Draco Malfoy and the Last Year

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"What happened?" Persephone asked anxiously a few minutes later when Draco collapsed onto the common room sofa.

"He gave me detention," Draco told her.

"For what?" She looked incredulous, and Draco took some comfort in her indignation.

"For telling off Filch," he said, and a horrible thought struck him. "Pro-Oliver does know we're not dating doesn't he?"

"I-" Persephone paused. "Well, I would assume so. I mean. You're a bit young for me."

Draco covered his face in his hands. Why did things have to be so complicated?

Persephone leaned forward so Draco could hear her whisper. "Did you get it?"

It took him a moment to remember the potion in his pocket. He pulled it out and placed it in her hand. She sent him upstairs to get the snack box, and they found some abandoned corner of the dungeon to perform their tests. Persephone used a dropper to place small amounts of potion on each sweet.

He had to tell her. "He has the Dark Mark," he said in a low voice.

She looked up at him. "Severus you mean? Yes, he showed me." Her expression was sad and thoughtful. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, before opening them again and continuing with the testing.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Persephone dipped the dropper back into the vial. "I didn't tell him your secrets," she said simply. "I'm a little surprised he showed you, but then--well, no I'm not. He wants to warn you, not to make the same mistake he did."

"I'm not taking the mark," Draco said sharply.

"I never thought Lucius would have taken it," Persephone said softly.

"I'm not my father," he said.

"No, no, of course you're not."

It was little relief to discover that his mother had not in fact attempted to poison him. As a sort of anticlimactic celebration, he and Persephone split the remaining half of one of the scones before dropping the rest into a bin.

He was distracted during Quidditch practice, though he paid enough attention to see that the new Chasers were doing well. Chessann was scoring high points with Jonathan. From the look he was giving her, Draco would not be surprised if Captain Weatherby proposed before the year was out.

Filch was positively gleeful to have Draco at his mercy that evening and had him scrub every nasty thing he could think of, mainly bed pans and toilets, Muggle style. Draco managed to bite his tongue, though this sometimes required literal physical biting, and entertained himself with all the nasty things he would say and do to Filch if the opportunity ever arose. His fantasy Hermione tried to distract him, but he sent her away again.

Draco returned to the dorm exhausted and filthy. He spent well over an hour in the bath before he felt clean enough to go to bed. He overslept the next morning, missing breakfast and only just making it to class on time. He watched Hermione during Charms. Her bushy hair next to Potter's black made him think of Persephone and wonder what it must have been like for Professor Snape. How would it feel to spend all year building up the courage to ask her to the dance and have her say yes, then vanish the same day without a word or explanation? He knew it would make him a little crazy, and he wasn't even in love with Hermione.

As frustrated as he was with Snape's ire at him, he could not help but understand it. This did not make him feel better, only gave him another source of guilt.

When Astronomy came, he arrived first, early, eager to see Hermione and make another feeble attempt at conversation. He waited for an extremely long ten minutes, trying to figure out what he would say to her when she did arrive. He wanted to talk to her so badly it ached, but she hardly glanced at him when she sat down. He waited for her to settle in before speaking.

"I'm glad we're done with those doors. I think conjuring is going to be a lot more interesting," he said amicably.

"Stop it," Hermione said sharply.

"Stop what?"

"Whatever you're doing," she said irritably. "Just stop it."

"I'm just talking," he said defensively.

"Well, stop it!" she hissed and refused to look at him for the rest of the class.

An acidic retort formed on his tongue, but he let it burn there and turned back to his telescope.

****************

He sat again with Persephone's Friday study group, trying to read up on summoning charms, and outlined his essay for Snape so that it was particularly brilliant. His table was filled with second year girls who occasionally worked up the courage to ask him questions. Charles Bulstrode was patiently letting Goyle help him with Transfiguration at another table. Victoria Dey had slackened her leash on Thomas enough to let him sit with the other first years. She was perched on the nearby couch, taking notes from her Charms text. Indigo and Laurel, Nott's sixth year girlfriend, had another table. The second year boys at Persephone's table were speaking rather loudly.

"Can you believe he had never heard of the Floo Network? I told him it was a broomstick club."

A second boy laughed. "Well, what do you expect from a Mudblood like Hastings?"

Draco could see Persephone's previously sunny demeanor go stormy. "You think it's funny, do you?" she bit at them loudly, causing several people at other tables to look her way. "You ever think what it's like for them? Torn out of everything they know and expected to do just as well as all the students around them who had been brought up like wizards! How would you like it if you were suddenly stuck in Muggle school where you didn't know anyone and had to get by? Wouldn't you be hoping someone would take pity on you and help you find your way? Or maybe you'd like them to laugh their heads off at you while you try to figure out the water fountain and the telephone?"

"If I had to go to Muggle school, I'd die of shame," the boy shot back. "If the Mudbloods feel so lost, they should stick with their own kind. It's not my responsibility to make sure they can tie their shoes."

"Fine," Persephone said, slamming her book shut. "Tie your own shoes."

The other boys at the table realized she was leaving. "Don't go." "Please, I've got another question."

"No," Persephone said haughtily. "I'm far too upset by your language to do homework. I'm going upstairs. Victoria?"

Victoria hopped up as though waiting for the summons and imperiously followed Persephone as they stalked off to the girls dorm.

The boy sitting beside the one who had upset Persephone whacked his friend on the shoulder. "What did you upset her for?"

"It's not my fault!" he protested.

Indigo caught Draco's eye. "What was that all about?" she asked. He saw several of the stunned faces had turned to him. He shrugged and went back to his homework.

****************

Draco spent most of Saturday in the library, researching for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He returned to the Slytherin common room during dinner, hoping to have it to himself to study. Nothing could have prepared him for the scene that welcomed him. Blue bubbles filled the air, color-changing balloons were tied to the back of the chairs, and phantom images of the Weird Sisters were playing in the corner next to a Projecting Victrola. There were a few people dancing in the clear spaces.

Pansy detached herself from her cluster and crossed the room to him. "What is this?" he asked, as someone let lose a cracker.

"It's a birthday party," Pansy said, slipping her arm through his.

"For who?"

"For all the September birthdays. We thought it would be simpler to have one party each month, rather than let everyone do their individual thing. I think it's good to do something fun for a change, don't you?"

"Sure," Draco said with a shrug.

"I was about to send someone to fetch you," she said lightly. "Us prefects should be around to chaperon."

"Where did all this come from?"

"Well, Goody Filch had the balloons. And one of the fifth years had the Victrola, and they're using one of my records. And Pea left a note for the House Elves, requesting the cake." She pointed to a large white frosted sheet cake. "All the fourth years are off nicking extra food from the dinner table."

"Makes it a little hard on people trying to study," he said.

"Oh lighten up, Draco," Pansy chided. "Put the book down for a bit and come dance with me."

"I don't feel like dancing," Draco said honestly.

"Well, have some cake then," Pansy said, snatching his bag away. "You might want to say hi to Gregory and Vincent while you're at it."

"Why?" Draco said, then he swore softly. "I forgot." His best friends were both September birthdays, born three days apart. They often had joint parties.

Pansy tisked and escorted him towards the cluster of seventh years. He wished Crabbe and Goyle happy birthday and promised them a rain check on their presents. It made him feel even worse that he doubted he could ever get around to honoring it. He had been raised to think of poverty as something that resulted from moral decay and poor judgment. The idea that people could become poor from circumstances beyond their control or even for reasons that were possibly noble was new and disturbing.

He settled into one of the high backed chairs with a slice of cake so that he could "chaperon", which judging from the way Nott was dancing with Laurel, he might need to do at some point. The fourth years returned with their plunder and the common room seemed to become twice as crowded.

