If I Lose Myself
by EMPG22HoPe
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Chapter Twenty: Draco
June 1997
The past few weeks melted into late June when Draco finally fixed the Vanishing Cabinet. And for some added luck or dread, Rosmerta had sent a message through her fake Galleon one early evening that Dumbledore gone to Hogsmeade with Harry Potter—looking very out of himself. It seemed to be a miracle too good for Draco, and yet; a part of him wished it didn't have to look so easy.
It was only a matter of time before his message was sent that same evening to the cabinet's twin; and with only an hour and a half passed did the Death Eaters finally materialized out of the cabinet and into the Room of Requirement. They were looking exhilarated and hungry, and Draco had to hold his disappointment and tongue back when he saw that Fenrir Greyback had joined the lot. Draco hated him.
But there was no turning back now. Today was the day he would have to do what he'd been working for all year. And yet, as he walked with stride and fought through the members of Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix; he felt a pang of impending doom that he tried to push aside. A part of him had hoped he could still stay down and fight, spare himself some time to let the other more sinister Death Eaters do the job for him. But his Aunt Bellatrix had already shoved him up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, and he had no choice but to carry on.
Draco had disarmed Dumbledore once he erupted into the tower's space. There was a short exchange between them, and for a moment—he felt the slightest bit grateful. If he could just buy some time... do a little villain monologue in front of Dumbledore... wait for the other Death Eaters to get there to him. But he was here—hawthorn wand pointed at the greatest wizard known to man today, at his complete mercy. Why couldn't he do it?
If there's even... a semblance of a few short minutes to stop yourself, to resist doing it; give yourself that privilege. You owe it to yourself to do that.
Remembering Astoria's words only made the job much difficult now because he had pondered her words for the past weeks since they last spoke. He had already given himself that privilege and now that privilege meant little when he was already facing the one thing he should be doing.
You are not a bad person, Draco.
"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer." Dumbledore spoke.
"How do you know?" Draco snapped coldly, as if to question both Dumbledore and the echoing words of Astoria inside his head. "You don't know what I'm capable of, you don't know what I've done!"
At this point, he didn't know what or who he was. It was as if he knew at one point, but then tumbled onto another kind of person in fear. He was losing his person in him and he was feeling completely helpless.
"Oh, yes, I do," Dumbledore said plainly as Draco flinched. "You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they have been feeble attempts... so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has been really in it..."
"It has been in it!" Draco said a little more forcefully this time. He wished that he could sound convincing, but Dumbledore's words and assumptions were truth—truths that he didn't want to submit to. And yet, he knew deep down they were, in fact, feeble attempts. He banked on the stupidity of luck to get him through it; but fate certainly had a funny way of playing tricks with him.
They stood there at the top of the Tower alone, exchanging stories as though they meant to talk about the weather. Where the bloody hell are they? He thought vehemently. Just do it for me. Just do it.
Draco remembered Astoria in the middle of their conversation, and how they've started to talk again for the briefest of moments when possible. He could remember himself feeling embarrassed the first time he saw her again after she had caught his breakdown in the bathroom. She did little to recount the event, pretending as though it never happened. But whenever she saw his features harden, as if in deep contemplation—mostly his thoughts running wild and his anxiety increasing over the mission—she kept circling back to that one advice.
I'm holding onto that hope that you don't have to do it... not because you think yourself a coward or that you're weak... but because you're human.
He was feeling less of a human every day since, but what kept him tethered to reality was the sight of Astoria—her comforting words, her gentle company. It had been all the little moments he could savor, and yet he knew that it was only temporary. After tonight, he was certain—despite what she says—that she would not look at him the same way again.
Astoria was the light, and Draco was the dark. Nothing good could come out of it.
He realized that the only way for either of them to stay sane after this was for them to be apart.
"There is little time, one way or another," Dumbledore pronounced weakly, but with conviction. "So let us discuss your options, Draco."
"My options!" Draco laughed derisively, causing him to snap back into his current reality. "I'm standing here with a wand and I am about to kill you—"
"My dear boy, let us have no more pretence about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me. You would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means."
