Draco Malfoy and the Last Year

Level 2.11: The Choice

The panic was back. Hermione's dark eyes were wide, watching him expectantly, full of concern. Draco's mind raced. He could try to ignore this, slip back into the castle, and wait for term to end. It was one thing to act suspiciously, quite another to blatantly disregard a direct summons. "Does Potter have his invisibility cloak with him?" Draco asked Hermione in an undertone.

"I don't know," Hermione breathed.

Draco swallowed. "Borrow it if you can and follow me." He took a last gulp of his water and dropped some money on the table to pay for the drinks. He stood and gave Hermione a pleading look. She reached for the parchment he had left on the table. He gave her just long enough to get a glimpse at the short message, before snatching it up. There was someone watching after all.

"Gotta go," he said in a normal voice. He walked out of the Three Broomstick, vaguely aware of the curious murmurs from the Slytherins and that Hermione had headed for Potter's table.

There was no sign of the Death Eater on the street. The man had probably Apparated to the shack so it would not be obvious that Draco was following him. Draco schooled his features, trying hard not to betray his nervousness or make eye contact with anyone. On the way through the village he spotted at least one man he was sure was an Auror, and two more he suspected might be. Please follow me. Please follow me. Please follow me.

This internal chant was directed at Hermione. He was not sure why he trusted her more than the Aurors, but he did. Probably all those stories about Aurors abusing their wartime powers his father had told him.

The Shrieking Shack looked thoroughly uninviting even in the springtime. He stopped near the gate and looked around. He saw no one, but that might not mean anything. Draco took a deep breath and walked deliberately up to the shack. Normally the building was sealed. He, Crabbe, and Goyle had tried to break inside a few years ago without much luck. The handle turned at his touch however, and Draco pulled the door open. He stepped inside cautiously. His hand found the end of his wand and wrapped around it.

"Close the door," the hard voice ordered. Draco did so, but at a slow deliberate pace. The sound it made when it clicked into place was not loud in reality, but to Draco it seemed as though the whole village should have heard it.

"Leave your wand in your pocket, or you may not live to regret it," the voice growled again. Draco weighed his options. Draco was a fair duelist, but since he had no way of knowing how skilled his opponent might be, he decided it was best to do as told. He held his hands out where they could be seen and looked for the source of the voice. The light outside was bright, but the boarded windows only allowed slits into the shack. The wizard from the Three Broomsticks moved fluidly for a man of his size. He poured out from the shadows and grabbed Draco roughly by the collar, pushing him into the dusty remains of a sitting room.

"The Dark Lord has little patience for cowards." He jerked Draco's collar again before releasing him. "And none for traitors."

"I'm not a traitor!" Draco snapped. He was trembling a bit, but his voice sounded strong, perhaps a little petulant.

The Death Eater, for Draco had no doubts that was what he was dealing with, twitched his wand lazily in the air like a coiled snake. He seemed to be pondering what type of vermin to best turn him into. "That's what your parents say. They assured the Dark Lord that you would never turn from the old ways. Wonder what they'd say if they saw the company you keep now," the man sneered.

"I'm only doing what he asked me too!" Draco's voice carried traces of fear and desperation. He was not entirely sure where the words came from, but he sensed they were right. The Death Eater's face twisted with uncertainty, and Draco hurried on. "He told me not to get expelled. Same reason he didn't give me the Dark Mark. Only I realized it wasn't enough not to have the mark, I had to get them to trust me, or I'd never be able to get close enough. I had an opportunity, and I took it."

"You claiming this was all part of some plan?" the Death Eater growled.

"Course it was!" Draco spat, anger pouring out now. "Been working all year on it. It was finally starting to go well before you stuck your ugly face in."

The Death Eater snarled and twitched his wand. Draco found himself flung back on the dusty couch, hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He gasped for breath and then coughed at the dust cloud that had stirred up. The Death Eater was over him before he had a chance to recover. Draco had curled with the coughing, the man shoved him back so that Draco would look up at him and pressed the tips of his wand into Draco's sternum. "You know what I think," he said in a voice that was low and menacing and all Draco could hear. "I think you're a weaselly little coward who turned tail at the sight of blood. If it were up to me, I'd simplify things and put an end to you right now, but I'm old enough to understand that I'm simply a hand of my master. You're just lucky your plans haven't interfered with ours. The Dark Lord is merciful enough to give you another chance. Carry on however you like for now, get close to the filth and the Mudbloods, but when the time comes you best stand with us or you'll die like the rest of them. Your mummy and daddy can't talk you out of this one."

"What do you mean when the time comes?" Draco asked. "When? What's going to happen?"

The Death Eater gave him a nasty smile. "When it comes, it will be obvious." He paused as though sniffing the air and twisted his head sharply. "Did you hear that?"

Draco shook his head, looking for any sign of movement. The rickety old house gave another loud creak. The Death Eater looked back in Draco's direction, and Draco gave him a wry smile. "It is the most haunted house in Britain."

"Puss," the Death Eater muttered disdainfully, but Draco thought he looked a bit nervous all the same. "Get up."

Draco stood and tried to knock the dust off his clothes.

The Death Eater looked at him contemptuously. "You're being watched. If I were you, I'd kill the Mudblood girl. You're going to have to do something impressive to make up for the stunt you pulled this summer."

"That was the plan," Draco said with an equal amount of contempt.

The Death Eater pointed his wand at Draco warningly. "Mind you don't plan yourself into an early grave. You wait here a while. I don't want to be seen leaving with you." He eyed the cracks in the door suspiciously before flinging it open and walking out into the sunlight.

Draco waited for the door to shut behind him before muttering, "Feeling's mutual." He watched the Death Eater walked down the path through the crack in the door until the man Disapparated. "He's gone."

A creak in the floorboards directed Draco's attention to under the staircase. Hermione's head appeared, her hair in disarray, her eyes wide. She was breathing heavily in a way that made Draco think she had been holding her breath, mainly because he was doing the same. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "You?" Draco nodded. "That was mildly terrifying."

"Mildly?" Draco asked.

"I've been through worse," Hermione said. She swallowed and knocked a few strands of hair away from her face. "Besides I wasn't the one getting knocked around. I don't think they're going to let you stay neutral." She was still hugging the invisibility cloak around her shoulders.

Draco leaned back heavily against the doorframe to support himself. He was starting to come to the same conclusion. "You heard what he said? About me being watched?"

Hermione nodded. "I heard what you said too."

Oh hell. "I was acting," he said giving Hermione a pleading look.

"I thought you were going to stop acting."

Draco felt the muscles in his neck tighten. "He would have killed me if I..." Hermione knew that though.

Hermione gave Draco a sad look. "How is anyone ever going to trust you if all you care about is saving your own neck?"

"That's not all I care about," Draco protested. "But I don't want to casually throw my life away either."

"Shut up, Malfoy, I'm thinking," Hermione snapped, her brow knitted. "I suppose that's a fair point. If you were really planning to kill me, you're certainly taking your time about it."

"I'm not!" "Shh!"

Draco hugged his arms across his chest and stood uncomfortably in the dark, dusty shack, waiting for Hermione to think and trying to do a bit of that himself.

"And it would be rather stupid of you to invite me to overhear like that."

"And we both agree I'm not stupid?" Draco prompted.

"Well, you're not that stupid. Unless this is a far more elaborate plot than I'd give you credit for."

Draco stared gape-eyed at Hermione. "Has anyone ever told you you're paranoid?"

Hermoine met his eyes with her own hard stare. "Give me a reason not to be."

Draco sensed that she was inclined to believe him, but she was goading him for information. His first instinct was continue insisting he could not say anything, but she was right. More gratingly Persephone was right. He was going to have to choose, better now than in the middle of an attack. "It won't make any difference."