"Oh, come on, Draco, dance with me!" Pansy pleaded again a half-hour later. Draco shook his head. "I give up! Jonathan, come." She grabbed Weatherby and dragged him to the dance floor.

Draco spotted Persephone on the far side of the room. She was standing in a small group of laughing people, and her hand was on Blaise's arm. She crooked her finger, Zabini bent down so that she could whisper something in his ear. Draco felt a surge of something similar to jealousy. Jealousy was an emotion he knew very well, and this was something slightly different. He did not want Persephone. He just did not want any of the other Slytherin boys after her. If he had known more about siblings, he might have recognized it as a big brotherly protectiveness, but at length he decided he was feeling jealous for Snape, which was so strange that he did not want to think about it anymore.

He tried reading his Dark Arts text, but it was a losing battle.

Victoria Dey sat in one of the high-backed chairs near his. She was composing a letter and looking very determined not to enjoy herself, though she often looked up to gaze darkly at the partiers. "They're less tense than usual," she said at length. Draco decided she was talking to him since there was no one else in the immediate area. "I don't think I've ever seen them this relaxed."

He thought it a curious thing for her to say at first, but when he thought about it he admitted she was on to something. Victoria had only been able to watch the Slytherin students for the past two years, and the tension between the houses and inside Slytherin House itself had been palpable. Draco however remembered them before Voldemort's return and had seen them far less tense. No doubt the majority of the students were enjoying themselves, but they exercised a self-restraint that seemed unusual for unsupervised teenagers, as though they expected Snape or McGonagall to burst through the doors at any moment.

"What are you writing?" he asked, giving up on his book.

"A report for my father," Victoria told him.

"A report?"

She nodded once. "He requires that I send him a weekly report."

Draco shifted in his chair. "On what?"

"What sort of marks Thomas and I are getting, our activities, what we eat, and anything else I think he might find of interest."

Draco studied her stony features, as though seeing her for the first time. "Have you ever written anything about me in your reports?" he asked. Victoria gave another short nodded, not looking up from her parchment. "Like what?"

"I told him you missed the train," she said.

Draco felt his pulse quicken. Had he found his spy? Victoria did always seem to be watching everyone, and he now knew her father was a Death Eater. It did surprise him that she would admit it so openly. He had always assumed Victoria, who was generally silent, to be tightlipped as well, but if she was willing to talk... "Have you ever written him anything about my eating habits?"

If he had not known better, he would have sworn a flicker of confusion passed over her face. "No," she said looking up. Her large eyes rested on him.

"Victoria," he said, deciding it was worth a shot. "If I asked you, would you leave me out of your reports?"

She shrugged and looked back down. "As you wish."

Persephone appeared and sat down on the arm of Draco's chair. "Hello, Draco, Victoria. Have you had any cake?"

"My father does not approve of sweets," Victoria said.

"I've had some, thanks," Draco said. "Victoria was just telling me about the weekly reports she writes to her father."

The flicker of surprise that passed over Persephone's face was far more obvious and readable and told Draco this was news to her. "Um, Victoria, do you think it's possible you could leave me out of your reports?" Persephone asked sweetly.

Victoria glanced up at Persephone. If Draco was getting any better at reading her, he would say she was amused. "As you wish," she said.

Persephone beamed at her. "Thanks. Draco, why don't you go dance with Pansy? Jonathan's looking tired." He gave her an icy glare. "Or not. You know, I think I'm going to request a chocolate cake next month."

"Was this your idea?" Draco asked, indicating the balloons.

"No, it was Laurel and Anastia's. But I encouraged them to go through with it. I think you were right when you said everyone was tense. I thought it might help them relax, and I wanted to make things up with Lance. He's a September birthday. That's why I ordered the white cake. He prefers it."

"Can I speak with you out in the hall?"

"Sure," she said. "I'll meet you in a minute. I think someone needs to change the record. The lute player has started improvising." She skipped off, and Draco made his way out of the common room. Which was a little easier said than done, Daphne tried to drag him to meet someone or other, and Charles Bulstrode stopped him to complain that the other prefects were not doing enough to stop the third years from sneaking bits of Fizzing Whizzbees into the punch. He still managed to make it out of the room several minutes before Persephone.

He was about to give up and go back in to find her when the stone wall swung open. Persephone appeared and skipped over to him. Draco frowned. She was actually skipping.

"Don't you think you're over doing it?"

She looked at his curiously. "What?"

"The Happy Act."

"I'm not acting. I am happy."

"Come off it."

"I am."

"You can't be."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm miserable." He folded his arms over his chest and rested his back against the stone wall. "Doesn't it make you sad knowing you'll never see your parents again? Never sleep in your own bed? Wondering how many days are left before You-Know-Who finds you out?"

Persephone folded her arms and stood within a couple feet of him. Her silver eyes looked into his blue-grey ones. "Of course it does. I've cried myself to sleep at night thinking about it. But I'm alive, Draco. We're alive." She reached out and took his face in her hands. "We can touch. We can taste. We can smell. And if you don't think those are happy things, then try going without them for twenty years. Life...is intoxicating. I've been dead for a very long time, and now I'm not."

He took her hands in his and pulled them away from his face. "I think I need more than not being dead to make me happy."

"You've got friends here."

"Friends I can't trust."

"And how do you know you can't trust them?"

"I can't trust anyone."

"You can trust me," she said, playing her thumb across his fingers.

"You're different."

"How?"

"You owe me."

"And they don't?"

He tucked back a piece of silver hair that had crept out of the band attempting to control it. "Where'd you get that? I can't picture Oliver buying hair bands."

"Pansy gave it to me. She said she didn't wear them anymore."

Draco felt a small smile tug the corner of his mouth. "Why are people so nice to you? Generally that is...with obvious exceptions."

Persephone shrugged in a cute sort of way, but then she probably sneezed and put on her socks in cute ways. "I try to be nice to them for starters."

His dry humor swam up. "If I've got to be nice, I don't think it's worth it. I don't like people that much."

She got the joke and smiled, but answered as though he had been serious. "People are always worth it. That's something else you figure out when you have to go so long with out them. I love people. I want to surround myself with them, bask in them. I want to drink them up with all their problems and triumphs and idiosyncrasies."

"Oh, so we're using big words now?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Why are you so determined to be miserable?"

"What choice do I have?"

"You always have a choice. I could let my sadness swallow me if I wanted, but I choose to be happy."

"Fine, be happy," he said, not seeing the point in arguing. "But could you try to remember that you're not supposed to draw attention to yourself. Organizing large parties is not a good way to void sticking out."

"Oh, I wasn't really thinking about that," she said.

Draco bit back an obvious retort. "It's not a big deal, I suppose, but could you try to keep a low profile. For me? Please?"

"Okay, I'll try. We better get back before people start looking for us."

"Right, you go first. I'll be along in a minute."

The party died out slowly. Draco recruited the other prefects to shoo everyone out of the common room around midnight and left the clean up for the House Elves. Persephone insisted on writing them a thank you note for the cake and managed to talk a few bemused people into signing it.

****************

After Quidditch practice the following afternoon, Draco stretched out on his favorite leather couch in the common room, which was far more peaceful than it had been the night before, to read his Dark Arts text. He was well engrossed in the chapter on shielding spells, when he caught a flash of silver out of the corner of his eye.

"Where are you going?" he asked, and Persephone paused. He gestured for her to come closer, and she did, coming to rest on the arm of the couch.

"Well, Hadassah wanted me to check out the Transfiguration Club, and then Arlen wanted to show me something down by the lake--I do hope it's not the squid--and I told Charles I'd do something for him, so I need to...what?"

"Were you this social at your old school?"

