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Hey everyone! Thanks for all the awesome reviews I mean it a lot. So a few of you had some questions for me, so I'll answer them for you. Yes, this story will be mostly in Draco's POV. It will swtich from time to time (as you'll see later on in the chapter). That being said, this story will not be light. It's rated Mature for a reason so I don't want to hear people protesting this or that. I placed the necessary warning signs on, so if you don't like what you read, that's all you.

Second, if you haven't already guessed, yes the names of the chapters are taken from the names of songs that I feel really inspired/captured in essesnce of what i want the chapters to be like. Think of it as a growing soundtrack, but it's entirely up to you to listen to it. To keep it from being a Song-fic though, I've posted them on the chapter summary because that's the part of the song that basically summarizes what the chapter is about/ captures Draco's thoughts about it.

Whew! Was that a long Author's Note or what? Anyway, I'll leave you to your chapter. I hope you enjoy!

xx LCF





The following day was the first official day of term, and with it came classes. Draco had risen early in order to shower and head down to the Great Hall for something to eat, all the while making sure to keep Granger from sight, because he knew that if he looked into those irritating brown eyes of hers, the events of yesterday would come back to him and he’d surely do something that would gain attention to himself. And that was something that he couldn’t quite do at the moment.

As he walked down one of the winding corridors that was usually vacant at this time, Draco caught sight of something that he gladly would have gone without for the remainder of his life. There before him, snogging the living daylights out of each other, were Granger and Weasel. No doubt trying to sneak some time together before breakfast and because the idiot couldn't get into Advanced Potions. Before he could think to stop himself, he opened his mouth and let a scathing remark escape him.


 

“Honestly Granger, is that any way for the Head Girl to act? What if the two of you are seen?”


 

The two came apart instantly, a furious blush marring both of their faces(or rather Granger’s since Weasley’s ears were the ones that had the tendency to turn red). Granger focused all of her attention to the invisible specs of dust that were on her shoes while Weasley sneered at the blond Head.


 

“Sod off, Malfoy. Like this is any of your business.” he spat.


 

“Oh, don’t get the wrong idea Weasley. I’d never dream of interrupting this prior engagement. Really, I’d rather watch Flobberworms procreate—“


 

“Then why don’t you go find yourself a pair and leave us the bloody hell alone.” Weasley said, his arms woven around Granger as she hid her face into his chest in mortification.


 

“Are you trying to boss me around Weasley? Don’t forget that I’m Head Boy now, and my word is law. Now, I was planning to walk by and leave that disgusting display be, because honestly I don’t give a damn about what the two of you get up to, but now that you’ve spoken against me I don’t think I can walk away anymore.


 

“Twenty points from Gryffindor, each, for inappropriate public displays of affection and Weasley you get a week of detention down in the dungeons.”


 

“What?!” Ron roared, drawing his wand as he shot Draco a venomous stare. “You have no right whatsoever to call that, you bloody prick! I’ll make you wish you’d never been born!”


 

Weasley raised his hand, an incantation at the tip of his tongue. Just one flick from Weasley and Draco would have enough ammunition to possibly get him expelled from school. Really, one would think that after spending so much time glued to their girlfriend he’d get some sense of self-preserve. But Weasley wasn’t exactly known for his brains, and he often did what he was ordered to do. So Draco braced himself, his hand gripping his wand that was hidden beneath his robes and readied himself to cast a shielding charm against his attack. However the attack never came and both boys were looking towards Granger’s dainty hand firmly holding onto Weasley’s wrist.


 

“Ron, don’t. Put your wand away before we get into more trouble.”


 

“But Hermione—“


 

Ronald!” she snapped. “I have no intention to have to report you to the Headmaster for starting a fight with Malfoy.”


 

“But he—“


 

“—was only doing his job. I loathe to admit it, but he’s right. We were in violation to the school rules and I shouldn’t have lost myself in the moment. I’m sorry Ron, but I have to stand by his decision as Head Girl. I may not like it either, but he wasn’t in the wrong.”


 

Weasley looked at her in a bewildered manner before his face flared up in anger. He promptly shoved his wand in his pocket before rounding on her. “I can’t believe you Hermione. After everything he’s done to us, you’re taking his side?”

 

“I’m not choosing sides, Ron. I just have responsibilities that I need to keep up with. I’m sorry.” she murmured, her hand reaching out tentatively for his own. Granger flinched when he pulled it away sharply from her grasp.


 

“Save it. Come talk to me when you’ve got your head on straight,” Weasley shot a scathing glare at Draco. “Or when your priorities are back in order.”


