Draco: Phoenix Rising

[Lissandra Sylvania]

Chapter Thirty Eight – Wedding Plans

Hermione woke slowly to the delightful sensation of being wrapped in Draco’s arms. She pondered leaving for all of five seconds, but realized she couldn’t have moved if she wanted to. Her head was lying over Draco’s left arm and her hair was trapped quite firmly beneath him. His chin rested against the top of her head and his right arm was flung carelessly over her chest. His right leg lay across her hips, effectively trapping her beneath his delicious warmth. The room was dreadfully cold, she realized.

Her right arm was between them, though her palm lay upon her waist and the edge of her hand touched Draco’s bare thigh. Her other hand sat familiarly on his bicep.

She had nearly left him the night before—had gotten out of bed quite late without stirring him, but she had paused to look at him and that had been her undoing. His silver hair had glinted in the candlelight and his features had looked so beautiful and guileless… She had sent Harry a quick Patronus message and transfigured her clothing into pajamas—demure, warm, modest pajamas—and gotten back into bed with Draco.

Now she listened to the even sound of his breathing and felt the steady movement of his chest against her shoulder. She wondered what time it was—the darkness of the dungeon made it bloody difficult to determine that simple fact. She released Draco’s arm and raised her wrist to look at the glowing numbers on her watch face. 6:42.

The tiny movement was enough to wake him. The rhythm of his breathing changed slightly and he tensed minutely, most likely in surprise.

“You didn’t leave,” he murmured.

“Apparently not. Did you want me to?”

He chuckled. “Definitely not.”

“How do you feel?”

“You tell me.”

She giggled. “You feel nice and warm.”

“I feel wonderful. Would you like me to show you?”

Without waiting for her response, Draco levered himself downward in a lithe motion and twisted himself about. The movement ended with him lying half-atop her. His face hovered over hers for a moment and her heartbeat responded instantly to the look in his silvery eyes. She felt like a foolish damsel that had wandered into the dragon’s lair. When he lowered his mouth to hers, she found that she didn’t care.

After several soul-stirring kisses, he asked, “Do you think it was wise to stay here with me?” Hermione could barely breathe.

“No,” she admitted. “It was probably the exact opposite of wise.”

He made a noncommittal sound of agreement and proceeded to prove her words true beyond the shadow of a doubt.

An hour later, Hermione’s body alternated between icy cold and blisteringly hot. Tremors of mindless desire enveloped her with a nearly physical pain; and all Draco had done was kiss her. She would never have imagined the variety of things one could do with lips, tongue, and teeth, but Draco could have written volumes on the subject. His hands had remained clamped firmly on either side of her waist—she marveled at his self-control and cursed him for toying with her. Hermione’s restraint was completely gone. Her hands alternately twisted in his silken hair or gripped the smooth skin of his back and shoulders.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take it any more, when she was nearing the point of begging—for what, she wasn’t sure—he drew a ragged breath and kissed his way down her neck. Her relief was short-lived.

She didn’t stop him when his hands slipped up to undo the first few buttons of her top. She didn’t want to stop him. He followed his hands with his lips, button by button, until he reached her navel. His tongue plunged into the hollow and she gasped sharply and arched against him as a new form of desire flooded her senses.

Incredibly, he raised his head. His eyes looked like dusky pools in the near-darkness.

“So,” he asked casually, “What shall we do today?”

The incongruous question couldn’t quite penetrate Hermione’s fogged mind.

“I imagine we can either go search for Horcruxes, or stay here where I can spend a few hours driving you half-mad with indescribable ecstacy.”

Hermione thought her heart would stop for a moment and she struggled to find her voice.

“Hours?” was all she managed in a hoarse tone.

She could make out the twist of his incredible, talented lips as he smiled wickedly.

“Of course. You should know I’m not the type to pleasure myself, roll over, and light up a cigar while giving you a dismissive pat on the fanny… It’s far more satisfying to bring you to the pinnacle of delight over… and over… and over.” With each repetition, his tongue dipped into her navel and she shuddered, having no difficulty believing his words. He chuckled.

“I…” She couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought. She knew she should choose the sensible route. Stop him from… hours of driving her half-mad with indescribable ecstacy. Although she really couldn’t think of a valid reason why, at the moment.

He laid his cheek against her belly for a moment and her hand touched his sleek hair tenderly. She felt a sudden rush of something that wasn’t desire. Something stronger and even more terrifying. She swallowed hard and refused to acknowledge it. Draco sighed.

Hermione held her breath when he raised his head again. His tongue touched her skin once more, sliding upward over the hill of her ribcage, caressing her breastbone, and followed the links of the chain around her neck. His breath was hot in her ear as he nibbled it with his teeth, sending shivers down her spine again.

“You’re not quite ready for this, are you?” he asked. His voice wasn’t amused or accusatory or disappointed—it was simply matter-of-fact.

“I don’t think so,” she managed shakily.

“All right, Granger. I’ll let you escape with your virtue intact. This time.” The words were tinged with amusement.

He pushed himself away from her and rested his head on the pillow. He left one hand on her stomach and his fingertips brushed her ribcage in a teasing caress. She began to fasten her buttons; glad he couldn’t see the color of her cheeks in the dim light. She tried to convince herself that she was relieved.

“As I was asking, since you snuffed my first choice—what shall we do today?”

She forced herself not to think of his first choice.

“I do have one idea where we might find a Horcrux, but I don’t think we should tell Harry,” she said in as normal a voice as possible.

Draco gasped in mock astonishment.

“You? Keeping a secret from The Chosen One? Won’t you have to turn in your Gryffindor robes for such an offense?”

She smacked him lightly on the bare chest.

“I have a good reason. But, I’ve been thinking—“

“When are you not thinking?”

She ignored that.

“I’ve been thinking about your parents.”

Draco’s hand on her skin ceased its motion.

“What about them?”

“How safe do you think they are? You’ve had some very close calls. What if Wormtail or Greyback had escaped to Voldemort with the news that you were alive? What do you think would happen to them?”

“I try not to think about it,” he admitted. “But I don’t know where they are. Which reminds me—how did you find me when I was in the forest?”

“I used a Scrying pool. Well, Firenze did, actually.”

Draco’s features twisted. “The bloody centaur?”

She scowled. “Yes, the bloody centaur. If not for Firenze, you would have been a werewolf’s dinner.”

“No, Fenrir had other plans for me,” Draco said absently.

“What do you have against centaurs, anyway? They are intelligent living beings.”

“So are Cornish Pixies, but that doesn’t make them any less revolting.”

“Centaurs are not revolting!”

Draco sneered. “Half-man, half-horse? Think about it! It’s a perversion of nature.”

Hermione sat up in annoyance and climbed out of his bed. She was almost grateful that they had returned to the comfortable state of continual disagreement.

