Chapter 2

Draco was literally at his wits end. Over the last week he had made no progress in the slightest with the Vanishing Cabinets. He just wasn't sure anymore what he could do to get it work. And on top of that, his aunt had sent him a letter, saying that the Dark Lord was growing impatient.

He walked in the hallway, alone so he could gather his thoughts. When he wasn't in the Room of Requirement, then he kept to his own solitude. It was easier than socializing with the rest of the Slytherins. If he were with them, then he would have to listen to their rants against mudbloods and how they polluted the world. Sure, he agreed with them. After all, why did people who happened to be freaks of nature deserve to live in their world of prestige and power? They had simply gained their magic by chance. But as much as he believed that, he did not want to have to listen to it any more than he had to.

He kicked a piece of litter that was left on the floor with emotion. He didn't get why it had to be him. Plenty of other Death Eaters had been at the Ministry that day when Potter decided to go and tear his family down. So why were the Malfoys the one who were being punished? Other Death Eaters had children too, so why was he the one who was here now?

His housemates could tell something was up. Draco was always boasting about his accomplishments. They all knew he had a special task from Him, and he could practically sense the envy on their faces. They wanted what he had. They all wanted to be specially chosen by Voldemort himself, and it made him sick. He had heard Blaise and Theo talking one night once they though he was asleep about how they were jealous and would love to be where he was. He knew that they would, as most Slytherins, do whatever it took to be in his place. And if that meant tearing him down, then so be it. It sickened him, to see the people he considered to be the closest thing he had to friends, want to be where he was standing.

Draco had walked into the Prefect Bathroom, and shut the door. He had often come in here when he needed somewhere to think; when he needed somewhere that he could be alone. He turned on the tap and allowed the water to flow into the sink. He placed his hands under the tap, collecting the substance in the cup he made with them. He threw the water upon his face, allowing the cold water to refresh him. He let out a frustrated sigh.

It bugged him. How much they wanted to be in his shoes. Why didn't they get it? Why didn't they understand that it wasn't all that cut out to be? That he had to actually murder someone. Sure, it was Dumbledore, the man who ruined Hogwarts, but to commit such a task as that?

"Such as what?" he heard a voice call out from behind him. He turned around in a panic. He had been positive he had locked the door. His eyes rested upon the silvery figure of a young girl. But that was just it, she wasn't really a girl. She was a ghost.

"What did you hear?" he demanded, growling at the sight in front of him. The last thing he needed was for someone to know of his plans when he wasn't supposed to be discussing them. If she heard, then he was as good as dead.

She rolled her eyes at him. "No need to be so rude. I just heard you speaking about some sort of task. I have no idea why you are getting so worked up about it."

Draco relaxed slightly. So she didn't know. Well at least his inevitable death was pushed off slightly longer. But her presence brought up another question.

"Why are you in the bathroom?" he demanded again, however this time less harshly.

"I was lonely in the loo on the first floor, so I decided to go through the pipes. And when I heard someone up here, I was curious to see who was in here, instead of in classes," she said as she floated closer to where he was. Her hair was in two pigtails and her glasses were circular such of those as Potter's. Pansy and her friends would have given her hell if she were alive for her looks, as there was nothing flattering about them.

"So are you going to report me now?" he asked the ghost in front of him snidely.

She let out a high pitched laugh, "As if I would care whether you are skipping are not." Well that was new. If it were Peeves, then he would have no trouble reporting him.

"Then why are you in here?" he asked her curiously. He found himself relax a bit more, now that he knew she hadn't wanted to report him, nor had she any idea what he was talking to himself about.

"I told you. I was lonely," she said simply.

"But what if I were naked in here or something, what would you have done then?" he asked her smirking. She looked like the kind of girl who would have gotten all bothered and shy at the thought of seeing someone in a state of nudity.

But to his surprise, she answered, "It wouldn't be anything I haven't seen before," she said, with a sly look upon her face.

He found himself smirking even wider at that. "So do you just come in here to stare at the naked blokes? Or do you stare at naked birds as well?" he taunted the ghost who was now sitting, if you could call it that, upon the ledge of the bath.

She shook her head rapidly. "It's not like I stare or anything. I've just caught a few unfortunate glimpses over the years of things I shouldn't have seen, and wish I hadn't seen."

He found himself laugh at this; genuinely laugh. It was the first time in months that he felt relaxed around someone else without worrying about the consequences of his task. "So who exactly are you?" he asked the ghost girl.

She gave him a look as if to say, 'you really don't know?' But she answered his question anyway. "My name is Myrtle. I'm sure you've heard of me."

