If I Lose Myself
by EMPG22HoPe

Chapter Sixteen: Draco

March 1997

Draco finally had progress with the Vanishing Cabinet.

He's put everything that could possibly make him vulnerable to the side, including his friends. Since the Hogsmeade incident between Blaise and Theo, Draco had decided that it was about time he stopped running around trying to get a grip of his friend. He's spent the last month worrying about Blaise so much that it had made him forget about fixing the Vanishing Cabinet. He couldn't possibly go two seconds without Pansy running up to him and screeching that Blaise was about to chuck himself off the bloody Astronomy Tower.

But Blaise was in the hospital wing now, a lot longer than he had thought. Apparently Theo had broken both of Blaise's legs when Astoria specifically instructed Daphne and Pansy to keep them separate. That didn't go so well apparently. Now Draco hasn't even visited Blaise in the hospital wing, nor has he talked to Pansy since then. Pansy was persistent, trying to cough up whatever she could from him – but he remained impassive, as he had with other people.

He needed to focus.

The Vanishing Cabinet finally worked one Tuesday afternoon at the start of the month when Draco placed a green apple inside and incanted the healing charm. It took a few tries, but in the end; with his wretched heart simply set on the mission the Dark Lord had sent, fear of losing his parents and his life – the green apple disappeared from sight. And only just a few seconds after incanting Harmonia Nectere Passus once more, the green apple had reappeared – only this time, someone had bitten into it.

Aunt Bellatrix must have received the apple. It had been her behind the cabinet's twin in Borgin & Burke's daily to check and see if Draco was doing any good with it. Now, it seemed like he was one step closer to just ending the mission at hand. The back-up plan could work.

Draco wanted to burst with joy. It took most of his self-control not to shake Blaise awake in the hospital wing and tell him what he's done. It felt like the huge weight set upon him had vanished in spite of its momentary feeling. He had done it! And yet, he still had a long way to go. But he rejoiced nonetheless, already feeling lighter than he ever had since the start of the year.

Yet of course, nothing good for long ever happened to Draco since he took the dark mark. There will always be something that would dampen his ego and pride, even in the smallest of package. One package, much to Draco's annoyance, was specifically of poisoned mead.

He'd overheard Millicent and Pansy talking about it over breakfast one morning.

"Yeah, just like I heard it! Dropped dead like a rag doll, the weak Weasel." Millicent chortled between bites of Sheppard's pie as she eyed Pansy. "I'm not surprised, though. He's a menace at Quidditch as he is a menace at getting drunk. What a loser. Gotten himself sent to the hospital wing because of that ol' mead. Slughorn says that it was poisoned mead, but I seriously doubt it."

"Poisoned mead?" Draco asked, his interest piqued as he set his fork down. "What are you talking about, Bulstrode?"

"I see you're talking again." Pansy sneered at him curiously. Draco ignored her.

"Well!" Millicent screeched excitedly as she leaned in from across the table gossipingly. "I've heard that the little loser, Ron Weasley, was sent to the hospital wing a week ago. Still is there till' now, you know? He got himself poisoned by some nasty little mead Professor Slughorn gave him, said some of the professors. But it's hardly believable, isn't it? No, I reckon people just won't admit he's a terrible drunk!"

Draco's heart raced horribly. "Did Slughorn ever mention anything about the mead?"

Millicent shrugged. "Who knows? All he's told the professors was that he got it as a gift, and was about to actually send it off to Professor Dumbledore as a gift itself. Bloody terrifying, ain't it? If the professor had succeeded, by Merlin, Dumbledore wouldn't even be sitting at the great table this very second. It looks like someone's not pleased to have the old coot running the school. What an awful, though clever assassination attempt, don't you think, Pansy?"

Pansy scoffed at this irritably as she took a bite out of her meal. "I don't bloody care. I just hope that Weasley loser doesn't ever wake up from that blasted induced coma. It's the same thing that happened to Katie Bell. If anything, I'm glad the Gryffindors are being targeted. Although the situation is certainly bad rep for us now. People are beginning to suspect that the Slytherins are behind all this for revenge on the Quidditch matches."

"But Snape's hushed that all up now, hasn't he?" Millicent said defensively before grinning. "Professor Snape, what a great man. The only man that ever really believes us."

Draco scoffed at this, still feeling oddly jittery. The only man that seems to be stealing my glory, he thought bitterly, but he kept that thought to himself. He was still reeling from the news about Weasley, now feeling himself grow smaller at the very thought that all his attempts were becoming feeble wastes.

Before he could get up to give himself some air, block out the sound of people and everything else, his heart tugged downwards when he caught a name amidst Millicent's gossipy rant.

"—and Astoria, too, I heard. Just last night! Pulled out from Dumbledore's office—" But Millicent didn't have enough time to finish when Draco interrupted.