“Your bigotry knows no bounds,” she snapped and transfigured her clothing back into jeans and a T-shirt. She sat down and tugged her shoes on. Draco hadn’t moved. She didn’t need to look at him to know he was watching her with his patented annoying smirk.

She grabbed her wand and lit several candles before she walked to the dressing table and snatched up his comb. She yanked it through her tangled locks.

“Nice of you to return my comb,” he commented.

“I didn’t want you to have a panic attack when you noticed it missing.”

Her eyes touched his in the mirror and she laughed at his expression. She carefully pulled the accumulated hair from the silver comb and vanished it before dropping the comb back onto the table.

“I’m going to get some breakfast. Are you coming?” she asked.

“I’ll be along.”

She shrugged and started out.

“Hey, Granger?”

She paused and looked back at him.

“Your shirt—what does it mean?”

Hermione blinked at him. She had unthinkingly turned her shirt into a duplicate of one of her favorites. It said ADIDAS. Almost, she told him the truth—that it was a Muggle company that made shoes. Instead, she grinned wickedly.

“It’s an acronym. It stands for All Day I Dream About Sex.”

She went out and Draco’s incredible laugh followed her. She smiled. He was maddening, but so utterly damned attractive. She began to think virtue was overrated. Hours. God.

Draco watched Hermione leave and the bemused smiled stayed on his lips. He still couldn’t quite resolve his astonishment at finding her in his bed. She was braver than he’d thought. His smile vanished at the memory of her warm and willing beneath him. She’d tested his control to its very limit. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d stopped. After all, it had been Hermione’s decision to stay. She probably wouldn’t even have blamed him—afterward.

He realized he didn’t want to take the chance. Hermione Granger would never be anyone’s casual shag. Draco wasn’t quite certain he wanted to sign on for the alternative: Commitment. Relationship. All that crap. He shuddered.

He swung his feet to the floor and sat up, pleased to note that a wave of dizziness did not accompany the motion. Pomfrey’s potions seemed to be working. Draco rose and rifled through his new clothing. He spread several outfits out on the bed, admitting that Granger had some bloody good taste where he was concerned. She was even right about the yellow—it would probably look fabulous on him.

Draco wasn’t quite ready to dispense with his brooding image, so he chose a silk shirt of charcoal grey and black trousers. He added a black cashmere jumper just because he liked the feel of it. He wet his hair from the nearby pitcher and carefully combed his golden locks back into place, trying not to think about Hermione tangling it in a mindless frenzy.

d**n. He’d probably have to go find Weasley and make some sort of amends. He’d not only broken his promise, he’d drop-kicked it off the parapet and watched it smash into smithereens. Draco grinned. Well, it had been worth it.

He walked into the Great Hall, ignored everyone gathered within, and sat down at his usual spot. A huge array of food magically appeared before him and he ate while casting a glance about the room. No one seemed to have noticed him, as they were all gathered near the teachers’ table. Fleur Delacour was the current center of attention as she held up a lacy and sequin-bedecked white gown. Draco noticed the group was mainly female—Fleur, Molly Weasley, Hermione, the redheaded stick girl that Harry liked, and Luna Lovegood. He assumed Susan Bones was off practicing her petulant scowl.

The only other males present were Ron and Bill Weasley, and Bill was sidling away as if trying to make an escape. Bill spotted Draco and—to Malfoy’s surprise—quickly strode in his direction. Draco watched him suspiciously and sipped his tea, wondering if he would have to suffer yet another Weasley tirade.

Bill sat down next to him and poured himself a cup.

“Wedding plans,” he commented and sighed. “If a man has a brain, he just sits back, smiles, and says, ‘That sounds fabulous, dear.’ No matter the subject.”

Draco didn’t comment, deciding he’d rather be back in Fenrir’s cluches than stand before an altar and willingly attach a permanent ball and chain to his ankle. Hermione caught his eye at that moment and beamed at him, causing Draco to break out in something of a cold sweat. He pushed his plate away.

“We’re going to have the wedding here,” Bill continued. “We planned to have it at the Burrow, but… that’s not an option any longer. McGonagall says plenty of people have married here during the summer. Popular location, apparently. Fleur can’t decide whether to have the ceremony in the courtyard, near the forest, near the lake, or God knows what other location. She wasn’t too pleased when I mentioned we could have it in the Slytherin dungeon for all I care. That’s when I knew it was time to retreat.”

Draco said nothing, wondering why Weasley was talking to him at all. He noticed Ron standing near the women, clearing wishing he could escape, also, but not at all thrilled with the option Bill had chosen—Draco’s company. Malfoy returned his gaze to Bill, who was clearly the handsomest of the Weasley clan, even with the jagged group of scars that marred one side of his face. His hair was coppery and pulled back into a lengthy ponytail. His blue eyes slanted to meet Draco’s.

“If you’re finished, will you take a walk with me?”

Draco shrugged and nodded. Bill rose and Malfoy followed, cocking a brow when they headed for the entrance to the Hufflepuff dungeon. The corridors were dark, but not nearly as mazelike as on the Slytherin side. Cressets flared into light ahead of them as they walked. Before long, they stood before a barred gate. The walls glowed magically with a bluish light and Draco watched as Fenrir Greyback got to his feet and walked to the bars to peer out at them.

“Visitors, eh? Why, if it isn’t little Malfoy and a Weasley.” Greyback’s eyes narrowed at Bill in recognition. Draco felt a sudden odd kinship with the tall Weasley. He realized that he and Bill might be the only two of Fenrir’s victims that hadn’t been killed or turned into werewolves. “Back for more?”

Bill didn’t speak, but the look in his eyes was cold. He turned and continued up the corridor. Draco looked at Fenrir for a moment longer. Captivity didn’t seem to have affected the werewolf much. Greyback’s fangs showed in a horrible smile.

“Just a few more days, Draco. A few more days and these bars won’t hold me. Then, I’ll be looking for you and your new little friends. Your tasty flesh will be mine, Malfoy. All mine.” A hand snatched through the bars, grabbing at Draco, who wasn’t the least surprised at the action. The sharp nails clawed the air a few inches from Draco’s chest. He glared at the werewolf.

“I don’t think so,” he said and followed Bill, who had stopped at another cell four doors down. Bill entered and Draco looked inside curiously. A sturdy table had been placed in the room and Draco’s iron cage rested atop it. Wormtail still scrabbled around inside. Bill bent down to look through the bars at the squeaking rat.

“Nice job on the lock,” Bill commented. Draco remembered that this Weasley worked at Gringotts and likely had a passable knowledge of locks.

“I’m glad to see no one has let him out.”

Bill shook his head. “He spent years and years as a rat. As far as I’m concerned, he can stay that way. Some of the others think he could lead us to Voldemort.”

