And through this all, there was no doubt in his mind that he would continue the task set before him. Through it all, no rebellion showed through. Anguish, yes. Fear, yes. But he knew what he had to do.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so, so sorry. I never wanted to become this. I never wanted to be Draco Malfoy."

He was so broken inside that he barely heard the words come from Potter. "I know what you did, Malfoy."

That cruel, stupid, no good boy. Draco was crying his eyes out, and he still only thought to accuse! Draco's blood boiled. "You hexed her, didn't you?"

He could stop right now. Draco could stop crying, and admit to it. He could hold his hands out to Potter, and ask for help. He could tell Potter he didn't want to do it anymore, and Dumbledore could have ensured his safety. All he had to do was surrender. It would be so easy. Friends, love, hope, kindness… it was there, standing in front of him. People were forgiving. No one even knew he had the dark mark yet. He could go back, couldn't he?

Draco raised his wand, and sent a blast towards Potter.

Potter dodged it with ease. Perhaps Draco hadn't entirely wished to hurt him. He sent a return shot that shattered the horrible mirror that revealed Draco's face. Draco dove to the side, thrusting himself to his feet a mere moment after he slammed into the ground.

They dueled. Draco sprinted and hid, sending wild shots towards Potter. The air in the bathroom was suddenly raining with sink water. The walls were damp, as was the floor. It slipped under Draco's feet as he struggled to escape, sprinting through the winding room. It was dark, but the moon shining through the windows cast the world in a faint blue glow.

Draco rounded another corner, coming face to face with Potter. The boy's eyes were unsteadily fixed on Draco, avoiding his eyes. He raised his wand, words on his lips, to counter Potter. But Potter screamed a curse that Draco did not know.

Immediately, pain flashed through Draco. His brain went dark, and he fell. The ground met him with great force, but it was nothing compared to the invisible knife that tore through his shirt and into his chest. There was silence from Potter's end, but Draco did not notice. He was gasping for breath through the overwhelming pain.

Water flowed around Draco's hands, dripping from his fingers. The moon shone in a shaft over his face, which was calm despite the horror spreading in his head.

So this was it? This was how he was going to die? At the hands of the Potter boy, bleeding out on the floor of the bathroom?

His eyes were vacant as he stared. Maybe this was good. He would slip into the warm pain, and never have to face Voldemort again. He would never have to stare down his wand as he killed those he loved. It was easier this way: to die a martyr for his cause. Before Dumbledore found out that he had schooled a killer.

Draco closed his eyes.

Was this it?