Here I go, putting off studying for a test in order to write a fanfiction. Again. I seem to be doing that a lot. But I've had this playing through my head for the last little bit and I didn't want to take the risk of forgetting it. So once again I am curled up in blankets, listening to songs from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, writing for a book series that I do not in any way/shape/form own, and trying to push my Chemistry book as far away from me as I possibly can at the moment. I need to get paid to do this. But I don't, I get no monetary compensation for uploading these stories onto this, or any other site. I do it purely for my enjoyment and hopefully the enjoyment of those reading. Plus, if I'm writing these, I feel less like a procrastinating bastard when I put off homework. College life, you know.

-oOo-

Seventh year had meant to be promising for the students. It was the final year. It was meant to be great.

The expectations and hopes for a perfect year had deflated like a busted balloon before the Hogwarts Express had even pulled into the school's station. Hogwarts seemed darker, more sinister than ever before, and that was saying something. The class of 1998 had seen many weird and dark things though their schooling; trolls, paralyzing monsters, dementors, a handful of death, a vile woman in pink, the Rise of the Dark Lord, and the death of Albus Dumbledore. They were no strangers to challenges and the harshness of the world. From the age of eleven, they had faced trials that would have made adults cringe in fear. They had tackled it all, and came out stronger because of it.

But nothing prepared them for seventh year. The Carrows dominated the halls of the school, injuring any who opposed them, despite age or house. The teachers taught in fear that they would be the next to vanish, or that their students would be the next to go. The curfew and strict rules set into play made Umbridge's rein look like a peaceful dream. Neville more than once had wished that her cursed quills were once more the most frightening form of punishment that could be inflicted onto them. A bit of carved words along the back of his hands seemed a slap on the wrist compared to the torture the Carrows bestowed upon anyone thick headed enough to confront them.

Pulling his bottom lips between his teeth, he felt the scabbed slit from his previous encounter with the Carrows, threaten to bust back up on him. The injury was a few days old, and one of the lighter ones that he had faced through the last four months of school. A swollen lip was a breeze compared to the bruised ribs he sported. Getting on the wrong side of the Carrows had not been his first intention, but the Gryffindor wasn't surprised when it happened. He, as well as several of the older members of the DA had banded together once more. They were set on trying to regain the power back from the Death Eaters who trickled in and out of the school. They fought subtle battles; stealing food, disrupting the somber of the halls, tormenting the Carrows, rescuing first years from the sibling's wicked entertainment, attempts to undermine Snape's control over them. Their battle didn't seem to change much for the bigger picture, but it gave the students a comfort and hope to keep them going.

Hope had been enough at the start of the year. Four month into it, and the power over them was beginning to fight back and crush their rebellion. They had started with the younger students, torturing and tormenting them until they feared to even raise their heads when the Carrows or any other Death Eater walked by. They separated the houses as far from one another as they could. From there, detentions had turned darker. Several of the bruises that Neville hid under his sweater had come from the hand of the Carrow siblings and their responsibility of discipline. Other students had found themselves trapped under the hand of the Carrows as well.

But no matter how hard they hit, how much they threatened, the DA refused to allow them complete control over the school. That was the domain of the students, many of which had called the stone castle home from year one. They would deny the Death Eaters to rule them for as long as they could. And for some, like Neville, it was becoming dangerously close to the end of his battle. He had become one of the largest pain against the Carrows, and with news of his grandmother in hiding, he knew it was only time before they would realize they didn't need him around, that they could not control him, and his next 'discipline' would result in more than a few bruises and broken bones. It was funny really to think that the stuttering boy, who no one expected to make his place in Gryffindor house, would grow as much as he had. He had changed, grown up and taken a stand sometime over the last few years. He was no longer the doormat that allowed people to walk over him, and it was coming back to bite him in the arse. His newfound courage would get him killed sooner or later.