 

Weasley stormed off without another word, going the way that Draco had come and disappearing around the corner in an angry flurry of robes. Draco had a crooked smirk adorning his face as he watched Weasley’s departure with laughing eyes. When he turned back to Granger, the smirk grew wider at the sight of her downcast eyes and the tight clenching of her hands. Without so much as another word, she turned on her heel and walked briskly down the corridor, trying her best to ignore the petulant blond that shadowed her every step.


 

“Sod off, Malfoy.” she grit, picking up her pace.


 

“Do the three of you always share puns? Really Granger, I expected better of you. You, at least, have the intelligence to come up with new responses and keep me on my toes.” he said condescendingly. Tutting at her as if she were a child. He almost collided into her as she came to an abrupt halt and whirled around to face him.


 

“Like you’re one to talk, Malfoy. You’re the one that’s so stuck on Mudblood. Oh, and I find it highly hypocritical that you, of all people, come and tell me off about ‘inappropriate displays of affection’. What exactly did I catch you and that blond doing in our compartment? Oh that’s right, you were snogging, but based off the state of your undress things were progressing a bit further, no?” When Draco opened his mouth to retort that he wasn’t unimaginative, and that he wasn’t trying to insult her(ok so that was a lie), that she just sort of became Mudblood and it had turned more into a title than anything(like how you call a Professor Miss or Sir), and that technically there wasn’t a rule stating that one couldn’t snog on the train(well there was but they were only enforced by the Prefects, and they were teenagers too, with hormones and of various genders. They were bound to get caught up in fun things like groping and snogs.), she promptly cut him off again.


 

“Besides, I thought that we were going to keep away from each other unless it was absolutely necessary, remember? That was one of the reasons why I didn’t report you in the first place, I don’t want to have to deal with you, but I don’t think you picking a fight with Ron constitutes as keeping our distance.”


 

“Contrary to what you may believe, I wasn’t trying to pick a fight. In actuality, I was trying to keep away from you, especially after the stunt you pulled last night. But, after everything that happened a few minutes ago, I’m willing to brush it off. Docking you of points and landing Weasel detention is therapy enough for me.” He smirked, his cool voice dripping in a twisted sense of humor.


 

“You really are a foul, loathsome, evil, little cockroach.” she said angrily.


 

His smirk was cruel and twisted, enough so that it made Hermione’s insides squirm uncomfortably. There was something not right about him right then. Something that wasn’t there in the years that they have despised each other, or present the night before. It was like he was a complete different person, and it sent unpleasant shivers down her spine. Hermione needed to get away, and fast. Cocky Malfoy, Insufferable Malfoy, Git Malfoy, and even Enraged Malfoy she could deal with. Not this cynical being that stood before her. Sure Malfoy was always one to get joy out of everyone else’s misery but this was different. This was almost bloodthirsty.


 

“And you’re a dirty little Mudblood.” he said as he strolled past her, his form walking in a superior gait.


 

Hermione looked over her shoulder towards him, the unease in her stomach settling like a lead. She shook her head fiercely, trying to clear her mind. Taking in a shuddering breath, she walked down the path Ron had and made her way down to the Great Hall.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

“So what exactly happened with Malfoy?” asked Ginny after swallowing a bite of her toast. She had seen the shaken expression on Hermione’s face the moment the older girl walked into the Great Hall and was quick to get to her side. After urging her to eat something, the older girl settled down enough to finally tell her all of the occurrences of that morning.


 

“He just smirked at me and was gone.” Hermione finished, her gaze unknowingly gliding over the Slytherin table anxiously. There was no platinum blond among them.

 

 

 

“But it’s Malfoy, doesn’t he always smirk?” Ginny supplied, watching her friend.


 

Hermione shook her head. “Yes, but this was different. I could literally feel the cynicism in the air. It was like he was doing all of that to get under my skin, but I don’t think he even noticed anything odd.”


 

Ginny gave a thoughtful hum as she took a long sip from her goblet.


 

“I’m losing it, aren’t I? Just tell me already so I can get this over with. I’m losing my bloody mind and it’s N.E.W.T. year!” Hermione bemoaned, burying her head into her arms. She glared balefully at Ginny’s derisive snort.


 

“Oh don’t be so mellow dramatic Hermione! It’s probably nothing, I mean really, Malfoy actually being scary? It’s unheard of. Just try and relax, you’ve got a lot on your shoulders this year what with juggling classes, Head duties with a total prat, and dating my brother. Things are bound to get chaotic, and knowing you things are already getting mucked up in that mind of yours.” She said cheerfully as she poked the side of Hermione’s head.


