"Trust. It is like placing a blade in someone's hand and setting the very point to your heart." –Cassandra Clare

*

     Sneaking Darcy out proves easier than sneaking her in. Draco walks the secret passageway with her Friday night, as there's a Hogsmeade visit the following day. He's telling her about the Sorting to keep the conversation going.

     "People boo sometimes whenever people are put into Slytherin?" she asks in disbelief. Draco just nods. "Can I say something that's completely my opinion?"

     "Sure."

    "Everyone wonders why Slytherin is full of grumpy, mean kids, but they don't realize that it's mostly because of the negative attributes that Slytherins get. They have no real role models, people belittle them when they're Sorted, which is definitely more ridiculous because they're eleven for Merlin's sake, and the rest of the school is constantly labeling them as instantly evil and bad just because of their fucking house."

     Draco listens and he can't help but realize that she's sort of right. How would Slytherins act if people treated them like Gryffindors? Hufflepuffs? Ravenclaws? Any of the other houses? Would they be labeled as evil then? Probably not.

     "I think you're absolutely right." Draco stops walking to look at her.

     "And I'm not saying that all Slytherins are good because some are bad, too, but that doesn't mean that everyone from that house is full of negativity and murderous thoughts. You're put into Slytherin because you're cunning and smart, because you're hard-hearted and ambitious.

     "I mean, it's not like every Ravenclaw is a genius. Wasn't that Lockhart idiot in Ravenclaw? He's a moron." This gains a laugh from Draco. "And I've met some pretty intelligent Hufflepuffs and some pretty cowardly Gryffindors."

     Draco has never had someone reveal to him why he's really in Slytherin besides the hereditary part of it, but now that Darcy has said those things, he realizes that he's not intrinsically evil. He doesn't want to work for Voldemort. He doesn't want to fix the Vanishing Cabinet. But he's still doing it. So maybe he is no good. Why is his life so confusing?

     They start walking again.

     "Anyway, I'm just saying," Darcy concludes. "I don't think it's fair. All the houses are stereotyped."

     "I've never agreed with something more."

     She grins at him as they reach the exit. "I'll see you tomorrow."

      "Right. Two-thirty." Draco nods and watches her go, wishing he would've said thanks because she, in that few minutes, had made him feel like he was worth more than twelve Lucious Malfoys. 

*

     As Draco works on the Vanishing Cabinet alone the next morning, he feels slightly empty. Usually he can focus on Darcy's sighing or movement and be more at ease, but with her gone, he feels insanely lonely. He'd grown to like her company, and now that it's absent, he feels alone in this.

     He is alone in this. She doesn't know what he's doing it for. She's just helping a lost boy on his journey to damnation.

     Draco is completely alone.

     He has no one on his side.

     Draco sinks onto the couch that he and Darcy pushed near the cabinet for lounging time. He is alone. The fact hits him like a bag of bricks. No one else knows how it feels to have so much pressure on them, to have to complete a task that he has absolutely zero will to do. No one knows how much he hates himself. He remembers just two years ago, he was cocky and amused by everything. He was on top of the world. Now, he's pretty sure that world has crumbled and been replaced with a different one, a more sinister version.

     He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror a few feet away. He's tired, he's lost weight, and he's as pale as ever. His hair is always disheveled and his pristine ways have become loose. For a moment, he sees his past self—the one with swagger and not a care in the world—and he'd give anything to have that back.

     But today, he has a mission. And that mission is going to make sure that Draco's past self stays in the past.

*

     "Hey, Draco!" Pansy calls before he can enter the Great Hall for lunch. "Do you want to hang out with Blaise and I in Hogsmeade?"

     Draco cringes inside his head. "I don't think I'm going." He lies instead of simply saying no. How Slytherin of him.

     "Why not?"

     "I haven't been feeling too well."

     Pansy shrugs. "You haven't looked too well lately."

     "I don't think it'd be a good idea," Draco says. Pansy nods respectively, leaving him alone to eat. He's glad—usually she would badger him about what's wrong, but ever since she started going out with Blaise, she's left him alone besides the occasional mockery. It's sort of nice.

     But Draco is going to Hogsmeade to spend time with Darcy. He isn't worried about Pansy seeing him there and demanding why he had said no to her. He can just say that he feels better. As for why he's hanging out with Darcy, he can think of something. He might just say nothing because he shouldn't have to justify his actions.

     Draco's owl flaps down in front of him. He sighs. It's probably another worried note from his mother, asking how the mending is going. Untying the letter from his owl's leg, he sees that it's in fact not from his mother. It's from Darcy. He feeds the owl a bit of toast before opening it. He feels slightly anxious; did she get another sentence? Is she quitting?

     I saw this and thought of you. Don't be offended. I just think it's reminiscent of your attitude. Draco empties the rest of the envelope. Something from Honeydukes falls out—a sour candy ball that lasts up to twelve hours. Draco can't help but laugh at that and sigh in relief that nothing happened to her. He keeps smiling at the fact that he hates these candies.

     And at the fact that Darcy was thinking about him.