they had something to do with it."

There was a brief moment of silence before a wave of panic washed over the room. Dean Thomas cleared his throat loudly to drown out the clamoring voices, "Hogwarts is being attacked? By whom?"

"Who else?" Alexander snapped, "The Death Eaters have somehow found a way into the castle while Dumbledore and I were–well, we had to go on an important mission earlier today. When we came back to the castle, Dumbledore rushed out of his office claiming there was an unwelcome presence within the walls. He sent me up here through the floo in his office to keep everyone safely inside our common room."

"We can't leave?" A younger girl asked shrilly, glancing out the window as if she were terrified someone would jump through at any second.

"We don't know what the situation is like out there," Alexander admitted in a grim tone. "The Death Eaters were able to find a way into our castle and its simply too unsafe to be loitering about outside our common room," He paused to growl at the three Slytherins inching closer to the door, "No thanks to them."

"You have no proof of that," Blaise pointed out with a smirk.

"I don't need proof," Alexander retorted, brandishing his wand with a flourish. Before anyone could blink, he had already shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

"Careful, Potter," Destiny shook her head, easily sidestepping his attempt to disarm them. She stiffened at the enraged expression he wore and quickly blocked the more vicious hex he hurled at their feet. "You wouldn't want to fatally injure another student due to another baseless assumption….again."

"Draco Malfoy may not be a Death Eater yet," Potter began with a rude snort, "But I know he's involved somehow. And even if I can't prove it–I find I don't care anymore. The world will thank me for getting rid of your evil presence someday and that's all that matters."

He shouted another spell at the Slytherins, though his features darkened when yet another one of his attacks was quickly deflected. His annoyance shone through his already tired eyes, but he was relentless, crying out spell after spell until the three unwelcome additions to their common room were trapped against the door.

"Alright, Potter," Neville Longbottom let his calculating gaze rove over the mob of Gryffindors and held up a hand, startling the other man long enough to pause in his attacks. "You caught us."

Destiny snapped her head to the side to stare at him in disbelief. She curled her hand around his arm and muttered under her breath, "What are you doing?"

Neville shrugged, "I'm tired of all the lies, aren't you, Destiny?" He ran a hand through his carefully styled dark hair and sighed, "You're right, Potter. We were the ones who let the Death Eaters into the castle."

There was a loud shout from the crowd of Gryffindors and Ronald Weasley was nearly shaking with anger as he called out, "I fucking knew it!"

Padma Patil gritted her teeth together and raised her wand towards the three Slytherins, "Give us one good reason we shouldn't stun you and call the Aurors right now."

"You could do that," Neville agreed, and his lips curved into a ghost of a smile, "But I have to warn you, we definitely wouldn't go quietly. As long as you all are inside your common room, you should be safe. The Death Eaters aren't here to harm students, even if you happen to be Gryffindors."

He paused, crossing his arms across his chest and staring down at the crowded room with a wry smirk, "Blaise and I, on the other hand, were given no such instructions. We came here with the intention of collecting Destiny, nothing more, nothing less. If you try to stop us, it's only natural we'll fight back," He cocked his head to the side apologetically, "We can't really guarantee your safety if that happens, I'm sure you can understand."

"I can protect my own house," Alexander Potter shot back. "You're outnumbered as it is."

"Sure, sure," Neville waved his hand dismissively, "You could protect your house. But then who would protect your precious Headmaster?"

Alexander froze, eyes widening with shock as his wand arm faltered, "D-Dumbledore?" He whispered, staggering back a step. "Y-You're not here for us, are you?"

"Brilliant deduction, Potter," Neville praised him with a wicked grin, "These Death Eaters aren't here to waste their time on mere students. They're here for one thing, and one thing only," He took a small step forward, "Your beloved Headmaster."

"Don't listen to him," Parvati Patil whispered furiously to Alexander, but he still stood motionless, staring at the three Slytherins in slowly growing horror. "He's just lying to trick you into letting them go."

