The Chosen One ~Drarry (Finished)

The truth behind it all (Draco)

Trigger warnings: Blood, talk about rape, self-harm

Harry had almost seen me. Alone, out on the grounds at half past eleven at night, covered in what appeared to be animal blood. I knew that now he would be suspicious, he'd even suggested animal molesting, but that wasn't it. As I staggered back to the Slytherin dormitories, I realised with a pang that I'd forgotten my knife, and the hoodie I had used to stem the blood flow. It was too late to go back for it now- I knew Potter, he'd be scanning the area for clues like a sniffer dog. The best I could do was wait until the morning, when I could summon them back without accidently stabbing anyone with my flying knife. Regardless of what Potter and the rest of the Golden trio may think, I am no killer. Which is the route of my problems.

My father is in Azkaban, and mum is staying with Aunt Bella, until the whole thing dies down a bit, as she can't go out in public without people hurling abuse at her. It's not a whole lot better at school, but at least I have the protection of Snape, and unfortunately for him, Dumbledore. Before dad left, he collared me at home, knowing the Ministry were after him, and he didn't have much time.

"I'm not going to be able to fulfil the Dark Lord's wishes. He wants Dumbledore dead. So I'm passing that job down to you."

"But father!" I cried, wriggling out of his firm grip. "That'll be impossible! And I don't want to kill anyone!"

"Coward." He threw me down onto the flagstones and pushed me down, forcing me to look him straight in the cold, grey eyes. "Now, you listen to me. You will kill Dumbledore. Severus will be able to help you if you get into trouble. But it will need to be you who kills him. Think, our names will be cleared with him if we succeed!"

I gulped, and avoided his eyes. "But I'll fail. I wont be able to do it, you know I wont! I'm not like you dad, I can't kill people."

"If you fail, you can kiss goodbye to your family. I can assure you, one way or another, one of you will end up dead. Do you hear me boy?" He was on top of me, his wand pointing directly into my neck, spit spraying onto my face.

"Yes. Yes father" I said monotonely, trying to show him that he couldn't scare me, not anymore. He got off me and walked out the room, leaving me lying, panting on the cold floor, as cold as death.

Five months had passed since then. He was being serious, I had received weekly letters, informing me of what to do. Find the vanishing cabinet. Fix it. He would keep the other one safe until I needed it. The big night was planned, February the ninth, when I would stand off against him, and do the deed. But I was delaying things. I hadn't figured out how to fix the cabinet yet, which was filling me with more and more anxiety. I wasn't going to be ready in time, I knew it. My death date was secured more firmly that Dumbledore's. I had refused to go to Snape. I didn't trust him, Aunt Bella had told me of what she and Snape had done, with Mum backing her up. If I was to fail, which I was, Snape would be the one to finnish him off. I hadn't been able to confront him about this yet. I knew that the easiest option, and the one I would probably take, was to let Snape do it. But I knew what dad wanted, was for me to do it, so that Voldemort would clear the Malfoy name. All this was constantly bubbling around in my head, I couldn't face doing ordinary, mundane things such as homework and talking to my friends. Besides, it was easier to cut them off, they were starting to ask too many awkward questions, and I didn't want them to know how badly I was failing my mission. When had told them on the train what I was being asked to do, they had been surprised, excited, proud even. I couldn't bear to tell them that I couldn't kill him, or they would think me as much of a coward as my dad did.

All of this, isolation, worry, fear, was building up inside me at a worrying rate. I was going insane, and people were starting to see. Even McGonagall, who hated the sight of me, had brought me inside her office, giving me a biscuit and asking me if there was anything I wanted to tell her. Obviously, I couldn't tell her, but she had made me increasingly wary of teachers, as if McGonagall had started to suspect me, then what else were they talking about behind closed doors? I couldn't risk it, no one could know, and I couldn't stand the pitying looks, so I had stopped going to classes, instead hiding inside the room of requirement, trying, and failing, to work out how to fix the Vanishing Cabinet.