The Redemption of Draco Malfoy

Chapter Six: Lucius' Instructions

The euphoria that Ginny had experienced after winning her first Quidditch match faded quickly in the week that followed. She recalled with fond remembrance what it had been like to be praised and applauded by everyone and even patted on the shoulder by Harry. It seemed though, that no matter what she did, she couldn't machinate another meeting or accidental rendezvous with him. She would save a seat during meals and someone else would sit in it; she would walk alone through the halls and Fred and George would see fit to accompany her; she would even go to the Quidditch pitch early for practice, but Harry and Ron would show up together. It seemed that someone else invariably accompanied him wherever he went. I guess that's the problem with having a crush on a famous wizard, Ginny thought. There was just nothing she could do to secure any time alone with Harry.

Of course, that was always something of a double-edged sword. Finding time alone with him was all well and good, but spending that time alone with him, without blushing or stammering or scurrying away with her tail between her legs, was far more difficult. God, I'm such a baby.

So it was with a shock that Ginny, high in the air on her broomstick on the Quidditch pitch, saw Harry walking unaccompanied across the grounds with his Firebolt clutched under his arm. Training wasn't set to start for another twenty minutes; Ginny had come out here to practice on her own for a while, as she had been for the last few weeks. And each time she'd spent the half-hour alone until Ron and Harry, usually the first of the team to arrive, exited the castle and started towards the pitch. But now...now Harry was alone.

He waved up at Ginny, who felt the familiar surge of terror wash over her at being alone with Harry, and aimed her Nimbus at the ground. She landed just as Harry was coming towards her.

"Hey, Gin," he said.

"Hi, Harry."

"You're out early again."

"Yeah. I wanted to practice a bit before we started."

"I think you're more dedicated than Oliver used to be."

Ginny smiled. "Is Ron coming?" she asked.

"He and Hermione are fighting in the common room. I left them to it."

Ginny giggled. "What about?"

"You don't want to know."

Not really, Ginny thought. I just hope they take their time.

* * *

Earlier, when Hermione had descended the stairs into the common room, she had found Harry and Ron completing their Potions homework at one of the tables. She walked towards them for a quick hello.

"Potions?" she asked.

"Yeah," Ron replied irritably. "I copied out the ingredients for Veritaserum before I realised it was the wrong potion," he complained. "You believe that?"

"Well, the recipes are similar," Hermione offered helpfully.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I'm going to meet Draco in the library. We're still working on our Arithmancy homework."

Ron looked as though he'd just been force fed a defective vial of Navitaserum. "Draco?" he demanded.

"Oh," Hermione blushed furiously. "Yeah."

"Since when are you and Malfoy on a first name basis?"

"Since we've been working together," Hermione defended, averting her gaze. "It's just easier."

"Easier?" Ron bellowed. "What have you been doing with that slimeball all this time?"

Hermione glared at Ron. "We've been working, Ron," she said.

"Working? Then why do you have to go around calling him Draco?"

"I told you," Hermione explained, "it's easier."

"You're not actually having fun with him are you?" Ron demanded.

Hermione bristled. Why was Ron behaving like such an idiot? He had no right to question what she did with Draco.

"What would it matter if I was?" Hermione retorted.

Ron goggled at her as though she had gone quite mad. "What would it matter?" he spluttered. "What would it...? Harry...do you hear this?"

"Er..." Harry looked extremely uncomfortable. "I'm sure she's not having fun with him, Ron."

Hermione rounded on Harry. "Are you going to lecture me too?" she cried.

"Of course not," Harry replied. "But...Hermione - it's Malfoy."

"So?" Hermione demanded. "So what if it's Malfoy?"

"He's an evil bastard," Ron put in. Hermione turned her gaze back on him.

"Not much different to how you're behaving right now," she said. "What right do you have to tell me what I can and can't do with other people?"

"Um...I think I'll go down to the pitch," Harry said beside Ron, though Hermione barely heard it. She saw him get up and head towards the stairs of the boys' dormitory with his books.

"Hermione," said Ron, in what she supposed he thought of as a rational tone, "I'm not trying to tell you who you can socialise with but just please tell me you don't actually like spending time with Malfoy?"

"Maybe I do," Hermione snapped, renewing Ron's ire.

"Are you kidding?" he bellowed. "Are you completely bonkers?"

"No, Ron," said Hermione. "I think you're the one that's short a few marbles right now."

"Hermione!" Ron yelled. Behind her, Harry had resurfaced, holding his broomstick and walking warily past them.

"Just...er...leaving now," he said, though neither of them paid him any attention. "Try not to kill each other, okay." He crossed the common room quickly and pushed his way through the portrait hole.

"Hermione," Ron exclaimed, "you're acting like an idiot."

"I'm acting like an idiot?"

"Yes. Do you really think getting all chummy with Malfoy is a smart thing to do? He'll slit your throat in a second and walk away smiling."