"And what if he's not?" Ronald Weasley piped up from the Chosen One's other side, "What if Dumbledore is actually in trouble and he needs help?"

"Dumbledore is one of the most powerful wizards of all time," Parvati argued back. "He doesn't need your help, it's just a trap! He's strong enough to take care of himself."

"No," Alexander said so softly, it could barely be heard amongst the quiet chatter in the common room. "He's not."

"What do you mean?"

A glimmer of panic flashed through Alexander's eyes and he shook his head vehemently, "He's not–Dumbledore is in no state to fight–at least not tonight," He pushed aside a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes, "The mission we went on earlier–he drank a weakening potion, and he barely has any strength left to even stand. If he tries to fight anyone tonight," Alexander swallowed hard and choked out, "He'll lose."

"Uh, Hadrian," Neville Longbottom called out, running over to the tall figure that stood on the opposite end of the hall, shouting orders at the group of Death Eaters intent on destroying anything in their path. "We have a slight problem."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hadrian raised a dark eyebrow, staring down his friend with a carefully controlled expression. "And what took you all so long?"

"That's what I was coming to tell you," Neville sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "We kind of–sort of–got held up in Gryffindor Tower and Potter wouldn't let us leave until…"

"Until?" Hadrian repeated sharply, "Until what?"

Neville winced, "Until we told him about the true goal of our mission tonight," An apologetic look flickered over his features as he admitted, "He's gone to go save Dumbledore."

"Shite," Hadrian cursed loudly, gritting his teeth together, "Did you try to stop him?"

Neville waved his arms around, gesturing to the casual destruction caused by the Death Eaters roaming about the castle. "I was going to curse him as soon as we left the common room, but the staircase nearly gave out from under our feet, and I had to think quickly. By the time we were able to get ourselves onto a stable surface, Potter was gone."

"We can't let him interfere," Hadrian declared resolutely, "We've been planning this mission for too long to have our chances ruined by that utter waste of space."

Neville grabbed onto his shoulder just as he was about to march away, "Wait," He stepped closer to his friend and the corners of his lips quirked up into a slight smile, "There's something else you should know that may tip the scales in our favor tonight."

Draco Malfoy steeled his back against rough exterior of the castle walls, the dark color of his robes practically blending him into the shadows of the Astronomy Tower. A light drizzle had begun to fall over the grounds, bringing with it a cool breeze that caused him to shiver slightly. When he closed his eyes, he could just barely make out the sound of heavy footsteps as someone hurriedly made their way up the stairs to the Tower.

Draco felt himself smile as a familiar gruff voice called out, "Show yourself, cowards. I know you're out here."

His boots clicked loudly against the pavement as he turned to face the old wizard in the center of the tower, squinting through the darkness as though he were scouring for any sign of movement. Draco resisted the urge to smirk as his Headmaster's face flickered with an emotion he couldn't place when he appeared under the moonlight.

Draco drew his wand and took on an unfaltering stance, cocking his head to the side. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, Headmaster," His words dropped into an almost taunting whisper as he said, "It's just me tonight."

Dumbledore frowned, pulling his own wand out rather reluctantly, "I-I don't understand, Mr. Malfoy. There was–"

"I'm sure you were expecting other company," Draco cut him off, waving his hand dismissively. "But my colleagues had some other matters to attend to, unfortunately."

"Colleagues," Dumbledore reared back, "Is that how we're referring to the criminals currently terrorizing the school? The school that–might I remind you, Mr. Malfoy–you attend?" He shook his head in disappointment, "I must say, I expected more from you, Draco."

"Please," Draco snorted taking a step closer, forcing the headmaster to stumble back in caution. "Your frankly lackluster monologues on ethics certainly won't be delaying your death tonight," He grinned wickedly as he caught Dumbledore's eyes widen a fraction of an inch. "I've been waiting for this moment long enough."

