Full Name: Draco Lucius Malfoy.
Age/DOB: 17 / June 5, 1980.
House/Years: Slytherin / Would be 7th.
Bloodline: The name Malfoy speaks for itself.
Residence: Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England.

Political Affiliation: Draco has taken the Dark Mark and is a (somewhat) open supporter of the Dark Lord. However, he has his uncertainties about Voldemort's cause, although Draco has yet to admit this to anyone.

Physical Appearance: Draco has grown much within these last few months; despite the stress put upon him by the Dark Lord's pressures, he as grown to be approximately six feet in height. However, due to his new status as a fugitive and runaway, he has not been able to keep physically fit; he has also become overly thin, due to malnutrition. Draco's hair is as pale as ever, and sets him apart from others due to its near-white color. His eyes are likewise unique, and their grey color add intensity to his weary face. While Draco may only be seventeen years old, the recent trials of his last year at Hogwarts have aged his face slightly, and changed him from his formerly over-youthful self.

3 Random Facts: 1) Draco has a tendency to bite his nails when nervous. 2) His favourite sweets are Licorice Wands. 3) He is seriously terrified of his aunt Bellatrix.

Strengths: Draco's fairly adept at the art of Occlumency, a talent which he continues to nurture with the help of the accomplished Occlumens Severus Snape. He's also able to pinpoint the weaknesses of others', a fact which he often uses to his advantage - Draco likes putting people down, likes the satisfaction he receives from making others feel weak, and he's good at it. If Draco puts his mind to something, truly devotes himself to it, there's a great chance that he will succeed - after all, he has that inherent Slytherin ambition and cunning.

Weaknesses: He can be exceedingly immature, and often acts rashly based on his emotions. If Draco's upset about something, he'll try to get revenge - but his plans aren't always well thought out, and thus often fail. It can also be said that he's too devoted to the notion of pleasing his father, to the point where Draco sometimes can neglect how a decision will affect him; if he realises that there's a way to make his father proud, he'll try desperately to do just that, despite the fact that his actions may result in negative consequences for himself.

Personality: For most of his life, Draco had been childish, petulant, and unfailingly used to getting his way (except, of course, when it came to Potter). However, the events of Draco's sixth year took a great toll on the boy; no longer was he allowed to be the spoiled and, yes, somewhat sheltered youth he had been. Instead, he was forced to mature, forced to shoulder a burden much heavier than any he'd experienced before. Thus, Draco was, essentially, pushed to grow beyond his years - he was assigned the task of murdering the man Voldemort himself was afraid of; it was a suicide mission, and he knew it. Nevertheless, Draco forged on - he was a Slytherin, he had that inherent ambition to earn the Dark Lord's respect and acquire the glory of having killed the most powerful wizard alive. So yes, Draco was still Draco, still that boy who'd been pampered for his entire life, but now? Now, he was also a boy with true goals, with responsibilities; no longer did he feel inclined to take interest in his former activities - Quidditch wasn't nearly as important as saving his family and Potter just wasn't worth his time. It could be said that if Draco did not have those prized Slytherin traits, sheer ambition and cunning, he may not have succeeded in his mission. Despite the Dark Lord's pressure, and the overhanging, everpresent, threat of death, Draco was able to use his intelligence and determination to find a way to kill Albus Dumbledore. 'Find' of course, being the key word - he wasn't able to truly fulfill his mission because, despite all evidence to the contrary, Draco does have an innate sense of compassion hidden deep within. He does not take joy in killing or murder, a fact which troubles him endlessly. Instead of seeing this trait in a positive light, Draco considers it one of his greatest weaknesses; caring for others, in any way, only makes it possible for you to be hurt.