From ahead, Neville could make out the forming door at the end of the hall. Muttering a quick spell, he brightened the light rippling from the tip of his wand to allow him to make his way down the dark hall. His ears searched for any sound of movement, finding it a challenge under the snores coming from the paintings around him. He kept the glow low enough to not draw attention, while still giving him ample amount of light. Reaching the door to the Room of Requirement, Neville smirked at what lay ahead of him. Gripping the door, he opened it was the lowest clicking of the latch turning. He extinguished the light of his wand, relieved at the lights in the room already brightening the space.

He stepped inside, closing the door gently. He glanced around the room, noticing how bare it seemed this time. A single set of couches sat in the center of the sizeable space, the walls were naked of decorations. The back wall was lit by three large windows; the view outside dark. Neville briefly wondered, as he had several times, where exactly the room sat in the castle. It had to be near one of the outer walls, but he could have sworn that it was not along the outer hall. He knew which hallway to find the main entrance of the room in, he just could never figure out the room itself. The presents of the windows and the position of the room was dropped quickly out of Neville's head as he realized he was not the only one there.

The window farthest to his left housed a thin framed male. The stranger's pale blond hair shinned in the moon light, giving away his identity easily. Neville didn't have to step closer to realize that he was in sharing the room with Draco Malfoy. And he didn't have to move closer to realize the other boy was crying heavily, and that he did not notice the other presents in the room.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Neville began to close the distance between him and the Slytherin, who did not notice Neville until he was only a few feet from him; his seated position placed his eyes level with Neville's chest. Draco turned his gaze up onto Neville, quickly whipping away the tears that stained his face. No matter how many times he whipped them away, the tear tracks remained as more tears built into the corner of his eyes.

Draco was a ghost of his former self; paler, quieter, and much too thin to be healthy, even with this naturally slim frame. The Slytherin house sweater he sported had become a bit too large for him, it was winkled, tucked only half in, a light grey stain spotting up the right sleeve. The sharp eyes he had narrowed at everyone for years were soft, blotchy and red from the tears that tracked down his face. Even his hair was different, the slicked back and groomed blonde locks where tousled about, unbrushed around his thin face. The put together and well-kept Draco Malfoy had ceased to exist shortly into their seventh year. He had instead been replaced by this new Draco; one who rarely spoke to anyone, or ate more than a few bits at dinner.

Neville's eyes locked onto the tattoo that tainted Draco's pale skin. The Dark Mark was a vibrant black that caught the moon light and reflected back. It looked more sinister than ever in the chilling light, but had never looked as out of place on the young Malfoy as it did in those moments. It was too harsh, too strong of a symbol to be permanently etched into the soft, paper-like skin of a seventeen year old boy.

Draco must have realized where Neville's eyes had locked, as he reached up and pulled the sleeve to cover the tattoo, his arms wrapping around his torso to either conceal the mark farther, or provide himself with more comfort. Draco attempted a glare, only for it to come out in a tear filled failure. His bit his bottom lip, giving up on the glare. "What do you want, Longbottom?"

Neville picked up on the hollowness in Draco's voice. It was broken, childish almost. He decided not to push on it as he watched the other boy closely. "Nothing. I was just using the room for some peace. What are you doing in here?"

"Wallowing in the quiet." Draco answered honestly, surprised by how easily he had spoken. He directed his gaze back out the window, watching with a shudder as the dementors flew about along the edge of the forest. He could swear that they knew he was there, watching them in fear. One seemed to lift its head. Draco quickly reminded himself that they were monsters without faces to turn towards him. A second shiver laced its way down his spine.

"You mind me staying," Neville spoke softly.

Prying his gaze away, Draco looked up at Neville, briefly wondering when the Gryffindor had gotten so tall, or if it was just because of how his seat in the window was making him appear. "Sure. Its passed curfew, you probably shouldn't head back out into the halls anyways. The Carrows might see you. You'll get both of us in trouble."

"I believe I'd have more to fear from them than you." Neville chuckled darkly. He caught the flinch that passed through Draco's shoulders, but decided to ignore it. "So, the Slytherin common room too loud for you or something? I figured your house would be parting all hours of the night."

"Shows what you know." Draco muttered angrily. "It's not a party for everyone."