"Tell me about the blood," Hermione said. "What blood was he talking about?"

Draco stared hard at the floor. He wanted to stop existing so he would not have to answer. "Hermione, I can't-"

"Draco!" she said in a last chance tone.

He felt ill. "Tomes, Evra Tomes, the missing librarian. I saw them kill her." He stopped, waiting for her rebuke about simple shielding charms.

"Is that why you left?" Hermione asked. Draco nodded. "You ran from home. They're at the Malfoy Manor?"

"Under it," Draco said. "But I don't think you can get in without the Dark Mark."

"Snape could," Hermione murmured.

"I forgot about him," Draco admitted. "But I think they're onto Snape now, and that was nine months ago. They could be anywhere now."

"One of the Death Eaters had Persephone, didn't they?"

Draco shook his head. "I can't, not that."

"Draco."

"It has nothing to do with the war, I swear."

"Then why is it so important to hide?"

"Persephone's willing to let it go, why is it so important that you know?"

"Because, I don't think Persephone is keeping that secret because she wants to." Hermione looked at him steadily. "Tell me. Draco, tell me so that I can trust you. It may be more important than you think. Who put Persephone in that painting?"

Draco bit his lip to keep from crying with frustration. "Can you promise me you won't tell if it's not important to the war?"

Hermione bit her own lip. "I promise," she said after a long pause.

Draco continued to avoid her gaze. He felt like a traitor, but he needed Hermione to trust him. "My mother. She was jealous because she thought Persephone was interested in my father...I know it was wrong. I know she was wrong, but she's been hiding it from everyone. If my father found out, he'd be angry...if Voldemort found out she'd been hiding a Potter, he might...she's in enough trouble already. I can't be the reason that she...Hermione, please don't tell anyone. It's bad enough knowing my parents may turn on me. I don't want them turn on each other."

Hermione sighed. "I won't. I promised. As long as it's not important to the war."

"What are you going to tell Potter?" Draco asked. Some of his nervousness was leaking away, but it was a slow leak.

"I'll tell him that you're on our side," Hermione said, tucking her hair back in place. Draco felt like an enormous weight had dropped from his shoulders.

He gave her a sheepish smile. "So, um-uh, was that your idea of things going well?"

Hermione looked at him and laughed. "Fine, provided you behave yourself and understand that it's completely platonic, I'll go to the stupid dance with you."

"Yes, ma'am," Draco said. "Completely platonic."

Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled the invisibility cloak over her head. "I think I better go out first. You can follow a few minutes later."

The door opened and closed again. Draco closed his eyes and tried to get control of his nerves. He had a hundred new things to worry about now. He waited a few minutes and then left the shack at a measured pace.

"Where do you think you're going?" a voice asked when he had reached the gate. Draco started, but it was just the Weasley twins. This discovery did not help his nerves.

"I think we should head on back to the school," Hermione said, walking up with Ron and Harry in tow.

"We're your escorts," one of the twins said and both of them cracked their knuckles in mock-threatening way.

"Come on," Hermione said. She grabbed Draco's sleeve to urge him forward. Draco let himself be lead. Apparently being attacked by a Death Eater was Hermione's idea of a good time. She talked in an endless stream about what had just happened and what their next steps should be. Draco had to admit, now that he had come through the experience alive, it was a bit of a rush.

They decided it was still best for Draco not to acknowledge any awareness of the D.A. at least not until they could determine who the spy was. Hermione thought it would still be easy to get any important information to and from him through Persephone. Now that Draco was committed to going through with them, he had a few ideas about the emergency plans. When they got close to the school, they forced their conversation on to topics that they were less concerned about others overhearing. Draco liked this better, because it gave him more opportunities to say things that were amusing. Hermione still resisted laughing, but she smiled. And that was nice.

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

The Weasley twins left them at the castle gates. Potter and Ron had not said much, but then they had not had much opportunity.

Persephone came running up to them when they entered the castle. "Hello, Persephone," Harry called out in greeting.

She stopped short in front of them, wringing her hands and looking otherwise very anxious. "Oh, hi, Harry. I need to talk to Hermione."

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"It turned blue," Persephone said in small, distressed voice.

"Oh no," Hermione groaned. "All our hard work. It's wasted."

Persephone wrung her hands a bit tighter. "Um...not exactly."

A feeling of dread began building inside Draco. "Persephone, what did you do?"

"I panicked," Persephone whimpered. "Oh, you better come see."

Draco exchanged looks with Hermione. Hermione paused long enough to tell her friends that she would catch up with them later, and the two of them jogged after Persephone down the stairs to the dungeons and Snape's office.

Persephone pressed her back towards the door and checked the hallway for anyone else. She flashed Draco and Hermione an apologetic look before opening it and slipping inside. They followed her, turning sideways so they could slip through the door at the same time. Draco pulled it closed behind them.

"Professor Snape?"

There was the dark shape of a man bent over the desk. His hair and clothes were still those like Professor Snape, but the face that looked up at them was that of a much younger man. Thin and pale, Draco had seen him before in his mother's photo album.

"Who are they?" the young Snape asked.

As Draco and Hermione were both temporarily incapable of speech, Persephone stepped up to make the introductions. "Severus, this is Hermione Granger."

"Hello," Hermione squeaked.

"And this is Draco. He's Lucius's son. They're prefects."

"His son?" Snape repeated looking incredulous. His voice was younger, lighter than the Potions Master's had been. Draco nodded.

"Persephone, what have you done?" Hermione hissed.

"He took it out of my hand," Persephone whined. "I couldn't stop him." The young Snape gave Persephone a curious look. He had the air of someone who thought he might be dreaming.

"You must've brought it down here in the first place though," Draco pointed out.

"I told you. I panicked." Persephone wrung her hands again. "What are we going to do?"

"We should take him to Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said firmly.

Draco gave her a startled look. "Dumbledore?"

"We're not going to be able to hide this," Hermione pointed out. "Everyone will notice."

"Is it true then?" Snape asked. "I'm really a Professor?"

"Well, you were-are," staggered Hermione. "I don't know if you will be anymore. I don't know what we're going to do about our review for the N.E.W.T.s."

"We'll never get him through the halls without drawing a crowd," Draco said. "Should we bring the Headmaster down here?"

"Here," Hermione said, digging in her bag. "Put this over him." She pulled out the invisibility cloak and looked at Snape awkwardly. "I mean, if you're ready."

"Yes," Snape said, walking around the desk to take the cloak. "I want to see the Headmaster." The boy's movements were uncertain. They lacked the dark flair that Draco remembered from his Potions Master. Draco felt an uncomfortable twisting in his stomach. Professor Snape was gone, really gone.

"That looks like James' cloak," Persephone interjected.

"It is," Hermione told her. "He left it to Harry."

The teenage Snape's black eyes went wide, then narrowed. "James has an invisibility cloak?" This younger version had the same eyes, but he seemed deflated to Draco, like the rest of him had not yet grown into that hooknose.

"Had," Persephone amended softly. "He's dead."

"Dead?" Snape repeated. Even his clothes looked a little too big for him. Persephone had said something about him getting taller. "How? Did he die in the war?" He was smoother, gentler looking that the man Draco had come to know. Not nearly as impressive, but not as careworn either.

"We'll give you the history lesson later," Draco said to move things along. "Let's go see Dumbledore now."

"Am I trouble?" Snape asked, the invisibility cloak half over his head, as he took note of their grave faces.

"No, I don't think so," Persephone assured him. "But I might be."

"Why?"

Draco pulled the cloak over him the rest of the way like a curtain, and took Snape's invisible arm to guide him to the door. "Keep quiet and keep up," he hissed before opening the door. He let go of Snape's arm, but Persephone rested her hand on the other one.

