𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐦𝐞 | 𝐇.𝐏.

𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝟔 - 𝟒

The next evening I immediately left for the Great Hall before everyone else, praying to Merlin that Draco and his friends were already there. When I saw his familiar white blonde hair in a sea of brown, I stalked over.

"Draco. I need to speak with you," I said sternly, trying to sound as much like mother as possible. 

He turned around and tried to muster a smirk, but it was weak, and not at all like him. He knew his plan had failed last night, and he wasn't exactly jolly.

"Why?" He asked, turning back and stabbing at his salad repeatedly. We both knew he knew why.

"Now," I said impatiently. He heaved a great, dramatic sigh and stood up, following me out. I brought him to an empty second floor corridor, and when I turned on him he flinched. I guess I did look like mother.

"You don't want to do this," I said simply.

"I have to do this," he corrected desperately. "I have no choice... no other options... I can't just back out of this like you did."

"I did not back out of anything," I replied angrily. "Like I said to you last year, I chose my side. I chose Dumbledore's side. You had every chance to do the same, you just never took it."

"Because someone had to!" He threw his hands in the air. "Someone had to keep father happy. Someone had to sacrifice themself to the Dark Lord. One of us was always going to be the bearer of the Malfoy name, and the second you got sorted into Gryffindor, that responsibility fell on me."

"Hey, don't try to make this look like my fault," I pointed at his chest. "I didn't choose to be sorted into Gryffindor. I didn't even want to be sorted into Gryffindor at first. I hated myself. I thought I did something wrong. I thought it was all a mistake, because god forbid a Malfoy ever be sorted into Slytherin's greatest rivalry house!"

"Well what's done is done," Draco said, quieter now. "I'm a Death Eater, father is in Azkaban, and my sister is now constantly in danger of the Dark Lord's anger."

"There has to be a way to stop this," I pleaded. "All of this. That necklace was yours and I know it." He tried to speak, but I held up a hand to stop him. "It was a stupid, foolish, terribly planned attempt to murder Dumbledore, as I'm sure Snape's already told you."

"How'd you find out about that?" He breathed, face slack and pale.

"Potter, Hermione, Weasley and I all saw it," I answered. Draco's lip curled in disgust at their names. "Really? Katie Bell?" I asked furiously.

"I'm desperate," Draco said hoarsely. "The Dark Lord is restless. He expects so much of me and I can't... I'm running out of time, Alexandra."

His tone scared me. He really did sound vulnerable. Scared. Like a little kid again after he had been reprimanded by father and had come to me for comfort.

"Draco... I could help. Dumbledore could help. Potter and I-" I tried, but I should have know better.

"Oh yeah, Potter can help," Draco expression switched to disgust. "Potter always helps. Potter's the Boy Who Lived, Dumbledore's favorite student. A saint above all others."

"Stop it," I said, my anger building.

"No, I get it. He's your little boyfriend. That's okay," Draco pushed. Instead of talking about his own problems, he would rather tease his sister like a child. "How magnificent it must be to get recognition from Harry Potter himself. Do you get free autographs? A pass to join his weekly photoshoots? Do you think you could get him to sign my book bag?"

"Draco," I warned. I could feel my neck flushing with anger, my stomach churning at his words. I despised how deeply they touched me.

"It's okay, I'm your brother. I understand. How does it feel knowing that father got put in Azkaban so you could be The Chosen One's whor-"