 

Hermione let out a deep sigh. “I suppose you’re right. I guess all of the pressure of this year is finally getting to me. But can you blame me? There’s so much that I have to do! Not to mention that I have to put up with that prat for an entire school year. I just can’t seem to get my head around all of the things that I’m going to be responsible for.”


 

“Relax, things will get better. You just need a little patience is all.” Ginny encouraged. “Now… where is my dear brother so that I may have a word with him.”


 

Hermione let a tiny smile come to her face. If there was anyone that could open Ron’s eyes and show him just exactly how unreasonable he was(aside from herself), it was Ginny. With that encouraging thought in mind, Hermione peered down at her wristwatch and gathered her books as she headed for double Potions.

 

 

 

***



Draco sat at the far end of the room, staring blankly at the wall before him. Beside him was Blaise, and next to their table sat Pansy and another Slytherin who he never bothered paying attention to. Pansy and Blaise wore similar expressions of boredom, the other Slytherin just looked baffled. The door to the Potions room opened with a loud creak and in walked the new Potions Master for the year. Slughorn brandished his wand and immediately all the burners beneath the cauldrons sprang to life.

“Welcome, everyone, to Advanced Potions! My name is Horace Slughorn and I shall be your Potions Master for the year, so I do hope that we get along. Now, seeing as you all have come this far I expect to be seeing great things from each of you. Potions is a very volatile art, where even if the tiniest ingredient is overlooked can leave you missing a finger, or worse! But seeing from the state that all of you are in, I feel like I won’t have to worry about that, will I?”


 

Draco let out a scoff. Was this man serious? Of all the things that he has to endure throughout this year, a peppy professor was not on his list. He’d rather take Snape’s abysmal charisma to this man. At least he wasn’t afraid to off on the Gryffindors every once in a while(everyday) for their own amusement. Ah, Draco would miss the torture that his former Potions Master subjected Longbottom to every class. Just as Draco was getting into what this new professor had to say, the door to the classroom opened with a bang and in came an out-of-breath Potter.


 

“So-sorry I’m late Professor. I just got my schedule changed.”


 

“Harry my boy, it’s not problem at all! Just take a seat there by Miss Granger and we can continue on with the introduction to Advanved Potions.” The teacher replied cheerfully.


 

Potter reached up and rubbed the back of his neck in an embarrassed fashion. “Sorry Professor, but I don’t have a book yet. I wasn’t aware that I was going to be taking Advanced Potions again this year until just a few moments ago.”


 

“Not a problem! Just go to the cupboard and you may borrow one of mine until you get your order owled in.” he said, dismissing him with a friendly wave of the hand.


 

As the lesson carried on over to the next hour, Draco busied himself in his work. He would like to say that he was rather good at brewing potions, though he was nowhere near the caliber of which Snape could do them. Where Draco needed step-by-step instructions, Snape was able to just gather whatever ingredients he deemed necessary and tossed them in every so often after the occasional stir. But despite him trying to keep his focus on his potion, Draco found his mind wandering as he waited for it to come to a simmer. Gray eyes scanned the dimly lit room until he caught sight of a rather flustered looking Granger.


 

Her hair had fallen out of the plait she had it in and was frizzing uncontrollably as she leaned over her cauldron, one hand stirring it counterclockwise and the other dragging her finger over the appropriate instructions. Beside her was Potter, who was doing the exact same thing, only Draco noticed that his shade of pink was far brighter than either of the contents in Granger’s cauldron or his own. This made Draco frown somewhat. He knew for a fact that Potter wasn’t at his level of potion-making, so how was it that his Elixir of Agony was several shades lighter than his own?


 

Something about this didn’t sit quite right, and by the look of the frustrated glares Granger sent to Potter’s cauldron, it was far from the norm. However, before he could form any sort of idea of what exactly had happened to make Potter some form of Potion’s brewing god, he peered up at the time and saw that his two minutes of waiting were up.


 

As he stirred his cauldron as instructed, Draco’s mind began walking down a path of its own once more. He wondered idly if the Dark Lord had made his decision yet. Not that he wasn’t expecting it to happen anytime soon, seeing if this was something that the Dark Lord wanted to happen the matter would be resolved fairly quickly. To have someone on the inside would be extremely useful to him, and not very many people could get away with posing as a student. But Draco admitted to himself begrudgingly that he was perfect for the job. He had access to the entirety of the castle, he could easily recruit fellow Slytherins in any task that the Dark Lord deemed necessary to be done, and could easily slip in and out without so much of a trace. It was ideal really, and if he thought about it, there was some form of twisted pride that came knowing he could do this so well, better than most Death Eaters in fact, and that it earned recognition from one of the darkest(albeit powerful) wizards of all time. After all, this is what he had been trained to do. What he had grown up learning most of his life. As his aunt would say, he should be proud.