"Right." Neville tried to keep his voice flat, but the sarcasm clung strongly to his words. "Like you lot aren't ecstatic about all of this. Aren't you on the verge of winning? That's what Parkinson was going on about this morning in the Great Hall."

"Winning?" Draco scoffed. "That's depends on your definition of winning. It seems more like just one step closer to genocide. Pointless, destructive genocide. And not everybody in Slytherin is cheering on the Dark Lord. As a matter of fact, most of us are just waiting for all this to end."

Neville was shocked by the words he was hearing. He wished to brush them off, pretending it as Draco's desire to play and deceive him, but he couldn't bring himself to push aside what Draco was saying. His voice was shacking and fragile, as well as honest. And despite Draco's more devious traits, it was near common knowledge that he wasn't the best liar. Not for something like this. Leaning his weight against the wall, Neville pushed his hair out of his face before dropping his gaze to meet Draco's. "You're saying you aren't wanting him to win. I mean, you are sporting his mark after all. One could only imagine that you would be on his side."

Draco pulled his tattooed arm closer into his chest at Neville's accusation. He lowered his eyes. "It wasn't much of a choice."

Neville blinked, making sure he had heard the whispered confession correctly. "There's always a choice."

"Not when-" Draco cut himself off quickly.

"Not when what? Come on Draco, it's just the two of us, and I promise not to tell a soul. Just, tell me."

Draco's eyes shot up and locked onto Neville. They held a new light of survival and anger. "Why do you care? Don't act like you do. I'm just enough bloody Death Eater to you people. I see how you all look at me. What you lot whisper behind my back. You loath me, all of you do, and honestly I don't blame you for it. But don't pretend like you actually care when I know for a fact that you don't."

"That's where you're wrong Draco." Neville answered, his voice soft and comforting. When Draco's eyes softened as the anger melted from him, Neville continued. "None of us really hate you. A lot of them are scared of you. But we all just really want to know why you would side with You-Know-Who. After everything that happened, why would you join him? Did you know what was going to happen?"

Draco sighed heavily. "This doesn't leave this room. Do you understand? I will personally hunt you down and kill myself if you ever tell anyone what I am about to say. Are we clear?"

Neville only chuckled at what he knew was an empty threat. He nodded in response. Draco seemed content with the response. After biting his lip for several seconds, he sighed one more and spoke. "At first I believed everything my father taught me. He was my father, I thought every word that came from his lips was the Golden truth. He could have told me that the sky was green, and that dragons slept on clouds and I would have trusted him. I kept believing in his ideas of blood purity and that Slytherin was the superior house, for the longest time. But as time went on, and I saw more and more of what the world really was, I started to realize that it wasn't true.

"But by the time I started to question my father's views on the world, things started falling apart. News of the Dark Lord rising back into power was welcomed into my family. When I got home the summer after forth year, my father was already set into his plans to follow him. My mother went along with it, but not so much until my aunt showed up months later and pushed things into play. But they started pressuring me into thinking about joining. Said I needed to be on the proper side when the war broke out. That I'd disgrace the Malfoy name if I wasn't.

"I made it all the way to just before sixth year pushing it off." Draco's voice grew sadder. He refused to look at Neville. "But by then, everyone was tired of my unwillingness to jump into the war. My parents were furious with my reluctance. They threatened me, trying to get me to join them. Threatened to disown me. To beat me than and there. To kick me out and abandon me into a world that looked at me like I had already taken up the mark. I wanted nothing more than to decline. I didn't want to become what they were. I didn't think I could bring myself to do what they've done."

"So you became a Death Eater after your parents threatened you?" Neville raised an eyebrow, trying to imagine the position he had been in.

"No." Draco answered quietly. He was silent for nearly a minute, neither of them speaking before he swallowed and continued. "They gave me twenty four hours to decide or get out, but I didn't get the chance to respond. Voldemort confronted me first, since Malfoy Manor had become overrun as a Death Eater camp out, he was already there. Said he was waiting for me to accept the mark and that he was growing tired of me putting it off. That if I kept delaying, he was going to start thinking I wasn't on his side. You have to understand, if you weren't on his side, you were at the end of his wand along with everyone else. He made that painfully clear. I had no plans to fight in a war, and no plans to get myself killed for some else's ideals."

