The Redemption of Draco Malfoy

Chapter Nine: The Coup

Christmas day dawned grey and cloudy with a pale, wintry light shining through the windows of the fourth year Gryffindor girls' dormitory. Ginny rolled over in bed and looked outside, wondering, quite seriously, if she would get up at all today. The other girls were all asleep, brightly wrapped parcels lying in wait at the ends of their beds. Ginny decided that she could save a lot of awkwardness and irritation if she changed and left before they woke up. She climbed out of bed, got dressed, and then crouched down beside the small stack of packages at the foot of her bed.

The first she chose was a sweater and a large tin of biscuits from her mother - she opened that one first every year. The sweater was canary yellow with a broomstick and a Quaffle sewed on the front. Ginny smiled and laid it aside.

The next was from Ron - a basket of assorted sweets. Hermione had given her a box of decorative barrettes that she could use for her hair - some had minor spells on them that prevented curling or frizzing. And Harry had given her a small package (she pocketed the card straight away) that Ginny opened last of all. Inside was a small, golden ball with wings looked very similar to the Snitch they used in their Quidditch games. This one though, Ginny read on the instructions, was a practise Snitch. It stayed within a few feet of you when you released it, and darted around until you caught it. Ginny smiled fondly as she remembered the day when Harry had taught her how to catch the real Snitch. She slipped his present into her other pocket, disposed of the empty wrapping paper, and then crept out of the room.

The common room was empty at this early hour. Everyone would still be sleeping snugly in their beds and waiting for they day to begin so that they could open their presents and enjoy a large breakfast with their friends. Ginny padded across the floor to the portrait hole and pushed it open. She was about to step out when a voice spoke from behind her.

"Ginny." She turned around, feeling as though she'd been caught doing something wrong. She was startled to see Harry looking back at her curiously. "Where are you going?"

Ginny swallowed the lump in her throat and replied, "I...um...I was just going for a walk...around the castle."

"Oh," Harry said. "Mind if I come?"

Ginny's stomach flipped over. Her first thought was to make an excuse - any excuse - not to have to walk around the castle alone with Harry. She didn't think he'd be asking to come with her if he knew how little conversation she'd provide. But then, why was he asking to come with her? Wouldn't he rather wait here for the others?

"Don't you want to wait for Ron and Hermione?" Ginny asked, voicing her thoughts.

"It's still early," Harry replied. "We'll probably be back before they get up. We can all open our presents then."

Ginny looked nervously at her feet. "I...er...sort of, already opened mine."

Harry smiled warmly. "Oh, well." He walked over to join her by the portrait hole. "So do you mind if I come?"

"No," Ginny said, shaking her head. She waited for Harry to climb through and then followed him. The portrait swung shut behind them, the Fat Lady snoring loudly in her frame.

They started walking down the hall, Ginny looking nervously around at everything except Harry. Her heart was beating several hundred times faster than normal, and even the winter air couldn't cool down her face. Every time Harry looked at her, her stomach pitched sickeningly and she tried desperately to find something to say, so that Harry wouldn't think she was boring. But nothing came to mind.

"So...Happy Christmas," Harry said at length.

Ginny smiled timidly at him. "Happy Christmas." She turned back to stare at the floor.

"So you got my present?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," said Ginny. "Thanks."

"Did you try it out?"

"No," Ginny replied guiltily. "But I've got it here." She fished the practise Snitch out of her pocket and showed Harry.

"You tap it with your wand, I think," Harry explained. Ginny pulled her wand out of her pocket and tapped the Snitch once. It unfurled its wings and started to zoom around her head. Ginny giggled.

They continued walking, swiping at the air every so often in an attempt to catch the elusive Snitch. It kept Ginny's hands and mind occupied while Harry spoke to her and for that she was thankful.

"Where are we?" Harry asked as they turn a corner. They were a long way from the Gryffindor common room now.

"We're on the fourth floor," Ginny told him. They steered another corner and Ginny saw the painting of the sleeping unicorn.

"I've never seen this hallway before," said Harry.

"I only found it a few weeks ago," said Ginny, wondering if she had subconsciously steered Harry towards it. She knew she wouldn't have felt comfortable bringing anyone else here.

