benjanriver:

Draco Malfoy was standing with his back to the door, his hands clutching either side of the sink, his white-blond head bowed.

“Don’t,” crooned Moaning Myrtle’s voice from one of the cubicles. “Don’t… tell me what’s wrong … I can help you…”

“No one can help me,” said Malfoy. His whole body was shaking. “I can’t do it… I can’t… It won’t work… and unless I do it soon … he says he’ll kill me…”

And Harry realized, with a shock so huge it seemed to root him to the spot, that Malfoy was crying–actually crying–tears streaming down his pale face into the grimy basin.