"You could have run?" Neville spoke. "I know that doesn't seem like the ideal plan, but when you consider your other choice."

"He has a record for killing whole families." Draco's voice was clear of emotions, like he was reading from a book. While his voice was flat, his face and body conveyed every emotion he felt. "Taking out and torturing anyone close to his enemies. No matter how young, old, or pure their blood was."

"Family." Neville muttered, finally catching on.

Draco nodded. "My parents were too invested to leave. They're in the inner circle, there was no chance that they would willing give up their power and make a run for it, simply because I was too much of a coward to accept what I had to be. Even if they had, there was no where they could go without being found. No one would have taken us in. But they are my parents, and I knew he wasn't lying when he made that threat. He would have killed them, gone after me when he was done with them. Despite everything, they are my parents. I couldn't just hand them over to die. Instead, I took up the mark. Joined under the man who was willing to kill two of his own just to make an example."

Silence sank over the room, neither of the boys wishing to speak. Neville tried to wrap his mind around what Draco had confessed to him. He knew he had told him the truth. He didn't know how, but he knew he wasn't being lied to. With that in mind, Neville found it hard to look at Draco the same. He understood the desire to protect family. When the Carrows had gone after his grandmother to keep him in line, he had almost given up the fight to keep her safe. A bit of trouble making on school grounds was nothing compared to the life of the woman who had raised him. His grandmother had been able to escape, but Draco's parents didn't have that luxury. There was no way they could have gotten out of the situation alive if Draco had not taken up the mark.

"Do you want to follow them, Draco?" Neville asked, already knowing the answer. He just had to hear it spoke out loud. "Do you want the Death Eaters to win?"

Draco seemed shocked by the direct question. He chewed on his bottom lip, shaking his head. "No. This whole thing is pointless. It's just a pointless war over something so stupid."

Neville smiled. "Have you ever thought about joining the good guys?"

"Sure," Draco rolled his eyes, regaining his usual sarcastic tone. "That would go over so well. Let me just send Potter an owl, wherever the bloody Hell him and his little band of idiots are, and let him know that the big bad evil Draco Malfoy has decided to jump on his band wagon of self-destruction. I'll send one to my parents as well. Let them know that I've jumped onto the light. They will be pleased. I'm sure they won't disown me the moment they find out. That is if the Dark Lord doesn't hear first and kill them and a few puppies for stress management. Good plan, Longbottom. I take back what I said years ago, you actually do have a brain in that oddly shaped head of yours."

"That much sarcasm was uncalled for," Neville couldn't help but smirk.

Draco frowned. "You earned every drop of sarcasm."

"I'm serious though Draco." Neville shock his head, surprised with how easy it was to talk with him. They had been at each other since year one. Well, it was more like Draco was out to torment him, while he accept it, unable to fight back. Fifth year had balanced the power back out slightly, but it wasn't until the start of this year that Neville had secured his newfound confidence and stopped allowing his fears to cause him doubt himself. Where Neville had found his footing, Draco seemed to be stumbling to even make it through each day. "You're not the big bad you like to pretend to be. You know that right? You can keep acting all tough, but we know different. I heard you helped Luna out."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Draco muttered quickly.

Neville only continued to smile. "You distracted the Carrows from spotting her last week when she was past curfew. And I know you did it on purpose, because she said you told her to stay before you sent them in a wild goose chase in the other direction. And that's not the first time you've helped someone out. A bunch of first years were going on and on about how you got them away from the Carrows as well. And you stood up for those Hufflepuff first years who were getting bullied. And I know for a fact that last week you-"

"Okay I get it." Draco felt the smallest of grins pull at the side of his lip.

"The worst you ever were was a bully, Draco." Neville said. "You're not evil. You never were. And if you don't want to follow them, than you shouldn't. Don't let someone else threaten or tell you what you have to be. It's your life. You should be able to choice how you want to live it."