Draco and Hermione did their best to lead them through less crowded corridors. A few people looked surprised to see the two of them walking side by side, but their faces were grim enough most of them assumed they were doing some prefect duty.

"Acid pops," Hermione said when they reached the stone gargoyle that guard Dumbledore's office. It admitted them. Draco check the hall, and finding it empty, whipped the cloak off Snape. Persephone reached up to fuss over some of Snape's hair that had fallen out of place in the process. They ascended the stairs, and Hermione knocked on the Headmaster's door.

"Come in."

Hermione took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

"What is it, Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore asked. His bushy white eyebrows raised slightly when he spotted Draco with her.

"It's um-it's Professor Snape, sir." Hermione stepped into the office and motioned for Snape and Persephone to come in. If Dumbledore had been surprised to see Draco, it was nothing next to his shock at seeing Snape.

"Severus!" Dumbledore said striding forward. He stopped and looked Snape over as though examining him for injuries. "What happened?"

"I don't know, Headmaster," the young Snape said promptly. "One minute I was in the common room and next thing I know I'm in an office and..." He trailed off, looking nervous. "Persephone told me twenty years had passed."

Dumbledore turned his wizened eyes on Persephone. She met his gaze, but she did it with the air of one awaiting her punishment. "Can you tell me what happened?" he asked her gravely.

"I-I made a Younging Potion," Persephone stuttered. "It wasn't supposed to mature until after term. I was going to talk to Severus about it and give him time to think it over. But it changed color early, and I panicked. I didn't mean for it. I was just going to talk to him about it, but he took it out of my hand and wouldn't give it back."

"And he took this potion with full knowledge of what he was doing?" Dumbledore asked in a voice that was a bit too calm.

"He would have had to, sir," Hermione interjected. "The potion requires the drinker to focus on particular point in time."

"Ms. Granger, this is a very serious matter," Dumbledore said. "Were you in anyway involved in the brewing of this potion?" He flicked his penetrating eyes to Draco.

Occulumency, Draco thought and threw up his mental walls.

"No, sir," Persephone said firmly. "It was just me."

"Are you sure about that, Ms. Potter?" Dumbledore said, eyeing Draco more intently. "A Younging Potion is an extremely complicated bit of brewing if my memory serves."

"It is," Snape piped up as though taking an academic interest in the matter. "Takes three months simply to brew it. But the three month wait for maturity is maximum, Persephone, not a fixed time period."

Dumbledore's lips twitched, and he gave the teenage Snape a sad smile. "Read Most Potente Potions cover to cover, I see."

"Yes, sir," Snape said with a nervous flash of a smile.

"I remember," Dumbledore said. "I've learned to keep my eye on that particular book." Draco felt an icy chill spreading over his chest. "Mr. Malfoy, I found it particularly curious when you checked it out with permission from our Astronomy Mistress back in January. I had words with her about it, I assure you. However as you had started keeping counsel with Ms. Granger, I thought it best to leave you to her better influences, perhaps that was unwise."

"I ask Draco and Hermione to help me, Headmaster!" Persephone interrupted. "He got the book for me, but when he saw the full affects of the Potion, he advised me against it."

"That's true, Headmaster," Hermione murmured, looking at the floor.

Good girl, don't make eye contact.

"Is it true, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked.

Draco however looked Dumbledore square in the eye. "It's true, sir. I told her it was a bad idea. That it would be like killing him."

"I'm not dead," Snape interrupted. "I feel fine. Just a little, out of place."

"Quiet, Severus," Dumbledore said sharply. "You have an extremely good memory, Ms. Potter, to have only seen the book once and remember all the steps for that Potion correctly."

"I borrowed the book from Draco's bag and copied everything down before he turned it back in," Persephone said quickly.

"Maybe I helped her, Headmaster," Snape added. "If I'm the Potions master, I'd have access to all the ingredients. I mean I wouldn't remember."

"No," Persephone said gently, her eyes shining as she looked at the teenage Snape. She touched his shoulder gently. "You didn't do anything except drink it. I take all the blame, Headmaster."

"Yes, I'm afraid you will," Dumbledore said heavily. "Persephone, I have every sympathy for what you have been through, but when I allowed you back into Hogwarts, it was with the understanding that you follow the rules like any other student. You may not have killed anyone, but I can not ignore the severity of what you have done. You have contributed to the loss of twenty years of a man's life and robbed Hogwarts of its Potions Master." Dumbledore pressed his lips together. Draco's dread had not abated, but he worried for Persephone rather than himself now. "Considering the circumstances, I will allow you to remain at Hogwarts until the end of term, but you are not invited to return to school next year. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Persephone said in a small voice, but Draco caught something in her eyes. He did not think she was sorry about it. Not about Snape or her expulsion, not one bit.

Hermione however was clutching her stomach as though the thought of expulsion made her physically ill. Draco cleared his throat so that Dumbledore would look at him rather than her.

"Do you have something to add, Mr. Malfoy? I'm not entirely satisfied that-"

"Draco, tell him about the Death Eater," Hermione ordered.

The distraction was most effective. "What Death Eater?"

In some ways it was harder to tell Dumbledore about things than it was to tell Hermione, but he had a little practice now. Persephone listened to the story opened mouthed. Draco was a little glad she was there, so he would be saved from relating it to her later. She managed to keep her silence with the Headmaster present. Snape clearly had a lot of questions, but he also had the presence of mind to wait his turn.

He told Dumbledore about Evra Tomes and where the Death Eaters were hiding, even how his father had gotten into the underground chamber. "We thought that maybe Snape..."

"I do believe Severus Snape no longer bears the Dark Mark," Dumbledore said. Snape's sleeve was rolled up to check and found white and unmarked. To Dumbledore's credit, he did not seem too disappointed by this. "It might have been convenient to have ready access to the Death Eater's lair, but walking into the vipers' pit is often not the wisest move."

"It's my home," Draco said weakly.

Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder. "Home is where you are loved, Mr. Malfoy," he said gently. "But the places where we have been loved take on special meaning to us. I will do what I can, but I wonder if you have decided what you will do."

Draco glanced at Hermione. "I'm still thinking," he said.

Dumbledore gave Draco's shoulder one last pat before dropping his hand. "That's enough for now, but I'll remind you that time grows short." He made a tired gesture of dismissal. "As such, I think it's best you three go, so I can decide what to do about young Severus."

Persephone did not look happy at the prospect of leaving Snape's side, but Draco guided her towards the door. "Professor Dumbledore." Persephone stopped at the door and looked back at Headmaster. "Take care, sir. You need to get some rest, or you'll be too tired when the time comes."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. Draco gripped Persephone's arm tightly and all but shoved her out the door. He had seen Dumbledore truly angry once before and was not keen to repeated the experience. Hermione followed them out quickly and shut the door.

"Are you nuts?" Draco hissed at Persephone.

"Doesn't he look tired to you?" Persephone asked, looking to Hermione for support.

"Well, he's getting on," Hermione said tersely. "But I don't think that was the right time to say something about it."

Draco cringed. "Are you trying to get kicked out now rather than the end of term? He's already livid about Snape."

"I'd forgotten how beautiful he was," Persephone said, stealing a glance back at the office door. Draco and Hermione were not sure whether to be exasperated with her or grateful she had taken all the blame on herself.

"I can't say you don't deserve it," Hermione said, still clutching her stomach. "But it's terrible that you're being expelled."

"It's not that bad," Persephone said, confirming Draco's earlier suspicions. "I was already thinking I might not come back. I'm not really keeping up very well in classes. And I want to help Harry. That's more important now. Je manque mes amis.₁ I'm just scared for Severus. I didn't know he'd go back that far."