“No. Even if they let him out and kept him from bolting through a rathole, I’m sure the Dark Lord has placed enough safeguard spells on him that he’d be a gibbering mound of flesh before he could spill any secrets.”

“Look, he’s been scraping at the bars.”

Draco bent close and spied a dusting of iron shavings on the table. Wormtail had been using his silver paw to try and cut through the bars. Draco grinned.

“Magic hand on iron bars? Bet that hurts, eh Pettigrew?”

The rat leaped at him and bared its teeth. Draco waggled a finger at him temptingly, just near enough so Wormtail couldn’t reach him.

“Temper, temper,” Draco cautioned. He straightened up and looked at Bill. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I don’t know. Ron is always talking about you like you’re evil incarnate. I figured he was either terribly jealous, or in madly love with you.”

Draco choked for a moment and had to cough a few times to get his breathing back to normal.

“What?”

Bill laughed. “Well, you never know. Don’t worry; I think its simple jealousy. We would have seen signs of the other thing by now.”

“Let’s bloody well hope so!”

Weasley laughed again. “You’re all right in my book, Malfoy. Want to come to the wedding?”

“When is it?”

Bill’s laugh was contagious this time.

“Damned if I can remember.”

[Hanna Mia Sunrose]

Ägeägeägeägeägeägeäge!
Mitu osa sellel kokku on?

[Lissandra Sylvania]

Kokku on 51 osa.

[Hanna Mia Sunrose]

Issand, siis on ju peaaegu läbi ju![/color]

[Lissandra Sylvania]

Jap, lõpp on üsnagi lähedal aga teid on ootamas veel 13 huvitavat ning põnevat peatükki nii, et lugemismaterjali jätkub...veel

Aga nüüd siis järgmine osa, enjoy!

---

Chapter Thirty Nine – Snape’s Message

Draco and Bill bypassed Fenrir, ignoring the werewolf’s angry slurs and grasping claws. On the way out, Draco looked at Bill Weasley.

“Do you think the bars will hold? When he changes?”

“I don’t know. Lupin would, maybe.”

“I’ll put Granger on it. If anyone can come up with a solution to keep Greyback contained, she will.”

Bill shot him a sidelong glance.

“I thought you hated her.”

To his horrified chagrin, Draco felt himself flush. “Not exactly.”

They walked back to the Great Hall. To Draco’s relief, others had arrived to dilute the female content of the room, including Potter, Longbottom, and the Weasley twins. Susan Bones had apparently crawled out of her wolverine hole and Remus Lupin was teasing the strange girl whose hair was lime green today. She smacked Lupin playfully on the arm, blushing. Draco was somewhat surprised at that. He had always assumed Lupin favored the gents. Like Bill had said, you never knew.

Fleur had put the dress away, but most of the girls were still gathered around the table, no doubt gushing over foolish mundanities such as flowers, ribbons, and shoe colors. Draco’s mother had often wrapped herself up in such feminine details. As a boy, Draco had been dragged to more horrifying weddings, baby showers, and other girlish functions than he cared to remember.

Luna spied Draco and left the giggling gaggle to force a pleased hug on him. He couldn’t decide whether or not he appreciated Luna’s unreserved acceptance. Of all Harry Potter’s underlings, she had been the first to forgive Draco’s past. She stepped back and looked at Bill seriously.

“Fleur is considering royal blue for the dress robes.”

“Bad idea,” Draco said without thinking. “If the ceremony is outside on a warm day, it will be beastly hot. The wedding party will faint away. She’d better stick with pastels…” His voice trailed away.

Luna nodded solemnly and Bill clapped him on the shoulder.

“You’d better come with me. I think you’ve spent too much time in the company of women, lately.”

About to take him up on the offer, Draco was halted when a silver Patronus streaked into the room and enveloped him. When the mist dissipated, he noticed everyone was staring at him in shocked silence.

“Snape! That was Snape’s Patronus!” one of the Weasley twins yelled. The room erupted into pandemonium. Susan Bones leaped to her feet.

“I knew it!” she yelled.

She was joined by Ginny Weasley, who glared at Draco with hands on her hips. McGonagall hurried over and her heels clicked rapidly on the hard floor.

“What did he want, Mr. Malfoy?” she asked sharply.

“Yes, what did he want?” Susan demanded. “Are you planning to let more Death Eaters into the school? Who are you plotting to kill this time? Harry Potter?”

Hermione raced past the others and stood next to Draco. She latched onto his arm. He wanted to shake her off and confront the angry hoard alone in his growing rage, but he was secretly relieved at her show of support.

“Stop it!” she cried. “You don’t understand!”

“Then let him explain, Hermione,” Lupin said reasonably. “Was that not Severus Snape’s Patronus?”

“You know it was!” Fred or George yelled.

“We’ve seen that bloody panther enough times to know,” the other twin added.

“Speak up, Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall commanded in her professor voice. “What was his message?”

Draco glared at them all. He didn’t dare disclose the contents of the message to this raving group of do-gooders. Hermione sensed his reluctance and her grip tightened.

“Take him downstairs with the other bloody Death Eaters!” Susan yelled angrily. “Better to be safe than let him betray us again!”

Several shouts, both in agreement and otherwise, followed her words. Fred and George raised their wands. Draco reached for his own, fighting Hermione’s grip as he did so.

Harry Potter suddenly leaped in front of Draco with arms outstretched, as if to safeguard Malfoy from harm.

“Leave him alone!” Potter yelled in a voice that locked everyone into a frozen tableau. “I trust Malfoy and no one will be dragging him off to join Fenrir Greyback and the Carrows! Now, back off!” Harry’s wand was out. While he wasn’t actually threatening his friends, the potential was there.

“But Harry—“ Lupin began.

“Hermione, take Malfoy outside. I’ll be out in a minute,” Harry ordered. Hermione pulled at Draco’s arm. He resisted for a moment, but then Bill Weasley stepped up to stand beside Harry. The Weasley siblings looked at him in shaken surprise. Draco allowed Hermione to tow him outside, reflecting that it was shaping up to be a very unusual day. Who would have suspected he would actually like a Weasley?

They walked down the steps outside and headed for Hagrid’s hut, but stopped near the bush where they had previously argued. Hermione released Draco and pulled a leaf from the bush thoughtfully. She didn’t speak.

“Snape wants me to meet him,” Draco said. She looked at him.

“Meet him? Where? And why?”

“He didn’t say why. He wants to meet this afternoon. Three o’ clock. At Stonehenge.”

“Stonehenge? Why there?”

Draco shrugged. “That was the whole message.”

“At this time of year, it will be packed with Muggle tourists. That’s probably the point—it’s a public place and the likelihood of running into other wizards is slim,” Hermione rationalized.

“Snape knows I’ve been there. He took the whole of Slytherin House there once, to show us how to brew Pepperup Potion. It required gathering sacred dust during the Winter Solstice.”

