There was a reason the forbidden forest was off-limits to students. Draco had never cared to learn it, especially after his foray into its mossy depths his first year. Yet here he was, traipsing off into the thick, wet air, armed only with his wand and a small ornamental dagger his father had given him the year before strapped to his thigh. Not that he'd get close enough to anything to stab it. At least he hoped so.

He wondered what Lucius was doing now. He had never felt like a father, shifting between outright cruelty and wintry stranger. If he had ever been proud of Draco, he certainly hadn't said anything. It's not like he had much to be proud of, Draco thought, kicking aside a stray branch as he clambered into the mouth of the forest, already full of dread.

What would daddy dearest think now? His only son, hanging out with a mudblood and desperately trying to avoid murdering the headmaster. I doubt there's enough left of his mind to disown me. He pushed forward, stray branches from the thick copses of trees ahead whipping against his delicate cheekbones, streaks of crimson erupting on his eerily pale skin. Although a voice in his brain told him to turn back, another settled comfortably in the gloom, a serene wave of thoughts cascading through him. No one would look for me, not for long. Snape would have a fit, but even he'd stop looking eventually. I could hide here forever.

Coward.

The full moon did nothing to illuminate his path, no doubt full of nefarious creatures. He let his eyes wander, hoping for a glimpse of Aconite leaves. Poison was probably the coward's way out, but at least he wouldn't have to see it happen. Just send a house-elf up with a special cup of tea and the Dark Lord would remove him from his hit list. I doubt Granger would like that very much.

He plunged onward, grimacing as unseen branches whistled above, sending showers of decaying leaves onto his shivering form. It wasn't as if he liked Dumbledore. The old man was annoying at the very least, and his unwavering favoritism towards Gryffindors was outrageous, but Draco didn't want him dead. He didn't want anyone dead, not really. Last year he could have listed off fifteen different people he'd like the Dark Lord to strike down but the idea of anyone dying by his hand was too much for him to imagine. Death lived always at Malfoy Manor, from his father's mask hidden away in the wardrobe to Aunt Bellatrix's drunken babble about the muggles she'd murdered, but Draco had never had to face it.

At the end of the day, he was sixteen and tired. Tired of believing in his father's ideas, tired of his mother's endless weeping, tired of facing a death sentence. He wanted to believe that eventually, he could tell Granger his secret and she could find a way out of the whole mess. She was obnoxious but she knew her way out of impossible situations and seemed to be the only person at Hogwarts capable of forgiving him.

"I don't deserve her forgiveness," Draco said aloud, safe in the clearing.

"And whose forgiveness would that be?" A familiar voice answered, the shadowy figure of Severus Snape appearing from behind a thicket of wizened trees.

Draco's blood ran cold. What the hell was he doing out here? "None of your business." He tried his best to look intimidating, narrowing his eyes and clutching his wand tightly by his side.

"Considering that I signed my life away for you, I believe it is my business." Snape came no closer but instead drew his voluminous cloak around himself. All he needs is a set of fangs.

"I didn't ask you to do that. You only did it because you think I'm incapable," Draco spat.

"Clearly. You've been wandering the Forbidden Forest alone in search of something that should have taken you all of five minutes to find." Snape pulled a thin vial, the crimson-edged Aconite leaves inside glittering softly in the pale grey light.

"I suppose next time I'll borrow some from your stores, Professor."

"Aconite is hardly the most effective poison, Draco. Let me help you!"

Draco sighed and turned towards the castle. "I don't need your help. I've got loads of other ideas."

"Need I remind you that the headmaster is one of the greatest wizards of our time? He will hardly be bested with poisoned pumpkin juice," Snape snarled, flicking his hand lazily at the vines slithering across the forest floor. "How many more of your ideas involve childish pranks?"

"I'd hardly call poisoning a prank." Draco pushed ahead, trying to put as much distance between him and the ranting man behind him.

"The Dark Lord would hardly praise you for a poisoning, Draco."

"He's going to kill me either way. Not that my father will care very much. I wonder if the guards will even bother to break the news." Draco concentrated on keeping his shields in place.

"If you truly cared so little, then you would not try at all." Severus placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. He was thinner than he remembered, but Draco had barely put away more than a slice of toast at breakfast in the last few months.

Draco opened his mouth to reply but stopped cold, clutching at his left arm. Severus frowned but understood immediately as his own arm burned.

"We have to go," Draco whispered, staring at the writhing black skull.

Severus nodded, though his arm trembled as he pressed the tip of his ebony wand to his own dark mark. Draco did the same, and the two wizards vanished from the clearing.

They arrived in a vast, open field, the plush grass beneath them littered with discarded crisp wrappers and broken glass, glittering in the sparse moonlight. For a moment it appeared that they were alone in the clearing, but the stale midnight air broke open with Voldemort's cold laughter.