She laughed, and Draco moved his feet aside so she could sit down. "No, I was a bit swotty actually."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "You? Swotty? Only time I ever see you open a book is on Friday. Come to think of it, how are you keeping up with your studies? You're taking six classes. How are you managing to get all you homework done?"

"You sound like Papa."

"He was always getting onto you for neglecting your studies?"

"No, but he is always getting onto James about this, that, or the other."

"Was."

"Pardon?"

"I'm correcting your verb tense," Draco said and wished he had not as the laughter drained out of her eyes, leaving them distant.

"I thought it would help the disguise better if I stayed in the habit of..."

"No, it's okay, you're perfectly right," he said quickly. "So you were really swotty at your old school? Not into all these social activities."

"Homework was the main social activity," she said, allowing herself to be distracted and smiling again. "I couldn't count the number of hours Severus and I sat at that table with Lucius and Narci just doing homework. And here...just talking about things, Lucius liked that spot you're in, though I don't think I ever saw him put his feet on the couch."

"Of course not, Narci wouldn't stand for it."

Persephone laid her head and arm on the back of the couch, looking nostalgic. "Lucius wouldn't have been able to do half the stuff he did with out Narci. She managed him, made sure he got to his clubs on time and got assignments done. Do you know she even started planning his meals?"

"She planned his meals?" Draco repeated incredulously.

"Elle a fait; she had read some dieting book and got all obsessive about making sure he was properly nourished. I remember one evening, the House Elves had only put out one vegetable for dinner, and it was a little scary. She was absolutely livid. I think Lucius thought it was funny."

"He would," Draco said. It was so unfair. His parents had always given Draco the impression that his father had managed all his achievements purely through his own hard work and cleverness. Well, I might do a little better if I had my own personal assistant, Draco thought, but he winced at the idea of Pansy planning his meals.

"I wonder if she still picks out his clothes," Persephone said with a laugh.

"What do you mean still?"

"Lucius is the only boy I never knew who didn't mind letting girls dress him. Not like that," she added at Draco's horrified expression. "I mean pick things out for him. It was wonderful. He was like this big doll. He'd change and come out and model for us. Severus thought we were all mad."

Draco nodded slowly, thinking the same thing. Still it was a guilty pleasure to hear Persephone talk about them. Bittersweet to think of them as happy and occupying the same rooms he did. "Speaking of family," he said in an even lower voice than usual. "Have you talked to Harry yet?"

"Oh," she looked chastened. "No, not yet."

"Persephone-"

"I know. I will. Things have just been busy."

"They haven't been that busy." Draco frowned and sat up a little straighter. "Why do you keep putting it off?"

"I'm not."

"You are."

Persephone looked down, playing with her hands. "I'm just nervous, I guess. What if he doesn't believe me?"

"He will."

"But what if he doesn't like me?"

"He will," Draco said, giving her a reassuring smile.

"I guess you think I'm really silly, but you don't know what it was like with James. He was awful to me. He and Severus were always fighting, and there was so much tension between Gryffindor and Slytherin. I know Harry's not James, but he looks just like him. And he doesn't like Severus either." Draco bumped his knee against hers as a silent reminder. Some fourth years had just arrived through the portal. She lowered her voice. "It just stirs up a lot of anxiety. You would think some things would change after all this time, but there's still all this tension, and I'm so sick of it."

Just to prove that all the parts of his brain were not moving at the same speed, he asked her. "Why'd you jump all over poor Bardolf on Friday?"

"Because I don't like the term Mudblood. It's rude and uncalled for."

"You know I'm not sure I entirely believe you were really friends with my father," said Draco. "I can't image him putting up with you jumping down his throat like that."

"Oh, well, I never got onto Lucius," Persephone said, looking abashed. "I think I said something about not liking it once or twice, and he just laughed and said I was too delicate. I didn't want him to get mad at me, so I usually kept my mouth shut or changed the subject. I think he tried not to talk about it so much around me. It was easier not to talk about it. We had plenty of other things to talk about."

"Well, why don't you try not talking about it now?"

"Because maybe I should have talked about it," she said with a small waver of fever beneath her voice. "Maybe if I had gotten onto him a few times, he wouldn't have...maybe things would be different."

She looked close to tears again, so he took her arm. "It's egotistical to blame yourself. Even if you had said something, he had plenty of other friends telling him differently, and you should know how stubborn he is. It wouldn't have made a difference."

"You don't know that. It might have," she said stubbornly.

"Come on, don't you have Charms or something to go to?"

"Transfiguration."

"I'll come with you," he said standing up and pulling her up with him.

"Oh, okay," she said, looking a little surprised. It had the effect of drying her eyes, which was what he had being trying to do.

"I'm gonna go to the lake with you too," he said as they left the common room.

"How come?"

He shook his head with an air of long suffering. "Now you really should have learned your lesson about meeting people alone by the lake."

"You think Arlen's going to hurt me?" she said with a grin.

"Definitely not if I'm there," said Draco.

"What, are you my bodyguard?"

"Well, it's not like you can look after yourself."

"I can look after myself."

They had a nice session of petty bickering that was a lot more like teasing on their way to the Transfiguration Club meeting. Draco did an impression of Zabini by declining to participate and fixed himself over in a corner of the room to read his Dark Arts text. Afterwards Draco followed Persephone down to the lake. Arlen turned out to be a fair-haired Ravenclaw boy, who did not look at all happy to see Draco.

They said some polite words of greeting for Persephone's sake and began to circle the lake. Draco hung behind the other two, where he could avoid the conversation and keep an eye on them. If Persephone thought this was rude, she did not show it but chattered merrily to Arlen about Arithmancy. It soon became apparent, to Draco at least, that Arlen had not had anything specific in mind to show Persephone and was circling the lake in hopes of finding something excuse worthy. He responded to Persephone in short sentences, though Draco was sure he would have said quite a bit more if he had not tagged along.

Sorry, kid, Draco thought, not feeling the least bit sorry. You'll have to find another girl. This one's taken. He made sure his body language contained the same message. He kept his arms crossed and made sure he was ready with an appropriately condescending look whenever Arlen glanced at him. When he wasn't glaring down Arlen, he was free to reflect upon the absurdity of what he was doing.

He was certainly there out of a desire to protect Persephone, and that in itself was absurd. He had no real connections to her other than their shared House. He was supposed to be dropping her off in Potter's hands and receiving the obligatory gratitude, not playing the role of an overprotective big brother. So she had been his father's friend, so what? He was mad at his father. He was bull guarding her for Snape, then, but the whole idea of his Potions Master consorting with a student was highly disturbing if not fundamentally wrong and absolutely disgusting. No, it was not his Potions Master he was guarding her for; it was the seventeen-year-old boy who had asked a girl to dance and never seen her again. Only that seventeen-year-old boy was still very much a part of his Potions Master.

Will I be like that when I get old? Draco wondered. Bitter and lonely like Snape, or arrogant and cold like his father. Or will I even manage to stay alive long enough to get old? Will the person I am now be an absolute stranger? When I look in the mirror will I see the wrinkles I've acquired or the smooth skinned boy I once was or some double image of both? Is time etched in stone, am I destined to be my future self or are there multiple selves I could potentially become. And I really wish I had someone other than myself to talk to about this.

He could picture presenting these questions to Crabbe and Goyle and watching the glazed looks come over their faces, he had tried it once or twice. Nott was another hopeless case. He would inevitably turn the conversation to the fairer sex and whether his opportunities to conquer them would diminish or improve with time. Zabini had some potential. Maybe Draco should give him another chance and attempt philosophical conversation, but then Zabini still unnerved him. He was too quiet.

He could talk to Persephone, but she was such a bubble. She would just try to cheer him up, and he wanted to be moody and pensive. He wanted to talk to Granger. She certainly would not try to make him feel better about anything. She would just tell him what she thought and make a thorough case for it.