"Whoever said I was getting 'chummy' with him?"

"Well if you're calling him Draco now, then obviously there's something going on."

"You're so pig-headed, Ron," Hermione said. "I'm leaving."

"Right," Ron shouted after her. "Go and meet your new friend in the library. Don't come crawling to me when he sticks a knife in your back."

* * *

"So what have you been doing?" Harry asked Ginny.

"Just practising with the Quaffle," Ginny answered.

"The Snitch here?" Harry asked, walking over to the crate of balls.

"Yeah, it's over there," Ginny said, pointing.

"Ah." Harry bent down and undid the straps around the tiny golden ball. It was already fluttering its paper-thin wings inside the case, struggling to escape. Harry closed his hands around it and joined Ginny again. He lowered his arm and threw the Snitch up in the air. It hovered for a mere moment and then darted out of sight.

"I don't know how you can find that thing," Ginny said. "I can't see it anywhere."

"You just have to know what to look for," Harry explained. "You don't look for the Snitch itself - you look for a glimmer of sunlight on it or a blur of movement. It gets easier once you practice it. See," he said, pointing over Ginny's shoulder, "up by the middle post there."

"Oh, yeah," said Ginny, pleased that she could see it.

"Gone," said Harry, and indeed it had gone, vanishing into thin air. Harry trailed his finger across the stadium. They waited in silence. "There!" he said quickly, pointing down near the far side of the stands.

"I don't see it."

"It's gone again. It only sticks around for a second."

"Are you going to catch it?" Ginny asked.

"Nah, I'll let it get a head start for a while. Let's throw the Quaffle."

Smiling, Ginny climbed back on her broom and guided it up into the air. She took hold of the Quaffle once more and tossed it to Harry. He caught it neatly and threw it back to her. They kept up the rhythm for several minutes.

"Looking forward to our next game?" Harry called out, throwing the Quaffle to Ginny.

"Yeah," Ginny replied as she caught it. "Except we're playing Slytherin."

"Don't worry about it," shouted Harry. "Their Chasers won't even be able to touch you. And Fred and George will keep them down."

Ginny smiled at Harry, who sat astride his broom with the sun bouncing off the lake behind him like an illustration from her History of Magic textbook. A solitary figure, probably a student, was making its way around the water's edge, looking impossibly tiny from up here. Harry, though, looked larger than life and Ginny's heart did a funny flip-flop inside her chest as she looked back at him.

Somehow it wasn't the thought of playing Slytherin that made her nervous about their next Quidditch match. As anxious as that made her, the thought of receiving another warm smile and maybe even a hug from Harry was the thing that made her spine quiver.

* * *

Hermione stormed violently past Draco and dropped into the seat opposite him. He looked up with curious eyes.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," she snapped in reply, slamming open her Arithmancy textbook and rummaging noisily around inside her bag for her quill. "Stupid, bloody git," she muttered.

"I can move if you'd like," said Draco.

Hermione looked up in confusion, then smiled. "Not you," she said.

Not me? thought Draco. Did that mean it was Potter or Weasley she was furious with? Or both? This made things not only a whole lot easier but also a whole lot more interesting. Maybe she'd finally woken up and seen the pathetic wretches for what they are.

"So how are you going?" Hermione asked.

"Very slowly," Draco replied, glancing down at his work. "I don't seem to be able to concentrate."

Hermione let her shoulders relax and sighed. "Me either. I don't really feel like working."

Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her. "What have you done with Hermione?" he asked.

"Ha, ha," Hermione replied sarcastically. "You're in here working just as much as I am."

"Yes, but I'm usually mentally undressing the sixth year girls while I am."

"Pervert," Hermione said with a grin. She looked blankly down at her book for a moment then back up at Draco, putting her hands resolutely on the table in front of her and leaning forward. "Let's go for a walk."

"A walk?" Draco asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah," said Hermione. "Around the lake. The weather's nice outside."

"There'll be people out there."

"So? Let them gawk at us if they want to. I don't care."

"You might when the Slytherins come knocking at your door with pitchforks and torches. And if they saw me with you, they'd tell their parents and then their parents would tell..."

"...your father," Hermione finished despondently.

"Exactly."

She slumped in her chair and stared down at her feet. She stayed like this for several moments before she looked up at Draco again, her eyes sparkling. "What if they didn't know we were together?" she asked.

"How, exactly, wouldn't they know we were together?"

"We can use Harry's Invisibility Cloak."

Draco goggled at her. "Potter has an Invisibility Cloak!?" he exclaimed. Hermione nodded. "I knew it!" said Draco. "That time at the Shrieking Shack...with the mud. The little bastard."

"So...?" Hermione continued. Draco turned back to look at her. "Should I go and get it?"

"You want to steal Potter's cloak?"

"No. I'd just be...borrowing it."