"I haven't got any options!" Draco hissed, looking and sounding desperate now. Were there options? "I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!"
Dreams of his parents being killed by the Dark Lord suddenly came over him. He couldn't let that happen and yet—he was doing absolutely nothing to prevent it—except let someone else do it for him. Draco didn't care about the glory anymore. He just wanted his family alive.
When Dumbledore suggested on wanting to help him, Draco's entire body shook. It was the same line he heard from Blaise, from Pansy, from Astoria... and yet—he knew deep down that nobody could help him.
"No, you can't," Draco answered, his arm that had been holding his wand aloft shaking considerably. Dumbledore was a powerful wizard... more powerful than the Dark Lord... surely he could—but no—"Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice."
"Come over to the right side, Draco. We can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban... when the time comes we can protect him too..." Dumbledore looked inquisitive, pleasant, even, as he pondered options aloud. "Come over to the right side, Draco... You are not a killer."
"Have you tried to ask Professor McGonagall... or even Professor Dumbledore for help?" Astoria asked carefully as she shoved a forkful of the chocolate cake she baked in her mouth. Her feet swung lightly over the edge of one of the island counters in the kitchens.
Draco scoffed beside her as he played with his own slice of cake, a cake Astoria had baked for him for his seventeenth birthday. It surprised him how much he's forgotten his own birthday. He relished on the day, thinking himself royalty above all back then every 5th of June. To forget his own birthday seemed too much for someone like him. He was grateful Astoria remembered, reminding him how he was just a boy.
If only it were that simple. That he were just a boy, and not a Death Eater, and Astoria was just a girl, and not a blood traitor... would things have been more simple between them?
"What help could they give me?" He asked, avoiding her gaze as he began to take generous bites of the cake. It was bloody delicious. "They loathe me. I reckon they'd rather be spending more time saving everyone in this ruddy castle instead of helping an enemy."
Astoria looked at him, considered him as their eyes met. She sighed softly before she placed her plate beside her."You don't know that, Draco. Perhaps they can help. They're good people and I doubt they would care if they were helping the Dark Lord himself change his mind."
"Astoria—"
"I'm just saying," Astoria pressed firmly, staring at him as worry etched her features. "It's not a bad idea. Dumbledore is more powerful than the Dark Lord. Surely, he can help. If he can make time to see me, a less than important student, in his office—I'm sure he can help someone who's literally in more danger than anyone in this school at the moment."
Draco sneered this time. She just didn't get it.
Astoria reached out for his hand that held his fork aloft. He set the fork down and carefully filled the spaces between Astoria's fingers. She smiled at him sadly before resting her head on his shoulder. He inhaled the scent of her vanilla shampoo—quite candidly one of his favorite scents since he and Astoria had started talking again.
"Please be careful..." She murmured so low, Draco almost didn't hear her.
A tired sigh escaped his lips as they watched the elves work before them, the warm crackle of the kitchen fire emanating the same amount of warmth Astoria provided. He wished he could still like this forever. But...
"I can't promise you that."
"But I got this far, didn't I?" Draco said slowly after dragging himself out of the short reminisce. "They thought I'd die in the attempt, but I'm here... and you're in my power... you're at my mercy..."
"No, Draco," Dumbledore said quietly. "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now."
Draco paled and he felt his wand hand drop a fraction, considering Dumbledore's words. But before he could find the right words to say—footsteps echoed from the stairs leading up to the Tower. Relief coursed through him for a brief moment as four Death Eaters entered the Tower's space. He grimaced when he saw that Fenrir Greyback had joined them.
The Death Eaters urged him to kill Dumbledore, but Draco felt like melting into the shadows of the bigger, more terrifying lot of them now. But his wand was still aloft, though it shook more terribly now as he heard their goading voices to complete the mission. Their voices were background noise now, his aim at Dumbledore feebler than his attempts to kill him earlier in the school year.
