Title: Truth

Summary: Draco had a feeling that it would be a good day.

A loud groan pervaded the relative silence of the sixth year dormitory. Unbeknownst to the source of the sound, and much to his later embarrassment, there was one more person in the room.

Draco blinked, frowning at the invasion of his precious sleep time. He hadn't slept that well in weeks, even months, and some idiot – soon to be a very apologetic idiot – had the nerve to disturb him. Although he would have preferred to have cast a Silencing Charm and collapsed back into peaceful oblivion, Draco was not predisposed to forgiveness. His wand was already in his hand anyway. Exhaling heavily, he threw the sheets off himself and pulled the curtains of his four-poster back, ready to berate the perpetrator. The dormitory was deserted, save for the four-poster furthest from Draco with its curtains drawn. Presumably the victim was hiding there.

Suddenly another groan was emitted, this time longer and more drawn out. Draco frowned upon hearing the slightly pained edge to it. What the fuck? He stood silently, glaring warily at the four-poster. The curtains moved slightly, near the edge of the bed. He quietly moved towards the bed, wand he edged nearer, he heard heavy breathing; panting, almost.

Oh Merlin. I was woken up by some loner stroking the wand? Draco fumed. When I'm done with him he won't fucking have a wand to stroke. Furiously, he threw back the curtains of the bed and glared at the person within.

Or rather, the people within. To his utter astonishment, he was met by the sight of a stark bum thrust into the air, and Blaise's shocked face staring up from his pillows. The owner of the bum turned around to face him, intense embarrassment manifesting itself in shades of bright red on her cheeks. Daphne's blond hair was tousled and her lips parted.

"Erm... Good morning, Draco," Blaise spluttered. In an attempt to cover up his and Daphne's apparent state of undress, he pulled her flat on top of himself and attempted to pull his blanket over the pair of them. She huffed at the rough treatment, but Blaise couldn't care less for her delicacy in that moment.

Draco remained still and allowed his best smirk to work its way onto his face.

"I apologise if we woke you. I – uh, we – didn't think anyone would still be in bed at this ungodly hour," Blaise said with some semblance of his usual hauteur. Draco cocked an eyebrow. Merlin, did Blaise really think that he was in a position to insult Draco?

Daphne blushed at Blaise's behaviour, but said nothing. Draco stood silently for another minute or two, enjoying the painful awkwardness on his classmates' faces. He watched with pleasure as Blaise strained uncomfortably, feeling that this was by far the best repayment for the insults Blaise had dealt him throughout that year. Finally, just as he felt there was no chance that the pair could reclaim the passion they had felt – at least not for the next day or two – he spoke:

"The spell you are looking for is Muffliato. It would do you well to master it. You wouldn't want anyone finding out about this sordid behaviour," Draco intoned, and walked out of the door, satisfied that he had sufficiently humiliated his housemates.

What luck that he had stumbled onto such a delightful bit of blackmail. Draco had a feeling that it would be a good day.

The Great Hall was vibrant with chatter when Draco sauntered in, the four tables laden with food – how long had it been since he had eaten? – and the ceiling boasting sunny skies. He seated himself next to Goyle and a pig-tailed girl who burst into giggles when he accidentally brushed her arm. Conveniently, Pansy was seated much further down the table, surrounded by her usual posse, sans Daphne.

"Morning, Crabbe, Goyle," he said, feeling uncharacteristically sociable.

"Hullo Draco," they chorused through mouthfuls of breakfast. Goyle attempted a grin, only to find his scrambled eggs dribbling out of his mouth. Draco was helping himself to a mug of coffee - black, of course - when the girl on his right turned to face him.

"Um, Mr. Malfoy," she coughed, cheeks bright red.

"Draco," he interrupted, althought he liked the way "Mr Malfoy" sounded. She giggled.

"Draco, um, we -" she gestured to the girl next to her, who frowned and elbowed her, "well, I, was wondering, um, why you weren't playing Quidditch anymore?" Draco stared at her for a moment, trying to recall how to please young girls. He was out of practice. She fidgeted under his gaze.

"It's just, well, you were so good." He smirked.

"I have other commitments this year. Perhaps next year," he said, although he had no intentions of returning to school for his seventh year.

"Oh. Oh alright. Well, um, I think we'll definitely win then," she smiled, and Draco noticed that she looked rather screwable when she smiled.

"I'm sure we will, Miss?"

"Oh um, Miss Selwyn. Alexandra."