Draco raised his eyebrows. Hermione Granger stealing from Harry Potter to spend time with Draco Malfoy - there's a Daily Prophet headline. Still, it would further his plans if he got to spend some time with her outside the library.

"Okay," he said, packing his books into his bag. "Go nab the cloak."

Hermione's face lit up with a smile. "Okay," she said, hurriedly packing away her own books. "I'll meet you outside in five minutes." She swung her bag over her shoulder and walked swiftly out of the library.

* * *

Five minutes later, with her bag stowed away in her room and the Invisibility cloak bundled under her arm, Hermione made her way down the marble staircase and through the Entrance Hall until she was outside the castle. She looked around for Draco.

"Granger," a voice whispered from her left. "Over here."

Hermione looked to the side and saw Draco lurking in the shadow of the castle, leaning against the wall. She walked over to him.

"Going covert, Draco?" she asked.

"Is that the cloak?"

"Yeah. Here, put it on."

Draco took a hasty step back. "No way. I'm not wearing anything Potter's touched. You put it on."

"Don't be such a baby," said Hermione. "Just put it on."

"No."

Hermione sighed. "Fine," she said. "If you want to look like the one walking around the lake on your own, talking to an invisible friend, with all the Slytherins saying just how much of a loner Draco Malfoy has become ever since he..."

"Give me the cloak." Draco snatched it from her grip and threw it over himself. He disappeared instantly from view, his tall, solid body fading into the bricks of the castle wall. "It stinks," his muffled voice said.

"It does not," Hermione replied. "Come on." She set off in the direction of the lake, listening carefully for the sound of footsteps beside her.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"To your right," Draco replied.

"Okay," said Hermione, looking to her right. "I can't believe we're doing this," she said. "Who would have thought a Gryffindor and a..."

A muffled snigger came from her left. "Malfoy!" she snapped, turning to her left. "You're such a prat."

"Why have one invisible friend when you can have two?" he asked.

"I wasn't aware I had one invisible friend." The inflection on the word 'friend' told Draco what she was thinking. Unsure of what to say, he kept silent. Hermione also lapsed into silence for the next several minutes as they past the Quidditch stadium. Two lone figures were perched on their broomsticks high above the ground, throwing a ball to each other.

"So," Hermione said at last. "Are we?"

"Are we what?"

"Friends?"

Draco paused. It was obvious what he should say. He should say yes, that they were friends and that she could trust him. But then she couldn't trust him could she? Did that also mean they couldn't be friends?

"I guess we are," he replied. Beneath the safety of the cloak, he was free to glance sideways at Hermione, who was smiling widely.

"You're grinning like a Cornish Pixie, Granger."

Hermione looked away. "Shut up," she said through her smile.

They continued across the lawn until they reached the lake and turned to stroll around its western edge. At last Draco was able to relax and look around. The sun was climbing high in the sky by now, obscured slightly by the occasional wisp of pearly white cloud. In the distance the Forbidden Forest stood as the only feature of the landscape not lit up by the sun's rays. It was as though the trees simply drank the light from the atmosphere and never allowed it to reach the floor.

"You still there, Malfoy?"

"Yes," Draco replied. "Why? Did you think I would leave you here to look like a fool?"

"I wouldn't put it past you."

"I wouldn't put it past me either."

Hermione shook her head, muttering "Moron" under her breath.

To Draco's left a huge, beige-coloured tentacle sporting a multitude of small circular suckers broke the surface of the water and trailed lazily along for several metres before sinking back into the depths.

"So are you going to talk?" Hermione asked, taking Draco's attention away from the Giant Squid's strange water ballet.

"What do I talk about?" Draco asked.

"I don't know. What do you think friends talk about?"

"Well...er...shall we go thwart some evil?"

"I didn't say my friends, Draco. And that's not all we do."

"But it constitutes a large part of your schedule, no?"

"Only when it needs to. Most of my schedule's been filled up by study sessions with you lately."

"I'm touched you consider me so important," said Draco. "It really fills me with a sense of..."

"Professor Lupin!" Hermione hollered loudly beside him. "Hi!" Draco looked ahead of them to where the shabby wolf-man was strolling towards them.

"Hello, Hermione," he said, smiling warmly. "Out for a walk?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, looking nervous. "What are you doing out here?"

"Oh, just going for a walk, too. Nice weather, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes. Lovely." She laughed awkwardly.

"Something wrong, Hermione?" Lupin asked, considering her with his gaze.

"Wrong? No. Nothing. What could be wrong?" She laughed nervously again.

"Well, I'd best be off," said Lupin. "I have a class in an hour and I need to feed the Grindylows."

"Bye, Professor Lupin," said Hermione, waving vigorously.

"Good bye." He continued past them, Draco ducking quickly out of the way to avoid a collision. They both turned to watch him retreat out of sight. Hermione let out a deep breath.

