lurk

Malfoy was in a foul mood that morning. There was a chill to the air as he boarded the Hogwarts train, still not having a fully formed plan for how he would murder the headmaster. He watched out the window as he saw Potter wave goodbye to a black dog before getting on the train. The same black dog his father claimed was the infamous Sirius Black.

"Hey Malfoy." Crabbe and Goyle sat down in the compartment beside him. By his sixth year he should have ditched the two idiots long ago, but they didn't seem to have many other friends, and Malfoy pitied them.

"Crabbe, Goyle." Malfoy addressed, giving a nod in each of their directions. He pulled out his copy of the Daily Prophet and started reading. There was bound to be at least a good laugh or two, they were constantly throwing in jokes about Harry's pending mental collapse.

"How was your vacation, Malfoy?" Crabbe asked.

"Ah good. My father taught me quite a few new spells."

Both Crabbe and Goyle's eyes widened. They'd seen Malfoy do quite a few marvellous tricks already, of course all the tricks he'd done for them had been dark magic, or near enough, but he was always seeking new spells to impress them. He was always seeking something darker, he'd found spells so dark they seemed to corrupt his very soul, yet he couldn't stop trying to learn more. His hunger for new knowledge never seemed to be satisfied.

Draco pulled out his wand and gave a sharp swish, as though cracking a whip. A loud tearing sound was made as Crabbe and Goyle's eyes widened, not believing it was possible.

They looked at the small rip, as though their world was made of fabric, it looked to be torn, revealing another world entirely.

"What is that?" Crabbe turned his head, looking at it from different angles.

Malfoy smiled proudly down at his creation, having worked particularly hard to perfect that certain spell. "It's a tear in the fabric of our universe." He replied, still smirking, although he knew that Crabbe and Goyle were meatheads, and couldn't possibly understand what a tear in the fabric of the universe meant.

Malfoy quickly grabbed Goyle's hand, stopping him from reaching into the tear, and with a quick swishing motion with his wand, the tear was sewn back together. And just like that the dark magic was reversed, replaced with something entirely normal. Entirely boring, or so Malfoy thought.

With each spell he cast his soul only grew darker and darker, until it was blacker than the night with twice as much might as a black hole. Always, he needed to find a new spell, a new object, to occupy him. Draco supposed that the dark arts were becoming a bit of a hobby of his, one his father very much approved of.

Pansy threw open the door to the compartment, her nose stuck up at Crabbe and Goyle as she took a seat beside Malfoy. Pansy was the possessive type. She was the bad type. Pansy was the type that didn't care how many people her boyfriend fucked, but the moment they said they loved him, she'd be after them with a crowbar. Those others girls didn't know the meaning of the word love. No one did. Not until they loved Draco the way that Pansy did.

"Hey." she greeted Draco, leaning up against his arm.

"Hey." Draco stared down at Pansy with the same cold eyes he used when he stared down at everyone else. "Got any new gossip?" he asked slyly. He only kept her around to keep up with all the little details. If not, he would never know what was going on around this place.

"Well rumour has it we've got a new defence against the dark arts teacher, but of course you already knew that." she rolled her eyes. "We get a new one each year. Patty says it's someone named Slughorn. He was a former Slytherin head apparently."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Should be good then, shouldn't he?"

Pansy sighed. "I don't know about that. The Griffindors are saying he's nice. We all know what that means."

Crabbe and Goyle both groaned.

"Bound to be an awful twat, then, isn't he?" Goyle grumbled.

Malfoy nodded, and rested his chin in his hand in thought. "We'll see about that."

Draco Malfoy looked soberly out the window as the conversation carried on without him. He tried to ignore Pansy's head on his shoulder. He tried to ignore the heart beating quickly in his chest. He tried desperately to ignore all of these things, although despite his efforts, none of them seemed to go away.

His heart did not beat for Pansy.

It beat instead for another boy. A boy with thick rimmed glasses and a lightning bolt scar across his forehead. A boy who was destined to die at the hands of a great evil. A boy who Draco was instructed to kill. Draco's heart beat for him, but if The Dark Lord's power was to be restored to its fullest, then Harry Potter needed to die.

Draco had known he loved Harry from the very moment he laid eyes on him during their first year at Hogwarts. But he knew he could never allow himself to be with him. He'd at least thought that the two could be friends, but when he offered that handshake, Weasley had already taken him. They were fighters, not lovers. They were meant to hate. It was what his father had groomed Draco to do since childhood. He didn't know how to do anything else but hate.

He caught a glimpse at Harry, lingering behind after the doors to their compartments. Draco stayed behind. Now was his chance to strike. Draco stared at Harry across from him with snake like eyes.

