Draco Malfoy was having a terrible night.
The Astronomy Tower loomed, cold and unfeeling as he stared at the withering body of Albus Dumbledore. The old man's half-moon spectacles clung to the bridge of his nose, reflecting the faint starlight. Behind them, Dumbledore's eyes held that same disconcerting blend of sadness and understanding—as if he could see straight into the war waging inside Draco's chest.
"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."
A single bead of sweat dripped down his face. "How do you know?" His voice cracked.
He wrenched his gaze away, unable to bear the weight of those words or the quiet certainty behind them. A cold dread sank into his bones, wrapping around his spine like ice. He knew what waited for him if he failed.
"You have a choice," Dumbledore pressed, his frail voice cutting through the air like a blade. "A choice to break away from the life you were thrust into."
Draco let out a dark, humorless laugh. "I've never had a choice a day in my life, old man."
He took a step closer, daring Dumbledore to challenge him, to see the darkness he carried in the cracks of his armor. "You don't know what I'm capable of… what I've done."
Dumbledore's eyes softened further. "Oh yes, I do."
Heavy footsteps echoed up the spiral staircase, shattering the fragile stillness. Severus Snape emerged first, robes billowing around him like smoke. His face was a careful mask, but something unreadable flickered beneath the surface. Behind him stomped Amycus, Alecto, and Greyback—all sharp grins and hungry eyes. Amycus cracked his knuckles, vibrating with anticipation, while Greyback sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring. He licked his lips.
"Good evening, Amycus, Severus," Dumbledore greeted, as if he were hosting a tea party. "And you've brought Alecto and Greyback too… Charming…"
The woman gave an angry little titter. "Think your little jokes'll help you on your deathbed then?" she jeered.
"Jokes? No, no, these are manners." Dumbledore inclined his head lightly. "Back to the matter at hand. What are you going to do, Dra—"
"I'm standing here with a wand – I'm about to kill you –" Draco said loudly.
"Are you, my dear boy? You seem to be taking an awfully long time," Dumbledore said.
Draco's arm was trembling wildly.
"He's taking too long," Greyback snarled, yellow teeth flashing. "Finish it, boy."
Snape's voice sliced through the air. "This is his task. Interference will not be tolerated."
The werewolf's muscles bunched beneath his ragged robes, but he retreated with a guttural growl.
Draco's chest tightened, breath hitching in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut for a heartbeat. He saw his parents kneeling in the drawing room, their screams curdling the air as Voldemort's curse twisted through their veins. The world seemed to collapse around him, and all he could hear was his mother's screams.
He opened his eyes again. Dumbledore's gaze met his, steady and unyielding. That quiet light still flickered, even now.
"You can't cast that curse with gentle intentions, Draco," Dumbledore said softly. "You must mean it. With all your heart."
Draco drew a ragged breath, the air burning in his lungs. A new resolve hardened his features, a mask of determination replacing the fear. He knew what he had to do, consequences be damned.
"Stupefy."
The spell struck Dumbledore square in the chest. His spectacles slipped from his nose, clattering against the stone floor.
A strange hush settled over the tower. Snape's expression flickered—something raw and unguarded surfaced for a breath before hardening again. His lips curved into something too bitter to be called a smile.
"Mercy," he said, the word falling between them. "How... unexpectedly Gryffindor of you, Draco."
Greyback's laugh shattered the moment like breaking glass. "That was the dumbest thing I think I've ever seen."
Snape moved before the words had fully left Greyback's mouth. His wand whipped through the air, an ebony streak of death.
"Avada Kedavra."
Greyback crumpled, his sneer frozen in place as he hit the floor. Amycus bellowed, his wand flashing toward Snape.
~0~
The tower erupted into chaos. Magic cracked like thunder, spells ricocheting off stone. Draco stumbled backward, heart hammering as Snape met Amycus blow for blow. Sparks exploded in blinding flashes of green and red. Stone shattered beside him, dust choking the air.
Draco turned to run, panic hammering in his chest.
"Going somewhere, Draco?" Snape's voice carried a deadly softness.
Draco spun, but ropes coiled around him before he could react. He hit the wall hard, air fleeing his lungs.
Alecto ran to his side, taunting him, "You're going to pay for this, Draco. I will ensure the Dark Lord knows of your spinelessness–"
Snape's voice interrupted, cold and final. "Sectumsempra."
The curse sang through the air with lethal precision. Amycus' scream transformed into a wet gurgle as invisible knives carved crimson patterns across his chest. He crumpled, blood pooling beneath him.
Alecto's shriek pierced the night—raw, primal, pure anguish. She lunged toward her fallen brother, grief and rage twisting her features. Her wand came up, but Snape was faster.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Green light reflected in her wide eyes for a fraction of a second before extinguishing all light forever. She collapsed beside Amycus.
Draco couldn't move. His stomach churned as he stared at the lifeless bodies, bile clawing up his throat. His world tilted. This wasn't supposed to happen. Snape's help was a double-edged sword—sharp enough to save, cruel enough to scar. Draco had no choice but to trust him, to trust those hands that had just rained down death on them all.
Snape turned to Draco, his expression unreadable. With a casual flick of his wand, he yanked Draco across the floor like a puppet on invisible strings, depositing him at his feet.
"You were never going to kill him, Draco," Snape droned softly. "You think far too highly of yourself."
"Accio Elder Wand!" Snape grabbed the bone-colored wand and twirled it in his hands; the wood gleamed in the moonlight.
"Unfortunately," he continued, spinning the wand lazily between his fingers, "sentimentality has no place here, Draco."
Snape's gaze bore into him, hollow and unyielding. "What must be done is rarely kind," he said, his voice cold.
Snape thrust the Elder Wand against Draco's chest, the wood burning cold through his robes. "Obliviate."
The world dissolved into white fire, memories scattering in the flames.
~0~
When Draco awoke, he found himself suspended over the tower's edge, night air whistling past his ears. He looked up into Snape's eyes—eyes he had once believed held answers—and saw only a chilling detachment, as cold and vast as the darkness below.
Then those familiar fingers released their grip, and Draco fell, swallowed by the void.