Hello, everyone! It's time for another Chapter! Last we left Draco, he had made a failed attempt to kill Dumbledore and successfully made an apple go through the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement, though he was nearly caught by Filch.

Chapter Twelve

Christmas break came much too quickly. I had to go home. I had to face my aunt, my father and the other Death Eaters. and report on my failures.

My hand did nothing but tremble the entire train ride to the Platform. When the others in my compartment left to buy something from the trolley, I held my shaking hand up to the window to examine it in a better light.

What was this? It happened whenever I thought of the other Death Eaters, my father or what I had to do. If I wasn't focused on something or actually working on the Cabinet or formulating a plan to kill Dumbledore, my hand would shake. Occasionally during class, when we cast spells, flashes of memory would come to the forefront of my mind, and my hand would tremble, sending my aim askew or making me mess up the spell entirely. It was almost always during DADA in front of Snape. He looked at me disapprovingly when it happened, which made my tremor worse.

"Do you want something, Mister Malfoy?" the lady from the trolley called, drawing my attention.

I was about to decline when my stomach quietly grumbled, sending a spear of pain through my torso.

I looked back up at her and nodded, taking out a small sack of coins from my pocket. I didn't care what I got just as long as it was savory rather than sweet.

"Glad to have you home, Draco," Mother greeted, drawing me into her arms.

I leaned into her, overwhelmed with an emotion I hadn't felt in a while. It's been so long that I could scarcely name it. Before that emotion could break through to the outside, I backed away from her. "Got to get my trunk," I said, rushing away.

I retrieved my case quickly from the pile of others' things and turned to leave but found my pathway blocked by Potter who narrowed his eyes slightly at the sight of me.

"Malfoy," he spat.

"Potter," I returned. "Your nose is looking better."

He laughed sardonically before shoving me out of the way to retrieve his trunk. "Have you heard from Katie Bell recently?" he asked, making me look back at him.

"Who? That girl who got hexed at Hogsmeade?" I wondered, feigning ignorance with a slight shake of my head. "No. Why would I? I hadn't even heard of her until what happened at Hogsmeade."

"It's all right," Potter said, abruptly leaving the luggage pile and joining the Weasleys.

A few days after I arrived home, my mother, father and I were having a family dinner when my father finally asked me what I have been dreading since before break even began. "Have you made a second attempt?"

"I plan to," I explained, swirling my pasta-filled soup around my bowl.

"How?" Father wondered.

"Poison," I answered. "Professor Slughorn has a bottle of mead that's wrapped like a gift. I just noticed it the day before break began, so I'll find an opportunity to poison it when we get back."

"How can you be sure it's meant for Dumbledore?" Father inquired, swallowing a spoonful of his soup.

"Slughorn was writing a note addressed to him," I responded. "And he said he was going on some kind of holiday during break, so I don't think he's going to be able to give it to him until term resumes."

The three of us sat in an uncomfortable silence of the rest of dinner. I had no idea what to say or if I should say anything at all. Half of me was glad for the quiet, but the other half of me was filled to the brim with nerves that were coiling tighter and tighter the longer the silence persisted.

I was overjoyed later that night when I was allowed to retreat to my room. As I was getting ready for bed, a knock sounded at my door. "Come in," I answered, slipping the last button into its slot on my night shirt.

"Draco?"

"Yes, Father?" I called, leaving my private bathroom.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes," I responded, confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just didn't eat much at dinner," he answered.

"I'm not hungry."

"But you look like you are," Father warned.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, Draco, but you don't look healthy. You look like you haven't slept in weeks, and your clothes are hanging off of you like drapes."

Simultaneously confused and curious, I opened my one of my wardrobe's doors and looked myself over in the full-length mirror on the inside, and sure enough, I looked exhausted and underweight. My cheekbones were sharper than they ever were before, and there were half-moons under my eyes that were so dark that they looked black.

"Are you okay, Draco?" Father repeated, getting me to look at him. "And don't just say that you are to get rid of me, but answer honestly."

After a moment, I slowly answered, "Not really." I cast my gaze to the floor. "I couldn't eat anything for the first few weeks after I got to school. I threw up whatever I ate, and I couldn't sleep for the same reason. My friends noticed and dragged me to see Madame Pomphrey, and she gave me a tonic that helped."

