More Than Blood
Chapter 1. Tears
He felt a tear leave his eye and snake a hot path down his face. He brought one hand up and quickly wiped it away glancing around the common room. It was as noisy as ever, no one had even glanced in his direction. Giving a sigh of relief Draco Malfoy walked slowly out of the room, these bouts of tears had become normal for him in the past few months. He held back the tears until he had reached the hallway, then let them flow silently down his cheeks.
"I am not a child." He told himself in the hall, exactly like he had told his mother almost every day during the summer. Now he used the familiar phrase to try and stem the tears. It didn't work. As he heard the portrait whole open behind him he fled, ignoring Pansy's call for his return.
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As he ran down the hallway Draco felt heavy with the weight of his world. His plan was impossible, his task pointless, the old man was nothing. In his heart though, he felt like killing Dumbledore would bring back his father, and that was what mattered, as long as his family was safe, he could live without guilt. Guilt was another heavy emotion; guilt, and fear, and sadness. All of them pressed on him until he exploded into tears, letting everything drain, letting himself rise slowly light as a feather, until he hit that mass of pain again, and fell spiraling into its depths.
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Looking at the bathroom mirror Draco wiped away another round of tears. In the reflection, hovering just above his head he saw Myrtle, her eyes wide with what he had said. She had promised not to tell, but he wasn't sure how long she could last, it was after all a secret, and she a teenage girl, a ghostly girl, but one none the less.
She hadn't flinched at the mention of his Master's name, and only cringed mildly at the rolling black tattoo on his arm. When he had mentioned his task for the first time, several months ago, (omitting several details) she had seemed mildly horrified; she cared for Dumbledore a good deal more than she did most, not that that was saying much. Now though she was so attached to having someone to talk to that she was helping him plan, suggesting means, even occasionally taking a more active role.
It was nice to have an associate, he thought to himself as he gently touched cold water to his eyes, it made things easier. As an added bonus he could talk to her, and none of the people he would normally consult were that. Pansy was always talking, Crabbe and Goyle were not a great deal more helpful than rocks, and Snape, was Snape, not exactly the best co-conspirator in murder.
He finished washing the tearstains away promised Myrtle he would return and left the bathroom, feeling all-together closer to the solution even though he had done nothing but cry. Feelings, whatever he might say, made a good deal more difference than blood, he'd rather bleed than cry any day, blood was a much less powerful fluid.
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Author's Note: I wrote this in like half an hour and it hasn't been beta-ed so I'm sorry for any errors, I'll probably fix it up later. Oh and it's midway through 6th year, since there is very little setting involved. Please review!
Disclaimer: I own no Harry Potter characters, settings, or any of that stuff, that would be J.K Rowling.