Chapter Ten: Draco

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Chapter Ten: Draco

December 1996

Draco came back to the Slytherin dungeons in the dead of the night. And by that, it meant about three in the morning. He'd been in the Room of Requirement for quite literally five hours now. It terrified him how very little sleep he had these past few days, but it was better that than sleep, for that's when the nightmares come.

He was quite used to having nightmares as a child. Though mostly out of the fact that his parents fought a lot at one point and have considered divorce. It was the excruciating foreshadow of losing his parents – and right now, he wasn't quite far from his younger self. Because at this point, it was just the same scenario though only this time, his and his parents' lives were hanging by a thread.

As much as he's close to giving up on the vanishing cabinet, he pursued fixing it mostly in the hope that by the time his aunt and the other Death Eaters came through, they'd get tired of waiting for him to kill Dumbledore that one of them – though probably his aunt Bellatrix – was bound to do it themselves. Even though that wasn't exactly the purpose of what the Vanishing Cabinet was for, he felt that it was a short way of luck for him.

It was a coward's way out, truthfully. Months ago, he never would have considered it until he realized the fatality of his and his parents' lives. He was not an assassin; he knew that in himself now. He could hurt anyone as easily as Aunt Bellatrix could flick a Crucio, but to take someone's life... that was something he could never shake off him.

And yet, he had to be. He had to otherwise he'll die. He had to otherwise his parents' lives will be payment for his transgressions. He had resorted thoughts in ways on how he would do it, but every time it all just felt like all bark and no bite. It was remarkably frustrating and it was driving him mad.

It was funny how not too long ago, again, he would have been proud of this particular glory. He would have been proud to be chosen for such a pressing job. If he succeeded, he'd earn his family's honor and glory back. Now, he simply dreaded ever feeling that sort of pride—becoming a Death Eater, being chosen—as if to feel it would singe the very fabric of his being.

The second Draco came into the common room, he immediately saw Blaise sitting before the fireplace lit with emerald flames; its fire dancing around violently in the dark of the room.

At the sound of his footsteps, Blaise looked up to him and rose from where he sat as he said, "Late out at night again, huh, Draco?"

"What are you even doing awake at this time of night?" asked Draco as he stripped off his robes. "You best head off, Blaise – or I'll have to resort to taking points out of our own house, and we both don't want that now, really."

"It's ironic coming from a Prefect himself who should be in bed just as well." Blaise digressed, crossing his arms on his chest. "Where have you been, mate?"

"Oh, thank Merlin. I was starting to wonder when you'll ever ask that bloody question again." He said sarcastically as he placed his robes on his left shoulder roughly. "When are you ever going to stop asking me that despite your knowledge of my never answering it in any verse of the world?"

The dark wizard shook his head disappointedly. "Is it because you're a Death Eater now, mate? If it is—"

"So what if it is?" He snarled as he cast his friend a menacing glare.

"I'm just concerned. I really am. You're not yourself, and that's literally saying something." Blaise pointed out tiredly. "I thought you were joking on the train to Hogwarts when you said that you were a Death Eater. I thought maybe you just wanted to show off in front of Pansy..."

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