His translucent skin was laced through with violet, veins tangled in a tapestry of silvery blues and angry pinks. His thin robes fluttered in the wind, his eyes glowing scarlet. "Ah, Severus. Come, I have something to show you."

Draco took a feeble step forward, the skin of his forearm still aflame.

"Stay here, Draco." Severus shoved past him, nearly bowling him over.

Draco merely stared after his professor, caught halfway between wanting to vomit and dissolve into the earth. What was he doing here? He wasn't supposed to leave the castle. He was supposed to have time, months until the dark lord demanded an update. He had nothing to show for it. He wasn't exactly brimming with plans, and Snape had just foiled his sole worthwhile attempt since the summer. Maybe news had gotten around about his budding friendships. Draco sincerely doubted that the dark lord had any confidence in his spy abilities.

"Draco, come." Voldemort's voice hissed in the recesses of his mind, and his feet moved without his consent, stumbling across the ragged field, a faint crunch accompanying every step. He ground his teeth together, willing the rattle in his chest to stop. Two white bundles lay at his master's feet. Draco frowned at the mass of rags piled on the dew-soaked grass. Did one just move?

"It has come to my attention that you have been distracted as of late." Voldemort towered over Draco, thrusting one yellowed finger into the folds of his cloak. "Distracted, by a mudblood, no less."

Draco swallowed, feeling as though he had just swallowed chalk. "Please, my lord. I am only attempting to gather information from her."

Voldemort sliced his wand across Draco's cheek, bringing him to his knees. He lingered for a moment, yew rigid in his grip, before turning to face Severus, who had focused his gaze entirely on the still shapes beneath him. "Did you put the boy up to this, Severus?"

"No, my lord. Draco has kept me in the dark regarding his plans." Snape held his master's gaze, ignoring his student's pleading looks.

"And what of your plans, Severus? Did the old fool not instruct you to watch over the mudblood? The very same our Draco is so willfully distracted by?" Voldemort twirled the yew wand through his wizened fingers but made no move toward the bundles before him.

"He did, my lord." Severus resisted the urge to reach for his wand as Voldemort drew closer, the scent of rot and moss descending in his wake.

"It sickens me to think that my death eaters would grow fond of the girl." He stilled, wand tilted towards the burlap. "No, my lord. She remains obstinate and weak. She regurgitates answers like a walking textbook and defends Potter at every opportunity. It is impossible to be fond of such a creature," Severus spat, staring in horror as one of the bundles began to writhe.

"Oh? And why should I trust you, Severus? You have grown fond of mudbloods in the past. Only yesterday I learned you have a fondness for a new mother." Voldemort flicked his wand, watching coolly as Severus fell to his knees, his blank expression replaced with one of agony. "You are not to assist Draco with his task. No one is to kill the headmaster but the boy. I have far greater plans for you, Severus."

Draco stumbled forward and collapsed to his knees beside the older man, digging his palms into the cool grass. "Please, my lord. He knows nothing of my plans. We've barely spoken all term."

Voldemort seized the collar of his robes, baring a yellow grin. "Is that so, Draco? Perhaps you can show us how prepared you are."

Draco felt his stomach drop as the burlap fell away to reveal two flailing muggles, their hands and wrists bound in thick, black ropes.

"Surely you can manage to kill two muggles, Draco. They are far easier prey than the headmaster." Voldemort released his grip, robes fluttering as he stepped over Severus.

"Who are they?" Draco whispered, clutching his wand in his sweating palms. I can't do this. I couldn't even poison them. They're still in their pajamas, for Merlin's sake.

"It doesn't matter." Voldemort crossed his thin arms, scarlet eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

Draco swallowed, tasting bile as he slowly drew his wand towards the gagged muggles, pathetic in their nightgowns. "Avada Kedavra!" A feeble green light shot out of the hawthorn, but the brunette couple remained moving.

The high, cold sound of Voldemort's laughter chilled Draco to his core, even as Severus rose to his feet, even as the muggles were reduced to a pile of limbs, even as Severus was shaking him and screaming his name. "Draco! Draco, he's gone. He's not here anymore."

Draco shook his head, the crisp fall air seeping through his cloak and returning him to the field. "Who were they?"

"I don't know. We need to go back to Hogwarts. The headmaster will expect a report, and the muggle police will get wind of this eventually." Severus offered a gloved hand to Draco, carefully avoiding eye contact.

"That's it? We just murdered those innocent people and now we're going to leave?" Draco pulled himself to his feet, brushing the mud off his robes.

"Yes. What did you think taking the mark meant? Revels? Eternal glory?"

"Well no, but-"

"It means murdering innocent people, Draco. That is all it has ever meant." Severus clenched his jaw, offering his arm to his student.

"Fine. Let's go see the headmaster."