Hey, everybody! Time for a new chapter! This one is short, I know, but there are longer ones to come! And this might be four days late, but Happy (late) Halloween!

Chapter Thirteen

The first day that term resumed, I stayed back after Potions Class had ended. Slughorn shook hands with students at the door and said goodbye to each of them. I waited until Potter, Weasley and Granger had left the classroom before silently moving towards the professor's desk and quickly searched for the gift-wrapped bottle meant for Dumbledore.

I almost panicked because of how long I spent searching for it. The class had almost entirely vanished from the room by the time I found it hidden away in a drawer and pulled it out. I placed it on top of the desk and swiftly unwrapped the neck of the bottle. I pulled the stopper out and reached into the pocket of my robes for the vial of poison inside. I uncapped the vial and poured all of its contents into the bottle of mead. I picked up the gift and swirled the bottle to mix the poison so it wouldn't be detected.

Once I had finished, I put the cork back into the opening of the bottle, pulled out my wand repaired the wrapping I had undone.

I replaced the bottle where I had found it and left Slughorn's desk. All of the students had gone and the professor was closing the door, surely thinking that all of his students had left.

"Oh. Mister Malfoy," he greeted, realizing I was still in the room. "I thought you had gone."

"I thought I had forgotten something," I covered.

"And did you?" he questioned.

"Yes, sir," I answered. "But I've got it, now."

"Yes. Good. Well it's best you get to your next class," Slughorn instructed, gesturing towards the door.

"Yes, sir," I said, rushing out of the classroom.

I couldn't sleep for days. Sooner or later, Dumbledore would drink that poisoned mead and die, and Slughorn might die, too. I was jumpy and on edge, my stomach turning to knots every time I saw Slughorn or Dumbledore, but a few days later word passed around that Weasley was poisoned and in the school's hospital, but that couldn't be. That bottle was clearly meant for Dumbledore, so how could Weasley get his hands on it? He wasn't supposed to die. I might not have ever liked Weasley, but I never wished for him to die.

I stayed behind after Potions class again to ask Slughorn what he knew about it. He either knew nothing or everything, but if he knew everything I would have been arrested for attempted murder. And it wouldn't hurt my conscience to ask how Ron was doing.

"Well, Mister Malfoy, I don't know exactly what happened. Mister Potter came to me late at night with Mister Weasley in tow saying that his friend had somehow taken a very powerful love potion. I helped him and make an antidote. It worked but then Weasley said that he felt ill, and I thought that some sort or pick-me-up would help him, so I poured the three of us a glass of mead. Mister Weasley drank before Mister Potter and myself, and then he was on the floor."

"So you don't know who could have poisoned him," I interrogated, pleading that he didn't.

"Haven't the foggiest," the professor replied, regret in his voice. "It's odd though."

"What's odd, Professor?" I asked politely, moving the conversation towards where I needed it to be.

"I intended to give that bottle of mead as a gift, and I had it wrapped up as such, and it never left my side," Slughorn voiced. "The wrapping wasn't damaged at all, and the cork was still in place. No one could have poisoned it."

"I'm sorry, Professor," I uttered, finally learning what I needed to. "I hope you figure it out."

"Yes. So do I," Slughorn answered. "You should get to class."

"Yes, sir," I responded, briskly walking out of the door.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I couldn't focus on anything. All I could think about was Dumbledore.

I had failed again. I had nothing left. Nothing to help me kill him. I had no choice anymore. I had to do it personally. I had to cast a Killing Curse. It was the only thing I could do.

But I couldn't. I didn't want to see him die.

We were finally able to go back to the common room after dinner, and I quickly went to bed with the rest of my friends. I got ready as I normally would, but I was terrified to sleep. There was no doubt in my mind that I would have nightmares, and I didn't know what I would see in them.

I jolted awake at around two in the morning, drenched in a cold sweat. I can barely remember that nightmare, but it was a swirl of terrifying images and conflicting emotions. I was so scared because of what I had to do, but I wanted to do what I was scared of because the thought of not doing it scared me even more.

I had to kill Dumbledore or the Dark Lord would kill me. My father said that he would protect me, but that would do nothing other than get us both killed.

My chest tightened as my breathing grew shaky. It didn't take long for my eyes to water and silent sobs to begin to wrack my throat. I pulled my knees close to my chest, my comforter draped over my legs. I wrapped my arms around my knees and rested my forehead against them.

I sniffled and choked on sobbs. I couldn't wake anyone, but I couldn't keep it contained any longer. I didn't want their questions, but I had nothing left to make me feel better. Nothing could help, and nothing would until it was over.

(At risk of sounding like a TV show preview) Terrified and stressed, Draco has nearly killed someone he never meant to and is being forced to kill someone face-to-face. Next week, Draco will have to face Ronald Weasley continue with the Vanishing Cabinet, but he has no idea if he even can.