He winced because he had. He had over the years heard many things about Myrtle, or Moaning Myrtle to be precise. He had often heard girls make remarks about the weird ghost who haunted the girls' lavatory on the first floor.

"Oh," he said, not knowing what else to say.

She had a twisted look on her face. "I take it you have heard of me then," she said quietly.

"Yes," he said back. He felt bad about the things he had heard. Draco hadn't ever seen the ghost that the girls would laugh at, but he never once gave it a second though. What did he care if some girls thought that a ghost was a psychopath? It wasn't anything that had concerned him, so he didn't bother with it. But remembering it all now made him feel a bit bad.

"Did they tell you that I was always in there crying? Or did they tell you about the ways they love riling me up?" she asked after a little while. He knew it was a question he hadn't needed to reply to, that it was more of a statement than a question. But for some reason, he felt the need to respond.

"Was your death horrid?" he asked the girl. He wasn't sure why he cared in the slightest. But there was something about her that wanted him to get to know her. She seemed lonely, like he. And for some reason, he felt himself connecting with her.

Myrtle blinked in surprise. He guessed it wasn't a question that she had received very often. "Yes it was. But it was quick and painless, so for that I am glad. I suppose I prefer it than the way Nick died," she said, referring to the Gryffindor ghost.

"What happened?" he found himself asking again. He was sincerely curious and he didn't know why. It was a new feeling, to care about someone other than himself. Sure he cared about his family as well, but other than them, there was no one else he did care about.

"I still don't know. All I do know is that I was in the loo crying since some girls were teasing me again. And then when I heard a noise, I shouted for them to go away. I heard a man's voice, talking in some sort of whispers in a language of hissing. I went out, to tell him off for being in the girl's room, but the minute I did, I saw yellow eyes. And just like that, I was dead," she said, finishing her story in whispers.

Draco felt a pang of guilt. He knew of the Chamber of Secrets and that it killed a mudblood more than fifty years ago. He guessed that Myrtle was the victim to one of the Dark Lord's early crimes. He felt even worse, knowing that this girl was here, opening up to him about her death, when he secretly was a part of the group who was responsible for her death.

"I'm sorry," he managed to make out. He didn't know what else to say. 'I'm sorry you died. It sucks, and now you're here talking to me, a person who is going to commit a similar crime?' Somehow that didn't seem right.

She shrugged. He guessed by now that she had come to terms with the fact that she was dead. "So why were you talking to yourself anyways?" she asked him, while changing the topic.

Draco felt a rush of defence arise inside of him. "I don't see how it's any of your business," he said haughtily to the transparent girl. He felt slightly bad about it, but he didn't want to be gossiping about something that could result in his death, even if it was with a dead girl.

She huffed, "If you can't tell me then you could say so nicely. There really is no reason to be so rude all the time."

"I'm sorry," he found himself saying. He never apologised. He was Draco freaking Malfoy. What did someone such as he need to apologise for? But yet he found himself making out the words. They felt strange on the tip of his tongue, and he supposed it was because he rarely used the words before. "It's just that it's something that I am not allowed to talk about."

She nodded, "I understand that. But if you ever need to talk, then just remember that I am here. And I also am very good at keeping secrets. Besides, I'm dead, and as you can see, there are not a lot of people I can go off and gossip to," she said, gesturing to her ghostly form.

He smiled at the girl. There was something about her, as strange as it was, that made him want to open up to her. It wasn't that he had any feelings towards her, Merlin help him if he did. As messed up as he was, he wasn't that screwed in the head. But for the first time, there was someone who actually cared about what was happening in his life, even though they barely knew him. It was a weird sensation for him, like nothing he had ever felt before.

It was that she wanted to be his friend. Yes that was it. And there was something about her wanted him to open up. Maybe it was the fact that she was lonely as he was. The fact that someone else knew how his life was like made him feel a bit better. He knew it was too soon to trust her, if he ever did at all. He had only known the girl for a short time, and it was most definitely not wise to let her in on his biggest secret yet. But maybe as time grew on he would be able to open up.

"I have to go now Myrtle, but I'll see you around," he said, as he turned to leave. His first class had ended and he didn't want to be absent from too many classes as it would raise suspicions.

"Wait," she called out, causing him to turn around. "I don't even know your name."

"It's Draco, Draco Malfoy," he replied. He turned to leave before he could see her expression. He was certain that it was filled with disgust, so the last thing he wanted was to see it.

Little did he know that her face showed none of those expressions. Instead, it showed intrigue, and a bit of sadness.