"You've been the one behind–"

"Expelliarmus!" Draco shouted, easily catching his Headmaster's wand from the air and slipping it into the pocket of his robes. Dumbledore froze as the younger man continued to speak as though he hadn't just stolen his wand.

"Yes, yes, I've been behind practically everything that almost killed you this term," The blond shrugged, "Keyword, almost, but that's certainly about to change."

"You aren't a killer, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore pursed his lips into a thin line, "I cannot help you from this unfortunate situation unless you let me."

"Help me?" Draco repeated incredulously. He tried to suppress the laugh that was starting to bubble out of his throat, "You think I'm doing this because someone is forcing me?"

He took a step closer, and Dumbledore furrowed his brows. Draco's lips peeled back to reveal his sharp white teeth in what could loosely pass as a smile, "I don't want you to die holding onto some ridiculous hope, Sir. I can assure you, if I'm doing this for any reason–" His eyes darkened, "It's because I want to."

"My boy–"

"That's it, I've had enough of your babbling," Draco scowled, pointing his wand at the elder wizard. "Any last words, Headmaster?"

"Dumbledore!" There was an almost inhumane shriek from the top of the stairs, "Sir, it's a trap! He's only luring you out to–"

There was a loud thump, and Draco snapped his gaze to the side just in time to see Alexander Potter's body slump over the open entrance to the Astronomy Tower. Within a few seconds, he noticed Hadrian leisurely climb up the remaining stairs to the platform.

Hadrian rolled his eyes and elegantly stepped over the sprawled form of Alexander Potter as though he was nothing more than a small obstruction in his path. He barely allowed himself to gauge the scene before he waved his hand and murmured a spell under his breath, causing a set of thick ropes to encircle the headmaster and secure him to one of the stone ramparts surrounding the edge of the tower.

"Really, Draco?" Hadrian pretended to sigh loudly, "Must I do everything?"

His best friend raised an eyebrow, "I was just about to kill him. It's not my fault Potter tried to get in the way."

Hadrian crossed his arms across his chest, "Fine, then," He gestured to their Headmaster, "Get on with it."

"Please, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore turned to stare at him with bright, pleading eyes, breathing heavily as he tried to fight the ropes that only dug into his skin more and more each time he struggled. "You could stop this."

"I suppose I could," Hadrian noted casually, "But I want to see how Hogwarts would fare without your crushing reign."

"You don't have to do this, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore wheezed, "You could be a hero."

Something about his words caused Hadrian to stiffen for a moment, but then his shoulders shook as he began to laugh quietly. Draco shot him a confused glance–which Hadrian promptly ignored.

He took a step closer and got some sick satisfaction in the way Dumbledore flinched back at his movements. His green eyes flashed as he whispered, "With all due respect, you didn't assign me that particular role, Sir."

Dumbledore stopped fighting against his restraints for a brief second, narrowing his eyes at the younger man in confusion, "What do you mean by that, Mr. Riddle? Anyone can be a hero if they simply take the chance to make the right choice."

Hadrian slowly shook his head, as if he were trying to get his amusement under control. "But you never gave me a chance, did you, Dumbledore?"

"I-I will admit, I might have been a bit harsh to your house over the years," Dumbledore gritted out, "But this is not the time for silly house rivalries, Mr. Riddle. You could change everything in this moment."

"As touching as it is to hear you finally admit to your discriminatory tendencies towards my house, I wasn't referring to that, Sir," His lips quirked up into a vicious grin and he leaned closer to whisper, "I'm talking about when you left me for dead, all those years ago."

"W-What?" Dumbledore's stumbled over his words and insisted, "I have never done such a thing to you."

Hadrian snorted, "Considering the fact that you'll be dead in a matter of minutes, I think it would give me some long-awaited gratification to tell you how wrong you've been about a certain prophecy all along."

"But that's impossible," His headmaster muttered in a hushed tone. "Alexander is the Chosen One."

