Claustrophobia
Though Potter left for the winter holidays, Draco still felt like someone was watching him. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pick out a magical signature.
Even when break ended, and classes returned to normal, he still felt the oppressive feeling of eyes upon his back. It throws his mind to The Manor, the two months he spent with eyes tracking his every movement, ready to pounce upon any weakness.
Every time he felt the creeping sensation of being watched, he felt the accompanying pain of a crucio. Not even the years of manners beaten into him by his mother and father could prevent him from borderline running from all of his classes. Even in the relative safety of the dorms, the knowledge he was being watched kept him from truly relaxing, laying awake at night and sleeping with his wand in hand.
He thought he'd fallen out of that habit when he came back to Hogwarts and shared a room with Blaise again, but not even his fiancé's strong presence could stop the caged-bird feeling that was rapidly begging to take over his chest. He thought his decision would get easier the longer he thought about it, but no.
Eventually, when the walls began to feel like they were caving in, Draco made his way back to the room of requirement.
He stumbled into the doorway, leaning back against the door to catch his breath, chest heaving. Drawing a steadying breath and opening his eyes, he nearly thought he had walked into a classroom. Instead of the towering piles of forgotten things, he was in a large rectangular room, lined on all sides by glass cases.
His claustrophobia momentarily forgotten in place of curiosity, he walked to the nearest case.
Inside were several kinds of cleanly arranged knives. Walking to the next case, he saw swords. The next held small metal canisters, and the ones after that were blunt objects, more suited to home projects than murder. Turning and walking to the opposite wall, he saw every weapon on this side looked about the same shape, going from long and unwieldy looking, to sleek black metal that could fit in one hand. This side had several bookshelves, also, and when he pulled one down, the title read 'Basic Gun Safety For The Average Beginner.'
Well, that did sound useful. He tucked it under his arm, and standing in the middle of the room, he considered his options. These were obviously the muggle weapons he had desired, but he was willing to put money on the fact he couldn't use half of them for his task.
Even if he had resolved to betray The Dark Lord, and not actively plan to kill Dumbledore, he would still need something to protect himself, and he'd prefer his deceptions go unnoticed until the absolute last minute. So, finding a muggle weapon still ranked fairly highly on his to-do list.
He considered the knives, but they were almost immediately rejected. Knives were still too magical, and had heavy association with pureblood families, and the Malfoys in specific.
His family made their money in potions, and potion masters were also the only wizards who were still known to use knives. When crafting a delicate tincture, or a hearty drought, you couldn't afford to mix foreign magic in accidentally, which meant no cutting curses, only plain, single metal knives. If his goal was to find a weapon untraceable to a pureblood, knives just wouldn't do.
As if sensing his rejection, the cabinets folded into the wall, leaving a chair and table in their place.
He moved on to the swords. Too dramatic, even for him. Really, who went around swinging a sword as their weapon of choice in the modern age? They were outdated, clunky, and gauche.
It too, folded away, leaving more bookshelves in its place.
The final cabinets on this side of the room were labelled with 'Caution: Explosives'
Very tempting, but the name of the game was subtlety.
The cabinet folded in, revealing another room, this time lined with target dummies.
That left the second wall. Walking over, he ran a hand along the edge of the case, bypassing the older looking and weightier of the models in favour of the sleeker and smaller ones. He looked between the small machines and the book in his hand. It looks like he had one option left.
If the room saw it fit to give him a safety manual first, maybe it was best to actually read it before he accidentally blew himself to small pieces.
So, settling himself in the chair, Draco began to read.
—-------
Taking some knives with him in the meantime, while he read up on 'guns,' Draco decided to do something else he had been putting off. Encouraged onwards by the cold silver of the knife pressed into his back, Draco made his way to the library. Every part of him shuddered at completing the cabinets, but he needed all of the knowledge he could get if he was to make himself a player in this game. He needed a few advanced arithmancy books to complete the final steps, ones Madam Pince would never even dream of letting out of the library, so, he braved the feeling of watching eyes for the noble pursuit of knowledge.
Of course, the universe rewarded his valiant goals with one Hermione Granger.
He didn't hear her coming up behind his small table, tucked deep into a forgotten corner of the arithmancy section specifically to avoid attention.
The soft scents of sandalwood and coconut were all the warning he got before Granger's shrill voice spoke, "Is that Quantum Physics?" She practically shrieked.
Draco blinked at her, caught off guard, "No?" He said slowly, "This is advanced arithmancy."
"Wizards have physics?" She dropped into the other chair at the small table, seemingly shocked.