Ginny was surprised to see the unicorn in the picture awake and trotting around the grass it usually slept on. It walked up to the frame when it saw them, and snorted merrily. Ginny smiled at it. She saw the Snitch hovering around her knee and stooped down to catch it. She seized it but something fell out of her other pocket as she did. She looked on in horror as Harry bent down to pick it up. He looked briefly at the card that bore his name and then held it out to her.

"You dropped this."

Ginny turned bright red and took the card from Harry. "Thanks," she said. "It must have been stuck to the Snitch." She shoved it back in her pocket, hoping Harry hadn't noticed it had fallen out of the right one when the Snitch had been in the left.

* * *

Christmas, Draco thought with loathing as he sat up in bed. He didn't care for the holiday at all, not when he had nothing to celebrate. It would be one of the first he had spent at Hogwarts, for obvious reasons. He had slept poorly, he was worried about what his father and Voldemort would do to him once they found out he had betrayed them, and on top of that, he still couldn't get Hermione Granger off his mind. He leant forward and put his head in his hands, willing his headache to go away. It didn't, however, and he was forced to get up.

He skipped breakfast - as he had been doing a lot lately - and instead decided to go to the library. He wasn't in a mood to watch people, especially Hermione and her friends, celebrating merrily amongst themselves. He supposed he'd find peace and quiet at the library; not only would very few students go there on a day like today, but it would be the last place Hermione would go, so Draco could be guaranteed he wouldn't run into her there.

He took his Arithmancy books with him; it would be best to get used to working on his assignment alone from now on. When Draco walked through the doors of the library, he realised that he was right about very few students being in there and that he was wrong about Hermione not being there. She was sitting in a corner by herself, staring down at a sheet of parchment with her quill in hand. Draco stopped inside the entrance when he saw her.

He wondered whether he should leave, then dismissed the idea. No one, especially not Hermione Granger, was going to prevent him from going where he liked. He wouldn't scurry around school, avoiding her like a broken-hearted puppy.

He wondered next whether now might be the perfect time to speak to her. But he didn't want to apologise anymore did he? Hermione could wallow in her own despair for all he cared. She had made it perfectly clear to him that she wasn't willing to hear him out. Well, bugger her then.

Draco took a seat at the table furthest away from Hermione, and emptied his bag. He soon realised that they were the only two students in the library and even Madam Pince wasn't at her desk. It was tempting to take the opportunity to talk to her but he told himself firmly that he didn't care what she had to say.

It wasn't until Hermione looked up that Draco realised he'd been staring at her for a good long time. She looked blankly at him for a second and then turned away quickly. A second later she had packed her bag and was heading for the door.

"Running away are you, Granger?" Draco sneered.

Hermione turned around. "Go to hell, Malfoy," she said.

"I was under the impression that hell was anywhere you were," Draco drawled in reply.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and approached his table. "No one cares what you have to say, you spiteful little creep - so why don't you just keep your mouth shut."

Draco stood up, his eyes flashing with fury. "You'd better watch how you talk to me, Granger..." he began.

"Or what?" Hermione shouted. "You've already tried to hand me to Voldemort. What else are you going to do to me?"

"I didn't hand you to Voldemort!" Draco replied sharply.

"Why didn't you?" Hermione demanded. "Because you felt guilty? Is that why? You actually came down with a shred of moral decency? I bet that was really disappointing for you."

"You don't know a damn thing about me," Draco hissed.

"Obviously, I don't," Hermione replied, her eyes beginning to shine with tears. Her voice was thick as she spoke. "I had no idea you were going to do that to me, so congratulations. For some strange, stupid reason...I actually thought you were my friend."

"I was!" Draco snapped.

"No, you weren't!" Hermione cried. She sniffed and wiped furiously at her eyes. "You never liked me and you never wanted to spend any time with me. You used me."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," said Draco in reply. "You don't know what I was going through."

"What you were going through?" Hermione cried indignantly. "Don't pretend you're the victim here. You were the one that lied to me...betrayed me."

"I had no choice!" Draco yelled.

"You always have a choice," Hermione cried. "It may not be an easy choice, but it's a choice. Do you think Harry ever took the easy way out?"

