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All of sixth year, Malfoy had been terribly suspicious. Harry suspected Voldemort finally had his hands on the boy— meaning the Malfoy heir was now a Death Eater, just like his father, Lucius. But the patriarch was far from the dark lord’s grasp now, for he had wound up in Azkaban upon the night the wizarding world finally realized You-Know-Who was back. Although Harry was glad people finally acknowledged the presence of Voldemort after a year of horrific mistreatment the year prior— Sirius was gone— the closest thing he had to a father was gone. And now he was back, and now, Malfoy was up to something.
On the daily, Malfoy disappeared into the Room of Requirement, which Harry knew far too well the location of from his days of instructing ‘Dumbledore’s Army.” What could Malfoy constantly require? Harry had been debating consulting Dumbledore on the matter for months, warning him that the Slytherin peer was definitely a Death Eater— ignoring the fact that he had absolutely no proof other than his gut. Part of him believed Dumbledore would believe him wholeheartedly. Unfortunately, he could hear Hermione’s scolding now. Neither of his best friends believed his claims of Malfoy’s new role alongside Voldemort— so how could the Headmaster believe him?
Besides that, the golden trio currently sat at their houses’ table in the Great Hall. Hermione was trying to get Ron to recall his time in the Hospital Wing, to no avail. Harry was absent-mindedly engaged in the conversation for he scanned through his Advanced Potion Making , formerly the property of the so-called “Half-Blood Prince.” At the time being, one note caught his eye: “ Sectumsempra — for enemies.” He had not done much digging in discovering the book’s origins, for his marks in potions were better than ever; especially now that Slughorn was his potion’s professor rather than Snape. For once, he felt as if he was actually learning something in potions; not to mention he was having fun. Harry thought Hermione would be proud of him, but for once, she was obviously jealous.
“Harry, that’s Katie.” Harry was broken from his thoughts looking up to see Hermione was looking at him expectedly. Seeing Harry was lost, she elaborated. “Katie Bell .”
How could Harry forget? Weeks ago, she had been cursed upon coming in contact with a cursed opal necklace; which apparently was intended for the Headmaster. Harry suspected Malfoy was behind the scheme, and told Professor McGonagall as such. Alas, she did not believe him.
The girl was lucky only to come in slight contact with the item for instead of instant death, it brought horrific pain— he could not forget the petrifying look on her face as she levitated into the air.
Harry jumped from his seat to catch up with Katie who was walking with her friends; which included Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, and others Harry could not name. Before fully departing, he made sure to grab his book.
“Katie!” Katie spun around to face Harry. A smile instantly plastered her now pale face.
“Give me a moment, girls.” The group nodded as they continued on their way. “Hello, Harry!”
“How are you?” Harry treaded lightly. Katie's smile dropped slightly into a guilty sort of look.
“I know you’re going to ask, Harry. But I don’t know who cursed me.” Harry felt awful for bringing the matter up to Katie, right when she got back too. “I’ve tried to remember, honestly. But I just— can’t.” Katie went quiet from her lack of recollection. But before the two could say their goodbyes from the conversation going nowhere, Katie’s face froze, then she began to shake.
“Katie?” The Gryffindor chaser did not respond, so instead Harry turned to follow her gaze and see, Malfoy . The look on the Slytherin’s face was pathetic as he stood there frozen— in fact, he sported a look that was strikingly similar to Katie’s. His pale face was somehow paler and ashen. Suddenly, he turned and sped out of the Great Hall.
“Take care, Katie, really.” Katie gave a slight nod as she retreated to her friends, the poor girl still shook as she did.
-
Harry chased Malfoy through the corridors of Hogwarts. Great Merlin is he fast . The two seemed almost invisible to the surrounding students. It was probably a good thing they minded their business as Harry rushed through the hallway, for he had to confront Malfoy without intrusions— nothing was getting in his way now. But as he made his way through the halls, he was suddenly blocked by an incoming of first years who shuffled along— causing him to lose sight of Malfoy. Damn . Harry would have lost him altogether if he did hear a distant wail, from Moaning Myrtle’s lavatory. Now, why on earth was he hiding there ? Before entering the girl’s room, Harry whipped out the Marauder’s Map (which he should have whipped out in the first place) that practically lived in his robes now.
Malfoy was indeed in the bathroom, but he was not alone. Funny enough for once, he was not accompanied by his henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle, but by Moaning Myrtle; the ghost that haunted the second-floor girl’s lavatory. Harry silently opened the room door, praying the door’s hinges would not creak. Inside, Harry could hear Myrtle softly cooing,
“Draco, Don’t… tell me what’s wrong… I can help you.” Malfoy was hunched over the sink, shaking horribly, hiccups softly echoing throughout the room.