You could talk to me, his fantasy Hermione said falling into step beside him.

Yes, but you're a delusion of my fevered brain, therefore I would still be talking to myself.

Never bothered you before.

Well, it bothers me now, so please go away. And she went away naturally, because she was after all only a delusion of his fevered brain.

Arlen finally found a clump of flowers that had some Potion applications, and he picked a handful for Persephone and himself. Draco just made a mental note of their location. A sudden stab of manliness did not want Crabbe and Goyle to see him returning to castle with handful of wildflower unless he actually needed them for something.

Arlen took another lap around the lake to console himself, while Draco took Persephone back up to the castle. She gave Draco a long list of Arlen's fine qualities that led him to believe she had absolutely no idea that the boy had not brought her out to look at flowers.

****************

"These are very interesting questions," Albus Dumbledore said, indicating the stack of parchments before him. "I hope we have answered all the questions related to the chapter, but several of you chose to interpret the assignment in a much broader sense."

Draco watched Dumbledore warily. He wondered if he was the only one in the classroom worried that a broader interpretation of the assignment might negatively impact his grade. Nott did not look worried, nor did the wunderkind, so Draco tried to relax.

"The knowledge of appropriate countercurses and the skills to perform them are invaluable," Dumbledore continued. "However, as this is an advance class I would like to go beyond that and exercise your critical thinking skills. Therefore I am going to go through your questions, and we'll see what sort of answers your combined intellects can produce. I am not sure we will be able to cover them all today, but with any luck we will answer every one before the year ends.

"I think we'll start with this rather unique question. 'How do you defend against Magna Secari?' Does anyone know why I find this question interesting?" Granger's hand shot into the air, but Dumbledore looked in Draco's direction. Draco felt his muscles tighten. Don't say my name. Don't you dare say my name, old man. "Ms. Greengrass."

Draco turned to see Daphne drop her hand and cast a languid superior look in Hermione's direction. Her hair was dirty blonde today. "Magna Secari isn't necessarily a dark arts spell. The Secari spell causes cuts to appear in the skin, and various qualifying words are used to manage the size of those cuts. It's commonly used in certain medical operations," so said the daughter of two St. Mungo's administrators.

"Couldn't it be used aggressively?" Potter asked. Draco felt a rush of gratitude that someone else brought up that point.

"Most certainly," Dumbledore said.

"How do you block it?" Seamus Finnigan asked.

"A simple Shield Charm would normally be sufficient," Granger said.

Draco felt himself blanch. A simple Shield Charm? A simple Shield Charm could have saved Evra Tome. No. No it wasn't that simple. "But what if there are multiple spell casters?" he found himself asking. "Would the Shield Charm hold?"

Dumbledore looked at him curiously, and Draco avoided his eyes. He did not want Dumbledore seeing...another thought stabbed him from the shadows of his mind. What if Snape had not taught him Occlumency to hide things from Voldemort? What if he had taught him so that could hide things from Dumbledore? Snape had warned him, but what if he had misinterpreted Snape's warning. What if Snape had told him to be careful to avoid expulsion because Voldemort needed him inside Hogwarts for some reason? Snape might have regrets, but he never said that he was not still working for Voldemort. He had the Dark Mark. There was a Death Eater at Hogwarts. Even if he had decided for some reason to spare Draco, he was a danger to Harry, and Draco needed Harry. He needed Harry to kill Voldemort. He had to tell Dumbledore. There was a Death Eater at Hogwarts.

He gradually came to realize that the conversation had continued without him. Dumbledore had said something about stronger Shielding Spells, and now the students were discussing the effectiveness of combined attacks and defenses. After class then, Draco told himself and tried to focus on the conversation. He took a lot of notes. Jotting down this and that, stealing glance at Potter and Granger to strengthen his resolve. Instead of moving to Draco's next question, Dumbledore went to the first question on the next parchment. "Do Zombies eat brains or is Dean just pulling my leg?"

"I didn't know you would read them out," Seamus Finnigan said with a flush as the rest of the class laughed.

They had a brief discussion of Zombies and another on Sirens and a longer discussion on what defines certain spells as "dark", before the bell rang. Draco took his time copying down the homework assignment and fumbled with his book bag until the room had cleared.

"Those were very interesting questions," Dumbledore spoke, causing Draco to jerk his head in his direction. The Headmaster was watching him from behind the teacher's desk. "I thought the next two on your list were far more to the point than the first. I'm curious what made you ask about Magna Secari."

"Just something I read this summer," Draco mumbled. Do it for Evra. Tell Dumbledore about Snape. There's a Death Eater at Hogwarts. You have to tell him that Snape has the Dark Mark. If Snape is no longer connected to the Dark Lord, he'll surely have a good defense. Just tell Dumbledore about the mark.

"Is there something you want to say to me?" Dumbledore said, rather gently.

"No, sir," Draco said and slung his bag over his shoulder.

****************

"I couldn't do it," he moaned later, when he slid onto the couch beside Persephone.

"Do what?"

"Tell Dumbledore about Oliver," Draco said softly. "We really should, you know. He should know what he has tattooed on his arm."

"He already knows," Persephone said. When Draco looked surprised, she laughed. "You really thought that he didn't? Oh, Draco. You thought Se-Oliver was still...? I'm not sure whether to be proud or disappointed in you."

Draco was having the same internal conflict, but it was very irritating of her to say it. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't he tell me?"

"He's not sure which side you're on," Persephone said simply. Draco opened his mouth to retort, but closed it again. "If you told him where you found me, I think he would, but right now he just has my word that you not working for...well, you know who."

"Fear of the name properly sunk in now?" Draco asked.

Persephone wrinkled her nose. "I have no problem saying Voldemort." She spit the name a little. "I was trying to be discreet." Because of course, there were people in the room, watching, listening. Not close, but they were always there.

"We need a better discreet word for him," Draco said.

"Oh, well, speaking of...as in I want to completely change the subject and ask your opinion on something..." She pulled out a ratty looking folder stuffed with parchments. "Victoria and I wrote up some club proposals. I don't know Sinistra, but you've got her. So I thought you might know the best way to word things for her."

"You're starting clubs?" he said, taking the folder in hand. "Didn't we have a talk about not drawing attention to yourself?"

"They're just clubs, Draco," she said. "Normal students do them." Draco fished through the parchments, while Persephone summed them up. "That one's just an extension of the study group we've been doing on Fridays, and the Dueling Club was Victoria's idea...Nicholas said they tried to start one a few years back, but it was a complete joke. Oh, and this one's just my sneaky way of getting filled in on recent history."

"The Dueling Club was fun," Draco said. "Would be nice to see it done properly though. It'll need staff supervision. Who did you have in mind to...why'd I even ask that question... Why'd you restrict it to third through fifth years? That's no fair."

"Because, first and second years don't have any business pointing their wands at each other, and I want sixth and seventh years at the Forum," she said.

"The Forum for the Discussion of Current Events is very dry, clunky name, you know. If you want people to come, you should name it something catchier."

"I think it's alright," she said. "Describes what it is, doesn't it?"

"Have it your way." Draco saw a sentence that bothered him and reached for his ink and quill. "Why don't you change this? I want to do the Dueling Club instead."

"Oh, no, I want you to come to the Forum!" she said pleadingly. "More people will show if they think you're backing me up."

"Ah, so you're using me."

"Of course I'm using you," she said. "That's what friends do with each other. Narci used to get me to ask the teachers for things. She said they favored me. Lu used me to practice Charms, and you're using me to get to Harry right? So it's all fair."

He blinked at her, several surprised reactions competing. "Lu?" won.

