Omnia Poterat Ad Extremus Adiit

Draco

You're a fool, man. A goddamned brainless fool. What did it matter that she had

Been cold, lost and alone, eyes wide and blank with horror, the meagre shards of her wand clutched protectively in one fist.

And even so, why had he let her in? Why had he even, at 3am,

Put his head round the door with bed-messed hair framing a drawn, exhausted face like a halo. Stared at her for a moment, her hair auburn hair a cloud around features that looked even worse than he felt.

But he had hated her! She was the Mudblood, the rabbit-toothed smartarse who

Had slapped him, her face twisted with fury as he stumbled back, only thirteen, a red handprint already rising on his pale cheek.

It had been her choice. She hadn't had to

Come in, he had wanted to say, and at the same time, go away. He had felt like screaming at her,

We're on different sides. Two different masters playing their every move. But instead, like the bloody idiot he was, he had

Turned away, retreated into the hallway but leaving the door open. Had heard her come inside, take a couple of shaky steps into the safehouse then

She had collapsed! Just like that, as if

Her legs had gone out from under her, eyes closed and unmoving.

And so what was he meant to do then.? Okay, maybe he had

Debated leaving her there, knowing it was his duty, his safety to report it to those he knew would deal with her,

But she had come to him! Of all people, she had come to him. He didn't know how. It was a

"No questions asked. Then neither of us will have to give uncomfortable answers."

He had told her, and she had agreed,

Sitting on the bed with a couple of blankets round her charmed for warmth. He had

Only meant to let her stay for a few days, but that had stretched into weeks, than months. And they had had an agreement, ephemeral as it had been, and

He taught her the ways of the new world they inhabited, how to survive in a world ruled by her enemy. And she had taught him how to live. Had taught him

A sense of self, and now she was gone, like a bird flying through briefly resting upon his doorstep. He didn't know what had happened to her, wasn't sure he wanted to know. What he did know was that if he didn't do something he would go mad, mad as if the Dementors, the Keepers of souls or whatever the twisted fashions were calling them now. Hah. Beaters, Chasers, Keepers and Seekers. Bludgers, Quaffles and the Snitch. But now it was all wrong, everything was falling apart...

Sunk deep in his armchair, Draco shook his head. They were all pawns, he thought, pouring himself a fourth glass of the amber liquid that was his own poison, his own way of coping.

All pawns, him and Harry and her, everyone, in a stupid bloody vendetta of a stupid bloody chess game where no-one ever won, where there was always another to take over as each king fell.

He was drunk. He knew it; Merlin, he even smelt it. And no-one could be blamed for the actions of a drunken man..

Picking up his wand, Draco moved unsteadily to the door, the icy breeze bringing a sense of sobriety. All this must come to an end. Had to. He was just going to do his bit.

Who knew? He might even get lucky and only be killed in the process.