Hermione looked indignant. “Snape showed you how to brew Pepperup Potion?”

“Sure. He gave us plenty of off-hours instruction. Why do you think all the Slytherins passed Potions? Even Crabbe and Goyle?”

“I thought it was simple favoritism. I didn’t know he was actually helping you. That’s like… cheating!”

Draco grinned. “Only a Gryffindor would look at it like that.”

The front doors opened and Harry Potter stalked out to join them, followed by Ron Weasley. Harry’s hand was already gripping his hair.

One, two, three, Draco counted. Potter scowled at Draco as he approached.

“Lovely. Now the Order is highly suspicious, thinking I’m collaborating with Death Eaters. Me!”

Four, five. Draco placidly redelivered Snape’s message.

“Well, that couldn’t have come at a worse time,” Harry said and tugged. Six. “What do you suppose he wants?”

“I don’t know, but it must be important for him to risk a Patronus.”

“Right. Why didn’t he just send an owl?”

“Not enough time?” Hermione suggested. “If he’s surrounded by Death Eaters, he might have only had a moment. And owls can be intercepted.”

The door opened again to reveal Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. They paused for a moment and then moved to join their group.

“Whatever you’re doing,” Neville said, “We’re in.”

“We’re not doing anything,” Ron replied evasively.

“Of course we are. We’re going to meet Snape,” said Hermione.

“Now, wait a minute—“ Harry and Draco said together. They glanced at each other in puzzlement.

“Oh, that’s just great,” Ron spat. “It was bad enough when they only looked like each other.”

“The Order is going to be watching us like eagles spying field mice. After our last escapade, they won’t let me within fifty meters of the front gates,” Harry said. Seven.

“You’ll just have to stay behind, Harry,” Hermione said. She held up a hand when he would have argued. “You’re going to have to deal with Lupin. Tell him whatever you need too—even the truth, if necessary. We can’t afford not to meet Snape.”

“I’m going alone,” Draco said firmly. Hermione smiled at him as though he were a silly child.

“Of course you’re not. We have no idea what Snape’s motives are. This could be a trap, for all we know. Voldemort may have found out that Snape helped you; he could be under an Imperius Curse; it could be any number of things. We are going with you.”

A muscle in Draco’s jaw twitched and he looked at Potter through accusatory eyes. Harry nodded.

“Yeah, it’s nearly impossible to argue with her. You might as well give in and save yourself some hair.”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll make ourselves conspicuous until noon and then we’ll slip out and meet over behind Hagrid’s hut. We’ll have to skirt the forest to reach the wall. Once over, we can Disapparate from there. Ron, are you coming?

Weasley nodded, although his expression suggested he was only going along to keep a suspicious eye on Draco.

“I’m coming, too,” Neville said.

“Me, too!” Luna cried. Draco looked sidelong at her.

“I thought you refused to Apparate.”

Luna tossed her head airily. “This is an emergency. As long as no one tells my father, I’ll do it. As long as Hermione takes me through. I trust her not to splinch me.”

“You trust her not to splinch you? Now you tell us. Couldn’t you have mentioned that in Dover?”

Luna waved away Draco’s shout. “We had plenty of time in Dover. Besides, it gave us time to get to know each other better.” She moved forward and took Draco’s bicep before she leaned close and whispered in his ear. “Remember the Muggle cab? Wasn’t it romantic?”

Draco shot Hermione a pained glare when she giggled.

“Does she really have to come?” he pleaded.

“Well, what if we run into a Crumple-Horned Snorkack?” Hermione asked drolly.

“Of course we won’t! They’re only in Sweden,” Luna scoffed. She pressed a kiss against Draco’s jaw. “See you at noon, Puffskein.”

She wandered back toward the castle. Neville looked at Draco in bewilderment, but said nothing as he turned to follow Luna. Hermione was struggling to contain her laughter. Harry kept his expression carefully neutral. As Luna and Neville approached the doors, they burst open and Ginny Weasley stalked through them. Her glare was icy.

“Uh oh, you’re in trouble now, Potter,” Draco said. Eight. Nine. Potter’s hair was standing out in all directions.

“I guess I’d better go do some damage control,” Harry said grimly. “Malfoy, since chaos follows you around like a specter, do you think you can stay out of trouble for awhile? Please?”

“I’ll try, darling,” Draco said meekly and batted his lashes. Harry glared at him. Ten, eleven, twelve. Harry sighed and stalked off to placate Ginny. Draco tsked after him.

“He could do so much better than the redheaded stick girl,” Draco muttered. “Sorry, Weasley.” Ron’s glare was more venomous than usual. “I know she’s your sister, but God, what a horror.”

“Can you drop the subject?” Ron snapped. Draco shrugged.

“Suit yourself. He’s your friend. If you want him to be henpecked by that budding harpy—“

“Draco!” Hermione said warningly. He gave her a smile guaranteed to melt a block of ice and saw the breath hitch in her throat.

“Actually, Weasley, we need to have a little chat. Now.” He looked pointedly at Hermione. She looked from one of them to the other and then shrugged and headed for the school, leaving Ron and Draco to stare at each other in uncomfortable silence.

“Look, Weasley—“ Draco began.

“I release you from your vow,” Ron blurted. Draco blinked at him for a moment in surprise.

“What did you say?”

“I release you. You don’t have to stay away from Hermione; since it’s obvious she won’t stay away from you, anyway.”

Draco watched Ron curiously while he assimilated the astonishing news. Weasley’s face resembled that of someone who’d bitten into a lemon.

“Well,” Draco said finally, somewhat at a loss for words. He had been steeling himself all morning to confess to Ron and now the point was moot. Draco grinned.

“Of course, if you hurt her in any way, I will figure out how to return the favor,” Ron threatened, trying to sound fierce. Strangely, Draco kept thinking of Bill Weasley’s words while gauging Ron’s expression.

“I consider myself duly warned,” Draco said mildly.

“I’m not joking, Malfoy!” Weasley snarled. Draco’s grin widened even though he wasn’t intentionally trying to provoke Weasley. He was just… happy.

“Understood,” he said crisply. He thought about saluting. Ron’s hand twitched, likely itching to reach for his wand. Malfoy decided it was time to depart. Hermione waited for him near the doors. Harry and Ginny were yelling a distance away—far enough that their voices could not be heard.

“Doesn’t it warm your cockles to see such a happy couple?” Draco asked. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. Draco rubbed the spot and gave her a wounded look. “I bruise easily, you know!”

“Of course. You and your flawless skin. What did you and Ron talk about?”

“Weasley gave me permission to snog you whenever I like.”

“He did what?”

“The competition was too much for him. He’s withdrawn from the race. First intelligent thing he’s done in a long while, actually.”

“Withdrawn from the race,” Hermione repeated. Her voice was flat.

