It was with great pensivity and general anguish that Draco set his head against the bathroom sink that afternoon. He could see the hazy shadow of the sun against the horizon, clouded by drifts of snow, and powdery clouds, and the line of the trees. The windows seemed to be a gateway out of the clutches of his own mind. He couldn't cry anymore, he simply refused. Another tear down his cheek would be another stab at heart.

And, he wasn't sure if he could take anymore of that without doubling over. He had spent most of his day moving by idly, he didn't really want to talk, or eat, or do anything that required physical effort. The only thing he wanted was Ron. And, he wasn't quite sure what to do with that fact. He was torn, between two opposing factors in the depths of his brain.

It wasn't a new feeling, no, it was quite a usual thing for Draco. Good and evil. What did that even mean? Was there a difference? There had to be, because if there wasn't, well, then why did he feel so horrible about killing Dumbledore?

He tried the cursed necklace, albeit feebly, to get it done. But, it didn't work, and honestly, Draco was happy that it didn't. He was going to try a cursed potion but . . . that had fallen through. He was left with nothing, nothing at all. He gripped his wand, staring at it with a hatred that made himself sick.

He didn't want to kill him, of that he had no doubt. But how? How could one put something so terrible into words? He didn't want to be killed. He didn't want to be faced by Voldemort. The door opened suddenly, and Potter came barging through with Granger by his side.

He looked furious, no, he looked murderous. Draco stood up quickly, holding his wand up in front of him. "Expelliarmus!" Potter shouted, sending Draco's wand flying into the side of a bathroom stall. He was defenseless then, his hands being the only barrier from Potter pummeling his face in.

Granger grabbed onto his arms, trying to pull his back. "Harry, stop it!" She shouted, his shoulders just barely slipping through her grasp. His wand was pointed at the base of Draco's throat, twenty times more viciously then he had done to Ron. "Is it true!?"

He shouted, his voice seething with a blind rage that made Draco know exactly what he was talking about. He wanted to tell him everything, because, at that point he truly didn't care. He just wanted to talk to Ron. Merlin, he wanted to speak to him. "Is what true, Potter?"

He spat, truly surprising himself with the way that his words came out. "You know." He said, poking his wand at his throat. Draco remained stoic, maybe once he would have been scared. "I don't know actually," he said, eyes flicking about the room. Had Ron told them?

Of course he did, he was good, after all. Why wouldn't he tell them. "Are you going to kill Dumbledore!?" He shouted,

Granger refrained from touching him, seeing as he was practically shaking. "That's a rather accusatory-"

"Stupefy!" Draco crashed into the sink behind him, his back colliding with the smooth porcelain.

A wave of pain washed through him, fizzling through his veins like fireworks. "Harry!" Granger screamed in awe, nearly clawing the wand out of his hand. Potter only trudged forwards, holding his wand over Draco's form as if he were an animal. "Tell me Malfoy!"

"Mr. Potter! What in Merlin's beard are you doing?" Professor Slughorn shouted, taken aback by the scene before him. Harry jumped back, resting his wand by his side. "Professor Slughorn, he's planning on killing Dumbledore," he said quickly, saying the words as if he had a limited time to do so.

Draco looked disheveled, eyes red and puffy, hair scattered about his head, skin pale. The disillusioned frown on his face was enough for him to look genuinely hurt. "What? What are you on about Harry?" He said, turning between Draco, Potter, and Granger.

"It's true! Ron said-"

"Okay, okay, you can tell it to the headmaster, to his office. NOW," he said, pointing towards the door. "And Ms. Granger, you may go to your dormitory," she nodded, clearly put off by the fact that she couldn't bestow some further wisdom on the topic. Potter and Draco filed out of the bathroom, both giving each other nasty, biting looks as they walked.

___

Seeing Dumbledore, with his long, white, scraggly beard before him made Draco positively sick to his stomach. They sat down together, facing the apprehensive headmaster from his spot behind his desk. Slughorn left almost immediately, not wanting to intrude on the imminent conversation that was bound to happen. And, once the door was closed, Dumbledore intertwined his fingers together, staring at the pair of them in wonderment. "So, what brings the two of you to my office?"

He said, clearly already knowing what was about to be said. Draco half-expected that he would be sent to Azkaban within a matter of seconds. He had been expecting something like that to happen for weeks. And, quite honestly, it would be better than working for the likes of the Dark Lord. Anything would have been better than that. "Malfoy plans to kill you," Potter said quickly, his voice sporadic yet possesing a certain flat blatantness.

The headmaster was surprised for a moment, taking in what was just said. But he didn't really look angry, more knowing, if anything. "Is this true Draco?" Dumbledore said calmly, turning to Draco with a hint of hushed conjecture that made him want to huddle into a ball and cry. He didn't want him to die, he didn't want to kill him.

Draco wasn't a killer. He didn't want to be. "I- No . . ." he said softly, looking down at the desk rather than in the Headmaster's eyes. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to receive his punishment, to be locked away and long forgotten about in time.