"I'm trying to be discreet."

Draco laughed a short, barking laugh. "He'd kill you."

She giggled, "He would hate it, wouldn't he? But I think he'd hate Luci more. And I promised to never use his middle name, because he really hates it."

"Primus? Yeah, it is pretty awful. I think it must have scarred him as a child, because he didn't even give me a middle name."

"He didn't?" Persephone echoed. "That is funny. I thought Oliver and I were the only people on earth without middle names."

"I thought Oliver was a middle name?"

"Not legally, we gave ourselves middle names," she said.

"What's yours?"

"Elizabeth."

"Huh, well the remaining vowels would only make me dam, dim, or dum...so I think I'll do without. Draco's a nice, strong name, stands on its own."

Persephone giggled furiously and nodded. He looked over the notes again, trying to formulate an elegant way to draft a proposal for each. Professor Sinistra would not be particularly difficult to persuade, but it was a matter of professional pride. "Persephone Elizabeth, why are you proposing clubs you can't participate in?"

"I'll be participating in the study group. I figured we'd recruit more sixth and seventh years to tutor."

"Ah, you should put that in the proposal," he said and scratched a note with his quill.

"And the Dueling Club was more Victoria's idea than mine, I just wanted something for the middle classes to do together. I've got an agenda, you see."

"An agenda?" He cast her a wary glance.

"Yes, nothing sinister. Did you listen to the Sorting Hat's song?"

"No."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, you go check it out in the library. They've got a big book with a record of every song the Sorting Hat's sung for the past five hundred years, and there's a pattern."

"You mean the pattern where it talks about each of the four Houses and their noble traits in turn? Cause I caught that one."

"I mean the last year I was here the hat gave a warning. It told us to band together because dark things were coming, and three years ago it gave same warning and repeated it in the last two songs. Always the same advice, band together, combined the houses, cooperate. But Slytherin House isn't doing that very well, is it?"

Draco opened his mouth to object, more on principle than because her words lacked truth. "Well, it hasn't been," she cut him off. "So I think it would be good for Slytherins to be behind some clubs that promote cooperation between the houses. Sort of an image repair. Laurel, Chess, and Anastasia think it's a swell idea. They said they're tired of all the inter-house bickering."

Draco kept his expression set. "This agenda smacks of attention drawing," he said disapprovingly.

"Oh no, that's the beauty of it. The whole point is to be very subtle. It's just meant to give people a place to talk to each other. Some neutral ground with broader appeal than a Transfiguration Club."

"As long as you can keep a low profile personally, I guess it wouldn't be so bad," he murmured. Inter-house cooperation was hardly his biggest concern. Still the Forum for the Discussion of Current Events sounded boringly academic enough that Granger might show up, and that could yield new possibilities. Neutral ground where talking was encouraged might not be such a bad thing.

"What's this?" he asked as he shuffled through the folder papers. "Is this the Potions essay you were working on last...you got a 'P'. Snape gave you a 'P'? Snape gave you a 'P'. This must be pretty dreadful."

She blushed and snatched the essay back. "Do you think he'd be so unethical as to not grade me like everyone else?"

"Well..." Draco started to say that's exactly what he thought, but thought better of it. "That's not the point. You got a 'P' in Potions?"

"It's just an essay."

"Yeah, but you got an 'O' on your O.W.L. What are your other grades like?" He started shuffling through her bag, ignoring her protests and finding a bizarre inconsistency of marks. "These are horrible. I thought you were swotty, look at all these 'P's and 'D's."

"I said I was swotty, not that I am," she said, trying to set her features to look defiant, but coming off as more of a pout. "I keep up, more or less. My in class work is just fine. It just feels like such a waste of time outside of class. There's so many other things I'd rather be doing. I mean if I died tomorrow, would I like to look back on my life and say 'hurray, I did a bunch of homework' or 'I spent time with people, got to know them and positively effect their lives'."

"If you die tomorrow, I don't think you'll have the opportunity to reflect on it," Draco said unsympathetically. "And that has to be one of the oldest and lamest excuses for skiving off in history. I'm certainly not going to help you form clubs, if you can't keep up in Arithmancy."

"I'll do it on my own then," she said irritably. "You can't stop me."

"Can so. Sinistra's rather fond of me. If I tell her these clubs are stopping you from getting decent marks, she'll listen."

"That's really unfair!"

"I'll make a deal with you. You spend at least two hours a day in the library with me doing your homework properly, and I'll tell Professor Sinistra these are all absolutely wonderful ideas that'll inspire peace and unity throughout the school."

"That's fourteen hours," she whined piteously.

"And this here is a 'D' in Charms, that's 'Dreadful' you know, and P is for 'Poor', love, not 'Pass'."

"And why do you care about my marks anyway?" she demanded huffily.

"Because I care about you," he shot back.

He had not meant to say it, but it subdued her so he did not try to take it back. Besides it was true, and oddly the realization did not bother him. She was like the little sister he had never had. He had never really wanted siblings. True, he had occasionally wondered what it would be like to have them, but their absence had not left any gaps within him. Perhaps it was a result of his estrangement from his real family, but it made him comfortable to think of her that way. It put their relationship in terms he could understand, even if it stretched credibility. He was the big brother. She was the little sister. Simple.

And Persephone, like any little sister, tested the boundaries of his patience.

****************

She submitted to the terms of their agreement, though she had trouble keeping her attention on her schoolwork even in the library. She had a tendency to wander off among the stacks and loose herself in old newspapers and books that had nothing to do with her assignments, but she was getting some work done. Draco was able to check over her essays and was satisfied that her work was at the very least improving. Other students had a bad habit of wandering up to them, but Draco shooed them away as best he could or demanded that they do homework themselves if they chose to remain.

Having accepted the role of big brother, he was taking it as a matter of pride to be a better big brother than James Potter had ever been. More tolerant and supportive and not such an absolute prick.

He stayed behind after his next Potions class. Determined to speak to Snape again. He had given a lot of thought to everything Snape had said, including the comment about bridge burning, and he knew wanted to keep the bridge between himself and Snape in good repair. He waited until the room had been clear a good thirty seconds before speaking.

"She asked about you," Draco said. Snape, who had been trying to act as if he had not noticed Draco was still there, looked up. "It was nearly one of the first things she said when I found her. She was worried that you had forgotten about her." Snape twitched almost imperceptibly. He looked as though he wanted to say something but could not find the words. Draco gave him a small smile. "It helped. Those lessons you gave me. I wouldn't have been able to rescue her without them. So thank you."

Snape's eyes darted about the classroom as though checking it for stragglers. He looked extremely uncomfortable. "You're welcome," he said stiffly. The words sounding extremely inadequate to both of them.

Draco perched himself on one of the tables with a relaxed smile as if he often had informal little chats with his Potions professor. "You know some one started a rumor that we're dating," he said with half a laugh. "Absolute nonsense of course. I mean she's a sweet girl and all, but not my type. I haven't really corrected anyone though. It keeps the hopefuls away. I figure she needs some time to settle into her classes before dealing with the advances of teenage boys."

"Mr. Malfoy, I'm afraid I don't really have much interest in your social life," Snape said dryly. "Your evening may be free, but I have another class coming so I suggest you take your books and move along."

Draco gave him another smile and left the room. Snape might not be willing to express himself openly, but it did not matter. Draco knew he had heard.

He worked on Sinistra next. The study group and the Forum passed inspection pretty quickly. She was a bit more hesitant about the Dueling Club, but Snape had written his own rather elaborate proposal. Draco took her through it line by line and gave her his most winning smile. He talked about how disappointed Victoria would be if her idea was the only one rejected, and how Persephone needed to feel proactive to deal with her grief. It was really a dazzling performance on his part. In the end, Sinistra caved.