Draco tried scolding her, but it did little good. She was in love and as unreasonable as any teenage girl in that situation, possibly more so. Besides what was done could not be undone. Hermione seemed to be taking on enough guilt for the three of them combined. Draco wanted to reassure her, but she remained scarce. He only saw her at meals.

He took to eating with the Dey children and Charles Bulstrode to avoid his friends. The rumors were flying just as Hermione had predicted. None of them remotely accurate. There were rumors about Snape too, though they were not nearly as strange as the truth. Most of them placed him in the hospital wing. A few got as far as saying there had been some sort of accident involving a potion, but no one seemed to know the full story yet.

Draco saw Persephone even less than Hermione. He stopped her long enough on Tuesday to learn that Snape had spent a little time in the hospital wing but was out now and staying in his quarters. On Wednesday Draco heard murmurs that Snape was returning to class. All the students had settled into the Potions lab before the door flung open and Snape entered.

Draco watched as transfixed as every other student while Snape gave a creative explanation of what had happened to him. Unlike the other students, he was not surprised that Snape had lost twenty years, but to Draco it was as though Snape had transformed once again. The lank black hair was freshly washed and cut and layered. His robes were ones Draco remembered belonging to Professor Snape, but they had been fitted to him so they no longer hung loose on his form. He had added a white collar and cuffs to the black outfit, which Draco thought was a nice touch.

More than that though, his attitude had changed. The teenage Snape seemed to have taken well to the idea of being a Professor. He announced that Dumbledore had decided to let him finish out the year since all that was left was review and qualified Potions Masters were not easy to come by. Persephone's name had been left out of the official story. Draco suspected that Dumbledore wanted to hush up the possibility of a student/teacher romance. Snape blamed the transformation on a potions accident. Draco and Hermione as the closest things to experts assured the skeptical class that this story was entirely plausible.

Draco found the teenage Snape nearly as unreadable as the adult. He was sure Snape suspected Draco and Hermione's involvement, but he could not determine how Snape felt about that. He did not betray any emotion when he met Draco's eye. Then again, neither did he or Hermione when they exchanged looks a few minutes later. Draco thought it was a little frightening how easily he could school his features when he was not thinking about it. Little wonder Hermione had trouble trusting him. Draco wanted to talk to him after class, but there was a long line of students waiting to do the same thing. Later, he thought it might be wise to keep a little distance from Snape for a while to avert suspicion.

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

The identity of the spy was beginning to irk Draco. He had taken the fact he was being watched as part of the natural order of things before, unpleasant but unavoidable. Now the spy was becoming an obstacle. Draco was tired of sitting on the sidelines, particularly now that the sidelines were not looking any safer than the playing field. He wondered what other things Persephone had been not telling him from the D.A. meetings. More than anything it was grating on him that he did want Potter to respect him. He wanted to be something worthy of respect at any rate. As Hermione had said, he doubted that Potter would ever verbally admit it, but Draco thought he would be able to read it in his eyes. Anything would be better than the way Potter looked at him now, as though he did not quite trust Draco but no longer found him a reason for worry either.

Draco managed to run into Hermione at the foot of the steps on the way to Astronomy that evening. "Could I have a word with you?" He tipped his head to indicate the alcove area created by the circular stairs.

Hermione did not look enthusiastic but joined him. "Are you sure you want to be seen talking to me?" she asked.

"I don't think it matters at this point," Draco said. "After what happen in the shack."

"I wasn't talking about that," Hermione muttered.

Indigo, Blaise, and Alice and her Ravenclaw friends had started their ascent. Draco might not have taken note of them, except that they took notice of him and Hermione standing close together. The girls pointed and giggled. Blaise was more reserved and simply wore a smug sort of smirk. Draco was tempted to kiss Hermione and really give them a show, but he was pretty certain that would get him slapped if not hexed. And he did care more about Hermione's feelings than thumbing his nose at the other Slytherins.

Speaking of... "How are you holding up?" he asked. "It's been a rather...eventful week."

Hermione glanced up at the Slytherins and Ravenclaws to make sure they were out of earshot. "I feel like we killed Professor Snape."

"He's not dead."

"He might as well be," Hermione retorted in a hot whisper. "We never should have helped her make that potion. Dumbledore told us she was unpredictable. I don't really blame her after what she went through, but we should have been more rational. We're prefects. We're supposed to be responsible, and we let Persephone take all the blame. I hate the fact that I lied to the Headmaster."

"And what good would it have done to get all three of us expelled?" Draco asked in his own whisper. "You can't fix the past, Hermione," Draco said calmly and gave her an encouraging smile. "Someone really wise told me that."

Hermione's lip twitched. She gave him a piteous look as though uncertain whether or not to let him comfort her.

"I don't claim to be an expert on ethics," Draco continued in a low tone. "But Snape was unhappy enough to drink twenty years of his life away. He loves her. She loves him. And I know we haven't had that much time to get to know this younger version, but he looked happy today. I think he was really enjoying teaching the class."

"Dumbledore isn't going to let him come back next year either," Hermione said gravely.

"No," Draco said. "And I can't say I blame him. But he's seventeen again. He's got his whole life ahead of him, and so do we. If you look at it a certain way, we helped give him back twenty years of his life."

Hermione gave Draco a look that was slightly bemused and slightly incredulous. "You know given enough time I think you could convince yourself that hurling that bludger at Harry last year was a noble act."

Draco very diplomatically decided not to tell Hermione that last year he had thought that was a noble act. He moved on to another subject instead. "I think I may have figured out who's been spying on me. I've read back over the letters from my mother and tried to remember who would have been able to observe certain pieces of information. It has to be someone in Astronomy class. I think it might be Blaise Zabini."

Hermione had listened intently, but she shook her head when he mentioned Zabini. "It's not him."

Draco had been hoping for a more affirmative response and felt a little bitter at having his theory shot down. "How do you know?"

"Just trust me on this one."

Draco looked at Hermione suspiciously. Blaise couldn't be the unwelcome factor, could he?

Hermione's expression was thoughtful rather than fond however. "What about the others? Crabbe and Goyle for example."

Draco felt his stomach lurch. "I don't think it's them," he murmured. He had no logical reason to think this, but the idea was repulsive. They had grown up together. It would hurt too much if Crabbe or Goyle were involved.

"What about those other two girls?"

"You mean Alice and Indigo?" Draco gave the door at the top of the stair. "I think this sort of thing is a bit out of their league." Why are you so certain it isn't Blaise?

"Maybe you don't know them as well as you think," Hermione said coolly.

A loud whistle sung out from overhead causing Draco and Hermione to look up. Professor Sinistra was leaning over the top rail, looking down at them. "Hey, love birds. Do you think you could fly up here so I can start class?"

Draco was not sure whether to be amused or horrified. He was leaning towards amused, but Hermione had gone with horrified. She walked quickly to the staircase and started up. "I'm never going to hear the end of this," she grumbled.

Draco followed Hermione up. It's fate, Granger. Stop trying to resist.

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

Draco yawned widely before giving the password to the Slytherin common room. "Veritaserum." There was a low fire burning in the otherwise dark dungeon. Most everyone was in bed at this hour. Draco had taken his time coming back from Astronomy.

The light from the fire outlined one other occupant in the common room however. Pansy stood by one of the tables. She studied him, and Draco shifted the bag hung over his shoulder. "You're late," she said. "The others got back several minutes ago. What kept you?"

"What do you want, Pansy?" Draco asked evenly.

Pansy stepped towards him. "I'm wondering what it takes to turn Draco Malfoy into a blood traitor."

"I'm not a blood traitor. I grew up," Draco said flatly. "You should try it."

Pansy made a dismissive sound. "You could have fooled me. Do you have any idea how many times I've defended you this year? Do you even care anymore?"