"Even if you're right, it's too late to change anything. I made the choice and nothing I do will change what I've done. Wallowing his self-pity over it, isn't going to help either. It isn't going to change everything that's happened. It's not going to take this damn mark off my arm." Draco growled, leaning deeper into the window seal. His failed to keep the emotionless mask up. His eyes bright with unshed tears of anger and frustration.

Neville chewed on his bottom lip as Draco's words registered in his mind. As much as he had despised and wished to pay Draco back for all the torment he had caused them over the years, looking at the Slytherin now, he couldn't find it in himself to bring any of those old feelings into play. Draco was broken beyond anything any of them could imagine. He had made poor choices, and from the expression passing over his face, he understood and regretted each of them.

"You can't change the past," Neville tried to keep his voice as straight as possible, "but you can help the future."

"What are you going on about?"

"There's a war going on-"

"Like I haven't bloody well noticed." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Don't interrupt." Neville scolded. An indignant frown passed over Draco's lips. "Anyway, if you don't want to follow the Death Eaters, than don't. You shouldn't have to fight for them because they say so. But if you really want to make things right, if you want to make up for the things you've done, than you can't just sit back and wait for things to pass and get better or worse."

"What are you suggesting, Longbottom," Draco scoffed, "that I hope onto your side? Suicide missions, the lot of you."

"Don't knock it till you try it." Neville smiled. His words were tinted with laughter, but flattened out quickly. "You've helped the students here out before. We've all seen the way you've protected some of the younger kids. You've got a heart in there that you can't hide. Besides, we could use your firepower on our side. You're pretty good in a fight, learn that the hard way in dueling class. There's gunna be an all-out battle sooner or later, there always is, and I know I would feel a lot better if I wasn't worried about having to take you on."

"I wouldn't be too worried, Longbottom. As much as I hate to admit it, you've gotten pretty good over the years."

"Thanks. But seriously, having you on our side, it would be pretty nice." Neville gripped the back of his neck, still unclear on what he was actually asking the boy to do. "You're a good guy Draco. A bit of an asshole from time to time, but overall a pretty good guy. Too good of a guy to be on the Death Eater's side."

"That's just the thing," Draco's expression turned cold. "I am a Death Eater. I have the damn mark to prove it."

Draco pulled back his sleeve, brandishing the Dark Mark on his skin. The black ink looked even sinister as a flash of lightening shot across the world outside. Both boys gazed out the window, wondering when the forming storm had begun. The rain beat down in light waves against the glass. Draco allowed his sleeve to fall back over the mark. He pressed a hand absentmindedly against the cold glass, watching as the dementors outside showed no signs of leaving their haunts. "I'm a bloody Death Eater, Neville."

"There's a difference between wanting to be a Death Eater, and being forced into it." Neville supplied.

"Is there?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "Is there really a difference. Because from where I sit, it seems like the same thing."

"There is a difference." Neville smiled. "You called me Neville. Not Longbottom."

Draco frowned. "Of course I called you Neville. It is your name. Merlin, I didn't think you were that dumb."

"There's the Draco we all know." Neville smiled. He rocked his weight off of the wall, standing straight. He didn't remove his eyes from Draco, watching as the anger left his pale eyes, only to be replaced with the pain and loss that had taken up permanent residence. "It's getting pretty late. I'm sure the Carrows have gone off so the halls should be clear. Hopefully. I don't think I can handle getting back on their bad side anytime soon. Still mending from the last 'disciplinary action'. I swear, sooner or later I should just take up permanent residence in this room. But think about what I said."

"Do you really think I could be more than just the bad guy?" Draco's voice was a whisper.

"I do." Neville answered. "You're more than just what your parents make you out and tell you to be."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" The conversation turned sharply with Draco's question. "After everything I've done to you. You should hate me."

Neville smiled and chuckled lightly. "I don't hate you. Not really. Besides, you look like you could use a friend right now. A real friend."