But then there was a bang as the ramparts opened to reveal Severus Snape with his wand in hand.
Draco heard the Death Eaters converse with Snape, but the quick rate that his heart raced pumped louder and more dangerously than ever. He could feel harsh beats through his ears, deafening him from the conversation. His eyes swept towards Snape, who had shoved him aside and stood where Draco had last stood when it had only been him and Dumbledore earlier.
Before Draco could even realize what had happened, he saw a flash of green light, a muffled spell cast, and Dumbledore plummeting into the air. Draco's eyes widened, his mouth agape with complete and utter shock as the greatest wizard known to man fell to his death.
And he knew, then, that all hope was completely lost.
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Draco no longer knew what he was doing. One minute, he stood erect on the spot after watching Dumbledore get thrown off the tower and the next, his feet carried him down the ramparts, or rather, Snape dragging him away from the scene then back into the fray of the battle with the Phoenix and DA members. He could only hear curses and hexes flying through the space, but it seemed that as he walked past the battle—not a single hex or curse flew his way as though a protective bubble had surrounded him and Snape.
At that point, Draco could hear nothing but the pounding in his ear and the way his heart raced still with the traumatizing sight of seeing someone get killed as he raced the corridors beside Snape. He could hear snippets of Snape's words as they rushed past one hall after another...
You will be implicated if we stay long... We have to get out of the castle's protective borders... The Ministry will be at our throats... Potter's catching up... He saw us... Azkaban...
But Draco didn't care about Azkaban, or trying to leave the castle. If anything, he felt remorse course through him despite not having done the crime. But Snape had been right. He would be implicated. And his mother, Merlin, had he forgotten? The heartbreak his mother would most likely go through a second time if she saw her son get chucked into Azkaban the same way her husband had been.
Draco owed it to her not to get caught.
"Draco!" came the shrill cry of Astoria's voice. Draco's hurried vision of passing hallways stopped dead on the sight of Astoria, clad in her jumper and jeans, hurrying up the steps that lead away from the dungeon.
As if he'd just been put under the Imperius curse, he stopped rushing towards the Entrance Hall. Snape tugged at him harshly, eyeing him dangerously for being stupid enough to stop moving.
"Just one second—" Draco told him derisively, shoving off Snape's hold.
"Make it quick!" Snape howled at him raptly as Draco rushed towards Astoria who was looking very pale.
"Draco, what's going on—" Astoria started but Draco overlapped her words.
"Listen to me," Draco started hastily as their eyes met. She was looking every bit of scared that she should have been weeks ago, but there was no time to ponder over it. "After the school year, you have to get out of here, get out of Hogwarts, out of Britain. He's dead, okay? He's dead. No one's going to save everyone now, everything's gone to hell—"
"Draco—" Astoria tried to cut in but Draco held her by the arms firmly.
"Promise me you'll get out of here in the morning! Promise me you'll stay safe!" Draco screeched at her desperately this time, feeling time tick so quickly. He started to hear footsteps echoing towards them. "Promise me, Astoria!"
Astoria was stricken with shock, and she opened her mouth again as though to say her piece—but settled for a terrified, shaking nod. Draco stared at her weakly, not knowing what else he could say, how else he could explain it. He nodded stiffly before whirling to rush towards Snape. They then continued their journey out of the castle's foyer and out into the cold, dusk air.
Draco did not know when he would ever see Astoria again. Hell, he didn't know if he'll ever see any of them again: Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, Pansy...
But he knew that the next time he would come back to Hogwarts, things would never be the same again.
END OF
PART ONE: BEFORE THE WAR
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AN: And that officially concludes PART ONE of If I Lose Myself. Thank you so much for what little support I have had over this fanfic. I never really thought I'd ever get this far into writing a fanfic as this is the longest one I've ever written. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please let me know your thoughts in the comments section below!
PART TWO: THE WAR of If I Lose Myself will come around April 2018 as I will be taking a month hiatus to further work on the second part of this fanfic.
Thank you so much for reading, and see you all soon!
EMPG22HoPe