It's key to note that Draco was willing to risk his own life to save his mother and father. Loyalty itself isn't a trait inherent to Slytherin house (far from it), but Draco is nevertheless fiercely devoted to his own family; he may not care much about his housemates, about Zabini or Nott or Goyle, but he will do anything within his power to prevent his true family from coming to harm. It is this very trait that allows Draco to be so easily manipulated; he may be intelligent, but he's certainly not able to think clearly when it comes to Narcissa and Lucius. Despite Draco's unerring loyalty to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, he does not feel the same way about Voldemort; Draco takes little joy in killing and murder, and does not trust a man who can commit such acts with no qualms. Thus, his alliance with the Dark Lord is a source of much grief for Draco; he often regrets the murder of Albus Dumbledore, seeing it as his one true oppurtunity lost. However, even though Draco does not necessarily agree with Voldemort, he certainly has no desire to be part of the Order, either. An elitist Pureblood, Draco has been brought up to despise Muggles and the like, and has thus far seen no reason to question his views on that subject.

Even though his last year at Hogwarts has left him emotionally exhausted and confused, due to both Dumbledore's offer and subsequent death, Draco is still determined to save his family. It was Dumbledore's promise to save his parents that had caused Draco to lower his wand - always an oppurtunist, he realized that his family would be infinitely safer under the great wizard's care, compared to that of the Dark Lord. However, due to Snape's actions, Draco was once again forced to resort to the Dark Lord, both to get his father out of prison, and to protect his mother.

Intrinsically, Draco is not much of a fighter; even though he admires his father greatly for openly choosing a side, Draco himself has no desire to fight in this war. His only thoughts, at the moment, are to save his family from harm. He realizes, of course, that to do so he must fight; however, Draco still dreads the very idea. Petty duels with Harry Potter were one thing, but a true duel, to the death, is a thought that terrifies Draco - a fear that only became stronger after his and Potter's spat in the bathroom. He still has nightmares about the Sectumsempra curse, and Draco has no desire to relive such a potentially fatal experience.

All in all, Draco Malfoy is still a boy; one who's had to mature greatly in the past year, and one whose life has become almost unrecognizable within the course of a year. He's trying to cope, but again, he's still Draco - petty, childish, and prone to fiendish plans that never quite work out.

Family Background: Draco comes from the (in)famous Malfoy line, a family whose history can be traced back to before the establishment of Hogwarts. They're noted for their connection to the Dark Arts and, more importantly, the Dark Lord; over the years, the Malfoys have amassed an extraordinary amount of wealth, and often use this to influence important members of Wizarding society. They have power (or did, at least, before Lucius Malfoy was sent to Azkaban) and have no qualms of lording said influence over anyone and everyone.
Draco himself is the son of Narcissa Malfoy, formerly a Black, and Lucius Malfoy. He's an only child, the heir to the Malfoy fortune - although this 'fate' has become endangered by his father's recent imprisonment. He's also the nephew of Bellatrix Lestrange, known and feared Death Eater.

Personal History: Draco was born on June 5, 1980 to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. While the couple were ecstatic at finally having an heir to the Malfoy estate, the birth of Draco also brought with it some devastating news: Narcissa was unable to carry any more children. Thus, Draco being their only child, the Malfoys took great pains in raising the boy properly, making sure Draco was the epitome of Pureblood perfection.

Narcissa incessantly pampered Draco throughout his childhood, always doting on him and buying Draco whatever he desired (or, at the very least, getting Lucius to buy it for him). While Narcissa outwardly maintained the appearance of a detached Pureblood mother, in private she showed true affection for Draco. Lucius, on the other hand, never attempted to form a real relationship with his son; when he did try to talk to Draco, it was often only to admonish him for his failures. Even though Lucius often insisted Draco needed to work harder, he hardly ever forced his son to truly fend for himself. For example, despite his critical views on Draco's flying abilities, Lucius still bought him a place on the Slytherin Quidditch team. It was for this very reason that Draco never learned to do things completely by himself, instead choosing to rely on his influential father's assistance. While the two of them weren't close by any means, Draco still admired his father greatly, often aspiring to be just as powerful as Lucius Malfoy.

However, despite Draco's determination to be like his father, he was usually unsuccessful whenever he tried to do so. Draco had often heard his father speak of Harry Potter, and thus realized that the boy would be an asset to himself; intending on forging a beneficial relationship with Harry, Draco instead met with failure - a fact which not only embarrassed him, but forced him to realize that he was not nearly as influential as his father.