"No, wizards have advanced arithmancy." He emphasised, like Granger was a small child.
Draco was honestly becoming concerned now. Granger seemed to be having some sort of existential crisis in the middle of the library, and though he was somewhat of an expert on the subject, it was very distracting and he wanted her gone.
"You can't honestly tell me you thought muggles knew something wizards didn't." He stated.
She sprung from her stupor, "Excuse you! Muggles have all sorts of things wizards don't!"
Draco lifted an eyebrow, "Name one thing, Granger, that wizards haven't already figured out."
She seemed positively delighted he had asked, immediately springing into action, "Wifi! Electricity! Space travel!"
Draco couldn't help it, he laughed in her face. She only seemed to get angrier and angrier, and Draco realised suddenly she wasn't joking at all. She was entirely serious.
"Oh Merlin." he looked on in horror, "You're serious." He leaned forward, with a sudden need to know if Granger was as ignorant as she was implying, "Please tell me the top witch in our year doesn't think wizards don't have space travel."
She sputtered, lost at his sudden shift in mood, "Wh- It's never in any books!"
"Granger," He spoke with the utmost sincerity, "Where do you think the astronomy department of the ministry is? Do you really expect every aspect of wizarding knowledge to be in a book? And in this library specifically?"
She made to argue again, but paused, "There's a ministry department on the moon?" She asked, leaning forward so their noses were only inches apart.
"Of course, all you need is a bubble head charm and a strong apparitioner."
Granger sat back, looking as if the foundations of her world had been swept from under her.
Draco looked on, unsure if he should call her gaggle of gryffindors to assist her, but decided against it, Grager was just as old as he was, she could handle herself.
"Well, as riveting as this has been, I think I'll take my leave." He tried, getting up to gather his things.
"Wait!" Granger said, entirely too loud for the quiet library. She looked around, lowering her voice, "I just- I didn't think wizards believed in science."
He sat back down, taken completely off guard by this new side of her he'd never seen before. Granger had always seemed untouchable in many aspects, the living paradigm of everything his father hated about muggleborns. She had never shown an ounce of care for tradition or poise.
But she was also Draco's academic rival. And right now, she was showing clear vulnerability, something a rival should never do. Her grasp on theoretical magic was astounding, and part of Draco respected Granger. No matter how disappointed his father was that he consistently ranked lower than a muggle-born, Draco knew Granger was the brains behind Potter's little group, and as such, would be instrumental in The Dark Lord's downfall.
He studied her for a moment. Now that he had resolved himself against The Dark Lord, it would be prudent to help Potter in any way he could, but everything in him rebelled at the thought of doing anything for Potter, so Granger was the next-best option. Besides, no one would suspect him of helping Granger, so it fulfilled his secondary goal of remaining hidden.
"Science is unavoidable, Granger." he said plainly, mentally strapping himself in, "Magic is just a kind of science muggles don't have access to."
"But if wizards would just-" Granger argued, but Draco cut her off.
"It wouldn't work, Granger. Haven't you ever wondered why wizards live so long compared to muggles? There's a fundamental difference in our making, one that can't be bridged by collaboration." He sneered the last word, disgusted by the sheer gryffindor-ishness of it.
Granger looked furious, "But why not? What makes a wizard so different from a muggle?" She demanded.
"Do you even know why we have magic?" He asked, barely containing the urge to yell some obscenity, "You don't do you? Or else you never would have asked."
"Tell me then. You keep saying I don't know, so tell me." She leaned forward, looking intently into his eyes.
He pursed his lips, every bit of slytherin secrecy rolling under his skin at once. But if she was to kill The Dark Lord, she needed to know.
"There are stories, older than we know, about faeries."
He stopped, his very being protesting against voicing this story, "You've heard them all, beautiful creatures luring people away from their homes, or nightmarish monsters sacrificing children under full moons."
He took a breath, studying Granger's face for the inevitable scorn, "That's because they are real." Grangers face shifted into disbelief, but Draco didn't let her interrupt, already set on telling her the full thing, "They weren't the first, we can't remember them anymore, but they are the reason you have magic, that you can wave your wand and summon a book, or create water out of thin air. It's because the fair folk gave it to you."
"So where are they now?" Granger asked, clearly fighting the urge to argue.
"They left. People began to fear them more than they respected them, and one day, after they'd been insulted one too many times, they left, and took their magic with them."