He didn't feel like he need to say anything else on the matter. Nodding his head in a quick goodbye, he stepped away from the window and Draco. He made it halfway through when Draco's voice stopped him. He turned, asking for him to repeat as he wasn't quite sure he had heard the other right.

Draco bit his bottom lip, almost unwilling to repeat what he had said. He glanced out the window, catching sight of the dementors before drawing his eyes away quickly. He looked up at Neville and nodded. "You're right. It's my life. My choice."

His whole life he had simply been a puppet. Feed beliefs and idea, forced to follow ever order given. He'd been made to play out the desires of those who held power over him. Never considering turning from them in fear of the consequences. Now, now he was given a choice, something he didn't have prior. The kid he had picked on and bullied for the first few years of school was offering something he never thought would happen. He was offering him purpose, a reason to go on. He was offering a chance to make things right. He was offering this as a friend.

Shifting his legs out of the window seal, Draco stood firm on his feet. His shoulder's sagged with the weight of the world. He held his head high. "It's my choice. I want to make things right. I need to make things right. I want to help. What do you need from me?"

-oOo-

I feel like this might have drug on a bit at the end. Does anybody else feel that or am I just being a perfectionist? Oh well, I enjoyed working on this. My little thought turned into a three day writing spree. I didn't have enough candy for this much work though. I must solve that problem.

I love the idea of Neville and Draco being close friends. Not one for shipping them (most days), but the BroTP. I figure that after the war Neville (along with Luna and Hermione) would be the first to accept Draco and forgive him for the screw up he was. Because Draco isn't an evil person. (If you are one of those people who think he's simply evil to the bone than we can never be friends. I became attached to that Malfoy.) He's a brainwashed kid whose been thrown into this evil world, where he's forced to prove himself and follow all these orders otherwise him and his family can kiss their lives goodbye. Potter's been besting him since day one when he flat out told Draco he didn't want anything to do with him. Most of the school dislike/fear him because he's a Malfoy and because of his last name and being part of Slytherin he's expected to be this big bad jerk. Everyone already thinks that he's hopped on the path of evil from day one. He's been raised in a strict family where he has to be exactly what his family wishes, and of course he'd be a bit of an arrogant prate as a little kid, it was how he was raised. His parents instilled these ideas into him, and I want to believe that he would grow from those and realize that there's more than just what his parents tell him is right.

But everyone expects him to be a certain way. He doesn't have good people in his life at this point to help him get onto his feet and see the world for what it is. He's struggling with the demands and expectations of a mass murdering Dark Lord; he has to constantly prove himself to everyone, especially since his father had fallen a bit out of grace since the Ministry affair; everyday he watches the horrors of the world and knows that he can't stop them; he's lost so much, especially the school, where I imagine he would have taken to as it was a break from the real world to head off to Hogwarts; he has the Syltherins sneering at him because they think he's weak, and the rest of the school wishing death upon him because they only view him as a Death Eater; he blames himself for everything he can't change. He's in a shitty position, and nobody is willing to look past the 'Draco Malfoy: Death Eater' thing to see that he's probably crying himself to sleep in the Room of Requirements every fucking night.

If you didn't realize yet, I am a large Draco Malfoy fan. I love that little bastard through every stupid thing he's done. I think he was a large reason why I became so easily addicted to the series.

This is where Neville comes in. As much as I love Draco, Neville ties for my favorite male character. (I seem to favor the minor characters) The Gryffindor has grown a lot over the years, really coming through and becoming a badass warrior. But he knows what it's like to be bullied and pressured. He's gone through it for years, being picked on and shoved aside. Always overlooked and not listened to. If anyone was to understand what Draco needed, it would be Neville.

Plus, imagine their friendship. Picture the two of them, two broken boys, overcoming the failure that everyone expected them to become and being friends. If you can't picture it, look up pictures of Mathew Lewis (Neville) and Tom Felton (Draco) being friendly with one another. I blame those two for causing me to imagine friendships between fictional characters.

Why do these rants always go on for so long? I clearly need a new hobby. I should pick painting back up.

Do leave comments though. Tell me your thoughts.