Draco needed to run. May was rapidly approaching, and while he'd made some progress his plan was nowhere near being finished, and the fear of what would happen if he couldn't do this by the end of term was eating him from the inside out.

Thankful it was early enough on a Saturday that there would be next to no one wandering the grounds, he slid out of the entrance doors and started to run as fast as his legs could carry him. But even when he'd collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily, the feeling of flight still –

He sat up. Flight. He got up and started to run again, this time with a destination in mind. Five minutes later he was in the air. The practice broom was only a Cleansweep Seven, and just a tad slow, but he didn't care: this was heaven, flying among the clouds.

How long he spent in the air, he didn't know, but at the sight of tiny figures beginning to roam the grounds below he quickly lowered the handle of the broom to land gently on the side of the Quidditch pitch.

"You fly well, Mr. Malfoy," a voice complemented him from somewhere above. He looked up into the stands and only just managed to stop himself from yelping in surprise. "Good morning, Professor."

"Afternoon, I should think by now," Professor Dumbledore mused. "I did not mean to startle you. I was looking for a quiet place outdoors to read my book" – he held up a large volume – "and thought the Quidditch stands would be just the ticket."

"What are you reading, Sir?" Draco asked, simply because he didn't know what else to say.

"Magical Carpentry by Blaine Rene. Quite the fascinating read, if I do say so myself, although I shall never attempt the art, as I've had a few rather disastrous endeavors in my youth. Rene has written of many of his own unfortunate failures, and it has convinced me that carpentry, magical or otherwise, is best left to the experts."

Draco's stomach dropped. "A wise decision," he managed.

The Professor surveyed him for a moment, and Draco felt as though he were being x-rayed. But then the moment was over and the old wizard took his leave.

What, Draco thought, was that about? He couldn't know – could he? He shook his head. It was just a coincidence. The encounter had left him unnerved, and he decided to walk it off. He left the broom in the shed and turned his steps toward the lake.

He walked automatically, his eyes in front but not really seeing the surroundings, and was shocked out of his thoughts by the sound of his name. He looked up. "What are you doing out here?" he asked by way of greeting.

Colin shrugged. "Just walking. You?"

"Same."

"Want company?"

"Sure."

They walked in silence for awhile. At last Draco spoke, his voice low. "Professor Dumbledore was in the Quidditch stands when I finished flying this morning."

"Oh?" Colin questioned.

"He mentioned something about a book on magical carpentry. It's got to be a coincidence, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"There's…" Draco hesitated, but he'd been silent too long and the words just fell out – "I have to fix something. A magical cabinet. As part of my mission. But he couldn't know about that, could he?"

"I don't know," Colin said. "He knows a lot that goes around here, I reckon. But some things are just coincidences."

"It has to be. He can't know."

"If he knew, he'd stop you," Colin reasoned. "He wouldn't stand for one of his students being – hurt."

Draco nodded once. "You can say it, you know."

"Say what?"

"Kill." He spoke in a whisper, but the word sounded loud just the same.

Colin went pale, but his voice was even. "You were given a mission to kill someone. You don't find that odd?"

"Odd how?" Draco was confused.

"I mean, why you?"

"I told you, I was the only one who could get close enough to this person to do it," he answered.

"You don't believe that." It wasn't a question.

"I did." Draco frowned. "I don't know what to believe now."

There was a lull in the conversation until Draco spoke again. "He made me feel like he knew though, for just a moment. Professor Dumbledore," he clarified at Colin's confused glance. "It worried me."

"Have you ever considered that he could help you?" Colin asked.

"He can't help me," he said curtly.

"How do you know unless you ask?"

"Oh sure, that'd be a real picnic. 'Excuse me, Professor, but You-Know-Who has given me a mission to kill you, can you help me out?'" He'd spoken without thinking, and when he realized what he said he halted in his tracks. Colin stopped too and turned to face him. "You – Dumbledore?"

"Yes," Draco admitted. He looked down. "Going to run off and tell on me now?" He'd wanted to sound as though he didn't care but didn't think he'd succeeded.

"I should," Colin whispered. "But I won't."

"There are a lot of things I should do," Draco said bitterly. "Or shouldn't have done. But none of that matters now. This is all that matters now."

"I'm scared," Draco continued. "I don't know what will happen to my family or me if I can't complete this by the end of term."

"Can you go into hiding?"

"Maybe," he said doubtfully.

Though they didn't verbalize their intention, they simultaneously started to walk once more. "Do you think death hurts?" Draco asked out of the blue.

"I think it depends on the – method used. Take the Killing Curse, for example. It sounds quicker and easier than falling asleep. But how Muggles sometimes kill – stabbing or beating or something – that would hurt, I think."

"I don't want it to hurt." He knew he sounded weak and he hated it, but couldn't help himself.

"You're not going to die, Draco. Not for many decades yet."

And he knew it was an empty thought, that Colin couldn't know it for sure; but in that moment the sound of those words said with such force and determination gave him courage.

The corridors were dark and quiet as Colin rushed through them, his sock-clad feet making soft padding noises. He'd been waiting all day to see if Draco was okay, and time had seemed to slow down, minute by minute passing increasingly slowly, until he'd felt like he wanted to scream in frustration. Flashes of the attack flickered in and out of his brain as he hurried along; he barely cared about stealth even though it was after curfew.