 

 

 

Then why did the thought of being chosen make him feel so sick?

 

 

 

***



As the day passed, the light that shone into the castle now came in rich golden rays. The sky was clear, the air was crisp, and the happy faces of passing students filled the courtyard as they quickly made their way towards their friends. The first day was over, but it was only the beginning. Albus Dumbledore looked over his school in pride, glad to note the happy faces that conversed with their peers, glad to see that despite the threat of a looming war hanging over their heads, the youth of today was able to continue living life. He strode towards his desk in short and quick strides, the shriveled hand hidden beneath his robes stung something awful, and he could feel the lingering effects of the curse drain just a little more of his life from him. He closed his eyes, tired, as he leant against the back of the chair. It was during these times, the reminders, that it was painfully obvious that he was not as young as he used to be.

With a quick flick of his wrist a goblet filled with a golden potion appeared before him and he took a long drink, vanishing the goblet only moments before he could hear Severus’ knocking. The man strode in without word of invitation, his cloak billowing behind him as he took his measured strides into the room. Without hesitation he pulled out his wand just as Dumbledore did his hand and began uttering the containing charm that had kept Dumbledore alive for all this time.


 

“Well?” prompted Dumbledore as he sat back and watched as the dark-haired man soothed his pain somewhat. It had decreased from a sharp twinge to a dull ache.


 

“I expect that you’ve been drinking the potion I have prepared for you.” Severus deadpanned as the bright tip of his wand dulled before disappearing altogether. Dumbledore merely nodded his wizened head before lifting up his burnt and blackened hand, examining it closely. It had spread a little further this time, where it had only been to the heel of his palm, it was now a little ways past his wrist.


 

“How long do you expect that I may have, Severus?” he asked conversationally.


 

Severus shot him a dark look before replying: “I’d give you a year at the most. There’s no way to stop such a spell forever. It’s a miracle you were even able to survive long enough to get to me.”


 

Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully as he examined his hand. It seemed that the news that he had about a year to live didn’t affect him as much as it did the other man. Severus shot him another scathing glare that he didn’t pay any mind to. “Well seeing as I have so little time now, won’t you be so kind as to share the information that you have learned during the past meeting? I am aware that Draco Malfoy and several other Death Eaters have been awaiting Voldemort’s decision over who would be most fit to murder me?”


 

Snape sat down on the chair opposite of Dumbledore, his dark gaze watching the Headmaster’s intensely, as if trying to read his mind. There was a moment of silence before Snape finally allowed a frustrated sigh escape him and clenched his hands tightly beneath the long sleeves of his cloak. “The Dark Lord has finally made his decision,” he began, his dark gaze sliding over his right hand for a moment before looking up at Dumbledore once more. “He has decided that Draco would be most fitting for this task.”


 

“I see.” Dumbledore murmured. “And based on how you have been watching the boy so keenly since the moment he arrived from the Hogwarts Express you expect him to be unable to complete this task?”


 

Scowling, Snape answered: “Draco is not his normal self. Ever since the occurrence at the Muggle home he had become more introverted. Sending him to kill those Muggles seemed to have been pushing him too far, too soon. The Dark Lord knows that he will fail, he only uses this as a pretense so that he can torture Lucius and Narcissa for their failures.”


 

“Despite the occurrences of the summer, Draco’s soul is not yet so damaged. He has the ability to find remorse in his actions and with his remorse comes the proof that he is not too far beyond our grasp to help. Is he aware of the decision yet? I know that Voldemort gave everyone a month’s time before he came to his conclusion.”


 

Snape took a deep breath as the older man’s words sunk in. “Not yet, he will be contacted soon though. It will only be a matter of days at the most.”


 

Dumbledore nodded sagely before he picked up one of his closed books by his side and began thumbing through the pages with his good hand. “Make sure to keep an eye on him and make sure that he does not lose himself in the process of this. We needn’t an unstable boy with nothing to lose on our hands; the result could be quite catastrophic.”


 

***


 

It was dark when Draco and Blaise walked out into the courtyard. It was just past nine but neither of the two were worried about being caught out of bed after curfew. If push came to shove they could always say that they were doing patrols. Which was sort of true in Blaise’s case, Draco on the other hand would have to come up with some form of explanation as to why he was out there and not in his Tower. But as mentioned before, neither of them seemed too worried at the moment based on the slow walk they made to the other side of the courtyard.