"C-can you keep food down now?" my father stuttered as he came closer to me.

"Yeah. I just don't feel like eating."

"So don't eat big meals. Eat a few small things throughout the day," Father instructed, and I nodded in response.

"So, you would wake up in the middle of the night to throw up?" my father asked after a moment of silence.

"Sometimes," I answered.

"And other times?"

I hesitated as my mind drifted back to my various nightmares, my hand beginning to tremble again. I turned towards my father and put my hands behind my back, grabbing my right hand with my left and squeezing it.

"Draco?" he asked again, a note of warning in his voice.

"I just can't sleep," I answered.

"Why?" he pressed.

I looked down again, squeezing my hand harder as the tremor worsened.

"Nightmares?" Father asked.

I didn't answer, but it seemed that he took my silence as a "yes" because he placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and said, "You know you don't have to be worried. I have total faith in you. You will repair the Cabinet and kill Dumbledore. So you failed once." He lifted his hand and waved it in the air in dismissal. "You can always try again. You have plenty of time."

I glanced up at him and smiled gently. He patted my shoulder and left my room.

He was trying to be encouraging, but the only thing he succeeded in doing was making my heart hammer against my chest.

Father had faith in me, but what would happen if I failed? I didn't hate my father, but we weren't all that close. Becoming a Death Eater seemed to have brought us a lot closer than before, but if I failed, would he hate me?

Dumbledore fell at my feet, choking on the poison I slipped into his drink. I laughed in a sick sort of pleasure as he died.

"You really think you can kill me, Draco?" he mocked, rising to his feet.

"No," I whispered stumbling back a few steps. "I killed you."

"No, you didn't," he laughed. "You failed."

With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore Apparated away, and I was left alone until my father shouted my name.

"How could you fail?" Father demanded, gripping both of my arms. "I put my faith in you!"

"I tried, Father," I pleaded.

"But you did not succeed," he countered, pushing me to the floor.

I sat straight up in bed with a shout, my heart beating so hard that it was like a drum in my ear. I threw my covers off and quickly left my room, needing fresh air.

I think the worst part about that dream was that I enjoyed it. I enjoyed killing my Headmaster.

But then there was my father. He hated me for my failure.

But it was just a dream. It wouldn't happen in reality. It couldn't. Father would still care for me if I failed, right?

"He's scared, Lucius," a soft voice commented as I passed the front room of our manor, making me freeze.

"What makes you say that?" my father's voice shouted quietly.

"His hand shakes," the other man answered. "He can barely cast spells in class."

I moved closer to the wall and craned my neck around the open door to find Professor Snape conversing with my father.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Father questioned harshly. "As if your hands are perfectly steady."

"They are more steady than your son's," Snape countered. Everyone can see his tremor. It's only in one hand, and it only happens at certain times."

"Such as?"

"When he reads your letters in the morning. When he's afraid," Snape explained. "He was brought into one of the professors' Christmas party. I assume he was working on the Cabinet, but his right hand was shaking, and he looked terrified."

"That doesn't mean anything," my father retorted. "He was probably just scared that he would be caught."

"And you know what that would mean, yes?" Snape interrogated.

My father looked down at the floor and didn't say anything in response, his breathing growing visibly shaky.

When Father continually remained silent, Snape answered his own question. "The Dark Lord will kill him if he does not succeed."

"Then help him," Father quietly snapped glancing back up at Snape.

"I can only offer so much help. The Dark Lord still wants me inside the school, so I cannot be seen helping your son repair a Vanishing Cabinet that can pass through the schools protections. There is no telling the consequences that would befall both of us. And he continually refuses my help. I offered it to him before Christmas break began, but he refused it."

"Then help him anyway," Father countered. "I don't care if the Dark Lord loses his inside man. I will not let him kill my son."

"The Dark Lord will kill you if you stand in his way," Snape reminded, something akin to sadness in his voice. "And you would only manage to give your son a few extra minutes of life. He will not hesitate to kill you both. No matter how much you plead with him."

"Then I hope Draco will cherish those few extra minutes. I refuse to let anyone kill my son."

I ran back to my room, an ice cold fear tightening my chest.

I was right. You-Know-Who would kill me if I failed, and I had already failed once.

I had to try again. As soon as term resumed.

Hope you guys enjoyed! Have a great day, and thanks for reading! Until next week!