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Draco Malfoy found himself once again in the sixth-floor boys’ bathroom. Tucked away at the end of the corridor, the drab lavatory was Draco’s refuge when the Room of Requirements became too stuffy and the Slytherin dorms too crowded. Here, he was safe from the suspicious looks of the other Hogwarts students and staff, the furtive glances from his housemates – of either awe or pity, and the ever-growing desperation he faced every time his efforts remained fruitless and the Vanishing Cabinet remained broken.
Draco splashed cold water on his face and finally glanced up at the mirror. Behind years of accumulated filth, dull eyes shadowed by purple crescents gazed back at him. Malfoy let out a ragged breath. His collar felt too tight, strangling, as the mark on his forearm continued to itch beneath his sleeve. Knuckles a stark white against the grimy porcelain, Draco succumbed to the thoughts swirling in his mind.
The slap resonated across the vast entrance hall of Malfoy Manor.
“You stupid boy! How dare you disappoint your father and spoil the Malfoy name! How DARE YOU GET BESTED BY A FILTHY MUDBLOOD!”
Twelve-year-old Draco cowered under his father’s looming presence, struggling to contain tears as his cheek throbbed.
“Lucius! Stop it! He’s just a boy!” wailed his mother, hysterically clinging to her husband as he pulled back his arm to strike the boy again.
“Get off of me Narcissa; the boy will never learn if we don’t properly punish his erroneous behaviour,” seethed Lucius Malfoy as he shrugged off his wife’s pleading grip.
“Oh no, poor Malfoy,” sneered Theodore Nott as he shoved one of Draco’s books off the library table, “who’s going to swoop in and save you now that daddy dearest is in Azkaban?”
“Piss off Nott,” the young Malfoy retorted flatly, “we all know your father’s a Death Eater because it’s the only company he can get.”
“Yeah well at least the Dark Lord considers my father worthy… unlike yours.”
A shiver of disgust ran down Draco’s back, but, after making eye contact with his mother’s pleading gaze, he stood his ground and held his head high.
“You’ve chosen the right path my boy,” hissed the Dark Lord as he pressed his wand to Draco’s forearm.
It’s the last thing Draco hears. After that, it’s nothing but excruciating pain; blood rushing to his ears as Voldemort’s brand gets burned into his skin.
Draco took another shuddering breath remembering his mother’s muffled sobs long after the Dark Lord had given him his task and left the Manor. His last words never stopped echoing in Draco’s brain:
“It’s either you or your family my dear boy and you know how I don’t like to be disappointed. We wouldn’t want to find your dear parents dead now would we?”
Draco let out a strangled sob, salty drops rolling down his cheeks against his will. “Malfoys don’t show weakness Draco, and they especially don’t cry,” his father’s voice echoed in his head. Draco’s anxieties grew as he thought of all his failures. He had been unable to get the cursed package to Dumbledore, accidentally harming that Gryffindor Katie Bell instead, the spiked mead – again destined for Dumbledore, had nearly killed stupid Weasley, and even after months of work, the Vanishing Cabinet seemed to be as beyond repairs as when he had originally gotten it. Lost in his thoughts and blinded by his tears, he hadn’t heard Moaning Myrtle appear from one of the bathroom stalls.
“Don't,” crooned Moaning Myrtle's voice from one of the cubicles. “Don't... tell me what's wrong ... I can help you...”
“No one can help me,” said Draco. His whole body was shaking. “I can't do it... I can't... It won't work... and unless I do it soon... he says he'll kill me... he’ll kill my family…”
Draco gasped and gulped. Then, with a great shudder, he looked up into the cracked mirror and saw a fragmented reflection of Harry Potter standing in the bathroom’s doorway. Through the mirror, vibrant green eyes met stormy gray. A pang of anger and rejection shot through Draco before he wheeled around, drawing his wand. Instinctively, Potter pulled out his own. Draco's hex missed Potter by inches, shattering the lamp on the wall beside him; Potter threw himself sideways, throwing a spell over his shoulder, but Draco blocked the jinx and raised his wand for another –
“No! No! Stop it!” squealed Moaning Myrtle, her voice echoing loudly around the tiled room. “Stop! STOP!”
Draco threw another spell but missed as the bin behind Potter exploded, a loud bang echoing through the bathroom. Potter attempted a Leg-Locker Curse that backfired off the wall behind Draco's ear and smashed the cistern beneath Moaning Myrtle, who screamed loudly; water poured everywhere and Potter slipped as Draco, his face contorted, cried, “Cruci–”
“SECTUMSEMPRA!” bellowed Harry from the floor, waving his wand wildly.
Blood spurted from Draco's face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. He staggered backward and collapsed onto the waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling from his limp right hand.
“No –”
Draco barely heard Harry gasp as pain erupted over his entire body; his face now a shining scarlet, and his white hands weakly scrabbling at his blood-soaked chest.
“I’m finally free,” Draco thought, relieved that he would no longer have to submit to the Dark Lord’s wishes. He pictured his mother’s grief-stricken face as his vision tunneled, and whispered a thank you to Harry Potter for finally liberating him. Draco slipped into unconsciousness, his body now convulsing uncontrollably in a pool of his own blood. He was completely unaware of Potter’s incohesive muttering and of Moaning Myrtle’s deafening scream:
“MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!”
The door banged open as Snape burst into the room, his face livid. Pushing Potter roughly aside, he knelt over Draco, drew his wand, and traced it over the deep wounds Potter's curse had made, muttering an incantation that sounded almost like a song. The flow of blood seemed to ease; Snape wiped the residue from Draco's face and repeated his spell. Now the wounds seemed to be knitting.
Draco’s eyes fluttered briefly before he fell back into oblivion.