Harry sat in the lesson with Dumbledore that night. He was in deep thought, thinking about the memory he had seen of the young Tom Riddle in the orphanage. Just a few short years ago he had found himself relating to the dark wizard, thinking about how they were so similar. Little did he know that he was the reason Harry ended up the way he was. There was something about the boy that confused him. He and Harry had similar circumstances growing up, both without parents and with little love. So how did he turn into something completely monstrous?

He knew that his father abandoned Tom, but was that enough reason to hate all muggles alike? Not all of them were awful.

And then there was the matter of Malfoy. Harry was certain that there was something wrong with him, but he had no proof. And because of that, there was nothing he could do on the matter.

Dumbledore seemed to sense that something was bothering him, "What's on your mind Harry?" the man asked him gently.

Harry didn't want to let the professor know about his reactions to Voldemort, so he decided to just talk about the latter matter on his mind.

"Professor, I know that you don't believe me about Malfoy and that I have no proof at all that something is happening with him, but I really believe that he may be a death eater, or at least have some sort of mission from Voldemort. And I am not alone on this. Hermione believes it too. She's said that he had gotten paler, that he doesn't eat, doesn't pay attention in class, and seems to have lost interest in everything. I know that there is something up with him, but I don't know how to prove it. And while I can't stand the bloke, I don't want to see anything happen to another innocent person," he said, finishing his miniature rant.

Dumbledore did not look upset. He didn't look disbelieving or shocked by his accusation. Instead he looked like he agreed with Harry.

"I do believe that once again Miss. Granger's observations are correct," Dumbledore told him.

Harry stared up, full of shock, "So what do I do Professor?"

"I know that it may be hard for you to hear Harry, but I do not believe that there is anything you can do. I know all about what is happening with him, but that matter is something that I cannot reveal to you. You will just have to trust me on this," he said.

Harry shook his head. "Professor, what if there was a way to change his mind? Maybe if I could convince him not to do whatever it is, then maybe he wouldn't. I could stop this Professor, I know I could! I just need to get him to listen to me."

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, I will let you try and do so. I would love for Mr. Malfoy to fight on our side, but if his mind has already been made up then there is very little that I can do about it. But I do warn you to be alert, or you may end up as you had on the Hogwarts Express."

Harry winced at the memory, "Yes Professor. I shall be careful in how I approach this."

Dumbledore nodded and Harry knew he was dismissed. He left the Headmaster's offices after a goodbye, and headed down the stairs.

One thought haunted him all the way down. How on earth would he convince Draco to listen to him? The two of them could barely exchange pleasantries. Instead they often exchanged insults and hexes. It would be tricky, and hopefully he would be prepared this time if Malfoy chose to attack him. The last thing he wanted was to go through that ordeal once more.

But he had to do something. While Draco Malfoy was bloody horrible, he wasn't a killer. And that was just what Harry was afraid of. It wasn't so much that he cared about him, but more of the people around him. And if saving Malfoy was what he had to do, then so be it. Don't get him wrong, he still didn't like Malfoy. And he probably never would. But he didn't believe that anyone should have to go through what he was at the moment.

So his mind was made up. He would just have to save Malfoy.

He waited for a few days before making his next move. He wanted some time to plan out what he would say and do. Harry had spotted Draco on the map and decided to move in on his target. Putting it away, Harry stalked off.

He saw the pale boy in front of him, and took a deep breath. It was now or never.

"Malfoy," he shouted out. The boy turned, and had an astonished look on his face. It wasn't every day that the two of them spoke, much less spoke without the slightest amount of distaste in their words.

"What do you want Potter?" he sneered, as he pulled out his want. "Want a second dose of what I gave you on the train?"

Harry kept his cool despite the words. "No, actually I wanted to talk to you."

Malfoy looked suspicious, "What about?"

"I know that Voldemort," Malfoy flinched at the name, but Harry kept going, "gave you a task this summer. I know that you are a Death Eater," he said, pausing.

The blonde got defensive, "I do not know what you are talking about Potter," he said, hissing.

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about Malfoy. And I want to help. You don't have to do whatever he told you. Dumbledore can help you if you go to him."

He sneered again, "I have no idea what you're talking about Potter. But that crackpot won't be around much longer to protect you. And if you were wise, you wouldn't talk to me again," he spoke coldly, before stalking off.

Harry stared after the boy, pondering the meaning behind his words.

A/N: Chapter two! Thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter. I wanted to take this moment to inform you that there will be several changes from the book, seeing that it is a fanfiction. In this, Draco is still a prefect. There will be a few events from the book that happen earlier or later, or in a completely different manner/not happen at all.