"I'm afraid you made the wrong choice all those years ago, Dumbledore," Hadrian smirked, taking a step closer to the older wizard. "You made the Potters give up their other child. A child that could've just as easily been the Chosen One. You changed the prophecy."

"Nobody was supposed to know," Dumbledore's eyes narrowed in suspicion, "Nobody could have even known about that unless–" He inhaled sharply all of a sudden, glancing at the student in front of him as if he had never seen him before. Only a piercing green stare reflected back at him, one he had only seen in a distant memory years ago. "Harry?" He whispered.

"I go by a different name now," Hadrian crossed his arms across his chest with a smug smile. "But I see you've managed to finally connect some of the dots."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, trying to control the way his hands trembled at his sides. "You may have a different name, but it cannot change who you are, my boy."

"Oh, I think it changes quite a few things," Hadrian chuckled darkly. "The only thing it doesn't change was that you were wrong about the prophecy, old man. You made a mistake."

There was a short pause as Dumbledore stared at him in astonishment. Then, before Hadrian could even blink, a steely expression crossed his headmaster's face as he sighed heavily, "Oh, my dear child," Dumbledore blinked, not bothering to hide the enigmatic flicker in his bright gaze, "I don't think you understand," He hissed quietly as the ropes dug deeper into his palms, smearing a thin layer of blood across the rough strands. "My mistake was never choosing the wrong child. My mistake was letting you out of my sight."

Hadrian swallowed hard, furrowing his brows in confusion as a cold feeling of dread crept up his spine. "Excuse me?"

"You're right, I did try to stop the prophecy by sending you away," Dumbledore averted his gaze, trying to conceal the way a hot feeling of shame colored his face, "But I should have known I was only playing right into the hands of fate. What I feared all along has finally happened," Dumbledore breathed out, glancing at Hadrian out of the corner of his eyes with a sad smile, "Tom is dead, isn't he, Harry?"

Hadrian bristled at the name he hadn't heard in years but nodded anyways. "How did you know that?"

"Because you're here, standing before me," Dumbledore noted with a severe frown. "All these years…I thought I could stop the prophecy by sending you away but…"

Suddenly, it all clicked into place.

The hesitant look in Dumbledore's eyes, the admission of guilt, the heavy feeling of fear that prevented the headmaster from fighting back…

Hadrian felt his fingers curl into an angry fist at his side and the hair on the back of his neck stood up at the abrupt drop in temperature. His eyes darkened into an icy abyss as he whispered, "You knew all along." His jaw clenched into an angry line, and he marched closer to the headmaster until he found his fingers wrapping around the older wizard's throat. "You've known for years that I was the Dark Lord the prophecy was referring to. How did you–"

"I knew I had to send you away all those years ago when I felt the remnants of dark magic lingering on your skin, spilled across the floors, and creeping into the walls of the Potter's balcony. You had managed to destroy everything around you, without even having the proper magical training," Dumbledore choked out, trying to lean away from the crushing grip Hadrian had on his throat, "I knew then, you were powerful, even at such a young age. I thought that sending you away would cut you off from the magical world….perhaps you would…" Dumbledore trailed off abruptly, and quickly dropped his gaze to his feet.

"You thought I would die out there on my own," Hadrian stated coolly.

Dumbledore refused to speak, but simply inclined his head in reluctant acceptance.

"You've known for years I was meant to be the Dark Lord," Hadrian felt his fingers flex angrily around the headmaster's throat, "You convinced the Potters to send me away because they didn't want to raise the next Dark Lord."

Dumbledore closed his eyes, "They didn't know that was the true reason I sent you away."

"They didn't–what?" Hadrian scoffed in disbelief. "Why else would they agree to give up their son?"

"I only told James the truth," Dumbledore admitted after a beat of silence. His face paled slightly from the lack of oxygen, and he gasped, "Lily didn't know the entire story, so we were forced to feed her a lie in order to convince her to give you up. She thought we were doing it for your protection–to help Alexander with his training."