"Lovely to meet you, Miss Selwyn." If she was a Selwyn, Draco was sure that they had attended countless teas and lunches together, but she looked delighted to be referred to as "Miss Selwyn" by Draco. It felt good to be acting like he had before his father had been imprisoned.

Of course, it was only acting.

"Mr Malfoy – if you would care to demonstrate to the class how to cast the proper counter-jinx for the Revulsion Jinx. Non-verbally, if you please," Snape droned in the third class of the day. Draco immediately regretted his over-zealous reassurances of his well-being to the greasy git upon walking into class. Trust Snape to ruin his only good day.

"Professor, I was in the Hospital Wing when we covered this," Draco lied, glaring at Snape, "but I'm sure Pot-''

Snape nodded curtly and interrupted him: "Miss Granger, if you haven't dislocated your shoulder in your eagerness yet, you may demonstrate the spell for the class. Potter, get up and cast the Repulsive Jinx on her."

Granger leapt up and pranced forward, glancing briefly at Draco as she passed him. In prior years, Draco had hated how Granger beat him at everything. She was a Mudblood, for Merlin's sake. He hadn't paid much attention to schoolwork that year, though. It was due to the mission, he told himself. But sometimes, in the back of his mind, he wondered if it was because his father had been imprisoned in Azkaban for the entire school year. That way Draco couldn't witness his disappointment.

Granger pulled the spell off effortlessly, much to Draco's annoyance.

"Potter, did you even cast the jinx? Say it aloud if you must, seeing as you are incapable of non-verbal spells," Snape drawled, eyeing Draco's sudden change of mood speculatively.

Things took a turn for the worse from there onwards.

Draco found himself skipping double Herbology at the end of the day. He was squashed against an ancient bed in the Room of Requirement, gazing at the Vanishing Cabinet with wide eyes.

For all his arrogance, he couldn't believe that he had fixed it. For years people had been attempting to penetrate the walls of Hogwarts – and here, right here, he had it. He fucking had it. Him, Draco Malfoy. If – when – he pulled it off, his name would be as renowned as the Dark Lord's.

"It's going to be alright," he whispered, and the words warmed him.

He nodded decisively, and looked around the Room, wondering how it came to be. It was, no doubt, Hogwarts' greatest asset, and he would almost miss it when he left. It had come in handy throughout the year...

Draco had struggled to find the Cabinet during the first week of the year. After Montague's unfortunate detour in it, it had been moved beyond the students' reach, and Draco was running out of places to look for it. He had been angrily pacing about during a prefect patrol (probably the only one he had actually done the entire year), focusing on how he needed to find where broken and potentially hazardous objects were placed, when suddenly, an inconspicuous door appeared in the middle of a wall...

The second time Draco made use of the Room was not for the Cabinet. Oh no. He had been considerably more carefree then – and he had still had time for some fun.

"Baby, where are we going? We're not on Prefect Duty tonight, if we get caught, we're gonna get in trouble!"

"Relax. You said you wanted some privacy. Well, I've found some." He stopped and began walking up and down, glancing at a specific wall every two or three steps.

"Draco?"

Suddenly an intricately carved door appeared in the wall, much to Pansy's surprise. Her mouth formed a flirty pout as she glanced at Draco expectantly. He grinned slightly in anticipation, and then she knew she was in for something special. Draco never smiled. He pulled the door open and ushered her into the Room. As she gasped at her surroundings, he shut the door quietly behind them...

It was a Saturday morning, and everyone was watching the Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch match on the pitch. Well, all but Draco, who was hurriedly making his way to the Room to work on the Cabinet, and Goyle, who was already situated outside to guard. Suddenly, he had the feeling that someone was following him. He glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder, making it look like he was looking out the windows to catch a glimpse of the match. Hopefully his pursuer wasn't smart enough to note that he was moving in the opposite direction of the pitch. If he took out his wand it would look suspicious. Hmm, Draco speculated as he caught sight of Goyle, awkwardly twiddling his thumbs, further down the passage. He couldn't stop the twitch of his lips as he studied Goyle, who was holding himself like a seven hundred pound gorilla whilst in the body of a fourteen-year old girl. A fourteen-year old girl...

As Draco approached Goyle, he tilted his head firmly, as if to say "Do what I say", but Goyle looked as stupid as ever. For fuck's sake. Can't he work anything out for himself? He thought. Well, perhaps not. Draco slid his wand further down his sleeve and thought: "Imperio!"