****************

Persephone started the Friday evening study group by making the announcement that they would be expanding it to include the first and second years in the other houses. This was met with a chorus of groans and protests. Apparently the Slytherins had been showing up the other first and second years in several classes and did not want to lose their edge.

She added insult to injury by assigning them all three specific students, one from each house, to invite to the meetings. None of the sixth or seventh year tutors showed much surprise at the move, because Persephone had worked on each of them during the week to gain their support. Laurel was ready with a stack of parchments slips to hand them.

Proving that she had thought about this more than Draco would have given her credit for, Persephone also had an elaborate incentive plan to win the first and second years back over. Any student who got all three of the other students on their list to attend the study group would receive a treat from Honeydukes, which was a big deal for the first and second years as they were not yet allowed into Hogsmeade. Beyond that each "team" of four would compete against the others for the highest exam grades, and the winners would get another set of prizes. "This is completely independent from the House Cup competition," Persephone assured them.

By the end most of the students were starting to whisper excitedly and compare lists with each other, but Bardolf threatened to stalk off.

"Go ahead," Persephone said. "No one's forcing you to stay."

Bardolf worked his jaw for a moment. He looked to his friends for support but found none. "You put a Mudblood on my list," he spat finally.

The other students looked at Persephone anxiously as if expecting her to stalk off again, but she merely nodded. "That's right. Everyone has at least one Muggle born student on their list." This pronouncement set of a fresh set of whispers. These slightly scandalized. "It's only fair. Now you all heard the Sorting Hat. The Houses need to pull together. This is your opportunity to do just that. You will be spending the next six to seven years of your life with these other students. You might as well get to know them now, learn to enjoy each other."

"I think it's an excellent idea," Charles Bulstrode said, and Thomas Dey gave a nod from beside him. "Can we get Pepper Imps?"

"How are you going to afford all this candy?" Draco asked much later.

"Donations. Theodore's putting in a few galleons, so is Laurel and Alice. Some other people have dropped in a few sickles and knuts, and Daphne said she'd get her dad to donate forty galleons for prize money for the winning team. She hasn't done it yet, which is why I left the prize vague. Indigo's playing treasurer."

"You do know they're all in it for the candy," Draco told her. "None of them were inspired by your little House unity speech."

Persephone shrugged. "Never underestimate the power of a well placed bribe."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Okay, maybe you did know my father."

****************

And then the month was gone, and the next reared its head. It started with a bleak drizzle and got steadily worse. (Not the rain, the rain cleared up the next day. The month got worse.)

"Excuse me...excuse me, may I have your attention? Thank you. Um... I have some new club announcements. The Slytherins have been holding a Friday evening study group for first and second years this past month, and we've had a lot of success with it, so we're opening it up for all the Houses. The study group will start at five o'clock and go 'til seven. We'll be meeting in the third floor study hall. We're encouraging all first and second years to take advantage of it.

"We're also looking for sixth and seventh year students to act as tutors. As well as giving you a chance to get acquainted with your underclassmen, it's a good opportunity to brush up on your basic spells.

"Third through fifth years are encouraged to attend the interest meeting for the new Hogwarts Dueling Club at four o'clock this afternoon in the Great Hall. Professor Snape will be supervising.

"For Sixth and Seventh Years we will be holding a Forum for the Discussion of Current Events...to well, discuss current events. First meeting will take place at eight o'clock on Tuesday evening in the Arithmancy lab. Thank you for your attention."

Persephone returned to the table slightly pink but looking proud of herself all the same.

Draco stared at her in disgust for a few moments until she let the smile fall. She did not have the decency to look abashed but raised her eyebrow curiously. "The words 'low profile' hold absolutely no meaning for you, do they?"

"I just made an announcement."

"That's what the announcement boards are for."

"I put it on the announcement boards, but I wanted to make sure people read it."

****************

Thursday morning brought more mail from Oliver. He had finally run out of packages to send Persephone and had started sending letters instead. At first glance they were long fantasies about the daily lives of the imaginary students at Persephone's imaginary old school, only told anecdotally with an incredibly elegant turn of phrase. While there was nothing overtly romantic about them, there was a running theme that Persephone was sorely missed and life had lost color in her absence, which got Persephone and the other Slytherin girls quite gooey.

Draco found the letters annoyingly perplexing at first. Why on earth Oliver found a need to write so much when Persephone slipped down to his office a few times a week was beyond him. The letters seemed to be absolute fluff for that matter, which struck him as out of character. Yes, it helped the illusion that Persephone had come from Canada. Oliver had done enough research to know the name of the school, its headmaster, and something about the general layout of its grounds. He could not understand why Snape had gone to such lengths to invent people until he started recognizing some of the anecdotes. They were ones he had heard from his parents and their friends.

And once he recognized the stories, he had begun to recognize the characters. Andrew was Lucius. Oliver was clearly more creative with his code names. Draco's mother was Delilah. He had no idea who Zaccharias might be, but Simon was quite clearly Avery. John was obviously James who stayed in the perpetual company of Mark, who was a git beyond measure.

He felt absurd to be reading Persephone's mail just like the seventh year girls insisted on doing, but once he recognized what the letters were he was transfixed. It was like the seventeen year old Snape was writing Persephone from across the Atlantic stretch of time, still trapped in a lonely seven year. He coveted the glimpses of his young parents and the whispers of their engagement. He was sure none of the girls understood the references to the Hunting Club, but he found them absolutely chilling.

Persephone for her part enjoyed sharing. It gave her an excuse to talk about Oliver, which made Draco anxious at first, but her many assurances that Oliver was really "sweet and shy" made Draco think it would be less likely for people to link him back to Snape.

At first Draco had found his own lack of mail a relief, but as the days crawled by without a sight of Oberon or Roughskin, he started to worry. There was significance in silences. Perhaps his mother had given up on him.

This was not his only worry. Conjuring was certainly interesting, but that did not make him instantly good at it. Goyle on the other hand seemed to have found his calling and was pulling thimble after thimble out of mid air. "And look this one's red. I think I can get a flower on the next one, or maybe a silver Snake detail on a green one. Do you think Millicent would like that?"

Being out done by Goyle in a lesson just proved that the universe was out to get him. It took him nearly an hour to catch the Snitch during Quidditch practice that afternoon. He knew it would be a good day to go to bed early, but Persephone could not talk about anything except her worry that no one would show up to her Forum. He had already promised to go, so after dinner he dragged himself up to the Arithmancy lab.

He was mildly surprised by how many people followed him. Naturally all the other seventh year girls came when Pansy announced that she would attend. Crabbe and Goyle were loyal enough to suffer with him, but Zabini and Nott followed them up as well. "Might as well, Laurel's busy with an essay," Nott explained sadly. Zabini had never felt a need to explain himself before and did not start now. Chessann went to bed after dinner, but the rest of the sixth year girls came. Captain Weatherby enthusiastically reviewed the Quidditch practice in detail as they climbed the stairs and looked mildly surprised to find himself in the Arithmancy lab. Draco imagined the rest of the sixth year boys had just sort of sheeped up.

Persephone was practically glowing as students from other Houses began to shuffle in. She babbled excitedly, until Anastasia pointed out that Colin Creevy had arrived.

Persephone hopped up. "Hey, Colin! Did you bring it?" she called merrily and joined a cluster of sixth years at another table.

"Draco, what is this meeting all about?" Daphne asked.

"Current events," he said with a shrug.

"Oh, well that explains," she said with a light hint of a sarcasm.

"It's like she's trying to start a bloody mudblood outreach program," Pansy muttered. "What in the name of Merlin does she want with Creevy?"