Hadrian stumbled back from his headmaster in shock, watching him with an eerily soulless gaze as the elder wizard fought to regain his breath. The sudden rush of air into his lungs caused him to cough, and he nearly doubled over from the pain as the ropes dug deeper into his skin, creating a small ring of dark blood around his pale grey robes.

"Hadrian," Draco yelled from his other side, fully ignoring the confrontation that had taken place in front of him, "What are you doing? This is not the time to–"

His words faded into a muffled grunt as Hadrian waved his hand and slammed him into the nearest wall. Draco slowly slid down the stones with a groan of protest, glaring at his best friend. "For Merlin's sake, we don't have time for this, Hadrian!"

Hadrian ignored his friend and whispered a spell instead, quickly catching the wand that flew out of Draco's pocket with an outstretched arm. He turned around to face the headmaster again and clasped his hands behind his back, keeping his features carefully blank as he stared at the man with unblinking eyes.

"I have a proposal for you, Headmaster," Hadrian began with an unnaturally bright glint in his eyes, "Would you be interested in hearing it?"

"I don't suppose I have any other choice," Dumbledore retorted, struggling to talk from the deep gashes in his skin.

"Right you are," Hadrian smirked. He moved to hold his arms out, opening his palms and revealing the two similar-looking wands in his hands. He nodded over at his right hand and spoke quietly, "This one is my wand: Holly and Phoenix feather, eleven inches long." He jerked his head towards the wand in his other hand, "This one, as I'm sure you recognize, is your wand."

"What is the meaning of this?" Dumbledore demanded to know, cautiously staring at the wands in his hands.

"I've decided to give you a choice, Sir," Hadrian informed him nonchalantly, as though he were discussing the weather. He raised the wand that belonged to the Headmaster in his left hand, "I want you to snap your own wand–"

"No," Dumbledore barked, cutting him off rather quickly. "I would never–"

"Let me finish, old man," Hadrian smiled at him coldly, easily halting any protests that came from the other man. "In case you haven't noticed it yet, these ropes will kill you within a few hours. The more you struggle against them, the faster they will strangle the very life out of you."

Immediately, he noticed his headmaster freeze against the stone railing, sucking in a sharp breath.

Hadrian raised an amused brow, "Now you're finally listening, Sir." He twirled the unfamiliar wand belonging to the headmaster in his hand and continued, "As I was saying, you'll be dead in a matter of hours, regardless. But I'm a rather merciful leader, so I've decided to give you a choice."

"What kind of choice?" Dumbledore muttered, forcing himself to stay still as the ropes constricted even more tightly around his ribs.

"Snap your own wand," Hadrian stretched his neck to the side until he heard a satisfying crack. "And take your own life."

"Wh-What?"

"Hadrian!" Draco shouted at him, "This was not in the plan!"

"Plans change," Hadrian said easily, turning back to the headmaster.

"I would never do that," Dumbledore spoke seriously, "I couldn't–"

"Of course, you could," Hadrian grinned, his words dripping in a condescending tone. "All it takes is one little step backwards."

Dumbledore flinched, turning his head to the side as if he were seeing the endless darkness on the other side of the astronomy tower for the first time. The blood drained from his face as he realized how close he was to the edge, and he quickly shuffled as far away from the empty space as he could.

"There is, as I promised, another other option," Hadrian gestured to the wand that belonged to him, secured tightly in his right hand. His eyes flashed as he said, "You can choose to die from my wand."

"I don't see how that's any different," Dumbledore growled at him.

"Let me enlighten you, then, headmaster," Hadrian smiled widely. "If I kill you with my wand, I suppose I would have no other choice than to explain why I killed such an upstanding member of our society," He sneered. "I would have nothing to hide at that point, and so I'd fucking make sure that every single wizard existing on this plane knows exactly what you've done," His head cocked to the side as he added, "You'll leave behind a legacy of hatred. People would burn your portraits, smear your name across all of history." He took a step closer to the headmaster and raised his brows, "Is that what you want?"