"Granger, you really suck at incognito."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione snapped. She glanced back over her shoulder. "At least he's gone."

"He would've gone much quicker if you'd just thrown a stick and yelled 'fetch'."

Hermione glared at him, or, in the general direction where she believed him to be. "You're not being very nice," she said.

"That was never part of the deal, Granger," Draco replied

* * *

"Ron!" Ginny exclaimed, rubbing her shin.

"Sorry," Ron said unrepentantly.

"You all right, Gin?" asked Harry, coming to hover beside her.

"Yeah," she said. "Must've been some fight."

"Okay, everyone on the ground," Angelina shouted.

The players all pointed their brooms at the ground and landed in a circle around Angelina. Ginny noticed pleasantly that Harry landed next to her, even though Ron was on the other side of the circle.

"Okay, that was good," said Angelina. "You're all playing well. But we can't afford to get cocky or we'll slip up and make mistakes. Next practice is Wednesday night, eight o'clock. I want everyone here. Good job, guys." They hoisted their brooms onto their shoulders and headed back across the lawns to the castle.

"How many points was that, Gin?" Fred asked her, putting an arm around her shoulders, and almost weighing her into the ground. She wished he wouldn't do that with Harry around - it just made her look like more of a little girl. "Two hundred?" he asked. "Three hundred?"

"No it was four hundred," put in George.

"Don't think Ron was on the ball today though," Fred added. "Almost killed me with that Quaffle he threw." Ginny looked forward to where Ron was storming solo back to the castle. She wasn't too worried about him; Harry had assured her that it was nothing serious. Ron would calm down soon enough.

"Let's go cheer the bugger up," said George, and both twins bounded across the grass to manhandle Ron. Harry moved aside to stand closer to Ginny and smiled.

"Let's hope no one gets hurt," he said.

"You mean Ron or the twins?"

"Both."

Ginny smiled. It was always so pleasant making small talk with Harry. It was so easy - like it came naturally. Of course, there was the rather hampering obstacle of her chronic shyness; though sometimes, if she kept her mind on other things, it wouldn't show its ugly face. But when Harry looked at her...

"You played really well today," he said.

Ginny looked down at the ground, her cheeks burning. "Thanks."

"Don't worry about the Slytherin match," he said. "I think Ron trying to murder Malfoy on the pitch will provide enough of a distraction so that you won't get hurt."

Ah, thought Ginny, so that's what the fight was about. Ron had probably found out that Hermione was working on an Arithmancy project with Malfoy and construed it the wrong way. He had a tendency to blow up at little things like that.

"I just hope I don't throw up again," Ginny replied, mentally scolding herself a second later for bringing it up.

"Just try to get it on Malfoy's shoes if you do," Harry replied. "He won't be able to brag about their finely cut leather exterior then."

Ginny laughed despite the awful mental image Harry's remark conjured. Picturing Malfoy's indignant shriek was enough to cheer her up.

* * *

Hermione sat across from Draco in the library, glancing up at his down-turned head every so often. She had expected things to be different, somehow, now that Draco had admitted they were friends. Granted, she didn't expect him to start making her friendship bracelets or invite her to dinner at the Manor, but she had thought that he would at least talk a bit more. As it was though, things were largely the same as they had been, aside from the fact that Hermione had the distinct impression that something was bothering Draco. She decided not to pursue the issue though, as it was most likely nothing.

Hermione realised that if anyone was going to break the silence it would have to be her. "So you have a Quidditch match tomorrow," she said.

Draco looked up. "Yeah."

"Aren't you going to ask me to come?"

Draco looked confused. "I didn't think you liked Quidditch much."

"I don't," Hermione replied.

They stared at each other for several moments before Draco smiled slowly and leaned back in his chair. "Will you come and watch my game tomorrow, Granger?" he asked.

"I'd love to," Hermione replied with a grin.

"All right, then. Shall we get back to work?"

Hermione nodded and turned back to her assignment. After a moment she glanced back up again and found Draco looking at her with a thoughtful expression. She quickly dropped her eyes.

* * *

Draco had never been nervous before a non-Gryffindor Quidditch match before. He was always confident that he could best the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Seekers; but now, for some reason, he had a slight case of fidgeting to contend with. And that was bad, because Draco Malfoy never fidgeted. He strapped his pads to his arms and legs, adjusted his shoes, ran a hand through his hair, and then joined the rest of the team as they walked towards the entrance to the stadium.

He stood beside Leroy, the Slytherin captain, and waited until the team was announced and the doors were pushed open. Draco often wondered why so many of the other team players complained about being booed by the Slytherins when the Slytherins themselves had to suffer three-quarters of the crowd booing them. He didn't care though. Only the respect and admiration of a Slytherin held any sway with Draco.

The team walked out to the centre of the pitch where they met the Ravenclaw team. Draco stood face-to-face with the somewhat attractive Seeker that Potter was always making eyes at. He raised his chin and gave her a smug look. Cho looked back with a confident and equally arrogant smile.