 

Draco leaned forward on the railing, his arms resting on the stone balustrade as he looked over at the Black Lake’s still surface. It was clear tonight and everything was still and quiet except for the odd sounds that often came from the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Blaise stood a little ways away from the blond, his dark eyes watching him expectantly and it was a moment before the blond heaved a breath and turned to face his best mate. Pausing a moment to make sure that they truly were alone, Draco took another breath before settling his silver gaze onto the young Zabini.

 

 

 

“I’ve been informed that I’m a possible candidate for a mission the Dark Lord has come up with.”


 

Nothing had changed on Blaise’s face at the news other than a slight raise of his left brow. Draco found that the next several seconds of silence were some of the most agonizing he’d had to endure patiently. Blaise uncrossed his arms and strode forward so that both young men were toe-to-toe with the other. Both boys were rather tall, but Draco had that centimeter on Blaise that he would never be able to recover.


 

“A mission?” Blaise echoed.


 

Draco nodded his head. “One that is to bring Hogwarts ‘to its knees’.” He supplied.


 

“I’d rather think that it sounds like he’s trying to get someone to come and off Dumbledore.” Blaise deadpanned. Draco bristled slightly at how forward he was being but knew that there was really no other way to say it without making it seem any less bad than it already was. So instead of replying, Draco merely nodded his head, albeit with that mask of nonchalance that he’d perfected since his fourth year.


 

“You do know that if you’re chosen, and it’s very likely seeing as you’re really the only one who has access to the castle, and if you succeed that you’ll only bring down the fury of the entire magical world upon your head. And if you were to fail, the Dark Lord will want to have your head returned on a spike.”


 

“I know Blaise.” Draco snapped; his silver stare boring icy daggers upon the person he considered his closest friend. “But if I’m chosen it’s not like I have an option to say no,”—here Blaise interrupted with a soft ‘That’s true.’—“and Father is adamant that should I be chosen there is no backing out because it’s my duty as a Malfoy to do what would benefit my family.”


 

“So it’s at an impasse if you’re chosen then? A bit like being caught between a rock and a hard place, I reckon.”


 

“Thank you Blaise, for that wonderful analogy.” Draco hissed, sarcasm dripping heavily in his tone. Blaise merely threw him a condescending smirk.


 

 “Now you know why my family has stayed out of this thus far. Too many unpleasantries come with serving the darkest wizard in England and the perks that do come out of it aren’t at all worth it. They can give us money? We already have it. Power? That too. The Zabini name remained neutral during his last reign and it’ll be the same this time.”


 

Draco stayed oddly silent as he observed his friend who had made his way to the spot beside him, his dark gaze peering out into the darkness. There was brief moment of silence before Draco took in an exasperated breath and ran his hands wildly through his hair. Really, he was going to go bald with all of this stress.


 

“I just don’t know what I’ll do if I’m chosen. I feel excitement and dread all at once and it has me confused. I’ve been so torn like this for months. Before I would follow everything that was set out for me to do without question, but now it seems that questioning motives and actions is all I can do. It’s driving me mad.”


 

A hand rested on Draco’s shoulder and made him bring his gaze up from the ground to his friend’s face. There was no hint of a smile on Blaise’s face, there was no laughter and mock in his eyes. He looked genuinely worried for Draco, like he actually cared. And it was during times like these that Draco silently thanked whatever deity that was out there that he and Blaise had become as close of friends as they did. And real friends too, not the kind you often made to gain something. Draco genuinely cared for him, and he knew that Blaise did too.

 

 

 

“It’s late. I’d best be off. I’ll see you around.” Draco murmured quietly before clapping a hand onto Blaise’s shoulder and heading off towards the front of the castle. It was well past one in the morning now and if anyone caught him things were bound to get complicated.


 

When Draco reached the steps that lead towards the Grand Staircase, a barn owl came sweeping in, dropping a folded piece of parchment at his feet. Curious, Draco bent to pick it up when he noticed the familiar calligraphy that was on the outside. Opening it with numb fingers, more of his father’s script greeted Draco’s eyes and after reading it he felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over him. He clenched his eyes tightly shut before stuffing the note into his pocket and storming off towards the Head’s Tower. The words of the note burned into his mind.


 

You have been chosen. Honor your family.


 

0923;02

 




And there we have it. What will be instore for Draco next chapter, stay tuned to find out! On an off note, I swear Blaise and Draco are too much fun to write. They're the perfect match for each other... friends wise... and in my fic. :D

xx LCF

P.S. If you guys are ever wondering about the status of my stories just head on over to my homepage on here and take a peek. I have my stories there with their current status along with several new ones that are in the works.

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