Green & Gray

Just Point and I'll Stab.

Draco Malfoy

I left my mother on the platform after a quick hug. She was crying.

I hate it when she cries. It makes me scared to leave her.

God knows what happens to her in that house when I'm gone.

"Hey, don't cry mum," I soothed, wiping tears from her cheeks as they continued to fall.

I was taller than her now, and she looked up at me with her clear blue eyes. I melted slightly, feeling guilty for icing her out the week before I left for school.

I bent down a bit and hugged her. 

"I'm sorry mum," I whispered as she cried in earnest now. I pushed her gently to arm's length so that I could look her in the eyes.

I hardly recognized her.

No longer was Narcissa Malfoy the 'ice queen', the woman of shocking beauty, ruling over her personal kingdom in place of her husband. She was a shadow of herself.

Her usual height diminished by stress, her beauty clouded by puffy eyes and skin tinged with gray. I choked back a sob and spoke.

"I'll be okay, I promise."

She nodded, hugged me once more even tighter than before, and ran off, leaving a stream of tears in her wake.

Seeing her like that shattered my spirits.

She doesn't expect to see me again.

And I get it.

If I kill Dumbledore, I'm a  murderer, and her son that she loved so much will be dead.

If I fail, the Dark Lord would kill me. Either way, she'll never see me as I am now again.

I can't help but agree.

 🌙 🌙 🌙

I stepped onto the train, feeling empty.  I slid into an empty compartment, hoping I wouldn't be bothered. I flung myself into a chair and tried to sleep.

When I shut my eyes, all I could see was my mother, looking as if she was preparing to knock on death's door. My eyes snapped open, and I knew that sleep wasn't an option.

Not like this.

I sighed and pulled a sleeping draft from my trunk. This way, my sleep won't be plagued by my mother's face. 

Just as I popped the cork, I heard yelling from the door. I turned just in time to see 3 pairs of hands push a tallish raven-haired boy into my empty compartment.

It was clear that they didn't see me.

"Harry, just stay here for now! We'll come back after prefect duties!" cried a dark-skinned girl with bushy brown hair.

"Hermioneeeee," he moaned, bracing himself against the doorway to prevent being pushed into the compartment. "I don't want to! You can't make me!"

"Mate, she's right. You have to let us go." said a boy smattered with orange freckles and matching hair.

"But 'Moineeee, you know I can't give myself the T shot." he cried, now digging his feet into the carpeted floor. T shot?

I cursed under my breath and murmured a spell to conceal myself and my trunk.

"Merlin's pants Harry, yes you can! The shot is made to be self-administered!"

"I'm scared shitless of shots Hermione, you know that! And Ron, I swear to god if you take her side I will throw you off this fucking train!" His voice was strong and defiant, but one look at his face told me he really couldn't give himself this shot unless under extreme duress.

He really was scared shitless.

Then, the third pair of hands have a huge heave and Harry Potter tumbled into the compartment with his trunk in tow.

It was another Weasley, the girl this time. Her hair was tied into a rushed bun, her face set in a grim line.

"Harry, you know I love you, but just this once you'll have to do it." her voice was barely a whisper. 

"Ginny," Harry breathed. He didn't look angry, or scared, the look on his face was far worse.

Betrayal.

Ginny looked at his face and choked back a sob.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I hope you can forgive me." She grabbed Granger and Weasley by the back of their shirts and pulled them out of the compartment, each wearing similar expressions of remorse as the door slammed shut.

He sat there on the floor for a while before cursing. He popped open his trunk and with shaking hands produced a wooden box. He pushed the lid, and withdrew a needle and a small bottle.

I watched curiously as he sank the needle into the bottle and pulled the syringe. A oily-looking substance was pulled from the tiny bottle and into the syringe.

He let out a shuddering breath as he put the bottle back in the box. He then quickly switched out the current needle for one in protective plastic, most likely for sterility. Then, he rubbed a cloth that smelled of rubbing alcohol over a small dot on his thigh.

He grabbed his own wrist. His hands were now shaking so violently that the syringe was in danger of falling.

He pushed up the right leg of his shorts and tried to place the needle at the site of the injection. His hand was now convulsing, it was taking all of his focus to keep a hold on the syringe. I saw him look down at his leg. When he did, he turned a violent shade of green. He turned his head away and covered his mouth.

Without thinking, I vaulted over the chair and grabbed the syringe.

Harry's eyes widened, as he looked around trying to understand what had happened. It wasn't until he focused on the syringe in my hand that I understood.

I muttered the counterspell and popped back into reality. He looked up at me as if he was weary of me.

I don't blame him.

"Calm your tits, Potter. I'm just going to give you this dumb shot so that you don't leave sick all over the compartment." I said in a bored voice. He flinched when I said 'tits' which I found odd.

He tried to speak but no words left his throat.

"Just shut up," I said, sitting on the floor next to him. "Just point, and I'll st- I'll do it." I stopped myself from saying 'stab' because I had a feeling he would've flipped out. Surprisingly, he nodded and pointed to a spot in the middle of his thigh. He then squeezed the muscle around it and turned away. I pushed his hand upward and gently squeezed. Then I sank the needle in his thigh quickly but carefully. 

Harry looked a bit green again. 

I pushed on the end of the syringe, knowing what to do from my mother's own muggle medications. I pulled the syringe out and wiped up the small amount of oil-like medication and blood. I slapped a band-aid on the wound and put my hand on his knee without thinking about it.

"Done. Was that so bad?" I said in a voice a lot softer than I expected it to be.

Instead of answering, I found him staring at his knee. I followed his gaze and saw my own pale hand resting on his caramel-colored knee. 

At that moment, a voice roared over my head.

"What the fuck are you doing, Malfoy?"