Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy sat in class, staring vacantly at the pages of his open Charms textbook. They were supposed to be taking notes on Aguamenti, the Water-Making Spell, but his ability to concentrate on anything this year was practically nonexistent. So instead, he sat at a table with his fellow Slytherin and best friend Theodore Nott at the back of the classroom and idle drew pictures on the parchment that he should have been using for his notes. Theo looked at him in concern but, after almost two months of the same behavior and Draco refusing to talk about what was going on, he had practically given up on finding out what was going on with his friend. Draco just ignored Theo's concerned glances; lost as he was in his own thoughts.

He was doomed. This mission that he had been assigned to complete was fated to fail, and he knew that. He had made a desperate, reckless effort last weekend with that cursed necklace he had gotten from Borgin and Burkes; putting that Gryffindor chaser, Bell, under the Imperious Curse and ordering her to take it to Professor Dumbledore. But then she had touched the damned thing…

He had been following from a discreet distance, concealed under the strongest disillusionment charm he could cast. He had watched her float up into the air as though she were totally weightless. He had watched as her body hovered there for several moments, had seen her dark-haired friend as well as Potter, Weasley, and Granger standing there watching in shock. Then he had watched, horrified, as she had let out an ear-piercing scream: Draco knew that scream would haunt his dreams for years to come. He had raced back to the castle, not waiting around to see what would happen next, and as soon as he had been safely ensconced in his room in the Slytherin dungeons, he had been violently ill.

Now, four days later, Bell was still in St Mungo's and Draco was no closer to completing his mission; was probably further away if he were being honest with himself. The mission had been given to him by the Dark Lord when he had been drafted into his service. The mission: to kill Albus Dumbledore. One of the greatest wizards of their time and he, Draco Malfoy, was somehow supposed to kill him?

He knew exactly what this mission was, just another way for the Dark Lord to punish the Malfoy family for Lucius Malfoy's failure at the Ministry of Magic this past June. His father still sat in Azkaban prison, his mother was a prisoner in her own home with the Dark Lord himself as a "houseguest", and Draco had been forced to take the Dark Mark. Then, he had been given an impossible task that would almost assuredly end in his death, either at the hands of the Dark Lord for his failure or at the hands of the Order for his, frankly doubtful, success at killing their great and noble leader. So, it was no wonder that Draco had been so preoccupied this year that he was barely maintaining passing marks in his classes, despite having been second in their year every year prior. When the Dark Lord is trying to wipe one's entire family tree off the face of the earth, it has a tendency to occupy most of one's thoughts, both waking and sleeping.

Once class was dismissed, Draco packed up his things slowly to ensure that he was the last one to leave. As he made his way through the familiar stone corridors, he pondered his situation. Even if he was successful with the first stage of his plan, repairing the Vanishing Cabinet, he knew he would die. And he knew that had been the Dark Lord's intent from the very beginning. At this point, he almost thought of death as a peaceful end. At least then he would be free of the constant pain and fear that he had been living with since the summer.

Suddenly the thought of his mother, alone in the world and forever under the thumb of the Dark Lord, hit him with all the force of the Hogwarts Express. The backs of his eyes began to burn and sting and the sensation of being suffocated overwhelmed him, and he felt his composure breaking. He rushed into the bathroom that, luckily, was only a few doors away and threw the lock on the door behind him before he felt the tears begin to fall in earnest. Stumbling over to the wall that was lined with sinks and mirrors, he braced his palms against the cold, hard marble of the sink and felt the tears begin to race in rivulets down his cheeks.

He couldn't do this anymore! What was he supposed to do? How was there a right decision in the mess in which he had found himself? If he did the morally right thing and didn't kill Dumbledore, his mother would be killed: excruciatingly, slowly. If he did follow through with his task he would die, which would leave his mother alone to the tender mercies of a man who had none. The sobs that broke free from his chest here deep and filled with helplessness as the true reality of his situation sank in, and the desperation that coursed throughout his body ran bone deep. What was he going to do?

Song Inspiration: Wolves – Down Like Silver

Heyo! Back with a new story! This one has been in my "In Progress" section of my laptop for a long time, but I think I'm ready to get it out there!

Songs very heavily inspired me in the writing process, so just in case anyone wants to listen to them to get a feel for the mood and/or themes I was going for in each chapter, I will be including them in the footnotes of each chapter.

Hope you all enjoy!

sbz