𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍

❃ sunrise

❃

𝑵𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒗

"Take us through the plan again," Pansy ran her fingers through her hair, the group of Slytherins sitting in a circle on Theo and Blaise's dormitory floor.

"In one hour, Potter and Dumbledore are to leave the grounds to go on some sort of mission, I don't know exactly what it is. All I know is that Theo and I are to let the death eaters into Hogwarts at ten thirty. You all are to wait in the Slytherin common room, we'll pick you up after he's killed and will go back to the Manor by floo network," Draco exclaimed.

It was ten fifteen.

"We must be off," Theo said shakily with sweaty palms, motioning for Draco to follow him.

"No matter what happens just know I love you," Draco kissed May's forehead repeatedly, tightly hugging her before following Theo out the door.

"So now we wait," Naevah sighed, as the group walked down the stairs, sitting on the Slytherin sofas in silence.

The two boys made their way to the room of requirement, black smoke seeping from the vanishing cabinet's doors as death eaters hopped out one by one.

Draco's stomach churned with both anticipation and guilt; he was going to kill the Headmaster.

The man who gave him chance after chance; the man he believed to be good.

He was going to be a murderer.

How would his Flower ever forgive him?

The death eaters fought their way through The Order as they arrived, quick yet dark magic stunning member after member, including students before arriving at the base of the Astronomy Tower.

"Go up, Draco, he's waiting for you," Bella hissed, pushing the boy forward.

He pulled his wand from his pocket, and started his way up the stairs. He could hear soft voices coming from the top of the tower, his silver rings glinting in the moonlight as they clashed with the stair railing, metal on metal with a small screech.

"Good evening Draco. What brings you here on this fine spring evening?" Dumbledore spoke softly, the boy's wand pointed at his aged, elderly body. He could barely stand, his back hunched over from whatever task he'd just endured.

"Who else is here? I heard you talking," Draco seethed, trying to keep his voice strong for the death eaters who could hear him below.

"I often talk aloud to myself. I find it.. extraordinarily useful," Dumbledore exclaimed, his voice calm.

Too calm.

As if he knew this was the end.

"Have you been whispering to yourself, Draco?"

he paused.

"Draco, you are no assassin,"

"How do you know what I am? I've done things that would shock you," his hand began to quiver alongside his voice, fear beginning to take over his body.

He couldn't do it.

"Like cursing Katie Bell and hoping that in return she would bear a cursed necklace to me? Like replacing a bottle of mead with one laced with poison? Forgive me Draco, I cannot help feeling that these actions are so weak that your heart can't have really been in them," he exclaimed.

Draco knew he was right. He was just a boy. All he ever wanted was a happy childhood. A life with Flower.

Now he would be known as the villain; a sinner for the world to ridicule unless Voldemort managed to rise to power.