“To the victor go the spoils and all that,” Draco quipped. “Want to come back to my room with me?” He dropped the teasing timbre from his voice and watched gleefully when her eyes darkened and a flush crept into her cheeks.

“Absolutely not.”

“Liar.”

Hermione huffed in exasperation and went inside. Draco watched the bickering couple for a moment before he entered the castle and retreated to the Slytherin common room. Best to avoid angry Order members—and that lunatic Susan Bones—for awhile.

Hagrid was tending his garden when Draco and the others converged just beyond the fence. He looked at them suspiciously, staring particularly long and hard at Draco.

“What’re you lot up ter?” he asked Hermione gruffly as he brushed the dirt from his hands and walked over to lean on the fence. It creaked dangerously.

“Just going for a walk,” Hermione said brightly and Draco nearly clapped a hand to his forehead. Never leave the lying to a Gryffindor.

“Bloody hell, Granger, just tell him the truth,” he snapped. “We’re going into the forest to gather Panther Caps for a potion Granger wants to brew. It might help us locate the Dark Lord.”

Hagrid’s thick brows rose.

“What yer want ter do that for?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed at the gormless, half-giant imbecile.

“Do you recall that he’s trying to kill us?” he asked slowly, as if speaking to a very small, very stupid, child. Hermione gave him a disapproving look.

“’Course I do!”

“It’s probably a good idea to find him before he attacks again, don’t you think, Hagrid?” Neville asked before Draco could utter a scathing reply.

Hagrid sighed, apparently realizing he couldn’t argue with all of them. “I ‘spose. Don’t wander far in there. Them centaurs is all anti-wizard at the moment. If ye need help, just send a Patronus.”

“Thank you, Hagrid,” Hermione said. “We’ll be careful.” Her voice was dripping with guilt, but thankfully Hagrid was too dense to pick up on it. The gamekeeper waved and went back to digging in his dirt.

They didn’t venture far into the forest, as none of them had any inclination to encounter any of the forest denizens. They finally reached the wall and Hermione levitated them over without effort.

“I don’t meet with Snape until three,” Draco said. “What are we going to do for two hours? Sightsee?”

“No, we need to make a stop first. Ron, we’re going to Godric’s Hollow. You take Neville through and I’ll take Luna. I’ll come back for Draco.”

“Godric’s Hollow?” Ron looked taken aback. “Why there?”

“I’ll explain when we get there. Let’s go.”

The four of them popped out of existence and Draco glanced around, hoping Hermione could find her way back. He didn’t see any prominent landmarks—just wall, trees, and bushes.

She Apparated in front of him and stepped closer to grip his shoulders. Not one to miss an opportunity, Draco slid his hands around her waist and pulled her close to steal a kiss. She relaxed against him for a moment with a sigh and then pushed him away with a palm to his chest.

“Behave!” she admonished, but a smile played about her lips and her eyes sparkled. “We’re on a mission.”

“I’m just trying to keep you from getting bored.”

“Merely being near you is enough to guarantee that,” she said wryly. She flicked her wand and they were yanked away.

They appeared near the tumbled ruins of a house that was surprisingly reminiscent of Regulus Black’s final residence. Other than the brief flash of memory, the place meant nothing to Draco. Hermione did not explain. She skirted the ruins and led the way up the road to a shabby, overgrown cemetery. One pair of graves was well-tended and Draco sobered when he read the names on the headstones. He suddenly realized the significance of the house.

Hermione knelt next to Lily Potter’s grave as though paying her respects. The others watched silently. After a long moment, she got to her feet and looked at Draco with an ashen expression.

“I think I know where Rowena Ravenclaw’s bracelet is.”

[Hanna Mia Sunrose]

HEAHEAHEA!
Ega mul midagi muud öelda ei olegi XD

[Liz-Miia Parker]

Ma arvan, et see libahundi teema tuleb veel mängu - arvan, et greyvärd põgeneb või nii...aga läheb huvitavaks:D

[Julia Darline Evans]

Kaks osa läbi loetud
“It is reasonable. I’m weak as a kitten. Now, come here.” <- see osa on äge

[Lissandra Sylvania]

Chapter Forty – Draco’s Fan Club

Draco was mortified. “That’s low, even by the Dark Lord’s standards.”

“I suspected it last time we were here,” Hermione said. “It looked as if the soil had been disturbed somewhat recently. I didn’t want Harry to know, for obvious reasons.”

“How the hell are we going to get it out of there?”

Ron was watching them both. His complexion was ashen.

“What are you talking about?” Neville asked in confusion.

Hermione looked at him gravely. “We think there is something buried in Lily Potter’s grave that is important to Voldemort. Something we need to retrieve and destroy.”

Neville was aghast. “But, that’s… that’s sick!”

Hermione nodded. “Quite his style, though. It would amuse Voldemort to defile the grave of the woman who brought his worst enemy into the world. Especially if you consider the effect it would have on Harry.”

“Are you positive about this?” Draco asked. For reply, Hermione cast a spell. A glowing webwork of lines hovered over the grave and disappeared into the ground. Draco swore lightly.

“What is it?” Ron asked.

“Some sort of warding.” Hermione passed her hand through a glowing line with no effect. “It won’t be triggered by surface movement, but I bet the minute we try moving the dirt we’ll be surrounded by Death Eaters. Or Voldemort himself.”

“What if we approached it from a different angle?” Draco suggested. “Like we did at the Riddle house?”

Hermione looked around. “You mean dig beyond the ward lines and then angle toward the grave?”

He nodded.

“The wards likely extend all the way around the coffin. That would be a lot of digging, too. I’d rather break the spell.”

“Can you?” Ron asked.

“I think so. It would be similar to the working we did with… with the Cup. Contain and dissipate.”

“We can’t do it now.”

“Of course not. We haven’t the time, for one thing. Nor are we prepared. We’ll have to come back.”

“When?”

“Better sooner than later, but we’ll have to do so without alerting Harry, or the Order of the Phoenix. Neville can stand in for Harry. Since Luna hates to Apparate, she can stay behind and keep an eye on Harry. Tonight is too soon—we need to gather supplies and I need to research these wards.”

“You know there will be other traps in place, as well,” Draco commented. She nodded.

“We’ll have to be prepared for anything.”

“All right then,” Draco said. “Let’s concentrate on the meeting with Snape. I’m not sure I want him to know I’ve been making nice with Harry Potter. As you said, we have no grasp of his motives. His hatred of The Boy Who Lived has always seemed genuine.”

“The four of us will hang back, out of sight. You can signal if you need us.” Hermione touched the coin on her chest. Draco shook his head.

“If it is a trap, there will be Death Eaters hanging about, as well. It’s too bad we didn’t think to use Polyjuice Potion—you could all impersonate Muggles.”

“Maybe we can, anyway. Enough to pass cursory inspection, that is. How many Death Eaters can recognize us on sight? Except for Lucius Malfoy, none of them has more than a passing acquaintance with any of us.”