This realization angered Draco, sparking in him a strong dislike for Harry Potter - who was, to Draco, a symbol of his every failure. Throughout his years at Hogwarts, Draco therefore repeatedly acted out against Harry; instead of the friendship he had initially intended, the relationship between the two was more of a petty rivalry. However, as the years went on, this petty rivalry turned infinitely more serious, due to the boys' increasing maturity as well as the chaos apparent in the wizarding world.

What had first been merely a childish animosity thus grew to be an all too real loathing; as each of the boys were forced to choose a side in the war, the rivalry grew to encompass their new situations. Draco's hatred for Harry increased tenfold at the end of his fifth year, as he blamed Harry solely for his father's imprisonment. Vowing to avenge Lucius Malfoy, who was both his father and his role model, Draco was forced to mature a great deal during the summer before his sixth year.

Due to his father's failures, the Dark Lord focused his anger on Draco instead; to his mother's despair, he was appointed the impossible task of killing Albus Dumbledore. Draco, driven by both his hatred for Harry Potter as well as concern for his family, worked tirelessly to fulfill his mission - a fact which truly changed Draco during the course of his sixth year. Where he had been a childish, immature boy, Draco was now mature beyond his years, carrying an impossibly large burden on his young shoulders. Abandoning both Quidditch and his childish rivalry with Potter, Draco focused instead on just surviving, staying up until dawn trying, desperately trying, to find a way to kill Dumbledore.

A true Slytherin, Draco's distrust extended to even his Head of House and fellow Death Eater, Severus Snape. Despite the man's repeated offers of help, Draco continued to push him away, choosing to shoulder his burden alone. Thus, his final success was infinitely satisfying; Draco prided himself on the fact that he alone was able to lead the Death Eaters into Hogwarts.

However, his satisfaction was rather short-lived; despite his belief that he could fully complete his mission, Draco was unable to kill the headmaster. The events of that night, which still remain a blur in Draco's mind, gave him much grief for weeks to come. After being whisked away by Snape that night, Draco was forced to remain hidden in the former Professor's dank, Muggle house, a fact that endlessly frustrated him.
Draco was not used to being cooped up in so small a place, nor one that was so clearly, disgustingly Muggle. Despite his endless complaints (for Draco was still Draco, and inclined at times to be annoyingly childish), Snape refused to let Draco out of his sight, maintaining that the two needed to stay out of sight until things died down. Surprisingly, the pair weren't called on by the Dark Lord for quite a while, either, as he appeared to be distracted by the success of Dumbledore's murder.

During this time, Draco was taught much by Snape, who continued to instill in Draco the values and spells he needed to survive as a Death Eater. Instead of feeling grateful, however, Draco instead grew to resent Snape; all he wanted to do was rest; all of his sixth year had been filled with stress, and he hardly needed more. Fervently wishing he could escape the house, Draco often tried to sneak away, although Snape would never let the boy succeed. In the end, despite Draco's unwillingness and protestations, he did indeed improve his skills at both Occlumency and dueling, a fact which has prepared him greatly for the life ahead.

We can hide you. We can hide you, protect you, he'd said and thus, I hesitated. Foolish of me, idiotic, because doesn't every dying man utter those same exact words? 'Don't kill me, I'll help you in any way I can.' I hesitated. The wand was in my hand, pointed at him, and the other Death Eaters were yelling and -

What did I do? Nothing. I came so close to fulfilling this mission, to gaining the respect I deserve from the Dark Lord, only to throw it all away because of an old fool's dying last words. I loathe Dumbledore, perhaps despise him even more after death, simply because I can't stop thinking about the events of last night, can't stop wondering what, exactly, would have happened if I'd lowered my wand before the other Death Eaters even arrived. Before Severus spoke those words.