"You –You would never do such a thing," Dumbledore shook his head vehemently, "You'd be exposing your own sins if you were to come forth with such a tale."

"That's true," Hadrian conceded, tapping his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "But you'd be dead. I could spin the story any way I wanted, and you wouldn't be able to prove me wrong."

A chunk of ice settled into Dumbledore's stomach as he tried to find an argument against the younger wizard. The horrible feeling only grew when he realized he couldn't.

"Even if you force me to snap my wand, I have ages of magical experience over you," Dumbledore changed the subject, narrowing his eyes. "I'll fight back the second you drop these ropes. Your skill with wandless magic is impressive, but not as impressive as mine."

"On any other day, I might be tempted to agree with you," Hadrian pursed his lips, "But I think you're a little tired tonight, Sir," His icy green eyes flickered with amusement as he revealed, "Your little protégé claims you drank a weakening potion earlier," He took a step closer to the headmaster and grinned wickedly, "I see you've been tricked into another pointless mission by my late father." Hadrian shook his head, "I'm truly amazed by his ability to screw with others even from his grave, aren't you?"

"How did you–"

"It doesn't matter how I found out," Hadrian rolled his eyes, "Shall we return to the subject at hand? I've given you a choice, Headmaster. And quite frankly, I'm getting a little impatient waiting for your decision," He pointed his wand at the elder wizard in the blink of an eye, "What is it going to be, Sir? Death by my wand, or yours?"

Dumbledore stared at the wands that were currently held in Hadrian's outstretched hands. He glanced quickly at the slumped over form of Alexander Potter, cursing softly under his breath when he realized that his student had been knocked out cold. His chest tightened considerably, and his throat nearly closed up when he reluctantly whispered, "If I am to die tonight, then it certainly will not be at your hands."

Hadrian shrugged, nonplussed. "If that's your decision, then who am I to argue?"

"Hadrian, he's trying to lure you into a trap," Draco cried out from the far side of the tower, "The second you give your wand back to him, he's going to–"

His words abruptly cut off as Hadrian whispered a silencing spell and turned his attention back to the headmaster. "Ignore him," Hadrian smiled innocently, "He can get so paranoid sometimes. I know you're a wizard of honor, headmaster."

Dumbledore eyed him back unflinchingly as the other man waved his hands and the ropes encircling him dropped away. He bit his lip to clamp down on the groan of pain that threatened to escape from him, most likely a result of the sudden onslaught of blood that rushed out of the cuts in his skin. He steadied himself against the railing, holding out a shaking hand for his wand, "If it must end this way."

Hadrian kept the unfaltering smile painted on his lips as he easily stepped forward to place the other wand in the headmaster's waiting hand. He folded his arms across his chest and stood there patiently as the headmaster closed his eyes and wrapped his bloodied fingers around the thin piece of wood.

Then, before he could even take another breath, Dumbledore's eyes flashed a mercurial blue and he lunged forward with a whispered spell already on the tip of his tongue.

Hadrian stood frozen in his position just as the headmaster's spell died almost instantly at the tip of his wand, and his weathered stare widened a bit in surprise.

Did you really think I would let you go that easily, headmaster?

Dumbledore felt his heart nearly leap out of his chest at the familiar voice that taunted him at the edge of his mind, whispering horrible–terrible–things into his ear. He blinked furiously, trying to force the unwelcome presence out of his thoughts. Against his will, he glanced over at the unmoving form of Hadrian Riddle standing just a few steps away from him, infuriating smile still in place.

Snap your wand.

The voice called to him, washing over his senses like a soothing song and dulling the pain that he felt all over his body.

You'll feel much better if you snap your wand.