Ron laughed shortly. “Yeah, passing over several blasts from a wand while they were trying to kill us.”

“Exactly. Now, how did you swap hair colors with Harry? That will be a good start.”

Draco spent the next forty minutes playing hairdresser, and having far too much fun with it, he admitted to himself. They tried several hair colors on Hermione and finally settled on platinum blonde. She worked on straightening it while Draco moved on to Luna. Draco had to conjure a mirror for her so she could admire her new mouse-brown hair streaked with pink and violet.

“Are you sure Muggles do this to their hair?” Draco asked Hermione dubiously.

“She won’t draw a second glance,” Hermione assured him. Neville was given a similar treatment with hair a vibrant shade of lime green that Hermione teased into wild spikes. She transfigured his clothing into black leather with silver studs. Longbottom was mortified, but utterly unrecognizable. Luna giggled at him.

“You two look a pair,” Hermione commented. She gave Luna a short black shirt overlaid with black organza and fishnet stockings. A hot pink tank top was covered with a long black jacket. Luna admired herself in the mirror from every angle.

Then it was Ron’s turn. He and Draco glared at each other.

“Too bad we can’t get rid of Weasley’s freckles. We could shave him bald and it would still be obvious he’s a Weasley.”

“Maybe we can get rid of them,” Hermione said thoughtfully.

Ron looked worried. “What are you going to do?” he asked nervously.

“Don’t worry, it’s just makeup.”

She produced a small round case and proceeded to powder Weasley’s face—which wasn’t easy since he squirmed like an eight-year-old the entire time. Draco marveled at the bickering the two exchanged. How could Weasley even think to be romantic toward Hermione? She acted more like his mum than a girlfriend.

“It bloody stinks!” Ron protested.

“I don’t care if it’s Eau de Skunk, it’s working. Or would be if you’d hold still.”

“How long can this take? You’ve been over my nose six times.”

“Well, you have a lot of freckles there!”

“If I wrinkle my nose, my whole face will crack.”

“Then don’t wrinkle your nose, dimwit.”

“Don’t call me dimwit. Gaaah! You got some in my mouth! It tastes awful!”

“If you would shut up, you wouldn’t get it in your mouth. Now hold still!”

“How do you girls wear this crap? It’s horrid.”

Hermione sighed in exasperation, but finally finished and looked at her handiwork with a grin at Draco.

“Not bad,” he admitted and tapped Weasley on the head with his wand. A bit harder than warranted, perhaps. Weasley glared. His hair turned pitch black. “For some reason, he still looks like a Weasel.”

Hermione conjured some gel and slicked Ron’s hair straight back. Then she turned his clothing into a black Muggle suit and tie. She giggled at the outcome.

“That’s better. You look like a young funeral home director. Or a used car salesman.”

Draco and Ron looked at each other in incomprehension, but neither asked. It was enough that Ron was no longer identifiable. Neither was Hermione. With her hair straightened, it now hung far below her waist. She made a stunning blonde. She had changed her clothing into a short, pale green dress with a high waist and delicate pink flowers. White sandals covered her feet. She topped the outfit with a white jacket to hold her wand. She wouldn’t have looked out of place at one of his mother’s garden parties, except that no witch would ever be caught dead in a skirt that short.

“What about you, Malfoy?” Ron asked. Draco shook his head.

“Why bother? I don’t want Snape scrutinizing every face looking for me. If it’s to be a trap, I’d rather be the bait than the catch.”

“How are we going to Apparate to Stonehenge in broad daylight? Popping out of nowhere is certain to give the Muggles a fright and send the Ministry seeking our blood.”

“It doesn’t help that the damned place is on a bloody flat, barren plain.”

“There are a few trees, though. Do you recall? A rather long walk, granted, but we have time.”

Draco sighed. “No help for it. Weasley, have you been there?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah. I think I remember the trees, too. I can get there.”

“Longbottom?”

“It’s been too long. I barely recall the stones.”

“I’ll take you through, then. Hermione can take the flibbertigibbet. Shall we?”

They appeared at various places along a copse of trees. Draco and Neville could see Weasley, who was several meters away disentangling himself from a bush. Draco could not spot Hermione, but he could hear Luna laughing nearby. They followed the sound and found the two girls climbing out of a muddy bog. Luna had left her shoes behind in the mud and was stomping happily in the muck.

“This feels great!” she called, waving excitedly at Draco. “You should try it! Some mud has healing properties, you know.”

Hermione’s expression was the exact opposite of Luna’s and her lips were set in a white line.

“The only ‘properties’ in this mud are sheep droppings!” Hermione growled. She staggered out of the mire and cleaned off her legs and shoes with a sharp snap of her wand.

“If you’ve finished wallowing, Luna, can we please get moving?” she snapped. Luna reluctantly joined her on dry land and Hermione levitated Luna’s missing black boots from the bog and Scourgified them. She did the same to Luna’s feet and the Ravenclaw girl threw herself on the ground to replace the boots, heedless of the twigs and debris that attached to her skirt.

Ron had caught up to them.

“We should probably not arrive together,” Hermione suggested. “Draco, you go first. But, be careful, of course. We seem to be right near the road, so just follow it. Ron and I will go next. Neville, you and Luna wait a few minutes and then trail us.”

Draco started off and quickly reached the road. He’d only been walking a couple of minutes when a small car screeched to a halt next to him. Four Muggle girls were packed into the tiny car. One of them leaned out the window.

“Hey, gorgeous! You want a lift?” The other three girls whooped and laughed loudly. Draco smiled. A moment later, he was wedged in the back seat between two voluptuous girls. The driver kept winking at him in the rear-view and the girl in the passenger seat had turned herself about to face him.

“So, going to Stonehenge, then?” she asked. He nodded.

The one on his left had a kinky mass of red hair and she wore something resembling a black bra covered in torn red netting that revealed more cleavage than it concealed. Her eyes were lined in black and her lips were bright red. She leaned against him and crooned in his ear.

“What you doin’ all alone, peach?”

The one on his right was blonde and similarly dressed, but in glaring violet and orange.

“We’re on holiday,” she said. “Girl’s day out.”

“We’re definitely out!” the brunette passenger cried and hooted.

“What’s your name?” the driver asked.

“Devlin Whitehorn,” Draco replied quickly.

“Nice name, love,” the redhead said and gave his knee a squeeze. Draco decided to have a long talk with his father one day. He’d been raised with some serious misconceptions about Muggles. If he’d known Muggle girls behaved this way, he’d have abandoned the wizarding world every holiday.

Thus accompanied by four adoring fans, Draco made his way to the Stonehenge monoliths. He walked to the very center of the circle and looked carefully around for Snape, although it was still early. The two girls from the back seat were still clinging to his arms.