"What about her?" Draco asked gruffly, trying to sound and look disinterested as he poked on his meal, though he tried to meet Millicent's eye using his peripheral. To his greatest relief, Pansy was nowhere to be seen now—most likely have left after having her ear talked off by Bulstrode. The only reason Millicent seemed to be talking was because she thought Draco was still listening.

"Well, haven't you heard?" Millicent asked, wide-eyed as she scooped bits of mash in her mouth. "Astoria was in Dumbledore's office last night, Merlin knows why. And then I heard she just collapsed! I mean, I knew she was sickly, poor thing—but to be headed off to the hospital wing looking green! It's a travesty! Mum says I should be pulled out from school, you know. All these students getting cursed and everything, and unprecedented collapsing—"

"Do they know why that happened?" Draco frowned, trying to hide his concern but failing miserably. It felt like he was having one problem pile up after another now. "Why she collapsed, that is?"

"Who knows? One minute she was talking to Dumbledore, the next she's out of it." Millicent shrugged before raising a brow at him. "Why are you so concerned anyway? Didn't Pansy to tell you to come off her?"

Draco hadn't the time to answer her, because the moment his heart felt like clawing off his chest, he leapt from his seat and hobbled out of the Great Hall. He fidgeted with his tie nervously as he rushed up the stone staircases towards the seventh floor. His anxiety grew even more fervent when the stairs kept changing bloody lanes.

But by the time that he had gotten to the seventh floor, he was feeling wheezy, and not just from the confusing staircases. His entire body shook violently, his shirt now drenched with sweat as if he was drowning in a pool of his own recklessness. The matter of the fact is; he actually was.

Of course the bloody misfortune had to be the great fact that Slughorn had to be the one professor that got the mead from Rosmerta. And yet, how could it have gone all wrong? Draco didn't think Slughorn would be stupid enough not to follow orders, imperiused or not. Yet, there they were now – the poisoned mead plan gone down the drain. Despite his certain dislike for the Weasley involved, he hadn't exactly meant to hurt him to the point of having him bedridden and comatose just like he'd accidentally done to Katie Bell.

This is not the bloody time to feel guilty! Draco groaned at himself in frustration as he purposefully made his way down the corridor where the Room of Requirement would be.

And yet, it wasn't just the failed poisoned mead that was getting to him now. Draco didn't how know it'd be connected, but he felt a pang of guilt that perhaps he had something to do with Astoria collapsing as well. He couldn't pin point how, but somehow every little problem that crops up with the students ate at him as if it had all been his fault.

Deciding he didn't have the energy to go back to the Room of Requirement to continue repairing the cabinet, he made a beeline for the nearest boy's bathroom. To his luck, it was empty of students. He turned on his heel and cast a Locking Spell on the door before he made great strides towards the nearest sink.

For the first time in a very long time, Draco found himself slipping from the very edge and sitting on the cold, hard ground. A sob escaped his lips this time, hot tears streaking down his cheeks as his hands wringed and fisted themselves angrily against his white blonde locks.

He felt the world falling in on him. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what kind of plan he comes up with—it's always going to crop up to fail. The necklace, the mead; he was almost certain they would work. That perhaps, he'd feel less guilty if he killed Dumbledore indirectly. That he didn't have to point his wand and cast his first killing curse at the only man that the Dark Lord feared the most. But even as he did them, he knew it would all come down to one thing.

He had to let the Death Eaters in, just as planned. He would try to kill Dumbledore right before their eyes if he could help it. And maybe, if he couldn't, if he couldn't utter the words that he feared would come out of his mouth; maybe, just maybe, one of the Death Eaters would do him the favor. For some reason, he didn't mind if they took all the credit.

And yet, what would that do to his family? If the Dark Lord found out that he didn't kill Dumbledore himself, he would kill him and his parents. The Dark Lord made quite sure of it from the nightmares that he was inducing for the past few nights. Nightmares of his mother being tortured, and whether or not they were true made him fear the worst. He dared not to think the other end of it if the Dark Lord decides to just kill his mother right then and there.

His body wracked with sobs now, pulling his arms closer to his chest—as if that would protect him from the harsh reality that was crashing right before his eyes.

"I can't do it…" He said between convulsive gaps. "I can't…"

"What can't you do?" The shrill voice of a girl asked him.

Draco leapt in surprise, searching the bathroom wildly before his eyes fell upon a transparent-like figure floating right in front of him. There sat before him was a ghostly girl. She had her black hair in pigtails and wore thick-rimmed glasses. A curios look came upon her as she swished her Hogwarts robes aside.

"W-who are you?" Draco asked feverishly as he tried to wipe the tears off his damp face. He never quite liked the ghosts at Hogwarts. They had an off feeling to them, and his fear was warped more with the thought that he could be a ghost himself soon if he didn't buck up and do what the Dark Lord wants.