It's ludicrous to actually believe Dumbledore would have been able to fulfill that promise - and can it even be called that, truly? His nearly-delirious words of keeping me safe, hiding me away - from who? The Dark Lord, the Death Eaters? My father would have been - no, he will be ashamed of my weakness, of the fact that I couldn't perform a simple killing curse on a man who so clearly deserved it. Deserved it for favouring Potter, and deserved it for hindering the Dark Lord. Deserved it for making me doubt.

I'm weak, disgustingly, repulsively weak, for being taken in by his lies, for being unable to utter the two words which would have earned me all the glory and respect in the world. Two words which would have meant that I, Draco Malfoy, had finally accomplished something even the Dark Lord had been unable to do. But no. I hesitated, and now Snape receives the rewards for my toil and hard work instead, and I'm just an idiot who has accomplished nothing. I was the one who spent this entire year fixing that stupid cabinet, the one who let the Death Eaters in and yet - I get nothing. Nothing except, perhaps, my life.

Do I resent Severus? Perhaps I do, but perhaps his uttering those words saved me from assured death at the Dark Lord's hands. They say life is certainly more important than glory or power - but really, what is life without those very things? Without the knowledge that you command a room as soon as you cross the threshold, as Father used to do? As Father still would be able to if his son had accomplished what needed to be done. I hold little hope that he will be even the slightest bit proud - it is difficult to please him, after all, and what I did not do seems to so strongly overshadow what I did. It's unfortunate, it's frustrating beyond belief, and yes, I suppose I do resent Severus. Not so much as I resent Dumbledore, however, for placing me in such a position, for trying to tempt me with his promises that never would have been kept.

And now? Now I'm being hidden away in this pathetic Muggle excuse for a house, run-down and cramped and dank. Stuck in a room with Snape, who refuses to speak, and Pettigrew, who doesn't know how to shut up. I'm going mad already, and is this how the rest of my life is slated to be? Shoved into dark corners, the boy who failed to kill Dumbledore and simultaneously, the boy who so spectacularly betrayed the beloved Headmaster of Hogwarts. Do I have a side? It's difficult to even conceive how the Dark Lord will react, whether he'll be pleased that I managed to do so much, or angered that I failed to do the most critical thing of all. He's unpredictable in his wrath, and I wouldn't be human if I were not afraid.

I was so close to success. So close and yet, I failed. I can't help but wonder if that is the way of my life, to never be able to fully please those that matter, to never be able to know that I have succeeded in every way I could have. Am I my father's son? My father who, at one point, owned the world, truly owned it, but now wastes away within the walls of Azkaban? I haven't even had the chance to grasp all that power, and now, I'm a fugitive - destined to a lifetime sentence in Azkaban, I suppose, if I am to be caught.

Just like my father. At long last.

I wasn't aware that my whereabouts were as important as Potter's, nor was I aware that it's now a crime worthy of the Dark Lord himself to fall asleep whilst studying. And what sort of idiot sends Weasley on a search mission? The oaf's hardly capable of telling Potter's arse from his face.

I was in the library. The place with all the shelves and the books, Weasel, I'm sure the Mudblood's dragged you in there at least once. Next time, make sure you know what room you're actually desecrating with your presence, because you certainly hadn't set foot in the library.

In any case, I'm back in the common room, safe and sound. You can all stop worrying, since I now know just how much you all care for my well-being. Perhaps you should all tend to Potter, instead - after all, he seems to be rather upset now that he's not the undeserving center of your attention.



Pansy. Will you be accompanying me to the Toga Party?

Pansy - "What?"

Raising his head, Draco glanced at Pansy, his eyes carefully avoiding her own. "Nothing," he muttered in return, reflexively - the same response he always gave when she asked such questions. And yet, it wasn't nothing, it was, in fact, everything: his friends, his family, his own life. The continued existence of every single one of these 'nothings' hung in the balance tonight - and the deciding factor was the success of his mission.