"Not really."

Pansy shook her head as though she could not begin to comprehend him. "You know I didn't believe Indigo when she said you went out of your way to sit by the Mudblood. Surely not Draco, I thought. I guess I was ignoring the signs. Mother warned me there might be more truth to that Quibbler article than I'd like to admit. Were you shagging Granger this summer, or is she just your most recent?"

Draco felt anger rise within him and not just because of the affront to his and Hermione's honor. "You tell your mother every little thing about me?" he spat at her in an acid tone. It was starting to click for him now. Pansy had not needed to be in Astronomy to know he was talking to Granger. Her gossip network was nearly as expansive as the spying eyes of the school portraits. Her mother had been a good friend with his since their school days. Of course she told her everything Pansy wrote home about him. Draco was angry at himself for not having put it together before.

Pansy shrugged in an unconcerned sort of way. "I don't see why I shouldn't. It's not like you write home. You're a lousy son."

Draco felt his anger boil over. Pansy's cool, unapologetic demeanor in the face of the fear and anxiety she had caused set off a roar inside him.

He raised his hand to strike her, and she tumbled backward. His hand hung in the air behind his ear, poised to strike. She flinched, closed her eyes, and waited for the blow. It never came.

Draco's hand stayed in the air. The muscles of his arm were stiff with fury but unmoving. It was not because he could not hit Pansy. It was more that he knew could. And it was not for fear of punishment that he hesitated, because Pansy would never hold it against him. She would not try to stop him. She had not even brought her hands up to shield her face. She just cringed and waited.

And he knew with incredible clarity that this was why he should never have a relationship with her. She would never resist him. He would always hurt her because she would accept every abuse. He would despise her for her weakness and abuse her again. And the cycle would continue until she broke, and he became the monster he had always feared he might.

The clarity did not make him less angry with her. If anything, it sharpened his rage into loathing. It took an incredible force of will to put his hand down and turn away from her.

"Get out," he said through clinched teeth.

Pansy relaxed from her cringe and sank the rest of the way to the floor. "Were you really going to hit me?" she asked with a wide-eyed shriek.

He could not speak, but he let her see the rage, the violence in his eyes.

She began to cry. Tears rolling out of her brown eyes over the pink flush on her porcelain cheeks. "What's wrong with you?" she demanded. Her thin fingers clinched into a fist on her lap. "What's wrong with you, Draco? First you're not eating, you mope about so, you abandon your friends, and now you spend all you time with that silver haired freak and that Mudblood. I don't understand you. Why do you want to hit me? I only wrote mother because I was worried about you! You know I tell her everything. You know it! Why are you so angry with me?"

There was something highly reminiscent of a toddler in the way she raged, and while Draco would like to think no temper tantrum from Pansy could affect him, this one did. It did not quell his anger, but it softened it. Probably because this was as honest as Pansy ever had been with him, and he knew, however misguided her attempts to help had been, she was genuinely worried about him.

"I'm sorry," Draco said. With an effort, he extended his hand to help her up.

Pansy sniffled and stared at his hand uncertainly. "I don't understand."

No, you don't. "I'm sorry, Pansy," he said again. Because I've hurt you too, far more than I meant to. He took her hand and helped her to her feet. "I'm sorry I can't explain it all for you."

"Why not?" she asked softly. "You used to tell me everything."

No, I didn't. Feeling a flash of pity, Draco embraced Pansy. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders tightly, still shuddering from her tears. "For the record, I haven't been shagging anyone."

Pansy let out a jerky laugh. "I know," she sniffled. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." She cuddled her head against his neck. "I get silly when I'm jealous. I say things I shouldn't. I feel awful about it, but you shouldn't make me jealous. It not fair of you."

Draco ran his hand up and down her back to sooth her. "We're too much alike, love," he said quietly. "And we don't have anything in common."

"How can you say that?" Pansy asked breathily. She pulled back enough to look in Draco's eyes. "We have plenty in common."

Draco smoothed back a bit of Pansy's hair. "Just the wrappings. Not the important stuff."

Pansy fingered Draco's collar. "Can't we stop fighting? I love you."

Draco let his hands slide away from Pansy's waist. "You can't love me, Pansy. You don't know me. I haven't let you." That was not the response Pansy had been wanting, but Draco met her eyes steadily. "And if I really loved you, I'd treat you better."

Pansy let her hands slide away. She walked quietly back to the stairs. She had settled back into her cool mask by the time she reached them and paused to say one last thing. "Don't kid yourself, Draco. I know you better than anyone. Better than any Mudblood ever could. You'll see."

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

Draco punched his pillow when he finally reached his dorm room, but in the morning, he was feeling a lot better about the whole thing. He had found his spy, or at least he had found out how his mother had been keeping an eye on him. He had already told the Death Eater he was trying to get close to Potter and Hermione so all he really had to worry about was making sure that Pansy did not get wind of the D.A. He could do that for a month. He caught hold of Persephone before breakfast and told her he was ready. She promised to do what she could.

Just to make sure the message got through, he dropped a note on Hermione's desk before taking his seat in Transfiguration. "Malfoy, what's going on?" Goyle asked quietly.

"Nothing," Draco lied. "Don't worry about it."

He heard nothing more about it until Friday afternoon. Persephone walked into the common room with an odd look on her face. "What is it?" Draco asked her.

She dropped onto the sofa beside him. "He kicked me out," Persephone said, knitting her brow as she found the whole thing too peculiar to be believed. "I went to see Severus, and he kicked me out. Said it wasn't appropriate for us to be alone together since he was a teacher now."

Draco pursed his lips tightly and tried to look concerned, but he was much closer to laughing.

"Here," Persephone said, pulling a Galleon out of her pocket and dropping it into Draco's hand.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's for the D.A.," she said. "The numbers along the edge tell you when the meetings are."

"Oh!" Draco said happily, turning the coin over so he could look at the date. "That's tonight."

"Yeah, I told Harry you'd be coming," Persephone said in a vague voice. "He wants you to come a few minutes late so he can warn everyone." She fell back against the back of the couch. "I can't believe he kicked me out." Draco patted her shoulder reassuringly.

Persephone agreed to come late with him, so that he would not have to enter the Room of Requirement alone. Draco paced three times in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy until the door appeared. He felt a little nervous but refused to let it show. He heard voices as he opened the door. The Room of Requirement had added two long tables since he had been in it last. The walls were plastered with maps and charts and posters. What Draco noticed most, though, were the students. There had to be at least fifty of them, crowded about the two long tables, and deep in conversation. The conversations started to drop off as people noticed Draco entering the room.

Potter had been leaning over the far end of one table conversing with Padma. He straightened and walked down the center aisle. It seemed rude to make Potter do all the work, so Draco stepped forward to meet him in the middle. They stopped a few feet from each other. Draco did not know what to say besides I'm here, and that seemed redundant. Potter saved them from a long, awkward silence by extending his hand. "I'm glad you came," he said in formal tone.

By this point, the room was completely quiet. He was a little surprised by Potter's formality, but formal was something that he could handle. Draco took Potter's hand and shook it. "I'm here to help," he said in the same formal tone.

Potter's mouth twitched into an uncertain smile, and Draco suspected that he remembered too. "And um, I'm sorry about the thing with the bludger," he muttered in a voice just loud enough for Harry to hear as he took his hand back and stuck it in his pockets.

Potter gave him an uncertain look, followed by a slight nod. "Why don't you have a seat," Harry said, indicating an empty spot at one of the long tables. Draco sat down, and Persephone joined him. "We're discussing Voldemort's attack. Or I should say the possibility of an attack on the school."