"Mount your brooms," Madam Hooch yelled above the noise of the crowd.

Draco swung a lazy leg over his broomstick and planted his feet firmly on the ground. He directed his gaze skyward and waited for the whistle to sound. When it did, he, as well as the other thirteen players, kicked off the ground and soared into the air. The spectators yelled and roared and there were even a few cheers lost in the din. Draco looked down and tried to spot Hermione, but he couldn't make out the crowds' faces from up here. He shrugged and looked around for the Snitch.

* * *

Hermione didn't much like the way the Slytherin team played. Although Draco had done nothing of interest so far, she found his fellow Chasers and Beaters to be extremely brutal. They showed complete disregard for any and all of the Ravenclaw players. Hermione soon decided they weren't worth watching, and she focused her attention on Draco.

He, like Harry, was now the proud owner of a Firebolt. He had explained to Hermione that after his father had refused to buy him one, on account of his continual failure to beat Harry, Draco had used his own funds (which were apparently quite substantial themselves) and bought it himself. Cho, who had upgraded her broom since third year, was still finding it hard to keep up. She shadowed Draco, as Draco often shadowed Harry, but her manoeuvrability was limited.

Hermione had to admit that Draco was a good flyer, certainly better than most players. He had a carefree style at the moment that Hermione never saw him use against Gryffindor. She supposed that if Draco simply aimed to catch the Snitch, rather than attempt so zealously to defeat Harry and humiliate him in the process, he would actually have a chance at beating Gryffindor. His approach to flying was quite similar to Harry's - he flew with a natural grace and precision that couldn't be taught. And, like Harry, Draco looked as though he were having fun up there.

Harry, Ron, Ginny and most of the other Gryffindors had expressed little interest in watching the match, preferring to hear about the results afterwards, so Hermione was free to watch Draco and cringe when it looked like he was going to collide with someone, without the fear of Ron yelling at her again. She had been expecting a long, drawn out match that would gradually become more violent and perhaps result in Draco employing cheap tactics to rob Cho of the Snitch. But they were no more than five minutes in, with Slytherin leading by ten points, when Draco made his first attempt at the Snitch.

He put on a burst of speed and shot towards a corner of the stadium. The crowd gasped collectively as Cho tore after him. It was at the last second that Hermione realised he hadn't seen the Snitch at all. Draco brought his broom to a halting, Firebolt-exclusive stop, and let Cho fly several metres past him. Hermione wrote Draco's display off as a feint designed to unsettle Cho, but Draco began to move again. He swung his broomstick around and threw it into a dive towards the other end of the stadium. Cho spun around in confusion and stared in horror as Draco leaned flat on the handle and extended his arm. He pulled his Firebolt up several metres from the ground and swiped at something in the air. When he came to a stop, he held his hand up triumphantly and Hermione could see the glitter of gold between his fingers. He won! she almost shouted.

There were hundreds of disappointed groans echoing around the stadium and a scattering of wild applause and cheers from the Slytherin corner. Draco lowered his broom to the ground and dropped gracefully to the ground. He shouldered his broomstick and walked off in the direction of the Slytherin locker room, the rest of the team following.

Hermione left the stands and the crowd behind and hurried back to the castle. She made her way to the library and sat down at their table (Our table, Hermione thought with a flutter) to wait for Draco. She waited a long time, trying and failing to occupy herself with her Arithmancy assignment, until he pushed the doors open and walked inside, now dressed in a casual grey sweater and black trousers. Hermione beamed at him.

"You won," she said as Draco slid into the chair opposite her.

"Were you expecting any less?" he asked with a superior smile.

"A modest victory, perhaps," Hermione replied.

"Keep dreaming."

Hermione laughed amiably and watched Draco set his Arithmancy work out on the table. It was strange that Hermione was buzzing with excitement when Draco looked positively indifferent to his victory. She felt as though she should say something.

"Well, congratulations," she settled for.

"Thanks," Draco replied with a smile. "You can congratulate me again once we beat Gryffindor."

"Now who's dreaming?" Hermione quipped.

Draco smiled casually at her as he fished his quill out of his bag. Hermione sighed and turned back to her work.

* * *

Draco stared at the letter for several minutes before he decided to open it. In his hands he held the instructions that would eventually deliver Hermione Granger into the hands of the Dark Lord himself. Again, he considered what Voldemort would do to her. And while Hermione suffered her terrible fate, Draco would be still at Hogwarts, perhaps sitting in the library completing his Arithmancy assignment alone. She wouldn't get to finish it, most likely.

Taking a deep breath, he removed the seal on the letter and unrolled the parchment.

Draco,

I am pleased to hear of your progress, as is our Lord. I must admit I hadn't thought you capable of machinating such a subtle plan. But, you have proved me wrong.