As soon as he reached Goyle, who he made grin up at him like a lover, he thought furiously of what he needed the Room to become, hoping he wouldn't have to pace up and down like an idiot, thereby scaring off his pursuer. He placed his hand on Goyle's bony shoulder and firmly steered him through the doorway which had very quietly appeared in front of them. Once they were inside, Draco spun around, listening to the rapidly approaching footsteps outside. Unlike his pursuer, Draco could see through a peephole in the door – apparently invisible to the pursuer. Draco stared through the hole, chuckling at the sight before him. Potter was frantically feeling up the wall, obviously seeking a secret panel of sorts.

"Fuck you, Potter."

Draco's chest was heaving. Surely this was not normal. Surely you should never feel a massive hole in your chest, as though someone had delved inside you and taken out all the important things. He was almost sprinting by the time he reached the corridor on the seventh floor. He paced past the spot opposite the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy, desperate for a door to appear. Finally it did. It was the same dark mahogany as his bedroom door. He fell into the Room, clawing at the soft carpet.

"Oh Merlin. I can't, I can't," he whispered, face flush against the floor, "I'm – I'm not Father." He lifted his face and stared at his surroundings. It couldn't be. It looked just like his bedroom at home, down to the books shoved haphazardly in his bookcase. With Herculean effort, he pulled himself up and dragged himself to his bed. It felt so good to sink into the plush duvet. Fuck, he thought, how can I be this weak? It's done; it's ready. I can do it tomorrow if I want...

"But I don't want to." Ever since Potter's discovery of his confidence with the Moaning Mudblood, he'd realised it was time to bloody man up, and he avoided her at all costs. But sometimes it just became too much, and he found himself wishing he was in bed at home...

"Yeah, you're probably the best thing Hogwarts has to offer," he said aloud, feeling slightly foolish. He stood then to leave, but as he walked through the door, he had a strange feeling that he would be back soon.

"Draco... Could we speak for a moment?" Pansy's eyes were bloodshot. It did not suit her, Draco decided. He glanced around the Common Room, aware that people were surreptitiously eavesdropping. A Malfoy does not publicise his private life.

"My dormitory." With that, he continued forward as though she had not spoken. She shut the door behind them and, as an afterthought, hopefully cast Muffliato on the room.

"Draco, I... I know you're going through with the mission and you're very focused on that right now, but you of all people should know that I can help you. I want to help you," she said in an uncharacteristically sober tone, "This is as much my cause as it is yours." Is that so, he questioned acerbically, are you also fighting for your life? He stared at her.

"Ba – Draco, even if... even if you don't want to date me right now – " at this point her voice wavered, "I still... love you. I need you. I'll be anything you want, Draco, a friend, or – or something a bit more... Just. You can't do this. You don't know what you're doing," she finished, face expectant. Taken aback, Draco blinked at her. Had she just offered him an opportunity to become friends-with-benefits? Well, talk about bloody taking her time. If she'd said that about two years ago, they wouldn't be in this shitty situation.

"We've been friends for ages, I'm sure we can still be friends," he said, deliberately leaving out the "with-benefits" part. Her face crumbled, before she glared up angrily.

"Who is she, Draco? I've let you go around flirting with other girls, I know there's someone. Just tell me who she is!" He frowned at her convoluted thinking.

"What the f –" And then he yelped as something burned in his pocket. He gingerly pulled out the offending object, only to shout out: "Yes! Fuck yes!"

"Are you saying there is someone else?" Pansy asked, her voice an octave higher.

"What? No, what are – never mind. I'm going. Goodbye, Parkinson," he called as he sprinted out of the room, adrenaline already rushing through his veins.

"Draco!" She wailed after him, but he barely heard her over the blood pumping in his ears.

Albus Dumbledore had left Hogwarts.

It was time.

It was after curfew, but he heard footsteps in the passage outside. Suddenly, he heard the door to the room open.

"Nox!" he hissed, and the room became pitch-black. He heard a gasp, and quickly navigated his way to the source. It was easy, seeing as he had kept his Hand of Glory in the Room the entire year, just in case. He caught sight of that bag, Trelawney, hovering at the door. Silently he manoeuvred his way behind her. The strong smell of sherry washed over him. Thinking quickly, Draco hooked an arm around her waist, flung the door open, and threw her out. Then he conjured a lock to keep the door shut. Idiot woman.

He stood in front of the Cabinet for almost fifteen minutes before managed to calm himself enough. He knew Dumbledore would be back soon – Rosmerta had said he'd just gone out for a drink – but technically the old man didn't even have to leave the castle for the plan to work. He would die regardless.