Hermione emerged from the crowd with a scroll. "You'll need to sign this," she said, unrolling a contract that boasted a fair number of names already and handing him a quill. Persephone handed him a book to use as a flat surface since he had sat down with his back to the table. Draco put the book in his lap and poised the quill over the parchment.

He had expected Harry to keep talking, but Potter paused in his speech and watched Draco expectantly.

"I am allowed to read it first, aren't I?" Draco asked.

Harry gave Draco a look as though biting back a sigh. Thankfully it was not a long document. Draco reached the end of it and signed with a flourish. Harry gave him a long-suffering smile. "Could you tell the others what the Death Eater said to you?"

Nothing like being put on the spot right off. Draco was careful not to look at anyone in the room other than Potter. "He just said that when the time comes I would have to stand with them or die with the others. I asked him what that meant, and he said it would be obvious."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"That could mean anything," Ernie Macmillan said in a disappointed tone.

"But it supports our theory," Harry said.

Draco allowed himself to look around now. He spotted Victoria and a couple sixth year Slytherins. Several people had doubtful expressions. After spending two months preparing for an attack and not seeing any sign of one, it was only natural that they would begin to have misgivings.

"Potter, why don't you just admit he might not be coming?" Zacharias Smith asked.

"I know he's coming," Harry said, twisting his fist into his hand as though he drive the conviction into the others that way. "It's just a question of when."

"The dance," Persephone said softly from Draco's side. He turned to look at her curiously as did everyone else who was close enough to hear. She noticed the stares and shrunk back against the table as though pretending she had not said anything.

"Did you get another flash?" Draco prompted her.

"No, not exactly," Persephone said, not meeting his eyes. "But it makes a certain amount of sense doesn't it? Everyone will be distracted." Her voice grew stronger as she continued. "And a lot of students don't take their wands to formals."

Harry looked skeptical at this last sentence. "I took my wand with me to the Yule Ball," he said.

"I didn't," Parvati Patil admitted. "It stuck out in my dress robes."

Draco felt something click. "The dress robes. My mother sent me dress robes with protections woven in for Christmas." He kept his eyes on Harry to see if the significance clicked for him as well. It did.

Potter nodded and paced towards the front of the room.

"We're not going to cancel the dance again are we?" Annie Howard asked in a disappointed tone.

"No," Harry said. His eyes were moving quickly as though looking at something the other could not see. "We're going to set a trap for him."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed in a startled tone.

"Why not?!" Harry said, looking around at the startled faces of the D.A. "Even if we cancel the dance, the Death Eaters may try to attack anyway. The less they realize we're prepared for them the better. We are Dumbledore's Army. This is our home, our school, we have to defend it."

It was almost awe inspiring to see Potter in full form. Draco had not had the opportunity before. Some people were nodding resolutely, but there were a lot of uncertain and even frightened faces in the room. "Potter's right," Draco said loudly. "We're going to have much better chance if we fight them on our own terms."

"We?!" Ernie Macmillan exclaimed, giving Draco a flabbergasted look. "Malfoy, you've been in the D.A. for ten minutes!"

"And it only took me ten minutes to see that Potter is on track!" Draco shot back and jumped to his feet. "We better have a plan because you can bet sure as hell the Death Eaters are going to have one. And they're going to come in ready to kill. You can't expect to negotiate. You can't expect mercy. If you want to survive, you're going to have to fight! Better here. Better together, than to let them pick us off one by one after school ends."

"Exactly," Harry said. "We've already been drilling for what to do in case the Death Eaters attack. This is just a more elaborate version. We've got nearly a month to plan." Draco sensed he should sit back down and let Potter run the show. He caught Hermione looking at him with something akin to awe as he sat back down beside her. He felt his heart pound in his chest and doubted this was simply the effect of his impassion speech.

"Harry," Hermione spoke up. "What are we going to tell Dumbledore?"

Harry paused, his face intense with concentration as he turned the matter over in his head. "Nothing," he said after a few seconds. "We can't involve Dumbledore or any of the teachers. They'll be more worried about protecting us than helping us fight."

"You want to do this without the teachers?"

"The teachers will be there," Harry said. "It's unlikely they'll be wandering around the castle without their wands. I've already warned Dumbledore that we think it's possible the Death Eaters might attack. They'll be on guard. And Tonks will be there. We can find ways to summon the Aurors once the attack begins, but I want Voldemort to be committed. He won't be able to Apparate away once he's on the grounds."

Potter continued on, explaining and expanding. He wanted the prefects to act as officers in his army, which left Draco responsible for Slytherin. "We need to bring in as many sixth and seventh year students as possible," Harry said. "But carefully. Word of this can not leave the school, and it can't reach the teachers."

Draco nodded, plans beginning to form in his mind. Harry broke the D.A. into small groups and gave them each a different aspect of the plan to work out. Once the different committees were underway, he sat down at the table near Draco, Persephone, and Hermione. "Hermione told me you figured out who was spying on you."

"I did," Draco said.

"Who was it?"

Draco hesitated. Once he had gotten over his initial anger with Pansy, he was starting to feel guilty about the way he had treated her. In her own way, she had simply been doing what she thought was right. "I'd rather not say. I can make sure they don't find out anything important."

"Draco," Hermione said in a warning tone. At this point, Weasley joined them. He sat next to Potter and listened with a surly expression.

"Fine, it was Pansy," Draco whispered. "I don't think she's actively spying so much as she's was writing home to her mother about me, and her mother told my mother, etcetera."

"Told you!" Persephone gloated.

Draco bit back a retort. "Anyway, I wouldn't put it past her to do a bit of active spying if she thought something was up. I think it's best to keep her out of the loop."

"I'm going to have to trust your judgment," Harry said. Weasley made a face, but Hermione gave him a reproachful glance so Draco did not mind. "But bring in as many as you can. It's going to be hard enough fighting Death Eaters without fighting other students as well."

"I'll do what I can," Draco said. "Persephone, you can start talking to the sixth years."

She nodded and smiled encouragingly. "Some of them have joined already," she said. "Not everyone came to the meeting today.

"Hey, Harry, I've got it," Lavender Brown said as she approached them.

"Excellent," Harry said. "Come on, Persephone."

Persephone twisted around and eyed the crystal ball in Lavender's hand apprehensively. "Harry, no!" she whined.

"I want details," Harry said, unsympathetically, and stood back up. "Come on."

Persephone gripped Draco's arm. "Go on," he told her gently. "It can't hurt to look."

Lavender put a gentle hand on Persephone's arm to encourage her to stand. Persephone got up with the air of one walking to an execution and joined Harry at a small table in the corner. Draco propped his elbow on the table and smiled at Hermione. "So how am I doing on my first day?"

Hermione laughed and shook her head.

Weasley looked appalled. "Malfoy, stop flirting with Hermione," he hissed. "It's creepy."

Draco raised his eyebrows and contemplated ways to respond to that. Everything he could think of ran the chance of getting him slapped, so he decided it was best not say anything. Victoria approached the table and sat down in the spot Potter had vacated. Weasley gave her a nervous glance and scooted over to give her more room. Draco smiled at her. "Why if it isn't my favorite person!" he said brightly, just to watch Weasley twitch. Victoria just blinked at him. "Actually, Victoria, I'd like to get your help with something."

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

Draco knew what he had to do. That did not make it any easier. At breakfast, he made a public amends with Pansy and the Slytherin girls. Daphne made a lot of snide comments about his date with Hermione, but Draco let them slide. Pansy was unusually quiet, picking at her food, and avoiding Draco's eyes. Crabbe and Goyle were uneasy as well. Draco tried to draw them into a conversation about the last Quidditch match, but without much luck. If Quidditch could not distract them, they were pretty depressed about something.