As per your request, here are the instructions for the girl's abduction:

You will find some excuse to lure her out of the castle on the Sunday after you receive this letter, preferably at night. My associate will wait in the Forbidden Forest, where the protective spells of Hogwarts hold no sway. The Dark Lord himself once found refuge there.

You will bring the girl to the edge of the forest, on the northern side of the grounds, and hand her over to my colleague. There should be no margin of error and no cause for delay. I need hardly remind you how pertinent it is that you deliver the girl at this pivotal time in the Dark Lord's plans. Once she is in hand, Harry Potter will rush blindly into our clutches and then, for having instigated his capture, you and I will be grandly rewarded and the Malfoy name made more powerful than ever. I am counting on you Draco.

Lucius Thanatos Malfoy.

Draco let out his breath. So it was done then. Now all he had to do was lure Hermione outside the castle and he'd be free of this distasteful business once and for all. Sunday - that was tomorrow. Draco read over the letter once more.

Our Lord? His father had so arrogantly assumed that Voldemort was Draco's master too. The lack of discretion in the letter also stood out. His father had become confident - brash even. He was sure that his plan would be seen through to completion. I still hold all the cards father, Draco thought.

He dropped the letter and watched it burn on its way to the ground. That was it. One more day and it would be over - all the pretending, all the ingratiating behaviour and the facade of friendship. It was how it should be - how it was meant to be. And of course Draco would obey. His father may be overconfident about the whole affair and Hermione doomed to a fate worse than death, but in the end it was what Draco had to do - what he had done all his life. And what he would do.

* * *

Harry slept with nightmares - terrible, twisted images of death and pain. He saw fire spreading over a city; children crying in their beds, their skin melting off their bones. He saw animals fleeing into the forests, in search of shelter, but finding only death. He saw a night sky filled with horrible, tormented screams that echoed beneath the enormous figure of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. And he saw those eyes - those slitted, inhuman eyes that bored into his with the promise of revenge, and of death.

Harry jerked awake violently, his hands clawing at the darkness and his mouth open in horror. He didn't scream - somehow he managed not to do that. He sat up slowly and clutched at his head. His scar burned agonisingly. It was so painful that for those first few moments when he woke up he felt sure he'd never be rid of the pain again. But it subsided, eventually, as it always did. Soon there was only a faint throbbing in his head to remind him of it. Breathing rapidly, he reached out for his glasses and put them on.

The world was tuned into focus; the grey, amorphous bedroom taking shape around him. He took another deep breath and threw back his covers. The floor was freezing cold on his feet, so he fished a pair of socks out of his trunk and pulled them on before padding towards the door and opening it silently. He slipped through and shut it again.

The fire was lit when he entered the common room, crackling away softly as though it too was trying to make as little noise as possible. Harry crept over to it and the armchairs beside it. There was someone on one of them, curled up asleep with their head pillowed on their hands and their flame-red hair looking like a reflection of the fire behind it. Harry looked down at Ginny with quiet contemplation.

Those images he had seen in his dream - they were like nothing he'd ever seen before. He had seen Voldemort killing and plotting and destroying before, yes, but never on such a large scale. He had never seen whole cities burning to the ground and people fleeing their homes as their children squealed helplessly inside the flaming wrecks. And the eyes...those eyes. Harry had never wanted to see those eyes again as long as he lived, not after that night in the cemetery when he had carried a dead boy back to the world of the living, the ghosts of his parents fading fast from both his memory and existence.

As he looked down at Ginny, sleeping peacefully by the fire, he knew what the dreams meant. Voldemort was gaining power and he had the gruesome fate of the whole wizarding world shining in his baleful eyes. He wanted them dead - all of them. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore, Ginny. Looking down at Ginny's tranquil form, Harry just couldn't picture her suffering the fate he'd seen those people suffer in his dreams. He couldn't see it - and he never would, because he wouldn't let it happen.

"Harry?" Ginny roused softly from her slumber, her eyes fluttering open. She made soft stirring noises that made Harry feel all warm inside. She sat up on the chair and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Is that you, Harry?"

"It's me," he replied.

"What are you doing up?" Ginny asked, lowering her hands and focusing her eyes on him, the reflection of the fire dancing in her pupils.

"Couldn't sleep," said Harry, sitting down in the other chair. "You?"

"Same," said Ginny. "I come down here sometimes, when the other girls are talking late at night."

"You don't join in?"

"And prattle on about Malfoy's hair? No thanks."

Harry chuckled. He gazed into the fire as his laughter subsided into a relaxed smile, then he turned back to Ginny.

"Sorry I woke you."

"No, it's fine. I wasn't asleep for long anyway." Harry nodded slowly to himself, staring down at the floor.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked, looking at him with concern.

"Yeah, fine." Ginny smiled weakly, and Harry could tell she was bothered by his unwillingness to share his thoughts with her. He would oblige her then. "I had some bad dreams," he said.