You've done it, he said to himself, and he drew courage from the thought. He felt a sense of pride flowing through him, and, briefly, imagined what it would be like after: he would be elevated to the position of the Dark Lord's favourite, he would be above this utter grunt work, he would become the most respected Death Eater of all. He would have ensured his family's safety. Father would be so proud.

He slipped a piece of parchment bearing the words "He's gone" into the Cabinet, and sent it along to Borgin. Within minutes, Borgin's shop would be crowded with a handful of the finest Death Eaters. Draco waited feverishly until he heard the gentle whoosh that signalled the arrival of the parchment.

"We are waiting" was all it said, in a heavy scrawl. Draco shut the door and whispered: "Harmonia Nectere Passus." With a louder, more solid whoosh, someone arrived through the Cabinet. Soon the space around the Cabinet was crowded with Death Eaters – the Carrows, the massive Rowle, Gibbon, Yaxley (the only Pureblood one, in Draco's opinion), and finally... Fenrir Greyback. Draco was taken aback by the arrival of Greyback, but he was another body, and Draco figured that no one would be brave enough to take a werewolf on, even if it wasn't full moon.

"Alright," Draco began tersely, but eased up when he saw the willingness to be led on the faces of the Death Eaters. He was made for power. He outlined the plan for them, and they nodded in agreement.

"Very good, Draco, very good," Amycus wheezed, and clapped Draco on the shoulder. The party made its way to the door, when Yaxley said:

"Stop. Can you hear that? There are people outside. Were you anticipating a guard, Draco?" Draco had not, but sneered back at Yaxley:

"It is no matter. I've planned for every eventuality." With that, he withdrew a packet of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, which he had filched off a third year earlier that year. "Creates an impenetrable darkness. The only thing that will work in it is this." And Draco held up his Hand of Glory.

"Hand of Glory? Classy," Gibbon said.

"You'll have to take hold of my robes, and keep hold of one another. I don't one of you to get lost here."

"Why, afraid to be alone?" one of the Carrows chuckled. Draco glared at them.

"No, but I doubt one of you wants the embarrassment of being defeated by a gang of school children."

"Focus!" Yaxley commanded, and Draco instantly regained his superior demeanor. After ensuring that every Death Eater was linked up, he opened the door, and threw the powder out into the corridor. In the ensuing chaos, they quickly made their way up to the Astronomy tower.

"Expelliarmus!" came a cry from behind them. Draco spun around to see members of the Order of the Phoenix, as well as Longbottom, Lovegood and Weasley, sprinting towards them. A battle ensued, and Draco was soon dodging the multi-coloured jets of light around him, and throwing out any curses he could think of. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen! Suddenly Gibbon materialised behind him, and, running forwards as he flicked his wand, shouted: "It's done, the Dark Mark's – " suddenly a flash of green light collided with Gibbon's body, and he collapsed. Draco started, and turned towards the stairs up the Astronomy Tower.

As he approached the top of the tower, he heard a voice on the other side. Shit, fuck, he thought. He was supposed to have been there when Dumbledore arrived. He threw the door open and shouted: "Expelliarmus!"

"Good evening, Draco," Dumbledore said, leaning against the ramparts of the tower. Draco glanced around quickly; sure he had heard talking, and spied two broomsticks on the stone floor.

"Who else is here?" he demanded, and he heard the paranoia in his tone. Cool it, he thought. You must stay calm.

"A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?" Dumbledore asked convivially. Draco answered the negative, eyeing the pale headmaster warily. Why is he not scared?

Dumbledore continued with small-talk, and Draco couldn't help but answer him. Just get your breath back, just calm down, he chanted. He heard himself say: "They met some of your guard. They're having a fight down below. They won't be long... I came on ahead." Focus! Focus! "I – I've got a job to do."

"Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy," said Dumbledore softly. Draco stared at him. Here it was – the moment. It seemed that the entire year had led up to it, and yet Draco did not feel ready. It was too soon.

"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer," Dumbledore said softly. Was he reading Draco's thoughts?

"How do you know?" Draco yelped, and then realised how stupid that sounded, and added: "You don't know what I'm capable of! You don't know what I've done!" I've found a way into your school, old man. I've outsmarted you!

Dumbledore began to discuss Draco's failures over the year, and criticized his apparent lack of conviction (which Draco vehemently denied), and then observed that Draco appeared to be afraid to act alone. The old fool was acting as if he would make it out alive.