After lunch, Draco cornered Daphne. She was more amiable after she had been able to get her digs in. He suspected his having an interest in Hermione did not bother her as much as it was good fodder for gossip. "Daphne, do you think you could keep Pansy busy for a couple hours this afternoon?"

"Probably," Daphne said, giving him a smug look. "Why?"

"I need to have a talk with the others," Draco said.

"You know Pansy's birthday is coming up this month," Daphne hinted.

"I remember," Draco said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. "So not a word to her about it."

"Okay, Malfoy," Daphne said and gave his tie a playful tug. "But you owe me."

It took a little more effort getting the rest of the Seventh Years to gather in his dorm room. Alice, Millicent, and Indigo seemed a bit suspicious about being asked into the boys dormitory, but curiosity got the best of them. Draco waited until everyone was inside before shutting the door and warding it against prying ears, both extendable and the regular kind.

"What's this all about, Malfoy?" Crabbe asked grumpily from his seat on the bed.

"That's actually what I'm ready to tell you," Draco said. "But it has to be understood that nothing said here leaves this room." The others looked at each other uncomfortably. Draco went to his trunk and pulled out a parchment. "This is a contract stating that you will not discuss what you hear in this room with anyone outside of it. No exceptions."

"What about Pansy and Daphne?" Indigo asked. Somewhere over the past few months her hair had transitioned back to it's natural color.

"No exceptions," Draco repeated. He signed his own name as an example and passed the parchment to Blaise.

"What happens if we don't sign?" Zabini asked.

"Then you leave the room," Draco said. "And continue on in your ignorance. I won't force anyone to sign, but I suggest you do. Ignorance is more likely to be a trap than a protection."

Blaise signed and passed the parchment to Indigo, who swallowed nervously but added her own name as well. It took a long time for the parchment to make its way around to everyone. Alice, Nott, and Crabbe each hesitated before putting their names down. "What will happen if we try to tell someone?" Indigo asked, grasping nervously at the clasp of her robes.

Draco took the parchment from Crabbe and opened his trunk. "If I understand the curse Victoria helped me put on it, you won't be able to. If you try to speak it, you'll lose your voice. If you try to write it down, you'll lose the ability. I'm not sure what trying to gesture it out would do to you, but I don't recommend experimenting."

Indigo's eyes widened fearfully, and she pressed her back against the wall. Draco rolled up the scroll and tucked it away inside his trunk.

"What is it you need to tell us?" Blaise prompted calmly.

"What happened to me this summer," Draco said and proceeded to tell them. He told them about the Death Eaters and his conversation with Voldemort. He told them about being offered the mark and witnessing the murder of Evra Tomes. Indigo gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Alice and Nott looked a little ill. Millicent and Goyle had their hands clasped together. Blaise and Crabbe were both hard to read.

"Why didn't you tell us before?" Crabbe asked.

Draco let out a slow breath. "Because if I told you, I'd have to think about it." He felt lump form in his throat and swallowed it down. Even now it was hard to fight back the images. "I was a coward. I was too afraid to do anything to save Mrs. Tomes. I was too afraid to speak. I was afraid of what you would think of me. But I'm tired of being afraid. I'm going to stand with Potter. I'm going to fight him."

"Then why'd you stop to coming to the Forum?" Goyle asked.

"I told you," Draco said. "I was scared. I thought I could stay neutral, but they're not going to let me."

"Why did you miss the train?" Indigo asked.

Draco had to edit his story a little bit. He told them about finding Persephone but left vague her relationship to Potter and who had put her in the painting in the first place. He made it sound as though it had simply been some Death Eater. He did tell them that Voldemort had killed her father and brother. He told them why he had refused to share his snack box or go home for Christmas. He told them about the Death Eater in the Shrieking Shack.

"But I can't stand with them after what I've seen. Voldemort doesn't care about us. He's not the champion of purebloods. He's just using them to gain power. There's no hope for us in joining the Death Eaters."

"What other choice do we have?" Crabbe asked.

"The D.A.," Draco said. "Potter has opened the invitation for all of you to join."

"Potter?" Nott repeated with a distasteful look.

Crabbe knitted his brows in concentration as though the pieces were slowly rolling into place for him. "Is that why you've been talking to Granger?"

"Partially," Draco said, deciding this was as good a time as any. "I've had crush on Hermione for ages. I've just been too scared to admit it." Crabbe and Goyle gave him peculiar look. Alice quirked her eyebrows, and Millicent smirked at him. Indigo looked shocked, but then she had looked shock since the meeting began.

"I really liked Mrs. Tomes," she said softly. "She was always very nice."

Draco felt his stomach churn. "Nothing is going to be nice if Voldemort takes over." Alice and Nott shuddered at the sound of the name.

"Why'd you have to tell us this?" Alice whimpered.

"Because I want you to do something about it. I want you to join the D.A. and learn to fight against Voldemort. We stand a better chance if we stand together."

"You want us to fight our fathers?!" Crabbe said indignantly.

"Your father," Nott muttered.

"Yeah," Crabbe barked. "My father."

"And mine," Draco reminded them. "And Goyle's. And Victoria's."

"And-and Pansy's," Indigo said. "Why did you leave her out? Shouldn't you tell her about Mrs. Tomes."

"Perhaps, but I think Pansy's still too enamored with the Dark Lord," Draco said. "I think she'd try to find some way to warn the Death Eaters about what we're planning. I can't take that risk."

"And Daphne?"

"Well, if you tell you one, you may as well tell the other," Draco said with a shrug. Nott let out an amused snort.

"What are you planning?" Goyle asked.

Draco straightened up. "We think Voldemort is going to attack the school." There was a collective in take of startled breath at that news, though Blaise and Millicent did not look too surprised. Indigo actually grasped Alice's sleeve.

"Here?" she asked, panic-stricken.

"Here," Draco said. "At the Leaving Dance. I want you all to stand with us, against him. Against Voldemort. We can't be fighting each other while we fight him."

"You want us to betray our fathers!" Crabbe growled.

"We're not the traitors. Our fathers betrayed us when they joined the Death Eaters," Draco said hotly. "They left us for Voldemort. They're trapped by their choices, but that doesn't mean we have to make the same mistakes. We have to let them face the consequences of their actions. We have to make our own choices."

Draco forced himself to speak calmly. "I'm not taking the mark. I'm going to fight. Who's with me?"

Blaise had been resting on his elbows on his bed, listening to Draco's story in nearly a state of repose. He stood. His face still plastered with the same intense calm. He held his hand out to Draco. "Bastard killed my mother. I'll fight him."

Draco took Blaise's hand. Understanding for the first time why Hermione had been so sure about him. Millicent stood. Goyle looked startled as she placed her hand over theirs. "I'll fight him."

Nott placed his hand over hers and shrugged. "My family's always supported the Ministry."

Goyle's face worked hard with concentration. He knocked his fists against the sheet as he came to a decision. He stood and placed his heavy hand over Millicent's. Nott had to readjust his hand, but he smiled benignly at the determined set in Goyle's eyes. Indigo glanced nervously at Blaise and Draco before inching forward and placing her own hand on the group.

"Oh..." Alice groaned. She looked like someone was asking her to swallow nasty medicine, but she broke away from the dresser and slapped her own hand on the knot. Draco gave them all a tight smile and turned his eyes on Crabbe.

Crabbe sat stubbornly on his bed glaring at the lot of them as though they were mad. No one spoke. They simply waited for him. Draco knew what it was to be in Crabbe's place. It had taken him all year to get to this point. Still, it was hard to wait as the minutes passed by.

"How do you he won't do to us what he did to her?" Crabbe asked at length.

It made Draco's heart twinge to hear the fear in his friend's voice. He understood it all too well. "I don't," he admitted. "But it's a risk we have to take if we don't want to spend our lives living in fear."