Tonight. In a mere hour. Draco had done nothing but stare at the clock, cooped up in his dormitory - he'd given out his instructions for the night, he'd told Harper what to do, Crabbe and Goyle where to go (and he trusted them to do so, yes, because he did not want to think of the consequences otherwise) and everything had been, Merlin, it'd all been set in motion. In a few hours, the Death Eaters would be entering the school through the Vanishing Cabinet - the one that he'd toiled so long to fix - and, in a few hours, Albus Dumbledore would be dead.

By Draco's own wand.

Tightening his grip on his wand, Draco looked back at the ground; the rug that covered the Slytherin dormitories was, at least tonight, a far more fascinating subject than Pansy's inquiring eyes. "It's nothing," he repeated, detachedly wondering if saying it enough would make it true.

Pansy -"Of course it's nothing. It's always nothing, isn't it? Tell me. You know you've no one else to confide in, anyway."

Although Draco felt the bed shift beside him, he refused to raise his gaze from the ornate rug below him. Gritting his teeth at Pansy's lighthearted manner - he wasn't in the mood for her idiocy, he had more immediate concerns to deal with, mainly, pondering how he'd go about actually murdering the most powerful wizard alive. Draco had his doubts, yes, but he wasn't about to voice them; not to Pansy, not to Snape, not to anyone.

"Do you suppose things would be different if I didn't return next year?" he asked suddenly, at last lifting his head to look at the girl sitting beside him. It was, perhaps, not the wisest thing to ask; the plans he'd set for tonight were meant to be kept quiet, and such vague questions would only increase Pansy's curiousity and he couldn't tell her anything; for once, his secrets had nothing to do with Potter or Slughorn or even one of the other Slytherins, for once, they were far more important. And yet, his own curiousity had gotten the better of him - in truth, Draco was unable to imagine a life without Hogwarts, a life after tonight, and would Pansy be able to thus succeed where he could not?

Pansy - "Why wouldn't you return next year?"

Answering a question with a question - Draco didn't have the energy for these games, for a conversation that would only revolve in pointless circles. "Never mind," he snapped in return, his hands balling into fists at his sides. This was all entirely pointless, sitting in this room with Pansy, trying to pretend as if nothing was the matter.

"Maybe you should leave." He glanced, for perhaps the thousandth time that night, at the clock - only a few minutes had passed, and yet those few minutes had brought him ever closer to nine-o-clock, to the time where he'd be forced to leave the comfort of his dormitories and greet the Death Eaters, to the time where he'd raise his wand and kill Dumbledore.

A part of Draco was, yes, afraid - afraid of failure, afraid of death, afraid of letting the Dark Lord and his family down. But this part of Draco was hidden deep within and, in fact, not a part he ever wanted unearthed. "I'm not much in the mood for your inane gossip today, Pansy. I don't care if Daphne's just bought the most hideous dress or if Urquhart's just gro-" and, again, "You should leave."

At this, she lost all sense of composure and the blank expression on her face promptly became a look of contempt, eyes slit and dark. "No" was her curt reply as she leapt to her feet and stood in front of Draco, hands on her hips. Inane gossip? The nerve of him! Never had she been treated in such a dismissive manner by anyone, least of all her closest friend, and she was not about to start tolerating it tonight.

Pansy - "No, I shouldn't."

"You're an idiot, then," Draco replied roughly, at last meeting her eyes with his own. "There's no need for you to be in the boys' dormitory right now - or ever, for that matter. I never understood why, Pansy, you'd always insist on waking me up in the middle of the night for no reason other than to tell me about the state of Tracey's footwear or a note some ponce had handed to you during the course of the day. I didn't care about these things then, and I don't care about them right now."

And yet, Draco wasn't altogether certain this was true. He'd grown used to Pansy's incessant visits to the dormitory and, despite the loss of sleep he undoubtedly was forced to endure, he'd never much minded. But he wanted her to leave him be, for now, because talking about tonight would only make things that much more complicated - and he'd sworn to keep his mouth shut, hadn't he?