He paced around the sinks, around and around in the large circle they formed in the middle of the room. He felt helpless, unsure; Draco was sobbing, occasionally spouting out sentences like "he'll kill me" and "I can't do it", but he'd waved away any attempt – in word or gesture – Colin had made to comfort him, and so he had simply taken to pacing, hoping that at least his presence would give some reassurance.

The sound of the door opening caught his attention. Thankful that he was on the opposite side of the circle hidden from view of the entrance, he carefully peeked between the artfully built-in cracks in the tall, round structure that held the mirrors. Colin gasped quietly when he saw the familiar face standing in the doorway.

Draco must have heard him, or perhaps he had looked up and noticed their unwelcome visitor, for all of a sudden Colin could hear the sound of footsteps and then spells being hurled back and forth. Colin dived for the relative safety of a bathroom stall, and in the confusion neither of the other boys noticed him. He watched through the crack in between the door hinges as jinx after jinx was cast; and, frozen in horror, heard the start of an Unforgivable Curse come out of Draco's mouth before Harry Potter cast a spell that was foreign to him –

Colin shook his head violently. No. The images in his head of what that spell had done to Draco were gruesome and filled his stomach with a thick dread he'd been unable to shake since it had happened. Thank Merlin Professor Snape had arrived –

Miraculously, he met no one else in the corridors, not even Mrs. Norris, and, his breath coming in quick, rapid movements, he grasped the handle of the door that was all that separated him from his Slytherin. He stood there a moment, letting his breathing calm and clutching the stitch in his side, before stealthily slipping into the Hospital Wing.

There was only one bed occupied, Colin could see. He approached it slowly, suddenly fearful; Draco had been such a mess the last time he'd seen him. The nearly full moon shone brightly though a nearby window, illuminating the pale blonde boy in the bed. Draco appeared to be sleeping, though fitfully; his body tossed and turned sporadically in swift, jerky motions. Colin moved quickly, his heart twisting, and with some difficulty managed to climb onto the bed and pull the boy to him. Draco immediately relaxed in sleep, and Colin held him carefully, all kinds of emotions swirling inside.

"I didn't know what that spell did."

"….you deserve detention…"

Echoes of Harry and Professor Snape's conversation after the attack flitted in and out of his brain, and Colin shook his head once more in an attempt to clear the thoughts, but it didn't work. He kept seeing Draco's blood spilling from the gashes that spell had inflicted and hearing the sing-song sound of the Professor's healing spell and seeing Harry's face, white and shocked, as he'd waited for Professor Snape to return from bringing Draco to the Hospital Wing.

Colin growled in frustration, though he made sure to keep his voice down to avoid waking the sleeping Draco. Why didn't he intervene? He could have cast a Shield Charm between the boys, or done something else to prevent such an awful fight. And instead he'd frozen, and simply watched as Draco had been hurt.

"It's not your fucking fault." A low but fierce snarl startled Colin, and his hand stilled as he looked down to see Draco's eyes were open and trained on him.

"I should have helped," Colin began, but he was interrupted.

"Potter has always stuck his nose where it didn't belong," Draco spat. "We've been enemies since First Year, and our rivalry has nothing to do with you. It's not your fault."

"I could have at least cast a Shield Charm."

"I wouldn't have wanted you to," Draco told him. "The fact that you and I are on friendly terms is not something I want anyone to know."

Colin turned his head away so the Slytherin wouldn't see the hurt in his eyes. He knew their – friendship, for lack of a better term – was dangerous, that Draco's parents and, Merlin forbid, Voldemort, could never know of it and that therefore knowledge of their secret meetings must be kept secret, but some part of him wished that this wasn't the case.

"I hope he gets punished for what he did to me," Draco said harshly, and his voice rose slightly in anger.

"Hush," Colin said, "Or Madam Pomfrey will wake up."

Draco scowled, but complied. "What the bloody hell spell was that anyway? I've never even heard of it before."

"I don't know it either. He told Professor Snape he'd learned it from a book but that he didn't know what it would do."

"That's just like Potter to use a spell he has no knowledge of." Draco snorted.

"He's got detention for the rest of the term."

"He deserves a hell of a lot more than that!"

"It did seem odd to me," Colin mused. "Attacking and injuring another student like that, and yet all Professor Snape does is give detention? He loathes Harry, everyone knows that. You'd think he'd want to get him kicked out for this."

"Whatever his reason, I'm grateful," Draco said quietly, after a minute. "Priori Incantatem would have shown that my wand was just as guilty for casting dangerous spells."

"You were in the heat of the moment, you didn't mean – "

"Yes I did," Draco broke in. "I meant it. I wanted to hurt him." He laughed callously. "Wish I'd been quicker. He deserved it."

Colin was silent. His mind flashed back once more, and a thought occurred to him. "Will you be scarred?"

"Faint ones, yes," Draco said bitterly.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Draco repeated.

There was a pause, then – "Why are you holding me?"

Colin disentangled himself quickly. "Sorry. You were tossing and turning in your sleep and you looked like you might hurt yourself and that made you stop."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Gryffindors."

To Colin's relief, Draco was released from the Hospital Wing the next day, and they continued their customary meetings as usual – though from then on, Draco always remembered to cast certain privacy spells on the door.