"You're mental," Crabbe said, but he got to his feet. He gave Draco a long look before placing his hand over the others. "You owe us big time, Malfoy."

Draco laughed with the relief, and the others did as well. They let their hands fall apart, and Draco squeezed Crabbe's shoulder. He went through the details with them, bringing them up to speed as best he could, and passing fake Galleons to each of them.

"That reminds me," Crabbe said. "You still owe me a Christmas present for this year."

"Double," Draco promised. "Extra huge one come next year."

They dispersed. The girls leaving first, and the boys milling back to their own business. Draco pulled Blaise aside. "I didn't know about your mother," Draco said. "I'm sorry."

"I don't exactly talk about it much," Blaise said. "You're not the only one who's been scared." Blaise's steady gaze pierced Draco. He knew he had been the main cause of that fear.

"New day," Draco said awkwardly. "Um...you didn't seem too surprised about Hermione."

Blaise grinned. "Malfoy, I've been watching you watch Hermione Granger for six years. I'm just surprised it took you this long."

Draco ran his hand through his hair, grinning himself. "Guess I'm a little slow."

Blaise shrugged. "I'd be a hypocrite if I called you that," he said. "Ought to be an interesting dance this year."

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

Draco had been avoiding the prefects' bathroom for much of the year, preferring those in the Slytherin dormitories. It seemed silly to him now, but he had been hiding, avoiding Potter, avoiding everything.

A lot of things seemed silly to Draco right now. The danger was still real, but for the first time in ages he felt safe. He opened the door to the prefects' bathroom and walked inside. Weasley was on his way out. Draco thought it might be a good idea to extend an olive branch to Harry and Hermione's mutual friend, so he forced himself to give Weasley a small smile as he passed.

The impact of Weasley's fist knocked him on his rump before he was fully aware of the blow. Draco raised his arm to guard his face and looked up at Weasley in alarm. "What the hell?"

Ron was glaring down at Draco as though he would like nothing better than to squish him beneath his shoe and was annoyed that his feet were not quite large enough for the task. "You greasy little ferret," Weasley spat.

Draco thought Weasley looked mad enough to take another swing if he tried to get back up again, so Draco stayed on the floor. "What?!"

"What do you want with Hermione?!"

Draco was surprised enough to momentarily forget the punch. Weasley? Weasley was the unwelcome factor. He had been so certain it was Potter. What could Hermione see in this overgrown Neanderthal? What would they talk about? Granted they were both prefects and helped Potter with his world saving and probably had some other Gryffindor common ground Draco was not aware of...But Weasley?

Draco touched his face and found blood. His lip had split.

Then again. Hermione had agreed to go the dance with Draco. So either Ron was slacking off on his wooing or Hermione was not as interested in him as he was in her. Or Hermione was using him to make Ron jealous. If so, she would be happy to know it was extremely effective.

This is ridiculous. Draco told himself. You can stand up to Lord Voldemort. You can stand up to Ron Weasley. "What do you want with her?" Draco asked. The getting to his feet part was a bit slower going than he would have liked, but Weasley made no move to stop him.

Instead, Ron backed up a step. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you seem to take offense that I've taken an interest in her," Draco said massaging his back. He was not sure which end of him hurt more. "Normally that means you have some sort of interest in her as well."

"She's my friend!" Ron all but shouted.

"And how exactly am I threatening that?" Draco asked. He took a few sideways steps towards the mirrors.

"You're using her," Weasley said, though he was beginning to sound uncertain.

"I wasn't aware," Draco said, continuing his progress. "Care to enlighten me?"

"You're so full of it," Ron muttered.

"Full of what? Charm? Razor sharp wit?" Draco winced when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. "Geez, Weasley, why do you always fight like a Muggle?"

"Why are you such a git?"

"Years of practice." Draco splashed cold water on his lip. It was not pretty, but nothing out of Madam Pomfrey's ability to put back in order. He would need her to check his teeth while she was it. "I'm not using her."

"What else would you want with her?"

Weasley, if you haven't had that talk with your father yet...Draco bit his tongue, partly because he knew talk of that kind would earn him another fist, deservedly so this time, and partly because whatever he was starting to build with Hermione was better than that. It was not worth hurting her just to tick off Weasley. However tempting a prospect that may be.

"I mean everyone knows you can't stand Muggle-borns," Ron continued.

Oh fine, bring up a valid point now. Draco pressed his hands on the side of the sink and looked at Ron, who had moved up to stand at the end of the sink row. "Were you sleeping during the D.A. meeting? I--changed--my--mind."

"People like you don't change," Ron snorted. He narrowed his eyes. "I saw what you fear, Malfoy. Just remember Voldemort isn't the only one who can kill you."

"Are you threatening me, Weasley?"

Ron made a mock-innocent face. "Don't be thick, Malfoy. If you stand by what you said in the meeting, then we're on the same side. Then again if you don't...yeah, it's a threat." Weasley gave Draco a pointed look and walked to the bathroom door. "And you'll keep your hands off Hermione, if you know what's good for you."

Draco waited until the door had shut back behind Ron before grabbing a towel.

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

He told Madam Pomfrey he had had a run in with a bludger. He let himself indulge in a lot of dark thoughts and elaborate plots for revenge against Ron, while she put his face back in order. In the end, he decided the best revenge would be to stick to the original plan. He doubted Ron would have attacked him if Harry or Hermione had been around. Maybe the redheaded oaf would relax after a few more meetings. If not, Draco could just spend the rest of the year avoiding the prefects' bathroom.

Having not quite decided whether to go back to the Slytherin dorms or just get out of the castle, Draco headed for the main entry hall after he left the hospital wing. It was a beautiful Sunday. Anyone not studying for exams was already outside. Lunch was long over and dinner a ways off, leaving the entry hall mainly deserted.

One lone figure was passing as Draco came to the top of the marble stairs. The girl took no notice of him and stopped in the center of the entry to adjust her bootlaces. Draco began his descent. He knew the girl below was Ginny Weasley. She was the only one with hair quite that color and cut. Ginny was pretty in her way. Red hair and freckles had never been Draco's thing, and he was feeling particularly adverse to them at the moment. Still he found himself watching Ginny. She was taking her time with her laces, lost in a world of thought.

Draco became aware of the lack of portraits in the entry hall. He supposed there were usually enough people in this part of the castle that they were not needed to keep an eye on things. Not at this moment though. Right now it was just him and Ginny.

What exactly triggered the thought, Draco would never be able to say, but his mind informed him that he could attack Ginny and no one would be the wiser. He did not have anything in particular against Ginny. She had hit him with a bat bogey a couple years back which had been rather uncomfortable, but Draco had transferred the blame for that onto Potter ages ago. Still, he found himself stepping softly from one step to the next, wondering how close he could come before she noticed. By the time he had reach the halfway point on the steps, his mind had planned out the perfect murder.

He would not even have to use magic. He was a lot taller than Ginny, probably a fair bit stronger by the Muggle measures. He could pull his sleeves over his hands, grab her from behind, and snap her neck. Even if that did not quite do it, there was a broom closet just a few feet away. He could drag her there, keep her mouth covered until she suffocated. Even witches had to breath. He would leave her in there. It could be hours before she was discovered. He could have a good alibi worked out by then. Ginny had been on Voldemort's list. Killing her would probably be impressive enough to get him back in Voldemort's graces, back on his parents' side.

Draco reached the foot of the steps, and Ginny finished tying her shoe. Another second and the opportunity would be gone. Draco made his choice and stepped forward quickly.

"Hey, Weasley," he said as he passed her on his way out the door.

"Hey, Malfoy," she said hefting her bag onto her shoulder. "You know we're going to cream you on the pitch next weekend, right?"

Draco looked over his shoulder. "Ha! You wish!"