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He was so close. He just knew it. So why the hell wasn't it working?
He slammed the door of the cabinet and just stood there, thinking. What the hell was wrong with it? He'd done everything that Borgin had told him to and it still didn't work.
Draco ran his hand through his white-blond hair and stared at the broken vanishing cabinet. What if he couldn't do it? He continued to stare at the cabinet, as if the answers would suddenly appear on its smooth black surface. This was his only chance, if he didn't manage to repair it... He felt faint just thinking about it. He subconsciously rubbed his left arm where the Dark Mark was burned into his skin.
Snape would be on to him again tomorrow, offering to help him, telling him to be more careful or he'd get caught. He knew what he was up to: Snape was spying on him for their master, ready to report his failure and take the glory for himself.
Draco shook his head, he couldn't fail. If he failed, it wasn't just his life on the line. He was terrified but he didn't have a choice, he'd been given this task to prove the worth of his family name to the Dark Lord. His father was in Azkaban and his master was furious at him for failing, so Draco had to succeed. If he didn't, he and his father were as good as dead. His aunt Bellatrix had proven herself enough to live, but he wasn't sure about his mother.
He closed his eyes and tried to clear his head. He didn't have time to feel sorry for himself, not now. Looking down at his watch he noticed how late it was, he couldn't do any more today. Getting up he walked to the door and carefully looked outside, the coast was clear, everyone was still in lessons.
He headed towards the boys' toilets, he needed to wait until class finished or he'd look suspicious walking around the school corridors. Every step he took seemed to ease his light-headedness, so that the stress and weight on his mind seemed to get stronger the further away he got from the cabinet. He could feel tears starting to form at the corners of his eyes and bit them back as he sped down the corridor.
He skidded into the bathroom, throwing himself against the door, and tried to catch his breath, listening carefully for any sign of movement.
Once he was sure he was alone he slid down to the floor and rested his head against the wall. His tears were flowing freely now as the pressure burst into his head again. His chest felt tight, as the thought of failure seemed to force the air out of his lungs. Something gave way in his gut and he only just managed to throw himself over a basin in time for his breakfast to leave his throat.
He lifted his head and wiped his mouth with the end of his sleeve, looking at his own reflection in the cracked mirror. He'd let his hair grow longer, not having time to have it cut or slick it back like usual. His skin was paper-white, barely broken by the steady stream of tears running down his cheeks. His usually bright grey eyes were bloodshot and framed with dark bags under his eyes. He tried to pull himself together. Imagine what his father was going through right now, rotting away in Azkaban. He should count himself lucky; he had it easy compared to people like his father. This thought only seemed to make things worse.
"I'm dead. Oh God he's gonna kill me! I have to do this, I have to fix it."
He didn't realise that he was muttering through his tears, completely focused on his thoughts until he heard a high pitched nasal voice behind him.
"Is some boy being mean to you again?"
He quickly turned round, instinctively drawing his wand. To his surprise a girl was sitting on the floor across the room from him, tilting her head curiously, the lights in the room shining straight through her transparent form. He stared at her for a moment or two before stuffing his wand back into his pocket and turning back to the mirror, he'd forgotten that she liked to haunt the bathrooms.
"Piss off, Myrtle." he sneered, though his tear-strained voice lacked his usual venom.
"You know, I saw you crying yesterday as well, and I thought I heard crying in here last week too." She snapped back. "I just thought that you might want some company while you cried your eyes out. Not that anyone cares what, miserable, moaning Myrtle thinks!" She cried back at him and he could see her floating towards the toilets with tears in her eyes through the mirror in front of him.
He didn't know why he did it, but he looked back and called out to her.
She turned back to him tilting her head again
"What, weren't you finished telling me to piss off?" She hissed at him.
As much as he wanted to be alone right now, he needed a distraction from his thoughts. He felt as if he needed to know something.
"What was it like?"
"What?"
"What was it like when you died?" Even though his voice was quiet, and cracked from crying, his voice seemed to echo across the room.
Myrtle seemed to act surprised but her eyes glinted in the torch light. "Why? Are you planning to join me?" Draco was sure he saw a shadow of a smile pass across her face as she spoke.
He didn't answer. If the Dark Lord killed him, would he become a ghost? Would he be like Myrtle, just floating around somewhere, living but not alive?
"I don't plan to. But I might not have much of a choice." He didn't know why he was talking to her, but it seemed to lift some of the weight from his chest so he continued. "He'll kill me if I fail."
"Who'll kill you?" She pressed, quickly gliding over to sit underneath the basin next to him.
He shook his head as he wiped some of the tears from his face. He felt like a child, sitting on the floor of the bathroom crying.
"I can't say," He could feel his voice shaking but knew that it had nothing to do with tears, there was no way he could tell her the whole truth - "and you can't tell anyone about this." He added quickly.
She glared at him for a moment then gave a very over the top 'hmph' and crossed her arms, sulking. He couldn't help but laugh, he was sat on the floor of a bathroom crying, with a sulking ghost who was trying to get him to tell her what was going on. She looked angry at him for laughing at her, and stood to leave just as he heard the sound of moving from outside that indicated the end of lessons.
"Myrtle!" he pushed himself up to his feet. He didn't know what to say, but he felt he should say something; after all, she did help distract him from his problem. Even if she didn't know it.
"Thanks."
She seemed genuinely surprised at this and he was sure, had she been alive, that she would be blushing.
"You know, if he does kill you, you're welcome to stay here with me in the toilets." She smiled back, playing with one of her pigtails.
Draco nodded, deciding not to mention the fact that he didn't like the idea of spending his afterlife in a dirty, smelly old toilet, and wiped the last of his tears from his eyes as he headed for the door. His hand was on the door handle when he heard a splash from the toilet behind him, her high-pitched giggling echoing through the pipes. He smiled as he opened the door and joined the mass of students heading off to the Great Hall for lunch.
He knew that she'd find him again, next time the stress and fear of his task got too much for him, but he didn't mind. It was nice to be able to talk to someone for once, someone who wasn't ashamed to see him cry.
Even if she was dead, it was nice to know that someone cared.