Whatever You Do...

Whatever You Do...

He was sent to kill them. He wasn't supposed to end up running for his own life.

[prologue]

The sky was pitch black, the usual luminescence of the moon vanquished by the shadow of the earth. It was called the night of the new moon though there were those who would have more accurately termed it La Nuit d'Aucune Lune. The night of no moon.

He slipped silently through the darkness, hugging the stone walls of the castle as he rounded corners and passed through corridors with agility. The cloak he wrapped around him--one that only ensured his chances of not being seen--swished with the briefest whispers not unlike that of the cool night breeze drafting in through open windows. He fled up a stairway.

Grass rustled beneath the zephyr's caress, leading a trail of shadowed green into the depths of an even darker forest. The trees swayed their branches in a time old dance to the song of nature, their leaves providing a haven for the creatures that prowled at its base.

A heavy, weathered door of oak sat between him and his ultimate goal. Intricate locking and protection spells were woven both directly into the wood and surrounding it. There were ways around that, of course. Without a flicker of emotion, he drew out his wand and muttered a complicated incantation under his breath. Naturally, no Alohomora would do on a door meant to keep out students of magic. The simple unlocking spell was one they learned early third year.

The night was uncommonly quiet, its usual chirps and whispers and rustles silenced as if even they knew the significance of the night. As if they were all watching--waiting--for the inevitable to occur. Preparing for something that would transpire in the quiet innocence of sleep but shake a world to its roots, crumbling the foundations of faith and bringing the most revered wizards to their knees.

Wand clutched firmly in hand, he slithered into the room. The sound of steady breathing and a hint of snores assailed his ears and he under its cover, he walked resolvedly towards the bed he knew to be...his.

Faint traces of night blooms sailed on the breeze through the open window and curled its tendrils around him as he extended his free hand to draw the bedcurtains back. He hesitated, then flicked his wand upward in a quick movement, lips uttering the silence spell. Then he swept the scarlet drapes back.

A sea of black awaited his gaze.

Lumos.

His eyes sought the face of the one lying peacefully in the bed. Evidently, with a luck that befit him, the boy had managed to wrest a night of repose from the constant nightmares that beleaguered him in slumber. The gentle curve of his lips indicated a pleasant dream from which he would loathe to wake.

That wouldn't be a problem, he thought with the slightest touch of malice. Not a problem at all.

He studied the boy's relaxed posture, from the covers tangled at his waist, exposing his bare upper body to the warm night, to the arm sprawled across the sheets. Unruly dark hair lay in stark contrast against the whiteness of the pillow, and from there, his eyes travelled down to the long lashes casting shadows on pale cheeks. All of the boy's skin, he noticed, was pale...a translucence that had been born of worry and fear and stress, slowly eating away the healthy glow of life that once existed.

Draco Malfoy's silver eyes lingered over the boy's face for a long time. Finally, a sharp chirp of a cricket cut through the thick silence that hung over the dark night like a suffocating blanket. Features tightening, he lifted his right hand, wand poised. As he opened his mouth to hiss the last two words the boy would never hear, the killing curse that had murdered thousands before him, including his own mother and father, and would leave his two best friends dead in not two minutes, a thought flitted across Draco's mind. No, a memory.

"Whatever you do...don't kill Harry Potter first."

A threat.

A warning.

A reminder.

All too late.

"Avada Kedavra."

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