What are you?

A Choice

It was with great pensivity and general anguish that Draco set his head against the bathroom sink that afternoon. He could see the hazy shadow of the sun against the horizon, clouded by drifts of snow, and powdery clouds, and the line of the trees. The windows seemed to be a gateway out of the clutches of his own mind. He couldn't cry anymore, he simply refused. Another tear down his cheek would be another stab at heart.

And, he wasn't sure if he could take anymore of that without doubling over. He had spent most of his day moving by idly, he didn't really want to talk, or eat, or do anything that required physical effort. The only thing he wanted was Ron. And, he wasn't quite sure what to do with that fact. He was torn, between two opposing factors in the depths of his brain.

It wasn't a new feeling, no, it was quite a usual thing for Draco. Good and evil. What did that even mean? Was there a difference? There had to be, because if there wasn't, well, then why did he feel so horrible about killing Dumbledore?

He tried the cursed necklace, albeit feebly, to get it done. But, it didn't work, and honestly, Draco was happy that it didn't. He was going to try a cursed potion but . . . that had fallen through. He was left with nothing, nothing at all. He gripped his wand, staring at it with a hatred that made himself sick.

He didn't want to kill him, of that he had no doubt. But how? How could one put something so terrible into words? He didn't want to be killed. He didn't want to be faced by Voldemort. The door opened suddenly, and Potter came barging through with Granger by his side.

He looked furious, no, he looked murderous. Draco stood up quickly, holding his wand up in front of him. "Expelliarmus!" Potter shouted, sending Draco's wand flying into the side of a bathroom stall. He was defenseless then, his hands being the only barrier from Potter pummeling his face in.

Granger grabbed onto his arms, trying to pull his back. "Harry, stop it!" She shouted, his shoulders just barely slipping through her grasp. His wand was pointed at the base of Draco's throat, twenty times more viciously then he had done to Ron. "Is it true!?"

He shouted, his voice seething with a blind rage that made Draco know exactly what he was talking about. He wanted to tell him everything, because, at that point he truly didn't care. He just wanted to talk to Ron. Merlin, he wanted to speak to him. "Is what true, Potter?"

He spat, truly surprising himself with the way that his words came out. "You know." He said, poking his wand at his throat. Draco remained stoic, maybe once he would have been scared. "I don't know actually," he said, eyes flicking about the room. Had Ron told them?

Of course he did, he was good, after all. Why wouldn't he tell them. "Are you going to kill Dumbledore!?" He shouted,

Granger refrained from touching him, seeing as he was practically shaking. "That's a rather accusatory-"

"Stupefy!" Draco crashed into the sink behind him, his back colliding with the smooth porcelain.

A wave of pain washed through him, fizzling through his veins like fireworks. "Harry!" Granger screamed in awe, nearly clawing the wand out of his hand. Potter only trudged forwards, holding his wand over Draco's form as if he were an animal. "Tell me Malfoy!"

"Mr. Potter! What in Merlin's beard are you doing?" Professor Slughorn shouted, taken aback by the scene before him. Harry jumped back, resting his wand by his side. "Professor Slughorn, he's planning on killing Dumbledore," he said quickly, saying the words as if he had a limited time to do so.

Draco looked disheveled, eyes red and puffy, hair scattered about his head, skin pale. The disillusioned frown on his face was enough for him to look genuinely hurt. "What? What are you on about Harry?" He said, turning between Draco, Potter, and Granger.