Anger seeped into Draco's bones. "Bloody Potter!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Don't you ever shut up about that whiny runt? If you're so bloody obsessed with him, why don't you ask him to help you with your stupid Arithmancy homework." Draco's anger was boiling over; he was no longer considering his words before speaking them.

"You were the one who asked me for help!" Hermione shouted.

"You know exactly why I did that," Draco replied. "Do you really think I would ask for the help of some insufferable, know-it-all, Mudblood who..."

Hermione raised her hand and slapped Draco across the cheek. He reeled with the impact, his cheek stinging where she'd hit him. He'd never been hit that hard before in his life. Hermione was looking at him with scorn in her eyes, loud sobs racking her body.

"Don't you ever...ever speak to me again," she said. Draco watched in silent astonishment as she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library. He stood watching the doors for several minutes after Hermione had left, unable to move.

* * *

In the weeks that followed, Hermione sank back into the pit of despair she had hoped to leave behind. Draco's cruel words had cut fresh words in her heart and soon she ended up feeling worse than she originally had. She spent many nights in her room, crying on her bed until she fell asleep. It was remembering what Draco had been like before his betrayal - the things he's said the person he'd been - that made her feel the worst. She wondered how that person could disappear so quickly and completely. Had he ever been like that, or had Hermione simply given him too much credit? Regardless of what he was then, she knew what he was now - he was spiteful, and he was vindictive and he was as cruel and callous as he'd ever been. He would say anything to hurt her and he would find pleasure in the fact that he had. Hermione couldn't bear to think of him and yet he was all she thought about.

Harry and Ron made several attempts to cheer her up, but their assuaging words fell on empty ears - or at least ears that were too preoccupied with remembering the nice things they'd once heard to listen to anything else. Hermione hadn't told her friends about her most recent quarrel with Draco; she didn't think grabbing the back of Ron's cloak would keep him away from Malfoy this time.

She spent her days in her room, and took to going to bed early. She avoided the library with a fiery dislike; she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to set foot in there again. She was even forced to apologise to Ron and Harry for not coming to their match against Slytherin. Hermione just didn't think she'd be able to stand seeing Draco again, even if he was several dozen feet above her. Ron returned to Gryffindor tower after the game and stood outside Hermione's door, trying once again to cheer her up.

"We trounced Slytherin," he said through the door. He laughed weakly. "You should see Ginny. She got it worse than Harry. She wouldn't move out of the way even when Bole charged into her." Ron lapsed into silence, obviously waiting for Hermione's response. "Malfoy got a blood nose," he said. Hermione cringed at the mention of his name. "Knocked his head on his broomstick while he was racing Harry for the Snitch. He wasn't playing very well today. Not that he ever plays very well." More silence ensued, then Ron sighed. "Come on, Hermione. Don't let that git do this to you. Can't you just forget about Malfoy? Exams are coming up soon, you know." Hermione smiled to herself. Only Ron would know that she'd snap out of a daze at the mention of exams. She didn't leap out of it or jump off her bed; she merely sat up slowly and then walked to the door and opened it. Ron fell back and landed face up on the floor. Clearly he'd been leaning against the door.

"Hi," Hermione said, looking down at him.

"'Lo," Ron replied stiffly.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked.

"Sure," said Ron. "Just glad you're wearing jeans." Hermione laughed and helped him up. Ron dusted off his clothes and smiled at her. "Should have known exams would have done the trick."

Hermione smiled back. "Where are the others?"

"Downstairs," said Ron. Hermione could hear voices in the distance. "Harry and Ginny won't be able to escape but we can probably slip out."

"To where?"

"Outside, if you like."

"I don't know," Hermione said, lowering her eyes.

"Come on, Hermione. You can't just lock yourself away in your room for the rest of the year. You'll get fat if you don't get some exercise."

"Ron!" Hermione howled and punched him in the arm. Ron laughed jovially. Hermione sighed. "All right. I'll get my cloak."

* * *

The sky was already growing dark outside. The clouds were an inky mix of grey and blue, stretching away over the forest. Hermione walked down the front steps with Ron and buttoned her cloak up. There was very little of the Hogwarts grounds that Hermione could walk around safely without being confronted by painful memories. Ron led her towards the lake, but she didn't protest. She would have to forget about Malfoy and the best way to do that was to erase his presence from places like this.