After tonight, Draco knew things would change - for the better, or so he hoped: he'd have glory, he'd have power, he'd reclaim the respect that the Malfoy name had lost in the eyes of the Death Eaters, and in the eyes of the Dark Lord himself. He also realised this would leave no time for school, for him to return to finish his seventh year, for him to spend these same long nights with Pansy that he claimed to hate.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered. "Why won't you just leave? I'm sure you have a new Witch Weekly or a conversation with Millicent to attend to."

Pansy - "Now that you mention it, I do have the latest edition of Witch Weekly waiting for me on my nightstand, but I don't want to read it. I most certainly don't want to talk to Millicent because she's a terrible conversationalist, you know, and I really don't even think I much feel like doing my nails or reorganizing my robes by color and material. At this particular moment in time, I cannot think of anything I want more than to stay - with you."

At Pansy's last words, Draco finally relented - there was no use, when it came down to it, in trying to push her out; she was far too stubborn to leave unless he physically made her do so. And, no matter how tense Draco was, he wasn't about to do anything of the sort.

"Fine," he sighed, turning to stare at her blankly. He looked, once again, at the dials of the clock - only five minutes had passed. "You can stay as long as you want, Pansy, but I'm leaving the dorms in half an hour." And I'm fairly certain I won't be coming back. It was difficult to keep silent about what was going to happen, about what he was going to do, and Draco sought in vain to change the subject. A superficial conversation would be best, one that had nothing at all to do with the Dark Lord, Hogwarts, or the potential of him not returning. And yet, Draco was unable to think of just such a topic; his mind was drawing a blank, and all he could think about was the Vanishing Cabinet, sitting in the corner of the Room of Requirement. Would it work? Would he be able to, at long last, succeed? He wanted to be certain, to be confident, but there was an inkling of doubt within his own conscience - he'd failed several times before, and there was always the chance that he'd do so again.

Pansy - "And?" And will you not tell me where you are off to? And are you not going to say good-bye?"

Draco's grip on his wand tightened, his shoulders tensing up. "I'll say good-bye, obviously," he answered at last, choosing to ignore the first half of her statement entirely. "I'm hardly going to get up and leave without doing so, especially since you're insisting on sitting here until I go." He knew this wasn't what she'd meant, but Draco didn't much feel like delving into those issues - not right now and, really, not ever.

Although he was fairly certain she wouldn't do so, Draco felt impelled to add, "And don't you dare follow me, either. I don't need anyone hindering my plans, Pansy." A bit colder than he'd intended, perhaps, but he wasn't about to allow her stubbornness or curiousity to impede the night's events - nor was he going to allow her to get hurt. "Stay inside the dungeons, will you? Don't leave the Common Room, it won't be sa- it's a foolish idea."

Pansy - "But I tend to like your plans more when they involve me," she murmured.

Suddenly, impulsively, Draco was leaning forward, touching his lips to Pansy's own. He didn't want to think, didn't want to examine why, exactly, he was kissing the girl who was his closest friend, and truthfully? He didn't much care - he was kissing Pansy, right now, and later, he'd be going off to fulfill the mission that would make all those he knew proud. It was all that mattered at this very moment, to finally feel confident, to truly believe that he would succeed.

He didn't need Professor Snape, or his father, or anyone - he was Draco Malfoy, and he was in charge of his own life, and capable of making his own choices. This choice.

Pansy - no dialogue.

What an idiotic thing to do. Inwardly cursing at himself for having been so rash, Draco abruptly pushed himself off the bed. "I have to go. Just - you make sure no one leaves the dungeons. Unless they have a reason for doing so - and you will come to realise what that reason may be - don't let them out of your sight."

Refusing to allow himself to think about the kiss, or Pansy's subsequent confusion, or anything at all relating to that matter, he made his way towards the dormitory door. It was time, he supposed, to either end his life, or truly begin it; everything would change once Draco crossed the threshold of the dungeon door. Turning the doorknob, he glanced one last time at Pansy, at his best friend, where she still sat on his bed. "Goodbye, Pansy," he said curtly, immediately opening the door and briskly making his way down the stairs.

Pansy - no dialogue.