The redhead looked around in disappointment.

“This is it, then? A bunch o’ rocks?”

“A bunch o’ rocks! It’s history! Where’s your sense o’ pride? Our ancestors had to haul these bloomin’ things ‘ere and stack ‘em up like this!”

“What for?”

“No one knows.”

The redhead shook her curly locks. “Can we leave? Let’s take Devlin ‘ere back to Salisbury and party.”

“How ‘bout it, Devlin?” the driver asked.

“Sorry, girls. I’m meeting a man here.”

The redhead released him. “A man? Don’t tell me you’re a woofter!”

“Say it ain’t so!” the blonde cried. “That would be a crushin’ blow to girls everywhere!”

“You don’t go for the gents, do you, Dev?” the brunette asked.

“No,” Draco assured them. “Definitely not.”

The four girls swarmed on him in glee and it was at that particular moment that Hermione arrived in the center of the circle. Draco was somewhat surprised the four Muggle girls did not erupt into puffs of smoke from the heat of her glare. She marched straight over to Draco.

“Hello, darling,” he said before she could speak. “I got here a bit ahead of schedule.”

“Apparently,” she said through clenched teeth. “Who are your little friends?”

The girls began to back off. The redhead was indignant.

“Devlin, you fibber! She looks awfully… female, for a man.”

“You’d better keep an eye on this one, dearie,” the blonde warned Hermione. “’E’s a tricky one.”

“I’ve noticed,” Hermione said glacially.

“Easy come, easy go,” the driver quipped. “Let’s go, girls. Nice meeting you, Devlin, you naughty boy.”

They skirted Hermione and pranced, giggling, down the path. Draco grinned innocently.

“They gave me a ride.”

“I’ll bet.”

“They seem to like me.”

“No doubt.”

“Should you be seen standing here with me?”

“I’m certain I was barely noticeable among your giggling admirers.”

“Which have departed.”

“Try not to attract any others. I’ll be over there, with Ronald. Lurking.” He watched her stalk away in high dudgeon and turned his attention to the rocks as though fascinated. Every so often, he would chuckle to himself.

[Lissandra Sylvania]

Chapter Forty One – Grave News

Draco was bored out of his mind by the time Snape arrived. The Muggle girl had been right—Stonehenge or not, they were rocks. They were only interesting for about twelve minutes.

Snape walked out from among the stones and Draco assumed he had boldly Apparated somewhere close by. He was surprised to see Snape in Muggle clothing. Snape wore black trousers similar to Draco's, and a high-necked black shirt with long sleeves. The outfit looked far too warm for the balmy summer day, but Snape was probably immune to discomfort.

Snape's eyes flitted from person to person as he approached Draco, alert for anything. There was no recognition in his eyes when his gaze passed over Neville and Luna. Hermione and Ron were out of sight.

“You're looking well, Draco,” Snape said with something that vaguely resembled a smile.

“I'm doing all right,” Draco replied. “Better than I was trapped in my room at Malfoy Manor, at any rate.” He followed Snape's lead by scanning the area, alert for Death Eaters or other potential danger.

“Your mother asked me to bring you a message.”

“How is she?” Draco asked quickly. Snape grimaced.

“As well as can be expected.”

“And Father?”

“The same.” Snape jerked his head sharply. “There are too many Muggles here. Walk with me.”

Snape turned and Draco flicked a glance at Hermione, barely visible now in the shadow of one of the stones. He shrugged and followed Snape. As soon as they were out of sight of onlookers, Snape turned, gripped Draco's shoulder, and Disapparated them.

Draco staggered a bit when they arrived at their new destination. After a moment of disorientation, he realized they were on a pier. He scowled at Snape.

“You could have bloody warned me before taking me through like that,” he snapped. Snape shrugged.

“You should know by now you can trust me, Draco. This place is away from prying eyes and Muggles.”

A sound made them start and they realized a man was walking down the pier toward them. He carried a fishing pole and tackle box.

“You were saying?” Draco said blandly.

The man approached and Draco saw he was a rather old, somewhat pudgy gentleman in a flannel shirt.

“Hey, lads! Where did ye come from? Thought I 'ad the place all to meself today, I did. You 'ere fer the fishin'?” As he approached, he seemed to notice they carried no gear at all. His brows beetled down. “Now, ye ain't them d**n environmental types, are ye?”

When the man was three meters away, Snape pulled out his wand and downed him with a single blast of green light. He looked around carefully to make certain the man had been alone. There were no others signs of life along the barren coast.

“Damnable Mudbloods,” Snape growled. “They multiply like rabbits. You cannot go anywhere without running into a nest of them. Too bad Voldemort was lying about exterminating them.” He laughed sharply. “Or not lying, exactly. He just plans to exterminate the rest of us, as well. The bloody half-blood freak.”

Draco was taken aback. He'd never heard Snape spew such pureblood venom before, and decided it would be a bad idea to mention Snape's own half-blood ancestry. He tried to ignore the fallen Muggle, as Snape did when he walked casually farther down the pier toward the water.

“The Dark Lord is keeping a close eye on your parents, especially in light of the curious disappearances of four Death Eaters, recently. You wouldn't know anything about that, I suppose?”

Snape's black eyes glinted with merriment. Draco was well aware of Snape's ability as a Legilimens, but he didn't get the impression Snape was using it.

“Which four?” Draco asked casually.

“It doesn't matter. I can't stay long. I've left Goyle and Avery in a stupor and I must get back in time to modify their memories. I've come to warn you, although there is a limit to what I am allowed to say. You know he's placed his version of the Fidelius Curse upon us.”

“Where are my parents?”

“That, of course, is one of those closely guarded secrets. I can tell you, however, that he plans to attack the Ministry of Magic.”

“When? And why is that knowledge not protected by the Charm?”

“Within the next few days. The Dark Lord did not bother to silence us because too many Death Eaters are aware of the plot. What they do not know is that the attack is merely a diversion. The Dark Lord does not care if it succeeds or not.”

“A diversion for what?”

The Galleon on his chest suddenly grew hot. Draco wondered if it would be possible to send a message without touching the coin. Then again, he was touching it with his skin…

I'm fine, he sent to Hermione. I'll be right back.

“It's difficult to answer direct questions, Draco,” Snape said and Malfoy had to backtrack his thoughts for a moment. The Ministry attack… a diversion. “Instead, perhaps you should ask yourself what the Dark Lord wants.”

The words brought back Draco's conversation with his father. Voldemort wanted the Ministry of Magic crushed. And Hogwarts.

“If it helps, the Dark Lord knows where Harry Potter is,” Snape said.

The breath caught in Draco's throat for a moment, but he did not let the surprise register on his face. “Everyone knows where Harry Potter is. In London.”

“Not anymore. He fled his little hiding place for somewhere that I am not, at the moment, at liberty to mention.”