He knew he had to do this, it was too late for Draco to go back now. It was too late for him to change his mind. He pulled out his wand. It was now or never. He took a deep breath, trying to will himself not to back out this time, like he had at every other opportunity he got.

"Stupefy!" Draco shouted pointing his wand in Harry's direction just as he was about to leave. Harry's bags dropped to the floor as his arms went limp.

Draco caught him before Harry fell, catching him in his arms. "You're heavier than I expected." Draco observed, lowering Harry down to the ground. "I'm sorry Harry." Draco said gently, the look in his eyes telling Harry that he meant it. Still, Harry cursed his former friend.

Draco heaved another breath, trying to stop himself from getting emotional. He knew that he wouldn't be able to do this god awful deed if his feelings got the best of him. He felt his vision begin to get blurry from the tears he was trying to hold back. Draco turned away from Harry. He still had to bring his friend to The Dark Lord.

Draco sighed, knowing that he wasn't the one to make the final blow on Harry was reassuring, although, in a way, handing Harry over to The Dark Lord was just as bad.

"Come on now." Draco muttered, grabbing Harry's arms and opening up his empty suitcase. Malfoy tried not to think of how much Harry's body would hurt when he got up, and shoved him without remorse into the suitcase. It was too late to change his mind now. Malfoy knew what his father thought of people who quit.

The suitcase was heavier than Malfoy expected it to be, his arms straining under the pressure. Malfoy turned his head in shock as he heard the door to the compartment creak open, momentarily fearing that he had been caught red handed. His heart pumped blood through his ears in a rhythmic thump as he felt himself get more uneasy.

Only to realize a few seconds later that it was only Crabbe and Goyle.

"Take my bags you twats." Malfoy grumbled. Pushing his luggage into both of their hands, and pushing past them off the train. He was already in a sour mood.

Of course, he always had his loyal friends by his side. Not that they really cared much.

Not that they really cared the way that Harry did.

Malfoy sighed as he entered the Great Hall, thinking of all the hours he'd spent in there, watching Harry from the Slytherin table. Pansy always saved him the best spot, making sure he could see the whole room from where he sat. And seeing the whole room meant, of course, seeing Harry Potter.

And Pansy had known.

Right from the start she had known the disease called love that seemed to plagued his mind. Pansy was simply the device put in place by Malfoy's father to try to cure the disease that was his love for other boys. But despite the fact that Malfoy was gay, and that he was trying to cure it, his father did not hate him. Malfoy knew his father still cared about him behind his occasionally cold exterior. But even if he loved his son, he could not accept that fact, and besides, Lucius thought homosexuality to be cureable.

"Look alive," Pansy whispered softly as she walked up to him, taking Malfoy's clammy hand in hers. "The Slytherins are waiting for you." she said, guiding him towards the Slytherin table.

Malfoy tried his best to focus once again on the world before him, but his mind kept going back to Harry's limp body in his suitcase. He nearly winced as Goyler dropped his luggage down on the hard floors. Malfoy thumped Goyle square on his head.

"Don't put them down here!" He spat at Crabbe and Goyle. "That shit is delicate. Drop it off by the dorms." Malfoy shook his head at the closest thing to real friendship he had. Crabbe and Goyle were his only friends. Malfoy almost took pity on himself.

Malfoy walked back over to the Slytherin table and sat down beside Pansy, who immediately began leaning her head against his shoulder. "Don't be angry." she spoke softly, trying to calm him. "They're only trying their best." Pansy insisted. Malfoy rolled his eyes at her. Trying their best or not, they were still a pair of idiots.

Malfoy sighed and leaned back against his chair. Visions of Harry, trapped and hurt inside his suitcase filled his thoughts and stuck to the side of his brain, preventing Malfoy from thinking of anything else. He shook Pansy off his shoulder and moved his chair away from her. He could already tell that it was going  to be a long day.

🔪

Rain poured down hard against the window outside Draco's dorm as he finally unlatched and opened the suitcase. Thunder and lightning flashed just outside his window, making Draco jump up at the sound, and reminding him of the strangely shaped scar on Harry's forehead.

Draco sucked in a breath as he opened the suitcase. Harry's stunned state still remained, his glassy eyes staring up at Malfoy.

"I'm sorry." Malfoy said softly, as he saw the uncomfortable position that Crabbe and Goyle had managed to work him into when they had carried him up to the dorms.

Malfoy felt the need to explain to Harry, who he knew was certainly still listening, but couldn't quite find the words. Regardless, Malfoy carried on with the plan, tying up Harry with the rope he had packed in his other suitcase.