He looked down, tracing the grain of the table with his finger, "Most went underhill, but they couldn't take it all. Magic seeps, and moves, and chooses. Once it's been brought somewhere, it spreads like weeds." He frowns, deciding how much to say, "Some stayed, of course, to make sure humans didn't destroy themselves, or because they were fond, I don't know."
"Point being, when someone magic is born to muggle parents, it's because the magic chose them. They're no longer the same kind of person, a different species. The magic spreads through them, like it did through our realm, changing it irreparably."
"So if muggles became magical once, why couldn't they do it again?" Granger argued, eyes shining with the thrill of knowledge.
"You don't get it." He said solemnly, shaking his head, "You were raised muggle, you know what they think of witches, magic isn't all sunshine and roses." He raised his eyes, trying to impress upon her the weight of their history, "Magic had a price, all of it. The first magical people paid their toll through blood and pain. You wouldn't want muggles to get magic."
Granger's eyes lit in understanding, "The first magical people were dark wizards." She breathed.
He stood, gathering his bag, "Dark is subjective, Granger, you would do well to remember that."
He left without another look back, needing space from whatever that conversation had been. He felt flayed open and raw in a way he so often did these days, like the next wrong look would be what did him in.
His only solace was the beginnings of a plan, his months of research for the cabinets finally proving useful. If all went well, which was incredibly unlikely, he would be able to leave Hogwarts, protect his parents from the backlash, and piss off The Dark Lord all in one fell swoop.
At a loss for what else to do, he went back to the room of requirement. It seemed to be the only place he was truly alone now. Normally, he'd go spend time with Blaise and Pansy in the dungeons, but looking at them made him sick with guilt. He couldn't stand the thought of leaving them any more then he couldn't stand the thought of staying. Every moment he spent in these walls was a moment he would be scrutinised, another moment he couldn't do anything.
Leaving them would hurt, but Draco couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't ignore Potter's watching eyes, or Blaise's worried looks. He couldn't stand Severus' increasingly unsubtle attempts to help, or Dumbledore's piercing gaze. He wouldn't be played like this any longer.
He was a Malfoy and a Black, and that meant something. He was better than this.
So he went to class, and meals, pretending he was fine.
He spent all of his free time in the room of requirement learning to shoot until the sound no longer made him flinch and the dummies were reduced to nothing more than tatters.
He gathered his things discreetly, taking only what he truly thought he needed, his whole life shrunk into tiny trunks and stuck into a satchel he carried with him always.
The last step was probably the most reckless thing Draco had ever done. After a few weeks passed, when he no longer wanted to fall into Blaise's arms and beg for forgiveness, he went to Severus.
Knocking on the door, he pushed his way into his godfather's rooms without waiting for a response.
"Severus! I need a favour!" he called, waiting in the front-most part of the chambers. When his godfather finally appeared, already grumbling about bothersome godsons, Draco had already drawn himself up tight.
Seeing his posture, Severus heaved a great sigh, as if he was already a thousand years old, "What is it, Draco? Here to beg for more potion ingredients?"
"No." His tone made Severus pause, looking over Draco as if he would see the answers written on his face.
Well, considering the answer was written on his arm, it wasn't completely unreasonable.
"I need you to pass on a message." Draco said, making a concentrated effort to keep his voice even.
"And why, pray tell, could you not do it on your own? You have an owl." Severus drawled, though he looked as if he already knew the reason.
"You know why, Severus. This message can't go through the regular channels." Draco felt a probe at his occlumency shields, but he only strengthened them, unwilling to let anyone into his mind ever again.
Without speaking again, Severus took the paper from him. It was charmed in several ways to avoid unwanted eyes, but Draco knew his godfather could dissolve all of them with a flick of his wand.
He went to leave, hesitating in the doorway. He would see Severus again, most likely, but Draco didn't know when, or under what circumstances. He wanted to stay, let his godfather figure this all out for him. Leave all of his troubles on Severus' desk and walk away. But that wasn't how this worked, and Draco had a duty to fulfil for his family.
Making a split second decision, he turned around, "Severus. If you must read it, wait until Monday night."
He wanted Severus to know, to understand in some small amount, what Draco was doing. Maybe Severus would be able to help his slytherins better, if he wasn't as in the dark.
Walking the opposite direction from his and Blaise's room, Draco felt his heart break truly, for the first time. It was different, standing at the edge of Hogsmead, preparing to apparate. He could almost see Blaise waking up, not thinking anything of his disappearance until Monday, when classes began again.
But this was for Blaise, so he wouldn't be forced into a war he didn't believe in either way.
For once, Draco Malfoy-Black resolved not to be a coward, and he raised his wand.