Ron walked slowly by her side with his long stride, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. Hermione felt a rush of gratitude and affection for him, as she looked at his open, compassionate face. Kind, predictable Ron, she thought. He was always there for her, always ready to stick up for her and cheer her up when she was feeling blue. Why was it that Ron never occupied Hermione's thoughts as Draco did? Why wasn't she having funny, warm feelings for him?

"Something wrong?" Ron asked.

Hermione looked down at the snow. "Nothing," she replied.

Ron nodded to himself and then sighed. "You're going to have to tell me about it eventually," he said, looking at her.

Hermione looked back. "I know. And I will. But not now."

"Listen," said Ron, "I know you feel like it's the end of the world right now, but it won't stay like that forever. Things will get better. No matter how bad you feel now it'll all be..."

Ron trailed off as a voice split the air, coming from Hermione's left. They both turned to stare at the forest. "Help!" the voice cried out again. It was definitely coming from the forest.

"Who is that?" Ron asked, his brow creasing with concern as he looked at the unmoving trees.

"It sounds like a girl. A student maybe."

"Help me. Please. I can't get down. Please."

"Hello?" Ron called out, walking to the edge of the forest. "Where are you?"

"In the forest," the girl answered him in a frightened voice. "I'm stuck in a tree and I can't get down. Please, help me."

"Where are you?" Ron repeated.

"Over here," the girl replied.

"She's over there, I think," Hermione said, pointing at a section of the forest. It was difficult to tell where the girl's voice was coming from.

"Don't worry," Ron called out, "we're coming to help you."

"Are you sure you want to go in there?" Hermione asked, looking at Ron.

"Not really," he replied. "But if she's stuck up a tree then I have to. Bloody hell - these first years never listen to Dumbledore." He started towards the forest; Hermione followed.

"Wait here," Ron said. "If there are spiders in there, you can take over."

Hermione smiled and held her cloak tightly around her, suddenly cold. She watched Ron walk into the periphery of the forest. It was dark but she would be able to see him if he stayed close to edge.

"I can't see you," Ron called out, scanning the treetops with his eyes. There was no answer. "Hello? Are you still there?"

Hermione saw it then, behind Ron, rushing at him with uncanny speed. She tried to yell out to him but something covered her mouth. A hand, she realised. Her warning shout was muffled against the leathery palm in front of her mouth.

She didn't see what happened to Ron, as suddenly, an overwhelming tiredness gripped her body, and her knees gave out. Briefly, she felt the tip of what might have been a wand pressed against her back, but she wasn't sure, because the darkened sky above was falling down to cover her eyes and drown her in silence.

* * *

Draco was restless; more so than he'd been the entire day. His nose felt better after his trip to the hospital wing, but all Madam Pomfrey's potions and healing charms could do nothing for his troubled mind. He was furious, with the Gryffindor Quidditch team, with his father, with Hermione; and himself most of all. Why couldn't he stop thinking about her? She had made it perfectly clear that he was never to speak to her again. And Draco certainly didn't want to speak to her either, or so he'd thought.

He was still edgy and anxious; still feeling as though he'd left something unresolved. He hated this guilty conscience business - how could people stand it? Malfoy's didn't feel accountable for their actions and they certainly didn't feel remorse at having wronged someone. So why did he?

Draco buried his face in his hands and yelled aloud. Why wouldn't it stop?

"She's a Mudblood!" he shouted. "Just a fucking Mudblood!" He seized an empty glass from his bedside table and threw it at the wall as hard as he could. It hit the stones and shattered into a million tiny pieces.

Draco was left standing with his chest heaving, his teeth clenched together and his mind still as restless as before. He sat down on his bed and breathed deeply, his thoughts taking hold again. He sat down on his bed and buried his face in his hands again. Who am I kidding? I still want to apologise to her and I won't get a moment's peace until I do.

So Draco was back where he'd started, only now Hermione had no desire what so ever to talk to him. That didn't matter though; he had to find a way to appease his conscience, even if that meant swallowing his pride again.

He considered, at one point, barging into the Gryffindor common room, then barging his way into Hermione's room and asking her for a quick word. He doubted though, considering how popular he was with the Gryffindors, whether he'd make it through the common room in one piece. And unless Neville was wandering the halls at this time of night, he wouldn't be able to get through the portrait hole at all.