"About what?"

"Voldemort."

Ginny shivered despite the warmth of the fire. "Is it bad?" she asked. "Dreaming about Voldemort."

"It's terrible," said Harry. "The things I see him do - they're not pleasant."

Ginny shifted her position so that she was leaning forward towards Harry's chair. "I'm sorry you have to have those dreams," she said.

"You don't have to be sorry, Ginny."

"I know. But I am. After everything you've been through - you shouldn't have to see those things."

Harry smiled gratefully at her. "I don't see them that often," he said, attempting to lift her melancholy.

Ginny smiled back warmly. "If you want to talk about them," she said, then became slightly bashful, "you know...I'm here. I mean, if you don't feel like talking to Ron or Hermione about them. I know how Ron can get with things like that." She smiled to herself.

"Thanks, Gin," Harry replied with a weary smile. "I'm here for you too. You know...if you ever need to talk."

"I know," said Ginny, smiling brightly and resting her head on the armchair.

* * *

Draco watched the first rays of sunlight creep over the horizon, like menacing fingers searching for their prey. He supposed sunrise was meant to invoke more benevolent images in his mind, but the onset of day brought a cloud of darkness around it.

He could see the faint outline of his reflection in the window, superimposed on the lightening sky. He looked weary and drawn to his own eyes, which didn't surprise him considering how much sleep he'd had last night. He'd dropped in and out of a supernatural landscape filled with dreams and images his mind fought feebly to suppress. And through that haze of disheartening images he could see the same silent figure, staring back at him through eyes that wept frozen tears.

Hermione. Why was he thinking so hard about what he had to do? It should be simple. He asked her to take another walk around the lake - let her get the Invisibility Cloak if she liked - led her instead to the edge of the forest, and walked quietly back to the castle by himself. Only in his mind it didn't happen that way. In his mind she smiled at him as they walked and asked him where they were going. "It's a surprise," he said, smiling back at her. And he didn't walk away quietly; he walked away amidst her screams of terror and pain and betrayal. How could he do this?

But that wasn't a question. He had to do this. His life depended on it. He couldn't sacrifice his own skin for that of some...some Mudblood. He bit his tongue so hard it drew blood.

It took Draco an impossibly long amount of time to shower and dress that morning, and he knew he was stalling. He had no idea what he'd say when he saw her, or how he'd manage to keep his tongue still when there was so much he could - and probably should - tell her.

She would ask him if he wanted to work on their Arithmancy project again, and she would smile at him and call him Draco and all the while he'd be plotting her murder. She would be completely oblivious to what was going to happen to her tonight - that she would never have the chance to finish her project, no matter how hard she worked on it with him. Draco sighed heavily, weariness seeping into his very bones. How could he do this?

He skipped breakfast, as it was almost over when he was finally ready. He left his room and walked down the dreary corridor to the even drearier common room. A smattering of students had stayed behind in lieu of attending breakfast and were spread around the room at intervals, scowling and brooding as Slytherin students often did. Luckily, there was no one Draco knew.

He pushed his way through the portrait hole and straightened up with a deep breath. He could do this. He had to and there was no other question about it. He stalked down the corridor with his perfect posture far less perfect than usual.

The Great Hall was emptying already, and a crowd of students was filling the hall. None of them know, Draco thought, that in a few hours their great and almighty saviour could be dead. Draco himself though, couldn't think that far ahead. Harry wasn't in danger yet - not until Voldemort had Hermione. And if Draco went ahead with the plan, he would have her tonight.

He considered what he should do to while away the time until then. The most attractive prospect was to spend all of it in his room, locked inside with only his tortured thoughts to keep him company. He'd go mad if he did that, which would probably be a distinct improvement to how he felt now.

He couldn't go to the library, because she'd be there, waiting for him and helping him work through something so mundane as an Arithmancy problem. How could he face her with this great, dark knowledge weighing on his mind? Or was it his heart that it weighed on? He wasn't sure.

The idea of a walk outside received some brief consideration, but then he'd be walking outside tonight - and he could still remember what it was like walking with Hermione around the lake. It was a distinctly new sensation to Draco, feeling as though there was absolutely nothing he could stand to do right now. In the end he settled for wandering around the castle, if only to prevent himself from standing still in the Entrance Hall.

* * *

"Draco," Hermione sighed aloud, "where are you?"

She was sitting at their usual table in the library. Her books and parchment and quills spread out around her, though only up to the halfway point of the table, so that Draco could spread his out on the other side. She glanced up at the clock on the wall and then back down at her work.

It wasn't as though they'd agreed on a time to meet, or that they'd agreed to meet at all. But it seemed, at least until now, as though there had been some sort of unspoken agreement between them, to meet in the library on the weekends and during any free time they had to finish their Arithmancy assignment. They were so close to finishing it too, even though it wasn't due for several months.

