Summary: He was wracked with guilt over the murder he committed four years earlier. She was mourning the loss of her lover. Will their one night together give them the strength to get past the pain that has been plaguing their souls, or will it simply serve as a distraction?
Disclaimer: As always, Buffy belongs to Joss, and Draco belongs to J.K. Rowling. I've used a couple of lines from Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, though I have changed things up a bit.
I know, I shouldn't be starting another story, but this one'll be short. I promise! It's just that I felt so bad for Draco in the bathroom scene of the new movie, that I needed to write a fic about him. Sure, I've changed the circumstances quite a bit, but that's not important! ^_^
Anyways, here we go. Hope you enjoy!
A young man sat at the bar of a shabby London pub with his head bent over the glass of whiskey he held in both hands. From far away, he appeared to be extremely handsome; he was tall and slender with blond hair and pale gray eyes. However, up close, one could see the toll the last four years had taken on his young life. His sharp, pointed face was paler than before, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His eyes were the most disconcerting of all. While they used to hold confidence and pride with a spark of arrogance, they were now dull and lifeless.
He shifted in his seat, downing the amber liquid in one gulp and immediately gestured for the bartender to refill his glass. In stark contrast to the lively and animated patrons around him, he sat quietly by himself, swirling the liquid in his newly-refilled glass and thinking back to the night that changed his life forever.
I haven't got any options!" Draco screamed, wand pointed at Dumbledore as the older man struggled to maintain his footing against the stone wall. He was pale as a ghost, and both his arm and voice were shaking. "I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!"
"No harm has been done," Dumbledore interrupted his hysterical screams in a soothing voice. ""You have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky that your unintentional victims survived... I can help you, Draco."
"No you can't," said Draco, his voice and wand hand shaking even more violently. "Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice." Suddenly, a man appeared at the top of a tower, having quietly made his way up the stairs when Draco and Dumbledore were too preoccupied to notice. The blond panicked and swung his wand toward the newcomer, but breathed a visible sigh of relief when he saw that it was only Severus Snape. His mentor, his ally, and most important of all, the man who had swore to protect him.
"Draco," Dumbledore said quietly, "you are not a killer." He then turned to Snape with a pleading look in his eyes. "Severus."
"I'm sorry, Albus," Snape muttered, raising his wand so that it was level with Dumbledore's heart. But it was too late. He was caught off guard as the sound of footsteps thundered all around them. The battle was over, and the other Death Eaters were rushing to join them.
Draco panicked. They were going to see that he couldn't do it. They were going to tell Voldemort, and he was going to kill both Draco and his entire family. He had been given a task, an extremely important task, and if he didn't follow through he, and his family, would be punished. 'Do it,' a voice in his head ordered. He started to raise his wand, but faltered. 'Do it,' the voice commanded again. 'Do it! DO IT NOW!' He closed his eyes and lifted his wand so that it was at the level of Dumbledore's chest. His entire body was trembling, and before he knew it, two words had forced their way out of his mouth in an almost inaudible whisper.
The empty crystal glass shattered in his hand as he snapped back to reality. He stared down at his now-bloody hand, barely even noticing it. This physical pain was nothing compared to the pain that ripped apart his soul every single day.
“Sorry, Tom,” he muttered as the bartender rushed over to clean up the mess.
“No problem, Mr. Malfoy.” As the man puttered around him, gathering up the broken glass and performing a quick spell on his hand to heal the wounds, Draco let his mind once again wander back to that night and what happened mere seconds after he had fled the Astronomy tower.
Draco was running as fast as he could, faster than he had ever run in his life. His heart was pounding in his chest, and wind was rushing against his face, causing him to squint his eyes against the pressure. He couldn't breathe. He was gasping for air, but for some reason, none of it reached his lungs. Snape and a few other Death Eaters were sprinting toward the front gates at his heels, but he paid them no attention. They were so close to safety, only a few more yards...
“Stupefy!” Draco screeched to a halt, only to see Harry Potter running toward them with his wand out. “You killed him, you bastard!” His voice was horse with emotion. Draco cringed, and closed his eyes, waiting for the boy's next spell to hit him. He deserved it. He had killed Albus Dumbledore. The man that had pleaded with him to abandon his mission and had insisted that he could help him. The one man that could have saved him from Lord Voldemort. He waited, but the blow never came. Confused, he opened his eyes, only to see that Harry was pointing his wand at Snape, not him.
“Run, Draco!” Snape shouted at him, but Draco, once again hesitated. This wasn't Snape's fight, it was his.
“Now, Draco! Go!” Snape's eyes were burning into his, urging for him to run, to flee, to get himself to safety. And Draco ran. He ran so fast, the muscles in his legs were burning. He ran so fast, his lungs seared, and his sides ached. But seconds later, he was beyond the gate. One of the Death Eaters grabbed his arms, and before he could react, he was being Apparated back to the Malfoy Mansion.
Harry had thought that Snape had killed Dumbledore. They had all thought it. Draco hung his head in shame. Everyone had thought that it was Snape, and he had never bothered to correct them. Only three people knew the truth about who had killed the Headmaster. Dumbledore had died at his hands, his eyes wide in shock as he toppled from Hogwarts' highest tower. Snape had died protecting his secret; he had never told a soul. And last was Draco. He knew what had happened. Snape had covered for him because he had promised to protect him, but he knew. He knew, and the guilt and remorse had been eating away at him for the past four years.
Why didn't he go to the police and turn himself in? Draco had been asking himself that question for years. People were happy, he reasoned. They all believed that Snape had killed Dumbledore on Dumbledore's orders in order to protect Draco from committing the gravest of sins. To protect his soul so that it would not have to go through the pain associated with murdering an innocent. They were happy believing that Dumbledore's death was not in vain. It was better that they think that Dumbledore had been killed as a result of an act of love and protection than out of cowardice and fear.
But this wasn't the real reason that Draco had not gone to the police. He was scared. Every night, these memories haunted his dreams, and he awoke screaming and covered in sweat. Every morning he tried to convince himself to turn himself in, to end it once and for all. Maybe then he could live without the guilt gnawing at his insides and the nightmares that plagued his fitful sleep. Every morning, he pleaded with himself to go to the police, and every morning, his fear won out.
He had heard stories from his father about Azkaban. It was a horrible, terrifying place that sucked the life out of every living being that was sent there to rot for eternity. Draco hung his head in shame, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He was a coward. He knew that, but even though he wished more than anything in the world to rid himself of the guilt that had taken a hold of his soul, he couldn't bring himself to do it.
A loud bang resounded through the small pub, causing Draco's head to snap up in alarm. Looking past the dirty counter, bottles of exotic alcohol, and rambunctious patrons that didn't appear to have a care in the world, his eyes focused on the doorway. He blinked rapidly, the bright light catching him off guard. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the blinding sunlight.
And that's when he saw her.
As always, reviews are greatly appreciated!