But he was just so scared. He wished, for the most singular, miniscule moment that he could have had a lick of Potter's blind courage, of his bravery. It would have been easier that way. And, maybe, people would be safer, better off. Draco didn't want to hurt anyone. Dumbledore turned back to Potter, "How did you come about this information Harry?" He asked, Potter looked somewhat surprised at this.

"I- well, Ron said he followed Draco to the room of requirement, and there he saw the vanishing cabinet-"

"So, what you're saying is . . . you have no legitimate proof of this accusation?" Harry looked as if he was in a disarray, blatantly shocked at the fact that his words weren't accepted immediately and with welcoming arms. "Well, no. But Ron said he saw his fath-"

"Does Mr. Weasley have any proof of this?" At that Potter was genuinely stunned.

"No but-"

"Then Harry, I don't see how I can believe a word that you are saying. I cannot prosecute a student for hearsay." Draco's eyes widened, he could not believe what he was hearing. "What? I'm not lying, it's the truth!

He plans on killing you, he's a death eater!" He shouted, gesturing at Draco as if he wasn't present in the conversation. "And I'm very sure that you believe that Harry, but you don't have any proof."

"Since when was proof needed sir? He's a Malfoy, he's hardly innocent by default,"

"Everyone is innocent by default Harry."

At that Potter stood up, clearly flustered. He paced for a moment, staring at Dumbledore intently. "Well not him," he pointed at Draco, "he's not innocent."

"Harry," Dumbledore said, his nature of serenity clearly rubbing off Potter. "Sit," he said, and with that Harry took a seat.

"If that is all you may make it back to your dorm, I would like to speak to Mr. Malfoy for a moment in private." Potter looked around, purely at a loss for words.

"Sir? You can't be serious."

"Oh, I am Harry, now have a good night."

Potter shook his head, giving a noticeable scowl to Draco. He walked off angrily, disappearing behind the door with a huff. And, the chill of fear that Draco felt at the idea of being alone with the Headmaster was enough to make him want to follow him. Draco remained silently, trying his hardest to meet Dumbledore's eyes but failing miserably. It was hard, (to say the least), to look directly at the person whom you were supposed to kill.

Whose life you were supposed to snuff out entirely. "Draco," he said, causing him to stare into his eyes. Draco felt more vulnerable then he ever had in his life. "Can I tell you something?" He asked, in a tone that made Draco's heart calm just a bit.

He shook his head, having absolutely no idea what he intended on uttering. "I once knew a boy who was much like you. And, he made all of the wrong decisions in his life." he said, noticing the faraway look in Draco's eyes. For a second Draco thought he was a mind reader, but then this idea was quenched by logic. "I'd hate, Draco, to see you become like this boy," he said, "I know there is good in you Draco and, I know that you are afraid.

But there is something important you must ask yourself. Are you content?"

"With what? Sir." Draco asked, more bitterly than he meant to.

"With yourself."

Draco didn't know how to answer that question. Mostly because, well, it was something he had been asking himself for years. Was he content? Was he happy with who he was? Everyone said that he was a bad person, so he just believed it.

But, he wanted (more than he wanted anything in his life) was to be known as "good." He didn't want to be Malfoy, he just wanted to be Draco. But that seemed impossible. The room was entirely silent until Dumbledore finally said, "Draco, you must go after the ones you love. That is the only way that you can prosper."

Draco looked up at him, noticeably taken aback. "Oh, you think I don't know about you and Weasley sneaking around? I am old but I'm not daft, and this is my school after all." Draco looked back down, feeling as if he was retreating within himself. "Just, make the right decision Draco, follow your heart."

Draco's eyes felt glassy, he wouldn't cry, but he wanted to. It was hard for him to find the words to describe how he was feeling. It was something like a mix of fear, and desperation, and amazement. It was, everything, he guessed. He felt infinite, but not in a good, poetic, philosophical way. It was the type of infinity that brought about your downfall, that dragged you into the abyss.

It was the type of thing that crept up on you. "And, what if you don't have a choice? What then?" He said, voice quivering a bit. The Headmaster smiled, looking as if he was waiting for this very question to be asked.

And maybe he was, Draco couldn't be sure anymore. "There is always a choice, Draco. Even in the toughest of situations. When we believe that we have no choice, well, then you truly lose yourself." Draco took this in for a moment, feeling as if he had been blessed with some ancient wisdom, or brilliant epiphany.

And he continued to think about it until he was lying in bed that night, watching the ceiling, listening to the creeks of the castle. He couldn't sleep. He had been having trouble with it all year long. The nightmares, they just wouldn't cease. Sometimes it was easier to lay awake at night, counting sheep like his mother had told him to do so many years ago rather than let unconsciousness take him.

Maybe he had finally woken up. Ron was just a dream, and the anguish of reality was the nightmare setting in. Either way, he had decided right there, under his silk sheets that he had to, (no matter what), he just had to talk to Ron.