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CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY

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AS Draco waits for Madam Pomfrey to go to bed, lying wide awake, he eats the rest of the chocolate. The bear lies on his stomach, rising and falling with the rhythm of his breath. The only two reminders that anything remotely eventful happened earlier that day. Otherwise, Draco might have just brushed off his memories as strange, but pleasant dreams. But no, it happened.

He's down to the crumbs of the chocolate by the time Pomfrey disappears, perhaps having eaten them too fast out of nerves. He carefully folds the empty wrapper up—wasting time—before he slips out of bed. Now it's his turn to travel through the halls in his pyjamas, slinking in the shadows, avoiding anyone else that might be out of bed. In the silence of the evening, his heart thumps loudly in his ears—every breath, every nervous swallow, every step sounds too loud. He's almost certain someone is going to catch him, scold him and ask him what he's doing out of bed and out of the Hospital Wing. He's not even sure what he'll tell them. Going for a nighttime stroll?

The Room of Requirement feels both safe and dangerous. Once inside, he no longer sneaks around. His movements turn purposeful, long strides towards the cabinet he has hidden inside the messy room. Still, his breath nor his heartbeat has calmed down, both at speeds that only feed his nerves. Each careful stride is filled trembles, barely suppressed. As his hand hovers over the handle, he can't control the shaking. Taking one deep breath, he rips the bandaid off and pulls the door open.

A bird, tweeting happily about its newfound freedom, flies out above his head. The trembles take over his body and a shaky sob escapes his lips. The breath catches in his throat, turning the next sob painfully choked. He slowly lowers himself to his knees in front of the open cabinet, now empty except for a single feather. Somewhere in the distance, he can hear the bird chirping. It's alive. Alive and well despite it's trip to Borgins and Burkes. It worked.

Another sob leaves his body and he punches the door of the cabinet, desperate for an outlet. The door just creaks, swinging quickly back into his fist, and all he's left with is a sore fist that just seems to make things worse. The bird chirps, tormenting him. It worked.

He was going to have to kill Dumbledore.








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A day. That's all Draco has. One day before the Death Eaters storm Hogwarts and he has to kill Dumbledore. Maybe he could run away—but where would he run to? He doesn't know anything but the wizarding world and that wouldn't be safe for him. Nowhere would be safe for him if he ran away. No, he can't run. If he ran, they'd kill his family instead. They might even kill Enoch, if they figured out how close they were.

The younger Hufflepuff stops by after classes, so unknowing and carefree. Draco realises what he's done the second Enoch walks through the door. He's doomed him. If the Dark Lord was to find out about their newfound relationship, it'd be used against Draco. Even without the Dark Lord, the second Enoch realises just what kind of monster Draco is—that'll probably break his heart. All Draco wants to do is confess, apologise for the actions he's about to commit, but he can't. That'd also doom Enoch. The less he knows, the better.

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