"We've been thinking about getting him to take some photos for the six year girls," Anastia explained. "He was going to show her his portfolio."

Draco grimaced. That's all he needed. Sixth year girls sending photos home containing a classmate who was supposed to be dead. He would have to put a stop to it, but there were too many people for him to yell at Persephone now.

He saw that Potter, Granger, and Weasley had taken seats. He watched Persephone join them and wished he could hear what they were saying. Tell him, please, tell him. He wanted to tell Alice to shut up about Eloise Midgeon so he could hear but doubted that would help. Persephone seemed to be doing okay on her own. She was chatting animatedly, and Potter was giving her his attention. Then for no apparent reason her face fell. No, don't get a sudden attack of the nerves now, he pleaded, but his silent protest went unheeded. She stood up and hurried back to the Slytherin table. She dropped heavily into the seat beside Draco looking miserable, and her forehead fell against his shoulder. He was a bit startled by how publicly familiar she was being with him. Not trying to hide his discomfort, he pushed her shoulders gently to separate them.

She whimpered and pushed her hair back. "What am I doing?" she asked in a soft, dull voice.

"I have absolutely no idea," he said. "It's about ten after, why don't you start your meeting?"

Persephone nodded and stood back up. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she seemed to have regained her resolve and went to the center of the room to get everyone's attention. Draco looked at his watch wondering how long the meeting would take.

"I brought a copy of the Daily Prophet and the London Times, if we need ideas," Persephone was saying. "We could discuss the flooding in India or the political shift in Hong Kong or the market drop in cauldron sales...oh-OR we could discuss the fact there's a psychotic dark wizard out to kill everyone." That shut Alice up. Draco did not dare look at Pansy. He caught Crabbe's questioning glance and dropped his head into his hand. Don't do this, Persephone. Please don't do this.

The pause only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Draco's brain whirred painfully in the interim.

"Not everyone," Pansy said into the silence. "Only Mudbloods."

Draco felt his head jerk up. How could she say that? Even Pansy couldn't be that callous, not after what had happened Evra Tome. She doesn't know about that, idiot. You should tell her. You should tell them all what he's capable of. I can't, if I tell them that I have to tell everything... but Evra was pureblood. "Don't be naive, Pansy." he said slowly, his voice falling mechanically into a lazy drawl. "He'll kill anyone who gets in his way."

If anything the room got quieter. He glanced at Hermione. I'm trying to do the right thing. Please see that I'm trying.

"Are you making threats, Malfoy?" Ron Weasley shot and jumped to his feet, fists clenched. Wonderful, leave it to the brilliant mind of a Weasley to completely misinterpret things.

A million acidic retorts flashed through his mind but decided this was not worth fighting over. "Just stating facts, Weasley," he said coolly, meeting Ron's eyes.

"The point of this forum," interrupted Persephone, doing a wonderful impression of Hermione and giving them both quelling looks. "Is to discuss important issues in a civil manner. I would like to think we can do that without direct staff supervision. And if you don't think you can be civil, you can leave."

Draco dropped his gaze. I wasn't fighting, he thought sulkily. There was another tense silence, but no sounds of the door slamming. Weasley must have sat back down.

"Okay," Persephone said, readopting her teacher manner. "Let's start at the beginning. What do we know about Voldemort anyway?"

Several people yelped. "Don't say the name!" a Hufflepuff squeaked.

"Why not?" Persephone asked in an exasperated tone. "Start with that--Why shouldn't we say his name?"

"Because he's horrible," Lavender Brown said in a small voice. "It's a horrible name."

"A name only means as much as the thing it stands for," said Persephone. "And if everyone knows what you mean, I don't see how saying You-Know-Who is any better than saying Voldemort. It's just confusing, and personally, I think it's very silly. Think about it. Is there any reason, any real reason, not to say Voldemort?"

Yes, dear, call everyone's fear silly. That'll win you lots of friends.

"No, there's not," Harry said loudly. Then again. Draco had been thinking sarcastically, but this was the exact sort of thing Potter would like to hear. And he did want Potter on his side, didn't he? Still, Evra...Voldemort could easily do to Draco what he did to Evra.

"Yes, there is!" some sixth year retorted.

"Is there some spell on the name or something?" asked Persephone. For a long moment no one replied.

When Draco was really young, he had been genuinely afraid of saying Voldemort's name because his parents had been so afraid to speak it. Anything that made so many adults tremble had to be really scary, right? As time progressed, however, his father had started saying the name on occasion, almost fondly behind closed doors with his closest male friends. The world would have been so much better if only Lord Voldemort had stayed in power. It was really such a shame he was gone. So Draco had lost the fear of this thing Voldemort. After all his father liked him, he couldn't be that bad. He had even become comfortable enough to say the name himself at one of his mother's teas and was promptly spanked and sent to his room. This had confused him greatly and left him to regard Voldemort's name as an extremely dirty swear word. Then Voldemort had returned, and he remembered his parents speaking about him in low tones when they thought he could not hear, a weird mixture of excitement and terror. Then his father returned from jail and finally taken Draco into some confidences. Voldemort had been a student in Slytherin just like he had. He had been a bloody perfect. Draco had been angry enough about this prefect's presumptuousness and the theft of his father's attention, that he had started speaking the name privately out of defiance, and then he had met Voldemort and learned to fear him again. But what was the point of not saying his name?

Draco sighed. He was so tired of this. "No, there isn't any spell. Go ahead and say Voldemort if you're feeling brave." It was a nice bit of doublespeak. I said his name, Potter, pay attention. Still, the other Slytherins pulled back from him. Whatever. He did not care. He wanted Potter's attention.

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself₁," Potter said.

"And the only way to defeat a fear is to face it," Draco drawled. He looked directly into Harry's eyes. Snape had admitted teaching Potter Occlumency, maybe he had taught him Legilimency as well. He focused on his thoughts, trying to will Harry to read his mind. You have to kill him Potter. Please, kill him. I want you to kill him. Harry looked at him curiously. "Got any more platitudes for us, Potter?" He glanced at Persephone on the last word, then found Potter's gaze again. She's a Potter. Persephone P., Persephone Potter. Come on, put it together.

"You like to talk big, Malfoy," he heard the annoying voice of Colin Creevy say. "But Harry's faced him. I bet you've never even seen him."

"Course I have," Draco said, keeping his eyes on Harry. "He stayed at my house this summer. We had tea." Draco was vaguely aware of the other Slytherin laughing, his own mouth twitching in response. Good, they had taken it as a joke. He's still there. He's there now. Go get him. Potter was looking directly into his eyes now. That's right. I'm trying to tell you something. He's still there. You have to kill Voldemort.

"Are you serious?" Colin gasped.

Time to backpedal. Draco broke his gaze with Potter. "Of course, I'm not serious," he said putting all the venom into his voice that he could muster. It was not hard. He did hate Creevy. "Do you think I'd tell you something like that if I was?"

"Can we be serious?" Persephone said sharply. Draco caught her eye for a moment and could have sworn she said, What are you doing? though her mouth barely moved.

What are you doing? he mouthed back.

She took a deep breath and continued as if he had not said anything. "I think Harry has a point. From what I know of Voldemort, he likes to use fear to control people. It's a rather classic trait in dictators. Fear and scapegoats. I bet he thinks it's really funny, we all twitch like rabbits at the sound of his name."

It was a fine thing for her to say. Death was still an abstract concept for Persephone. She could not see the Thestrals.

Obviously Persephone had been planning this speech. She plunged on ruthlessly. A small part of Draco's mind appreciated her fervor and the skill with which she was playing the students, but the larger part of his brain kept intoning, She's going to get us killed. She's going to get us killed.

"Who doesn't know who Hitler is? Raise your hands."

