Chapter 2
The Dark Mark
"You're going to what?!"
"Kill Dumbledore," said Malfoy.
"Why?!" said Hermione.
"The Dark Lord commands it," he said simply.
"The Dark… the Dark… you mean, You-Know-Who?!"
Malfoy rolled his eyes.
"Voldemort wants you to kill Dumbledore?!" Hermione said, and Malfoy nodded.
She was flying around the room now, her long curls trailing behind her as she paced frantically. Her fingers were pressed against her temples.
"Oh, I knew this was a bad idea!" she fretted.
Malfoy, on the other hand, let out a kind of elated laugh.
"Merlin, it feels good to tell someone," he said. "Oh, and look at this!"
He pulled his left sleeve up to the elbow, exposing a tattoo of a serpent coiled around a skull. The Dark Mark. Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. He was a Death Eater and he'd been commanded by Lord Voldemort to kill Albus Dumbledore.
"Oh, sweet Morgana, I'm having a heart attack," said Hermione, collapsing against the wall and clutching her chest.
Malfoy chuckled, another authentic laugh, and sat down next to her, resting his arms on his knees. Hermione was having difficulty breathing. She desperately wanted to race to Harry and Ron to tell them what was happening and what she'd learned, but instead, she looked at Malfoy's face. He had an expression that was something like relief. For a moment, she forgot who he was. For a moment, he was just a young man who'd finally been able to talk to someone he could trust. Then, she shook her head, coming back to herself.
"A Death Eater!" she said, horrified.
Malfoy pressed his lips together. She put her head between her knees to stop the dizzy spell that had rushed over her. It was a long time before either of them spoke again, but faintly, Hermione realized that her purpose here was to talk him out of it. She lifted her head, feeling a bit groggy, and looked at him again.
"How?"
"Hm?"
"How are you going to do it?" she asked.
At this, Malfoy's face went a bit ashen. He took a deep breath, his cheeks puffing out slightly from his exhale. He leaned his forehead on one of his hands.
"That's the rub, isn't it?" he said quietly. "It's… it's not easy to kill Albus Dumbledore."
"Yes, you'd think if it were easy, Voldemort would just do it himself!" said Hermione. "And yet he's sending a sixteen-year-old wizard to do it for him!"
Malfoy gave a bit of a shrug, and his expression turned into a sneer. The sneer surprised her, though she wasn't sure why. He'd been sneering at her for over five years. Just because he'd acted like an actual human being for twenty minutes in a Quidditch shed didn't mean anything. Malfoy was going to kill Dumbledore.
"How can you do it?! What has Dumbledore ever done to you?" she cried.
"It doesn't matter if he has or hasn't," snarled Malfoy. "I've been assigned this task and I've got to figure out how to do it."
"No, you don't!" said Hermione insistently. "You can go to someone! You can tell someone!"
"I have, haven't I?" said Malfoy with a humorless laugh. "I've told you!"
"Someone else!"
"Find me someone else who's willing to take an Unbreakable Vow to keep it a secret," said Malfoy with a shrug, and he stared hard at his hands. "I… I really appreciate this, actually. I didn't think you would go through with it. No one's ever done something like this for me before."
Hermione opened her mouth and closed it again. She didn't know what to say. Her momentary impulse to feel sorry for him was dwarfed by his revelations. It was like a heartbeat thrumming in her head over and over again. He's a Death Eater. He's going to kill Dumbledore.
"Your parents know about this?" she said quietly.
Malfoy nodded.
"The Dark Lord was furious with my father for what happened last year," he said, still staring at his hands. "What happened with you, actually, in the Department of Mysteries. He failed."
Hermione's head was still spinning. It shouldn't have surprised her that Malfoy knew about the Department of Mysteries. His aunt had probably come home that night bragging about the damage she and the other Death Eaters had done to Harry and his friends. The damage they'd done to her. She waited for him to continue.
"It's something of a punishment, I think. Making me do this," said Malfoy, his brows knitted together. "My aunt says it's an honor."
She let out a disbelieving snort. Malfoy was inspecting one of his fingernails.
"You know what happened to Katie Bell?" he said.
"Yes?"
"It was my fault," said Malfoy darkly.
"How?"
"I got that necklace in Knockturn Alley. I tried to Imperius her to give it to Dumbledore. It didn't work," said Malfoy. "Like I said, it's not easy to kill Albus Dumbledore."
Hermione stared at him, aghast. He was diligently avoiding her gaze, still staring at his fingernails and picking at them absently.
"You nearly killed her, Malfoy," said Hermione.
"I know," he replied shortly.
He finally looked up at her, his grey eyes serious, pleading with her to understand. She couldn't understand, not this. But at the same time, she saw how young he was, how afraid. It lurked beneath the surface. Hermione was used to spending time with Gryffindors: all blustering bravery. She'd seen where that led. The Department of Mysteries was a testament to the dangers of an excess of fearlessness. Draco Malfoy was no Gryffindor. There was no bravado here, no recklessness. He'd planned carefully, and his plan had failed. Had almost killed her classmate.
"Oh, Malfoy, I'm not sure I can do this," she said, shaking her head.
He nodded, staring at the ground in front of him. His eyes were shining again, and a tear spilled down his cheek.
"If this is so awful you're crying in a Quidditch shed-"
"I'm not crying," he spat.
"-then maybe you should get help!" she pleaded. "Please, let me help you!"
"It's alright, Granger," he said petulantly. "My secrets are safe, and you've made your valiant attempt to change my mind. We can call it square and never talk to each other again."
He wiped the tear off his face and sank his head between his knees. Hermione was staring at him in disbelief. There was simply no way she could continue. How could she forget how cruel Malfoy had been to her for the last six years? How could she listen to him talk about his plans? He was a Death Eater working for Lord Voldemort. His father had tried to kill her the year before. Her throat felt like it was closing. She wanted nothing more than to run screaming from the shed, shouting everything he'd told her to anyone who would listen. How could she keep this from Harry and Ron? How could she sit here with him when he was actively trying to kill the Headmaster?
And yet, how could she not? How could she give up so quickly? She took a deep breath, gathering her Gryffindor courage and spoke.
"Same time next week?" said Hermione.
"Hm?"
"I'll meet you here next week. Same time," she said. "I'll meet you at the same time every week until I've convinced you not to do it."
Malfoy chewed his cheek for a moment. Then, he looked her in the face and nodded.
"Same time next week," he said.