So now he faced the distasteful prospect of another sleepless night, lying awake in his bed and counting down the hours until he could stage his next pitiful attempt at an apology. Hermione would have to leave her room eventually. He would catch up with her sooner or later and she'd realise that he was sorry for what he'd done and everything would be back to normal. The good normal, not the bad normal.

There was one thought that deterred Draco from the 'be patient' approach though, and that was that if he left it too long, Potter and Weasley would have her ear, convincing her that he was a rotten bastard that didn't deserve her forgiveness.

"Lousy gits," Draco said aloud.

* * *

"Ahh."

Ron sat up with an almighty headache ripping through his skull. His vision was slightly clouded and the pain that lanced through his head and his legs was close to unbearable. He felt as though he'd been knocked into a tree - which, judging by his memory, he probably had been.

He rubbed his temple as he looked about him in confusion. The forest, he thought. The girl. I have to help her. But no, there had been no girl. There had been a sound, a crashing sound, moving through the trees behind him. And then...

"Hermione!" He whirled around, looking between the trees and out at the lake. Where was she? Had the thing that attacked Ron attacked her too?

Ron ignored the pain the shot through his legs as he walked and began to search the surrounding area. "Hermione!" he called out again. Still no answer.

He walked out of the forest and back to the lake, where they had been standing before the girl had cried for help. Hermione wasn't there either, but her cloak was. It was lying on the grass, as dark as the sky above with...something white buried beneath the folds. Ron bent down and picked up the cloak, hanging it over his shoulder after he'd pulled out the white object which turned out to be a letter. He broke the seal open, fear gripping his heart, and read the contents of the envelope. When he had finished, he looked back up at the castle, staring at the Gryffindor tower. Harry, he thought, and took off at a run.

* * *

People were slowly vacating the common room, climbing the stairs to their beds as the hour became late. Harry looked around the room from the chair he was sitting in, hoping to find Ginny now that the crowd was dispersing. Something was bugging her and for some reason that was bugging him. He wasn't sure why, but common sense suggested a subconscious knowledge that it had been something he'd done that had upset her.

He couldn't find her though, no matter how hard he looked, which admittedly wasn't really necessary. Weasley's were easy to spot in a crowd; Ginny more so because of the length of her hair. He would have spotted her right away if she'd been in the room.

Harry didn't feel like returning to his room though. If he climbed those stairs and changed into his pyjamas and went to sleep, the dreams would wash over him again and bury him in their gruesome images. He didn't want to see them again, so he stayed in the chair, facing the fire and watching it burn.

No sooner had the last person in the common room shut their dormitory door than Ron burst through the portrait hole, panting and sporting a large bruise on the side of his face.

"Harry!" he cried when he saw him in the chair. He ran towards him. "Harry, I--." He stopped to breathe, and swallow.

Harry felt a wave of fear run through him. "What is it?" he asked, staring at Ron anxiously. "What happened?"

"Hermione," Ron choked out. "They took her."

Harry stood from the chair. "What do you mean? Who took her?"

"I don't know," Ron replied. "There was a girl in the forest and I tried to help her but something hit me from behind and then when I woke up Hermione was gone and I found her cloak - with this in it."

He handed Harry an envelope that had already been torn open. Harry found the letter inside and opened it up. He read it.

Harry Potter,

As you are by now no doubt aware, we have taken your Mudblood friend. She is a prisoner of the Dark Lord; her life in your hands.

If you wish her safe return, we suggest you remain reachable at all times. Should you attempt to rescue her yourself, or should you alert the Ministry, she will die. Do not doubt the sincerity of our threat. We have captured her for obvious reasons, but we will not hesitate to kill her should you prove uncooperative.

We will be in touch.

Harry lowered the letter and stared at Ron in shock, his heart pounding with fear.

"They took her?" he said weakly, fearing his legs would give out at any moment.

Ron just nodded and looked down at the ground, breathing deeply. Harry couldn't see properly. Suddenly the haze in front of the fire had extended to the rest of the room, obscuring his sight of anything but the letter in his hands.

