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Draco stepped out of the shower. Taking the towel from the hook, he swung it around his waist and walked to the bedroom. The clothes lay neatly folded on the bedsheets. Draco stood in front of the mirror and looked at himself. He stopped thinking about it; it didn't have any effects on his life, not anymore. 

At the teachers' staff party, they introduced a new teacher. Draco didn't know how to feel about it. Harry Potter will be the flight instructor, and for the first time in a while, he thought about him and their shared experiences again, and the moment in the bathroom.

Draco was trusted with the task to lead the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, to poison Dumbledore and curse the necklace. He needed to succeed; his father put all his hopes into him. He was important now, important to his father and especially to Voldemort, who Lucius saw as some higher being that was more important than family. So Draco did his best not to disappoint him. 

Draco hadn't slept well in weeks; it was getting harder to get out of bed in the morning, to breathe and do usual school stuff. His thoughts orbited the plans and how to make his father proud. Out of all of the people who were there, Voldemort chose him. He had a particular role, for the first time in his life, he was special. 

He had recurring dreams, people telling him how to behave and people, like Harry, appearing and telling him, not to go through with it, that he had a choice. That he would help him. But he didn't offer any help. And why should he? 

After these dreams Draco woke up confused, some part of him knew that his actions were wrong and that he should act differently, but he didn't allow that part to surface. 

He entered the Great Hall, between the tables, surrounded by people, was Harry, facing Draco. Just like in his dreams, but he didn't offer any help, he looked accusing. Did Harry find out? How could he? He approached Draco purposefully. 

Draco ran, suddenly it was all too much. This couldn't be happening. Draco begged that Harry wouldn't follow him, that he hadn't found out anything. How would he explain that? How would Draco deal with Harry? He just wanted to leave; to disappear. 

When he reached the bathroom, he grabbed the sink for his life and broke down. He felt trapped and couldn't breathe; he took off his shirt; it didn't help. It was all too overpowering. He wanted to scream; his insides wanted to break out; he felt tears running down his cheeks and wasn't able to do anything about it. Why was he so weak? He shouldn't be crying. 

He heard Harry walking inside and spun around. They looked at each other; there was hope swelling inside Draco if only for a split second. But Harry wasn't there to help him.

There were cursing each other, hiding behind stalls. What would happen if Harry hit Draco with a spell terrible enough that everything would be over or make him forget? It wouldn't be the worst that could happen to him. But Harry wouldn't do that, would he? Not the golden boy.

Draco wasn't paying attention for a short moment, and that's when Harry hit him, with a spell Draco hadn't heard before. 

He didn't feel anything at first; he crushed to the ground. Suddenly everything hurt; it was as if his chest was breaking apart and burning at the same time. It was so cold. Harry stood next to him, looking down at Draco. He wasn't sure what it was that he saw on Harry's face. Was Harry happy that he had succeeded, was he shocked? He didn't help Draco. He just stood there. Maybe he didn't know what that spell would do. 

These were all thoughts that Draco had later. At that moment, he just felt like drifting away. He had seen Harry afterwards, Harry had testified at Draco's trial, he had saved him from the fire. 

Now he was back at Hogwarts. Draco turned around from the mirror, put on his clothes and approached the Great Hall.