"I'm Myrtle. Myrtle Warren." The ghost replied, looking offended as though he ought to have known who she was. "I heard you crying, muttering to yourself. What can't you do?"

There was a calm look about her, a mournful, morose look that made Draco sympathize with her. For some reason, he found himself voicing his troubles, "Something important… something that would threaten me unless I do it… But I can't… I tried everything I could but it just won't work. He won't stop until I do it."

Myrtle nodded with pursed lips. "Oh, you're being bullied, aren't you? I used to be bullied too. Olive Hornby always liked making fun of my glasses. She made my school years terrible. I used to always run to the bathroom and cry and hope she'd just go away. People can be very terrible sometimes. But I suppose we can't help it, the way they are, who they are…"

Draco nodded as he looked down at his hands absent-mindedly, still weeping as tears met the palm of his hands. "Yeah, I guess you can say that… bullied."

It was an odd feeling admitting it out loud, but that really did seem to be the case. The Dark Lord was bullying him, but it was far worse than some childish pettiness between school mates. It meant his life and his parents. He wasn't sure if he should tell Myrtle that. It's not like she'd blab on to the next ghost. Still, he kept the thought to himself.

"Why is he bullying you anyway?" Myrtle asked morosely.

Draco inhaled sharply. "Because he's just that way, I suppose. But I have my suspicions. My mother doesn't think I don't know why, but I do. He thinks I'll fail just like my father, that I'll disappoint him and… and he may be right."

He pressed his hands on his eyes, keening now as his body shivered uncontrollably. If only he had the guts, if only he could do better—but twice is enough of an embarrassment, thrice is just too much. There was no other way. He had to kill Dumbledore, or risk his family's life. And what's one life to three others? Surely, it'd be justifiable… surely it wouldn't be so bad… it was just a flick of a wand now, wasn't it? Maybe it wouldn't matter if he kept his eyes closed while he did it…

"I'm sure you can find a way to do it." Myrtle told him lowly. "Back then, I didn't have many friends. You look like a bloke that has loads of them. Maybe you can ask for their help."

Draco choked in his attempt to laugh humorlessly. If only it were that easy now, wasn't it? The last time he tried to involve his friends; he had to sacrifice time with them instead of focusing on the Vanishing Cabinet. When he told Snape that he had people helping him, he only meant to say it to shove the professor off. He didn't really have anyone, save for using Crabbe and Goyle as lookouts. But that's hardly any help to what he's been stretching himself to do.

Rosmerta might be considered "help" since she's been the one giving off the items that could hopefully get to Dumbledore, but it was also a wasteful use of the Imperius curse now that he thought about it.

"Believe me, they'll only mess it up further," Draco replied harshly, thinking how bad it would have gone if he got Blaise and Pansy involved further. No, they were better off away from all of that. And even if he wanted to, he knew the Dark Lord would have threatened to kill them too if they tried. He wasn't going to risk it. "He'll only hurt them like he's done me. I'm not stupid enough to pull them in anymore than they already are."

"He sounds worse than Olive Hornby," Myrtle sighed mournfully before she rested her head on her bent knees. "I'm sorry you have to go through this."

Draco scoffed, not wanting to hear her pity, but it was appreciated; all the same. If only Myrtle knew who he was talking about, but no… He couldn't risk the ghost too. She may be dead already, but the Dark Lord could do so much more—and ghosts wouldn't be so far off his list if he could help it.

"That's what he wants, I suppose," The ghost went on. "He wants you to feel more alone, compress yourself to not having anyone around, feel you cut off from everyone else. Because if it's just you alone, you're not so much of a threat—you'd be much easier to bully."

A brief look of shock crossed his features. His eyes flitted towards her robes and caught the eagle patch sewed onto the cloth. Of course he was talking to a Ravenclaw. Dead or alive, Myrtle made much sense. If he could just tone down his pride… but no… he couldn't risk it. He knew better than to do that. This was his problem, and his alone.

For the first time in his life, he didn't feel like dragging anyone down with him.

"I'm Draco," He finally said after the pregnant silence that followed Myrtle's inquisitiveness.

"You ought not to cry so much like me, Draco," Myrtle smiled toothily. "It's a waste on such a handsome face like yours."

Draco laughed dryly, and felt his troubles slowly ebb—though they still lingered like a tattoo that didn't seem like it would go away any time soon.

A/N: Ah, I've always been curious as to how Draco managed to be sort of "friends" with Myrtle during his sixth year. This seemed to be the only way I could imagine them meeting properly. What did you guys think of the chapter? I apologize if it was fairly short, but I promise that the next couple of chapters will be a tad bit longer! Plus, we're at the half way point of the first part of the story. Around February, we'll be exploring the second part which happens to be Draco and Astoria's during the war. I'd love to hear what your expectations are for Part Two of "If I Lose Myself"! Sound off in the reviews and do favorite/follow the story for weekly updates.

See you next week!
EMPG22HoPe