When silver met gold.

The Difficult Choice

At Hogwarts, it was late October and Draco was now ready for his first assassination attempt, although Voldemort had not at all specified "how" this was supposed to happen. In those months, his father and aunt had not held back with the Cruciatus Curse: the timings had stretched out and his body now suffered from a state of constant pain. He avoided being seen around as much as possible; the last thing he wanted was to hear Potter and his little friends laughing while they highlighted how many Death Eaters had been imprisoned the year before.

His father had narrowly escaped prison, but only thanks to the precious contacts he had cultivated over the years. His failure, to Voldemort, had become unforgivable so, unable to kill him, he had found a way to punish him... by putting his heir in grave danger. By now, for Lucius Malfoy, he was nothing but this. The days of the affectionate attentions he used to receive were over; there was no longer any glimmer of love towards him, only the depraved desire to shape him while he heard him scream with each cruel thrust of his wand.

That Saturday night, he returned to the cold and damp room he occupied alone, a comfort that the title of Prefect allowed him to have. Of course, they could have made the environment more pleasant, considering his status, but it was well known how little consideration the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress had for Slytherins. Located in the underground tunnels of the castle, the room had small windows set high in the walls near the ceiling. The light that entered was therefore very dim, almost non-existent at night. He decided to light a candle, but was taken aback when he saw Gabriel occupying the one-and-a-half bed. He hadn't seen him since the previous month.

"Damn it, you're here again," he noticed disgustedly, starting to undress and moving towards his own bathroom, the only positive note: it was his and no one else's. He reflected in front of the wide mirror above the ceramic sink, where there were swirls that resembled the sinuous shape of a serpent and, like the creature itself, moved along the edge. He felt a new wave of pain as he noticed how badly his body had actually been battered, even that night. Long superficial wounds were visible on his skin.

"I was wondering if they reached the bone, to this day."

Draco had started running the water, waiting for it to warm up so he could dab himself with one of the green towels provided by the school. In the meantime, he replied, "I said I'd send you an owl. You can also disappear."

Gabriel didn't respond, but waved his hand towards the fireplace, which suddenly burst into flames.

When Draco returned to his room, he noticed first the flames that animated it and then the intruder still present, playing with the pack of cigarettes he had left on the bedside table. He snatched it from his hands, annoyed, and insisted, "Do you want to leave!? I need to sleep, damn it!" he shouted, showing him the aggression he had been harboring in those weeks. Lightening the mood with warmth had served no purpose.

"You'll get into trouble if you keep this up." And the Half-Demon stood up, sitting on the worn-out desk, observing him kindly.

"I already told you to mind your own business."

"You still have time to make a different choice, Draco. Perhaps... you can truly be the linchpin capable of changing the history of the wizarding world."

The blonde snapped at him, furious. "Enough with this nonsense!? Will you stop tormenting me!? I know perfectly well what I want and how to get it! Voldemort must kill Potter, this way, with the new regime, the Death Eaters will reign supreme!"

Gabriel looked the boy straight in the eyes: he seemed convinced of his position. He nodded coldly and stepped down from the table. "I understand, Draco. You have decided to be yet another sheep, even though they are showing nothing but contempt for you. I don't understand you, but it's clear that we're much further apart than I thought."