“No one can help me— Myrtle, I can’t— It won’t work—” Malfoy came out shakily as he tried to speak. “ — and unless I do it soon— he says he’ll kill me— oh god, Myrtle, he’s going to kill m-me—”
“Hush now…” The scene deeply puzzled Harry. The great Draco Malfoy, prince of Slytherin, was crying; pathetically at that. Better yet, he was allowing himself to be comforted by Moaning Myrtle, who was muggle-born. And Harry did not miss the fact that the ghost was on a first-name basis with Malfoy. “There must be something… we can do…?” Malfoy only continued to sob helplessly.
In all the years Harry knew Malfoy, it was not this. The boy was a spoiled twat, definitely. But he was composed and never ONCE did Harry see him shed an ounce of sadness, or this plentitude of despair. The Malfoy heir never showed genuine vulnerability.
Harry must have been in view of the mirror Malfoy was in front of— the mirror appeared to have a clean strike in the center, crimson stained it as well— for Myrtle called out to him.
“Harry…? What are you doing in here…?” This made Malfoy abruptly gasp and whip around, hand going for his wand—
“WAIT. Malfoy, please.” Malfoy looked awful. His face was white as Hedwig, but his eyes were horrifically red, tears still streamed down his face. This was not the boy who despised muggle-borns, hexed Hermione’s teeth fourth year, or supposedly was a death eater— this was a boy who was very terrified of what was to happen to him if he did not fulfill the Dark Lord’s wishes. Was Voldemort punishing Malfoy for his father’s slip-up? So much so that he was ready to be rid of him if he followed the same path? Time slowed as the two rivals stared each other down, Malfoy’s hand hovered over his wand but did not move closer. “Malfoy—?”
“What, Potter ? Come to laugh? Come to curse me while my back is turned?”
“What? No. Truth be told I’m here to figure out what you’ve been up to this year.”
“Harry… please…” Myrtle tried to intervene but was silenced but Malfoy.
“L-leave me alone, Potter.”
“No, what’s been up with you? Where have you been disappearing to?” Malfoy’s eyes widened slightly.
“You’ve been following me?” Harry could not simply reveal he had been following him on the Maurader’s Map for months. In fact, even Ron had been quite judgemental, calling him obsessed over Malfoy.
“This isn’t about me, Malfoy. What have you been up to?” Myrtle floated behind Malfoy, a look of utter fear painted her face which Harry realized, was towards him . Was the miserable ghost fearful of what his next move was? Afraid of him hurting the crying boy? He was getting nowhere with this approach. Why would Malfoy willingly share anything with him without force? Harry opted for a different approach; he kept his hand away from the inside of his robe, away from his wand. “Malfoy, what’s wrong?”
“What are you getting at, Potter?” Malfoy’s hand flinched away from his wand; he appeared small now despite being taller than the brunette. He had always been thin, but now he was concerningly so.“W-want something to l-laugh about with Weasley? With Granger?” Harry sighed.
“Malfoy. Let me help you. Whatever Voldemort is trying to make you do, you don’t have to do it anymore.” The boy flinched at the mere mention of “You-Know-Who’s” name. The bathroom went quiet as the boys stared at each other; waiting for the other to say something— or make a move. Harry gulped, he hoped Malfoy knew he was sincere. At the same time, he pushed all the ideas of him being a Death Eater out of his mind. After all, he was just a boy. “We can figure this out, together.”
“H-Harry. Please , help me.” Beneath Malfoy, his knees gave out as he continued to shake. He began to hold himself desperately as if he would disappear if he didn’t. “I’m sorry for everything, please Harry, help me—” Next thing he knew, Harry too was embracing him. It was awkward at first, hugging his enemy of six years, but something about it felt right. He had lost weight the past few months, his tailored uniform did not fit him perfectly as it had in the past. More devastating sobs erupted from Malfoy’s lips. Harry feared he would begin hyperventilating if he did not calm down soon.
“I will, I will.” Should Harry consult Dumbledore? The boy would be the safest under the protection of the headmaster; or better yet the greatest wizard of all time. “Mal—”
“ Please— ” Malfoy continued to plead as he now held on to Harry for dear life. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“You don’t have to. You’re safe now, I promise.” It was not an empty promise. A sudden wave of protectiveness washed over him. Since discovering the Wizarding World, Harry had people looking out for him. Now it appeared, Draco Malfoy needed just that. Harry had not forgotten every horrible thing the Slytherin had done to him, his friends, and others. But no one deserved the fate that awaited Malfoy if he did not follow Voldemort’s wishes. Hermione and Ron would have to understand. “I promise . I got you.”
“I got you, Draco."