Dumbledore tried to fight back against the calm voice, trying to keep his eyes trained on the Cheshire grin Hadrian Riddle wore as he wormed his way into his mind.

"How did you–"

"It was alarmingly simple to enter your mind, Dumbledore. I think you've forgotten that weakening potions weaken more than just your physical magical abilities," Hadrian Riddle spoke indulgently, like he was speaking to a child. "It's a pity you underestimated what I'm capable of–but then again you've always underestimated me, haven't you?"

You must snap the wand. NOW.

The urgency of the voice in his mind washed over him too suddenly, and before he could stop himself, Dumbledore watched his hands snap his wand in front of his own eyes.

Hadrian straightened his shoulders back and shot him a satisfied look, "That wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

"You will never get away with this," Dumbledore said gravely, knitting his grey brows together in determination, "Tom Riddle couldn't succeed, and neither will you. This quest for power will only leave you broken and alone inside, Mr. Riddle."

"That's where you're wrong, Sir," Hadrian replied in an even tone, taking a step closer and concealing the smug look in his eyes as Dumbledore took an instinctive step backwards. His foot slipped against the slippery ground, and he quickly grabbed onto the nearest stone rampart to avoid falling. A few loose stones plunged to the eternal darkness below and Dumbledore gritted his teeth together in slight panic.

"My father–despite having hundreds of death eaters at his beck and call–was truly alone. He was thirsty for power and cared little for the chaos it brought to our world," Hadrian sighed, "It took me an admittedly long time to see it, but I knew he would never succeed on that path."

"You are no different from your father," Dumbledore spat. "You may try to tell yourself otherwise, but you are cut from the same cloth. He was destined to die alone, a cruel and powerless man," Dumbledore's thin lips twitched into a sad smile, "Just as you are."

"Your words mean nothing to me, old man," Hadrian scoffed. "It's a shame you won't be alive to see how truly different I am from Tom Riddle."

"You will fail," The other wizard maintained with a confident gleam in his eyes.

And you'll fall.

Dumbledore's eyes widened as his feet shuffled backwards, and he automatically dug his fingers more tightly into the stone railing.

It's about time for you to let go.

Hadrian Riddle took another step closer, watching as his headmaster fought against the voice in his mind. It forced Dumbledore to take another fraction of a step back, and he resisted the urge to glance down to see half his body was hanging off the tower.

There is nothing left for you anymore. It's time to let go of it all.

Hadrian stared intently as his headmaster slowly loosened his deadly grip over the railing and took another small step backwards against the open air. The wind whipped against his decorated robes, and only caused his footing to waver on the short ledge.

"This isn't over," Dumbledore gasped as his feet teetered on the edge of the tower, "Death will come for you someday and just like your father, you will be unable to escape Him when He does."

Let go.

"Oh, headmaster," Hadrian shook his head lightly, "Even in your last moments, you're still so incompetent," He leaned closer to whisper, "I have no desire to live forever," He smirked when he noticed Dumbledore's eyes widen, "I simply want to reclaim what was always meant to be mine. Soon, this entire world will happily bow at my feet," He reached over to slowly peel off Dumbledore's bloodied fingers from the railing, one by one. "Starting," He kept his eyes trained on the other wizard as he hissed, "With," Almost impossibly gently, Hadrian pried off the last fingers that were desperately gripping onto the rampart, "You."

Hadrian stared at the empty pit of darkness for a long moment, waiting until the connection into his Headmaster's mind abruptly severed just as a sickeningly loud thud echoed from the ground below. He closed his eyes and finally stepped away from the edge of the railing.

The shocked expression of horror on his headmaster's face as he plunged to his death was imprinted into his mind, and Hadrian had a gnawing feeling that the image would take a long time to fade away into his memory.

"What the bloody hell was that!" A petulant voice called out from the side, and Hadrian reluctantly turned around to face his best friend as he stormed up to him. "I thought taking care of Dumbledore was my task," Draco complained.