Draco limply raised his hand but not his arm. He had a vague recollection that Hitler was a German military commander but had no idea where he had picked up this information or how it could relate to Voldemort.

"About the same time the dark wizard Grindelwald was running amuck, there was a Muggle named Hitler and a group called the Nazis. The Nazis believed in a superior race. They called this the Aryan race, basically it meant people who were born with blonde hair and blue eyes." Draco could feel everyone's eyes on him and wished he could sink through the floor. He gave Persephone a betrayed look. He felt someone pat his shoulder and realized with a shock that it was Alice. She had never done anything even remotely familial before. "They believed anyone who didn't have blonde hair and blue eyes was inferior and should be wiped off the face of the earth."

"Because of eye color?" Pansy asked in an incredulous tone. Draco wondered if she had some how missed the very obvious parallel that Persephone was making to the Death Eaters.

"Not that there's anything wrong with blondes," said Daphne. "But wouldn't it be rather boring if everyone on earth had the same hair and eye color?" Yes, Daphne, it's all about hair color.

At least Crabbe looked like he was taking this seriously.

"Isn't it possible that he's already dead?" a Hufflepuff boy asked hopefully. "I mean the ministry did that raid on the Death Eaters hideout, and nothing's happened since then." Draco thought of Evra again...nothing's happened? "Isn't it possible he got killed or injured in the raid, and none of the Death Eaters are willing to come forward and admit it?"

Why weren't they doing anything? Draco wondered. Voldemort had at least twenty Death Eaters with him. Why were they all hiding? He did not think it was fear.

"I think for now it would be safer to assume that he is alive," Persephone said carefully. "At least until, we have some proof that he isn't. And if he's not, then we can consider this an interesting academic exercise."

Draco's brain turned inward so that he only half heard what she was saying.

"This does not mean all the Nazis were cold blooded killers by nature. They started as normal people like the rest of us. They had families and loved ones and a lot of them realized that the things they were doing and helping to do were very horrible, but they went along with it because they were afraid that Hitler and the other Nazis would turn on them. A lot of them even managed to convince themselves they were doing the right thing, so they could live with it."

But were they wrong to be afraid? Draco thought. The others would turn on them. They would attack their families, and what sort of person were you to sacrifice your family for strangers?

"It's a vicious cycle, fear then compliance then participation, and I think the best place to break it is at the beginning. If we give ourselves over to our fears, we give Voldemort power over us. The best way I know how to fight fear is with laughter. Laughter relieves tension. It lets us clear our heads so we can react properly."

But what was there left to laugh about? He just wanted this horrible meeting to be over with, but he could not think how to end it early without betraying how much it affected him. Everyone else seemed rapt. Potter was silent but clearly paying attention. So Draco watched his watch. Occasionally he felt as though Granger was watching him. Did she think him a Nazi and Death Eater? And would she really be all that wrong.

He started to think his watch was broken, but Crabbe's was keeping the same slow march. Finally, mercifully, the hand hit fifteen til. "Persephone," he said, without any regard for who or what he was interrupting, and pointed to his watch.

"Looks like it's time to wrap up," she said. "We can continue next week. Maybe do a little research in the mean time. Hermione, did you want to make an announcement before we go?"

"Uh-no, next week will be fine."

"Okay, well, I guess that's it. We better get back to our common rooms before Filch puts us all in detention."

Draco wove his way through the crowd of students that had sprung up from their seats. He made his way to Persephone. He wanted to grab her by the hair and drag her out but believed this might leave a bad impression with the other students. "Can I talk to you?" he asked his, voice small and parched.

"Sure thing." She seemed to understand that he needed to talk now. "We've got to get back to common room. See in you in class tomorrow okay? Oh, well, I can meet you in the library...after the last period...okay? G'night. Night, Colin." She took Draco's arm gently as though they were still getting along well and let him steer her into the hall.

He spotted another empty classroom door across the hall, and they slipped into it. "Are you okay?" she asked after the door was shut.

"No, I'm not okay. What the HELL was that?!" He had meant to make himself sound calm and reasonable but was failing miserably.

"It was a discussion," she said, looking stubbornly innocent. "I thought it went really well."

"Are you mad?!" He stalked further away from the door, throwing his arms in dramatic gestures. "No, don't bother answering. You are mad. You're incredibly mad or incredibly stupid. How could you do this to me?!"

"I wasn't-"

"How could you do this to Crabbe and Goyle and to Pansy? They took you in. They accepted you. How you could you put us on the spot like that."

"I wasn't trying to-"

He paced like a caged wildcat. "I thought you were going to discuss things, not declare war! Because that's what you just did, you know? He won't ignore you now. Not now, not after that. You might have had a chance before...but this...I thought we'd agreed to keep our heads down. You promised. You promised me you wouldn't draw attention to yourself!"

"I said I'd try."

"And that was trying?!" He was breathing heavily. His face pale. He hated it when she was like this. Standing there cool and deadpan while he was upset, regarding him as though he were a mere curiosity. "You can't fight him, Persephone. You can't. He may not be a god, but he is powerful and he is merciless and he will not hesitate to kill you. He'll enjoy it. I gave up everything. Everything so you could have another chance. All you had to do was keep your mouth shut. Why couldn't you keep your mouth shut?"

"I didn't tell them anything they didn't already know. I didn't tell them where he was or who was helping him. I could have, you know."

"I appreciate that, but why, why, won't you listen to me? All I told you to do was keep your head down, to not draw attention to yourself."

"I tried, Draco. I did, but I just can't."

"Why not?!"

"Because I hate him!" Her voice had become hissy and harsh, her silver eyes flashing. "I've never hated anyone before, but I--hate--him." Her jaw was set, her fist clenched and stiff, and Draco got the impression of an overgrown six year old. "I know I can't fight him face to face, so I'll strike him anyway I can. Even if it's just hurling words at him."

Draco stopped pacing. It was somehow easier to be reasonable when she was upset. "Persephone...I hate him too, but..."

"He killed Papa and Mama. He killed James. He took Lucius. And what he's put Severus through." She gasped as if the thought physically pained her. "And he's not going to stop, Draco. He's not going to stop, until someone stops him. We have to fight him."

"No, no we don't," Draco said. "Maybe someone has to, but it doesn't have to be us."

"So you'd just sit there and keep your head down while he takes over England or something?"

"That would be general plan," he said with a nod.

"You're going to have to choose sides eventually," she said.

"No, I don't." How could he make her understand? This was not a game. There was not a red team and a blue team. "Do you want to know what I saw? You know what made me run? That missing librarian, Evra Tome. He killed her, the Death Eaters killed her. I've known her forever. She was pureblood, and they killed her right in front of me. Just because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And my father was there. Lucius was there, and it didn't phase him. He just stood there. I just stood there."

Her fists uncoiled, and he knew he was getting to her. "They didn't use the killing curse. It wasn't neat or quick. There was all this blood, and she screamed. And I couldn't even speak. I was so scared I couldn't even speak."

She finally softened. "Oh, Draco. Draco, I'm so sorry."

"Your parents are dead, Sephi, but mine are still alive. He's got my mother. He's got my father. I can't fight him. I can't."

She bit her lip.

"If you want to fight him so bad, why haven't you talked to Harry?"

"I was planning to after the meeting, but you wanted to talk to me."

"Oh," he felt slightly abashed and folded his arms over his chest.

She reached towards him sympathetically. "Look, Draco. I know it's bad, but if we stick together..."

"No!" he yelped retreating from her touch. "No. You're on own now, Persephone. If you're going to do stuff like this, you're on your own." He reached for the door. "If you're going to do stuff like this, I shouldn't be seen with you."

"If that's what you have to do," she said very softly.

"It is," he said and left her alone.