But where was Draco?

* * *

"Harry," said Ron, "we have to talk."

"About what?" Harry asked, looking up.

Ron looked over at Ginny, who was sitting in the armchair next to Harry's and reading her Charms textbook. Ginny, noticing Ron's hesitant gaze, gave him a look that said "You're going to have to drag me out of this chair if you want me to leave."

"Ginny's all right," said Harry. "She can listen to whatever you have to say."

Ron's gaze lingered on his sister as though he doubted this were true. Eventually though, compulsion to speak got the best of him and he returned his eyes to Harry. "We have to talk about Hermione," he said.

"What about her?" Harry asked.

"She's spending way too much time with Malfoy," Ron explained. "We have to do something."

"Ron," said Harry, "they're doing an Arithmancy project together. They have to spend time together."

"Not this much time," said Ron. "She's in there every bloody free second she has."

"Arithmancy's a hard subject Ron," Harry replied diplomatically. "She probably needs every free second she has to get the project finished."

"What about her calling him Draco? And going on about how fun it was spending time with him?"

"She didn't say she was having fun," Harry pointed out. "She just said that to spite you. Look, Ron, I agree - she is spending a lot of time with Malfoy and it's probably not wise. But you know what Hermione's like and if you try to tell her she can't see him it'll only push her further towards him."

"But what if he's got a spell on her?" Ron asked. "A love potion maybe? That's just what he'd do."

"On Hermione?" Ginny asked, raising her eyes from her book. "Why would Malfoy want anything to do with Hermione outside of school work? He hates her."

"She's right, Ron," said Harry.

Ron looked furious. "No one asked you Ginny. What are you doing here anyway? Can't you go and read somewhere else?"

"Harry and I are going down to the Quidditch pitch to practice," Ginny replied with her nose high in the air.

Ron growled. "Fine," he said. "If you two don't want to talk to her, then I will." He spun on his heel and stormed out of the common room, his anger following him like the train of a cloak.

Ginny looked over at Harry with her eyebrows raised. "Not the sanest guy in the world, is he?"

Harry laughed and stood up. "Come on, let's go down to the pitch."

* * *

Hermione gazed forlornly at the clock on the library wall again. He's not coming, she told herself. He's probably talking to his Slytherin friends or playing Quidditch or snogging that seventh year Ravenclaw girl with the big...

"Hermione."

Hermione woke from her reverie and looked across the table, expecting to see Draco ready to apologise for being so late because he'd slept in. Instead she saw...

"Ron?"

"We need to talk," he said.

"Not this again, Ron," Hermione groaned. "I'm not listening to whatever it is you have to say about Draco."

Ron winced at the use of the Slytherin boy's first name, just as he winced at the use of Voldemort's name.

"We're doing an Arithmancy assignment together," Hermione continued. "That's all. I don't need to hear your paranoid delusions again."

"Are they though?" Ron asked. "Are they really delusions? Just tell me if they are and I'll go away, I promise. Tell me I'm just being paranoid."

"I think I just did, Ron."

"So...so you're not going to be shacking up with Malfoy any time soon?"

"Ron! Gross!" Hermione glared at him with revulsion.

"Okay," said Ron, looking calmer. "It's just that...I know you could never like him as a friend, but...well, I've heard the girls talking about him and how he's...well, you know..."

"No, I don't know, Ron."

"Yes, you do," Ron barked. "You know exactly what I mean. I just hope you have the common sense not to be tricked by something like that."

"You hope I have the common sense?"

"You know what I mean," said Ron. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

Hermione looked affectionately at her friend. Maybe he was just looking out for her. Perhaps unreasonable outbursts of rage that bordered on overkill were just Ron's way of showing her he cared.

"Draco and I are just working together," said Hermione. "That's all. I'm not going to run off to Europe with him...even if he is positively gorgeous."

"Hermione!"

Hermione laughed at Ron's reaction. "I'm kidding," she lied. "I'll be okay, Ron." She smiled at him. "I'm not going to get hurt."

* * *

"She will burn," Voldemort hissed. "She will burn and her screams will draw Potter from Hogwarts."

"Are you certain he will come, master?" Lucius asked.

"I am," replied the Dark Lord. "He is a hero and that is their way. They cannot abandon the ones they love, even if it means rushing blindly into death itself." Voldemort turned to face his servant, his robes lashing the air around him. "Are the arrangements in place, Lucius?"

"They are, my Lord. Draco has been instructed to lure the girl to the forest, where one of your servants shall be waiting."

"Good," Voldemort hissed. His red eyes gleamed with pleasure. "Then it is only a matter of time."

"Yes, my Lord. Draco will not fail you."

Voldemort threw his baleful eyes around the room and let them come to rest on his servant. "He had better not, Lucius," he hissed. "He will deliver the girl - or he will suffer the consequences."

* * *