Malfoy saw Harry's head loll back and hit the floor as he struggled to tie up Harry's limp body.

"Sorry!" Malfoy apologized frantically, trying to support his head and tie up his arms at the same time.

Malfoy turned Harry over in his lap so that Harry was lying on his side and he could reach Harry's hands. He tied the knot as tight as he could without cutting off Harry's circulation, but it didn't really matter. Harry was going to be dead by midnight regardless.

Draco sighed. He almost couldn't stomach seeing the dead body of his former friend. It brought back too many good memories. Before Draco knew it, his mind was whisked away into the world of memories.

🔪

"Malfoy?" Harry asked, looking down at where Malfoy sat crying on the floor of the empty hallways.

Malfoy looked up to see Harry standing in front of him. Malfoy pulled his knees up to his chest and tried to hide his tears in shame. Harry looked down in pity at the boy who sat before him, and wondered what it took for someone to have caused Malfoy that much pain.

Harry kneeled down to try to talk politely to his former enemy, knowing that no one deserves to feel any sort of sadness.

"Are you okay Malfoy?" Harry asked, trying his best to sound genuine.

Malfoy looked up at him, glaring. "What the fuck do you care?" He grumbled at Harry, rolling his eyes at the person who was trying to help him. "You couldn't care less about me." Malfoy looked at Harry, suspicious of the new kindness he was showing.

"I just-" Harry stumbled, trying to think of a good reason why he cared. "I was just wondering is all." He tried to reason.

"Just wondering?" Malfoy snapped at him, giving a sarcastic smirk. "Well mind your own fucking business, how about it?"

Harry rolled his eyes at him. "I was only trying to see if you're okay. No need to be so defensive about it."

A mixture of anger and shame boiled up inside Malfoy. "Yeah, well maybe I am a little defensive, Potter. You know, you would be too if you had a Death Eater for a father." Malfoy grumbled at him, feeling even more vulnerable.

Harry gaped at him in shock, although it wasn't information he hadn't already known before. "I-I'm sorry," Harry stammered. "I didn't mean it like that-"

"Oh yeah?" Malfoy rolled his eyes at Harry. "How did you mean it then, huh?" Malfoy questioned.

"I just mean that you shouldn't bottle things up so much, or get so angry when people try to help you is all." Harry wasn't trying to pick a fight with Malfoy, but the path their conversation was going down was just a bit rocky.

"Well, now you know." Malfoy chuckled through the tears. "Now you know that perfect little Malfoy has Daddy issues!" He yelled through the empty halls.

"Everyone has problems." Harry insisted, looking down at the ground for a few moments, trying to figure out how he should phrase himself. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Malfoy only rolled his eyes at Harry.

"What?" Harry asked. "I was only offering. Plus, I kind of know what it's like."

Malfoy tried to convince himself that he didn't love every moment Harry Potter actually acknowledged his existence. He tried to pretend that he wasn't loving the attention and the caring look in Harry's eyes. The truth was that he didn't know how to love Harry. Love was as foreign to him as actually dealing with his emotions was. Draco didn't know how to fall in love. That part of him had been beaten out too long ago for him to remember all the details. Suddenly, Malfoy's mind felt a bit more muddy, caught up in the tiny fragments of his childhood that he could remember, but for the most part, he found that he couldn't string the memories together, and nothing made any sense any more.

"Oh yeah." Malfoy laughed. "I forgot. Poor little Potter has Daddy issues, too." He looked into Harry's deep green eyes, thinking, for a brief moment, that he could read what he thought to be love in his eyes.

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry for asking you if you were okay." Harry began to push himself up off the floor, and dust off his robes.

Quickly, Malfoy reached out to grab his arm. "Wait." He begged, a pleading look in his eyes. "Stay."

Harry sat back down, beside him.

"Why the sudden change of mind?" Harry asked, a mask of confusion spread across his face.

"I realized that it would be good for me," Malfoy confessed. "Not to bottle things up so much anymore.

🔪

Malfoy shook his head, trying to ignore the memories that were suddenly all flooding back to him. He looked down sadly at Harry's limp body, and wondered how he could stand to commit such a crime. He wondered how he could kill someone he had once called 'friend'.

But Malfoy realized that ever since he'd joined the Death Eaters, he had stopped worshipping the god he once prayed to and started worshipping someone else. Someone less noble. Someone more dark. Malfoy was part of the cult of evil, now. And his duty was to serve the Dark Lord.

Malfoy needed to help kill Harry, even if he didn't want to.

The Dark Lord demanded it.