This was what he'd always feared; what he'd always tried to guard against. His friends and his family - the little he had - were obvious targets for Voldemort. Harry had always worried that one day, Voldemort would strike at those people, in order to get to him. It had happened before, when the Dark Lord had killed his father and his mother, carving a path through their ruined home to get at their newborn son. Then, of course, Harry hadn't been the prime target, but now he was. Now, Hermione was the one he would kill in order to get to Harry.

"I can't believe he took her," Harry said, looking at Ron for the first time. He felt empty inside, as though an integral part of his body had been extracted and hidden away from him. He read the letter again.

Voldemort hadn't made his demands clear. He hadn't even written the letter. So what did he mean by being in touch? Would he owl Harry with instructions on what to do to secure Hermione's safe release? The idea was laughable, though Harry was in no mood to laugh at it. Voldemort would never release Hermione. Even if he did, once he'd killed Harry he would hunt her down with the rest of the Muggles and half-bloods and kill her then. She would suffer the same fate as the people Harry had seen in his dreams. The thought made him feel sick to his stomach.

"What are we going to do?" Ron asked, looking at Harry with worried, dependent eyes.

"We have to find her," Harry replied naturally. There was no other answer to give.

"But you read what the letter said - if we try to find her Voldemort will--."

"I don't care what the letter said," Harry snapped. He saw the hurt look on Ron's face and took a deep breath to calm his nerves; to keep the overwhelming sense of hopelessness at bay. "I'm sorry," he said. Ron nodded. "But we have to find her."

"I agree," said Ron. "But how? We don't know where they took her. Where do we start?"

Harry looked down at the letter, at the thin spidery letters that spelled out Hermione's death sentence, then he looked back up at Ron, his mind and his vision clearing.

"Malfoy."

* * *

Draco paced around his room irritably, his mind bending beneath the burden of his thoughts. He just wished he could apologise to Hermione and get this weight off his chest. Two months ago he wouldn't have thought it possible to feel this bad for someone, but now it was like an awful pain inside his chest that would only go away once he found Hermione and told her he was sorry. That's it, Draco thought, first thing tomorrow, I'm going to find Neville, put my wand next to his face and threaten to hex him to dust unless he gives me the Gryffindor password. Then...I'm going yank out one of his hairs, break into Snape's office, pilfer a vial of Polyjuice potion and walk right up to Hermione's door. The thought though, of walking around in Neville Longbottom's skin for even an hour wasn't particularly appealing. Still, he would find a way.

Just then a loud pounding outside rudely interrupted Draco's thoughts. Frowning, he opened his door and stuck his head out. It sounded as though it was coming from the common room. Being a Prefect, and also harbouring an intense desire to vent his anger on the disrespectful louts who had interrupted his thoughts, Draco stalked along the hallway and into the common room, towards the noise.

Several disgruntled heads appeared from the rooms along the hall, muttering about drunken teachers and rogue mountain trolls.

"Go back to sleep," Draco barked at some nearby first years, who fled into their room with fearful looks.

Draco walked over to the far wall of the common room, where the source of the noise was. He put a hand on the large stone block that served as the entrance, which slid aside to reveal to furious-looking Gryffindors.

"Potter!?"

Two sets of hands seized Draco's collar and yanked him outside, slamming him up against the opposite wall as the entryway slid shut again.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Draco bellowed furiously. "You can't just come down to the Slytherin dormitory in the middle of the night and--."

"Where is she, Malfoy?" Harry snapped, staring at Draco coldly.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Ron pushed Draco harder up against the wall. "Where is she!?"

"I haven't got a bloody clue what you're talking about."

"Where's Hermione?" Harry demanded.

"In her room probably," Draco replied, struggling for air beneath Ron's grip. "I don't know. I haven't seen her for days"

"Liar," Ron hissed.

"She's not in her room," Harry said. "Voldemort took her. And you'd better tell us where she is right now."

Suddenly, Draco couldn't feel the constricting collar around his neck, or the hard stone pressed painfully against his spine.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You know exactly what we mean," Ron barked. "Now start talking or I'll break both your arms."

Draco directed his question to Harry instead. "Voldemort took Hermione?"

"Don't play dumb," Harry snapped. "Tell us where she is!"

"I- I don't know," Draco choked out. "I don't know where she is."

"That's a damn lie," Ron snapped. "And if you ever want to ride a broom again you'll tell us the truth."