"I'm not afraid!" Draco snarled, "It's you who should be scared!" he expected Dumbledore to realise the peril of his situation, but instead the old man proceeded to question Draco about how he had smuggled the Death Eaters into the castle. Confused by Dumbledore's complete absence of fear, he explained how he had done it. Detailing his plan made him realise how clever, how cunning he actually was. I deserve to be here, he realised, and I can do this.

And then suddenly Dumbledore wanted to discuss his options.

"My options! I'm standing here with a wand – I'm about to kill you – " he spluttered, but Dumbledore quickly dispelled that idea.

"My dear boy, let us have no more pretence about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first Disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means."

And suddenly Draco realised why Dumbledore had been talking to him: he had been showing Draco that, even though he could devise a plan – a brilliant plan – to kill a man, he could not commit the act. The truth hit Draco, right in the chest, and he burst out:

"I haven't got any options! I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!" He felt his throat swell up, and his eyes sting, and in that moment, he felt as though he had exposed himself too much. He barely heard a word Dumbledore said after that, besides "Lord Voldemort" and then "I can help you, Draco."

Draco almost laughed. Nobody could help him! He had no choice. It was his life or Dumbledore's, and he was too young and selfish and scared to sacrifice his own life for that of an old man he had no respect for. Dumbledore was rambling again, and Draco realised how easy it would be, just to cast the spell right then, while the fool was going on and on about how Draco was not a killer.

"I got this far, didn't I? They thought I'd die in the attempt –" this was a truth Draco had not been able to acknowledge thus far, " – but I'm here, and you're in my power... I'm the one with the wand... you're at my mercy..."

But he couldn't. He couldn't do it. He felt his wand-hand drop – and then the door burst open.

"Dumbledore cornered!" Amycus giggled. "Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!"

Dumbledore greeted the party, visibly shocked by the presence of Greyback. Greyback openly discussed his liking for children, and Draco felt a wave of nausea rumble in his stomach. Greyback offered to finish Dumbledore for afters, when Yaxley interrupted:

"No! We've got orders. Draco's got to do it. Now, Draco, and quickly." Draco felt his stomach sink. He was out of options. It was too late to take Dumbledore up on his offer of safety...

Suddenly a loud bang came from the stairwell, and he heard footsteps. Snape appeared – Draco had never been happier to see the greasy git. Yaxley was yelling for him to do it, but all he could do was stare at Snape and pray he had some form of salvation.

Dumbledore's thin voice interrupted his thoughts: "Severus..." he was begging, Merlin, he was begging! And suddenly Draco noticed how pale and weak the headmaster looked. Dumbledore petitioned Snape again, presumably still under the impression that Snape could help him.

And then Snape's face contorted and said: "Avada Kedavra!"

And then it was over. Snape grabbed Draco and shoved him out of the door. Draco was numb to his surroundings. He was aware that much yelling and spell-casting was happening around him, but he seemed to be impervious to it. Snape was driving him forwards, down flights of stairs, out the door, and suddenly he was outside. There was more shouting, someone roaring "COWARD!" behind him, and a fire – when was there a fire? – and then Snape shouted:

"Run, Draco!" And, without the permission of his brain, his legs were carrying him forwards, sprinting as he had never before, to the gates of the Hogwarts grounds, to freedom. He focused on the gates of his own home, wanting more than anything to be there –

And suddenly the imposing wrought-iron gates of the Manor were before him. He ran straight through them – they were enchanted to recognize him – and continued running up to the Manor. The door was open for him, as if he was expected, and he continued sprinting up the drive, even though his legs were burning, but the pain was nothing compared to the things he had experienced.

"Draco?" And there was his mother, as tall and beautiful as ever, standing in the hall, waiting for him. "Draco!"

He ran to her, and she opened her arms and embraced him, kissing his cheek. For a moment he simply stood still, and then he collapsed into her as he had when he was a boy.

"Mum."

"Oh Draco, what have you done?"

So, there it is. Sorry it took so long. It is quite a lengthy piece - I've had quite a few people telling me they're a bit short, but I can't help but feel that this is too long and boring. Let me know what you think.

The general idea of this was actually to illustrate how a seemingly average day turned into one of the worst days. Also, I included all the little vignettes of Draco and his schoolmates because that was probably the last normal school day Draco would ever experience.

And for those of you who are wondering, Astoria is actually in this piece. She's just a little hidden :)

NOTE: all of the dialogue in the Astronomy Tower is from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. It does not belong to me. It belongs to Ms Rowling :)