"He pissed me off," Hadrian grunted, "I wanted to make him pay for what he did to me."

"Hadrian," Draco sighed loudly, "Your vengeful tendencies are going to get in the way of what we've worked so hard for. You're the Dark Lord, you can't let your emotions get in the way! We've been planning this out for months, what if it had gone wrong? Are we even sure he's dead?"

"He's dead," Hadrian insisted, gesturing around him. "Don't you feel that?" He asked in a hushed voice, "The wards–they've been altered. They don't feel as strong as they did before because Dumbledore is dead."

"It doesn't matter–you're letting your petty revenge ruin our entire mission!" Draco whirled around to glare at him. "It's been years, why does it matter anymore? Even if James Potter, or Dumbledore, or half the world knew–"

Hadrian jerked his head up all of a sudden, fixing his gaze upon the groaning form of Alexander Potter as he pushed himself into a sitting position against the wall.

"Draco," Hadrian cut off his friend, gesturing to Potter, "Watch him –I need to go do something."

Before Draco could protest, he had shot off in the opposite direction, running towards the stairs that led down into the castle below. He had just reached the open staircase when he ran right into a petite witch, and he instinctively reached forward to grab her arm before she tumbled down the stairs.

"Sorry, Granger," Hadrian shook his head, gently ruffling the top of her hair in an apologetic manner.

She smacked away his hands and scowled at him, "Stop–Stop that!" She pushed him aside and asked hesitantly, "Is it done?"

"I suppose it is," Draco sulked, kicking aside a loose rock and watching as it skidded to the edge of the tower and tumbled into the abyss below.

Hermione squinted at him in confusion, "Why do you not sound happy about that?"

"There was a slight change of plans," Hadrian explained to her. He raked his gaze over her in a calculating manner and eventually decided, "Come with me, Granger."

"Uh," Hermione dug her feet into the ground, glancing back at Draco for more of an explanation, "What's going on?"

Hadrian apparently decided he didn't want to wait for her, and Hermione could only watch in surprise as he gave them a quick wave and dashed down the stairs.

"If my guess is correct," Draco said dryly, "Hadrian is trying to go after James Potter."

"But that's so reckless," Hermione gasped, "He isn't thinking clearly enough to go after the Head of the Auror Department!"

There was a low grumbling sound as Alexander Potter stirred from his collapsed position against the wall, only to open his eyes to two wands pointed in his direction.

"What–" Alexander Potter shook his head, looking surprisingly alert all of a sudden for someone who had been knocked out for the majority of the night. "I won't let him go after my father!" Alexander Potter pointed his finger at them accusingly, "You low lives have taken everything from me! My brother, my mum–you're fucking mental if you think I'll let you go after my father next!"

"Quiet, Potter," Draco snapped. He turned to face Hermione and urgently whispered, "Find Daphne. She'll get him to see reason. He's going off sheer adrenaline right now, but we need to be happy with our success and hold back for the night. Don't let him do anything rash."

Hermione nodded, racing down the stairs without another word.

"I won't let you hurt my father!"

"For Merlin's sake," Draco gritted out, turning his attention back to the overgrown toddler that was Alexander Potter. "Unless you finally want to witness my wrath from the last month's incident, I'd suggest you kindly shut up."

"No!" Alexander shouted back, scrambling to stand up. "I will not stand aside while you let Riddle hurt my father. I won't let Riddle hurt anyone else–especially not my brother! I intend on finding him again, and I refuse to let the likes of you Death Eaters stand in my way."

Draco raised a confused brow, "What the hell are you blabbering on about, Potter?"

"I'll find where you've locked my brother away you sick cowards–"

"You have got to be the densest person on the planet," Draco snarked, shaking his head in disbelief. His eyes were blazing with annoyance as he gestured to the stairs that led down to the castle, "You want your brother, Potter? Fine–you just watched him leave."