It was becoming difficult to breathe again. "Much as I don't give a rat's ass about lying to you two," Draco said, "I am telling the truth." Ron's grip tightened. "I swear I'm telling the truth."

"Why should we believe you?" Harry demanded.

"Do you really think I'd swear to you gits for no reason?"

"Your word isn't worth a thing to us, Malfoy."

"I swear on the Malfoy name, then."

"And that's supposed to mean something to us?"

Draco bristled with rage. "I just swore on my family line, you pricks. Now let me go."

Harry took his hands away from Draco's throat, then turned to Ron. "Let him go." Reluctantly, Ron released Draco's collar. He stayed where he was though, his proximity still forcing Draco up against the wall. Draco rubbed at his throat.

Once his windpipe was clear again, and he was free to breathe, he considered the impact of what the two boys had said to him.

"Voldemort took Hermione?" he asked.

"We're not telling you a damn thing, Malfoy," Ron replied.

"When did he take her?" Draco persisted.

"Why should we tell you anything, Malfoy?" Harry demanded.

"Because I want to help you find her."

Ron snorted and Harry narrowed his eyes with suspicion. "Why?"

"So I can trade bloody treacle recipes with her," Draco snapped. "Does it really matter?"

"No," said Harry, "it doesn't. Because you're not coming with us."

"I want to find her as much as you do," said Draco.

Ron laughed hollowly. "You make me sick."

"Look in a mirror, I won't have to."

Ron started towards Draco, his hands reaching for his collar.

"Hey, hey," Draco protested, holding his hands out. "Call off your Weasel, Potter."

"Ron," Harry said simply. Ron stood down, glaring at Draco fiercely.

"You tried to give Hermione to Voldemort," Harry said evenly. "We're not letting you anywhere near her."

"I was told to give her to Voldemort," Draco clarified. "I didn't go through with it. I saved her."

"She wouldn't have needed saving if you hadn't put her in danger in the first place!" Ron snapped.

"True," said Draco. "But I disobeyed my father and Voldemort to help her. That has to count for something."

"Explain to us," said Harry, "why you chickening out and committing betrayal is supposed to fill us with confidence."

"I did not chicken out!" Draco cried resentfully. "And I betrayed the bad guys. Isn't that what good guys do?"

"You're not one of the good guys, Malfoy," Ron spat.

"Look," said Draco, thoroughly irked by Harry and Ron's accusations and manhandling by now, "the day I care what you two tossers think of me will be the day I die my hair purple. But you can trust me, because I want to find Hermione just as much as you do."

"We don't need your help, Malfoy," said Harry. "We can find her on our own."

"And how do you plan to do that?" said Draco. "Are you going to go down to the Ministry and ask for the most recent address they have for old Voldy?"

"Do you know something?" Harry asked.

"I might."

"What do you know!?" Harry demanded. "Where is she?"

"I don't know where she is," said Draco. "But I might know how to get there."

"How?"

"The Manor," said Draco.

"You think Voldemort's keeping Hermione at your house?"

"No, dolt," Draco snapped. "My father goes to see Voldemort all the time. He never tells me where Voldemort is, but he doesn't care if I know he's going. And every time he goes he apparates from his study. He's set up some kind of Safety Ward so that wherever Voldemort is, the study at the Manor is one of - if not the only - place you can apparate there from."

"And suppose we manage to get to your father's study," said Harry, "what then? None of us can apparate. And even if we could we wouldn't know where to apparate to."

"There're Portkeys as well," Draco explained. "They're for prisoners mainly. I've seen my father drag people into his study that were in no shape to apparate."

"And your father," said Harry, "generous guy that he is - he'll just let us have one of those Portkeys?"

"Of course not."

"Then how do you propose we get one?"

"Simple," said Draco. "We break into the Manor."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "You want us to break into your house? And you want to help us do it?"

"No and no," Draco replied. "But I want to get Hermione back, so I don't have a choice."

Harry sighed and looked pensively at Ron. Ron returned his gaze with equal contemplation, and more than a little doubt. "So what do we do?" he asked Harry.

Harry turned back to Draco, his green eyes distrustful but harbouring a reluctant acceptance. "We go to the Manor," he said.

* * *