Draco

I just killed another three hours of my life with that vanishing cabinet.

It's getting way better now, but I still wouldn't put anything in it. The wood's getting more supple, a sign that all of those stupid spells are working.

I hate doing this. In reality though, it's ridiculous. I mean, this is what I always wanted to do. I've been looking forward to something like this for, what now, fifteen years? This moment was tantalizing. But for some reason, it's really not what I expected. Not what anyone expected. This is like--like--that Regulus Black. Look what happened to him.

Frustrated, I slam my fist into the tall mirror next to me, letting the shrill, crashing sound drown out my head. My fingers are bleeding hard, running slim, red rivers down my arm. I can't help but laugh bitterly. That's it-- I'm turning into a Harry Potter. Emotionally insane, closed-up, on the brink of self-destruct. This is happy.

Smirking ever-so-slightly, I quietly lock up my cabinet and leave the Room of Requirement.

Harry

Ron is sauntering along next to me, one of the rare moments that he isn't with Lavender.

"You know, Harry," he says, laughing. "Lav, she's just great, you know? I mean isn't she--"

"Shut up Ron, please," I grimace. "Enough with your 'Lav-Lav', okay?"

He immediately straightens himself out, giving me a peculiar look. "This is about Malfoy, isn't it? Or those weird lessons with Dumbledore? I mean, really, what's wrong with you la--"

"I'm okay," I say through clenched teeth.

"Yeah, and I'm--"

"Okay."

"So, just because--"

"Really, just go and run away with your girlfriend of the late. There is nothing wrong with me."

Straining, I force a smile, looking more like an expression of severe pain than anything. Ron, of course, gets the point, and turns around, coughing up a reproachful, 'see you,' before he goes. Little does he know what it's like to have some 'Dark Lord' messing with your brain every night.

Receiving some odd looks, I make a turn against the traffic, heading upstairs to the Room of Requirement, just to check. I doubt I'm going to be able to find it. Apparently, I have no need for it, which is actually sort of true. But how ferret does, I'm not sure. Checking that no one's around, I walk faster, passing Myrtle's bath--

Myrtle's bathroom.

There's a sudden angry shout coming from the inside, and I have a feeling it's not Myrtle. Careful not to make a sound, I painstakingly creep in on the wet floor.

Malfoy's back is to me; he's doubled over, clutching the sides of a sink. Next to him is a small, slender, dark-haired figure. Arista? What is she doing with that ferret? Straining my ears, I slip in a little further.

"Draco, listen, what is wrong?" Arista says. Her voice is filled with concerned intensity."You can't just go disappearing and trying to kill yourself! Where do you even--"

Malfoy stiffens up and whips around, gripping her by her shoulders. He's shaking visibly all over.

"I don't. Have. A choice," he says through clenched teeth. I can see his reflection in the mirror now. His eyes are brimming with hard tears. "He's going... to kill me... and my parents... if I don't."

He looks desperate, high-strung, terrified. Arista seems to see it too. Aris--

Suddenly, her gaze locks on mine, shocked, accusing, hurt. Just as she's about to speak, Malfoy turns around, wondering what she's staring at. And then he see's me.

Eyes clouding with anger, he pulls out his wand, an unknown spell flashing towards my head, missing by inches. Jumping to alert, I do the same, so does Ris.

"Proteg--"

"Cruci--"

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" I yell, hoping for something good. In a flash of white light, Malfoy flies back, disappearing around the corner. Arista glares at me and runs to see what happened. As if with rusty joints, I uncertainly follow her, my footsteps faint splashes in the half-flooded bathroom.

If only I'd known that the result would be a little... too good.

Malfoy is lying on his back in a pool of water, bright red blood sputtering from his mouth. Horrified, my gaze travels down his body.

A huge, gaping gash stretches from his shoulder to his his side, pouring blood. It's almost as if I took a jagged scalplel and tore it down Malfoy's front. His face is white, all signs of life drained from it, as if sucked away by a ruthless dementor. Someone, like... me.

Swaying with nausea, I clamor to his side, kneeling down. Malfoy's face is hazed over with pain, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. "No," I whisper to myself. I look at Arista, the look of pure, horrified astonishment rips at my heart. "I'm so sorry... I didn't know... Ris--"

"Get away from him," she snarls. Gritting her teeth, she slips her arms around Malfoy's dragging him away from me. I take a small step forward.

"Ris--"

"SHUT UP, YOU BASTARD!" she screams. "Get someone." Her eyes are whispering, I don't want to hear it, just go away, just leave.

Suddenly, the bathroom door swings open, banging back onto the wall. Snape struts in, an sneer on his face. "Potter," he drawls in slimy voice. Then, his eyes travel to Malfoy, and then Arista, who's still glaring at me, her face lined with hatred. Falling immediately silent, he leans down over Malfoy, tracing his wand along the wound, muttering something. As if pulled by an invisible force, Malfoy's cut begins to knit together, healing itself.

When he's done, his black eyes slice into mine, and I know what's coming next. Panicking, I try to hide anything in my mind. But as fate might have it, a blurred copy of Advanced Potion Making swims before my eyes.

"Miss Grace, you may leave," he says shortly. Grabbing barely-conscious Malfoy with one arm, he turns to look at me again. "Potter, get your potions book an wait for me here."

I gulp, my stomach clenching with nerves. If he saw my grafitied potions book, he would know everything. The reason I had top potions scores, felix felicis, the Sectumsermpa spell, everything.

"Do it now."

"Y-yes, sir."