Draco swallowed hard, suddenly knowing where Voldemort was planning to go.

“How will he get in?”

Snape laughed without humor. “I knew you would figure it out. You have always been a sharp lad. You remind me so much of me, when I was your age. Except you have an idealistic streak that I never quite managed. In that way, you are far more like my foolish—“ Snape's jaw clamped shut so fast it nearly clicked.

“Like who?”

“Never mind. As you were asking, the Dark Lord will not be walking up to the front gates. Nor will he use a Vanishing Cabinet. Did you happen to use the information I sent with you?”

Draco nodded. “I found the item at the Riddle House. It has been destroyed.”

For the first time, Snape stared at him with something akin to astonishment.

“Are you certain?”

“Positive. It was Hufflepuff's Cup.”

“How did you destroy it?” Snape’s voice was sharp with excitement.

“I'm certain you don't have the time for me to go into that explanation,” Draco said mildly. Added to the fact that Draco had no intention of telling him.

Snape sighed. “True. I shall let your parents know that you are well. Your mother asked me to tell you she hopes you will visit your relatives in France. To be safe, of course.”

“Of course. You will not mention to her that I have no intention of doing that. I don't suppose you know the whereabouts of any other Horcruxes?”

Snape shook his head. “No. The Dark Lord was certain to have something of Gryffindor's. Probably Ravenclaw's, as well. But Dumbledore and I were never able to locate them.” Snape snorted. “I sometimes miss the nagging old bastard. He had his uses.”

“Why did you kill him?” Draco asked suddenly. Snape's cheerful demeanor evaporated.

“Another tale we do not have the time for. Suffice it to say, it was necessary. I wish you well, Draco. Know that I will protect your mother with my life.”

He started to walk away, but Draco halted him. “Professor Snape?” he asked, although the title was no longer relevant. “Why are you helping us?”

Snape walked to a black bundle that lay at the end of the pier. He rifled through it and pulled out a Death Eater cape. “Someday, it may all come clear, Draco. I have given up or betrayed every single thing I ever held dear. To one purpose. But, your mother was always my favorite…” Snape paused with a pained look. “She was always kind to me, even though she doesn't know—will never know—the truth.”

“What truth?” Draco asked shortly, hoping he would not hear a declaration of love for his mother. It was one thing to suspect it, but to hear it aloud…

Snape laughed; a sound that was curiously full of real humor. Draco wasn't sure he'd ever heard genuine amusement in Snape's voice before. The former Potions Master had changed a lot since the incident on the Tower. Snape slung the robes about his shoulders and fastened them at his throat. He grinned at Malfoy.

“Draco, Draco, there are so many lies now it would take days to uncover them, should I choose to disclose all my varied sins.”

Snape flung the hood up to cover his lanky hair.

“I wish you success. By the way, should you choose to return to Malfoy Manor, beware the parlour and the basement. Those were the most likely areas for the Ministry to search, so they were laid with several traps before we departed. The rest of the house should be safe, but for prowling Ministry underlings and members of the Order of the Phoenix.”

Snape lifted a hand in farewall and Disapparated. Draco looked around and then walked back to the fallen Muggle. He knelt and touched the man's neck. The fisherman was dead. Draco stood up quickly and shuddered in distaste. He was not completely certain he wanted Snape on his side. What had he said? He had given up or betrayed every single thing he had ever cared about. Why would Draco and his family warrant any better treatment? If Draco ever stood in the way of Snape's purpose—whatever that was—he had little doubt he would end up similar to the Muggle stiffening at his feet.

Draco sent himself back to Stonehenge.

Draco appeared at the same spot from which he and Snape had departed. Luckily, the only person to see him Apparate was Hermione, who had obviously been worriedly waiting for him.

She flung herself on him and pressed her cheek against his.

“Thank God! I was afraid it was a trap and we'd never see you again!”

“I'm certain some of you would be more than pleased at that eventuality.”

“Only Ron,” Hermione admitted. “Where did you go?”

“A deserted pier,” Draco said, knowing he would never dare to mention the dead Muggle to Hermione. “He had a message from my Mother. She wants me to flee to France and hide.”

“That was it?”

“No. Voldemort is planning an attack on the Ministry of Magic. He knows Harry Potter is at Hogwarts. And he intends to attack there, as well.”

Hermione's face drained of all color, making her look like a pale waif under the blonde hair.

“He told you all of that?”

“Not in so many words. He couldn't tell me about Hogwarts, but he gave me enough hints to figure it out. Which means they have to be somewhere close to the school, if a Fidelius Charm prevented him from speaking of it. The forest, perhaps? That would explain why Wormtail and Greyback were meeting there.”

“That's terrifying, to think of him so close. How did he know Harry was there?”

Draco frowned.

“I didn't think to ask.”

“Are you certain they know he's at Hogwarts? Maybe they think he's at the Headquarters of the Order? Snape would know where that was, even if he couldn't speak of it.”

Draco thought about it for a moment. “He did say that Harry was at a place he was not allowed to mention. I simply assumed he meant Hogwarts.” Draco shook his head. “But then he said that the Dark Lord would not be entering by the front gate or a Vanishing Cabinet. Why would he say that?”

Ron approached, looking far too somber in black.

“Finally got back from your secret rendezvous, eh?” he snapped at Draco.

“Yes, Weasel. We'd better get back to Hogwarts so that I can set my wicked plans into motion.”

“Stop it, you two,” Hermione growled. She gestured to Neville and Luna. They waited for a lull in the Muggle tourists before Disapparating. Hermione took Luna through, but the others took themselves back.

Draco felt somewhat vulnerable waiting outside the front gates of Hogwarts, but this time there would be no Wormtail lurking in the bushes beside the road.

“Not much point in sneaking out if we have to beg admittance each time we return,” Draco muttered.

“Maybe we won’t have to,” Hermione said and tapped the locks with her wand. After a moment, they clicked open and the chains drew back. She smiled at him with an air of smug superiority.

“I paid close attention last time Tonks opened them,” she said pertly. They quickly filed inside and the locks clicked behind them.

“We should probably tell the Order about Snape’s warning,” Hermione said.

“Of course. Hopefully they will start searching for the Dark Lord… as long as they can do it without drawing attention.”

They paused partway back to restore their appearances to normal. Weasley gratefully scrubbed the powder from his face.

“You should consider leaving that on,” Draco suggested.

“Shut it, Malfoy,” Ron snarled. Draco whacked him on the head to return his hair to orange-red.

“Ouch! Do you hae to do that so bloody hard?”

“Yes, Weasel, I do. I really do.”

Ron scowled and stalked into the building. Luna and Neville looked at Hermione, who sighed.

“Draco and I will go talk to Lupin and Harry. We’ll meet later to discuss retrieval of… of the bracelet. We can’t let Harry get suspicious. I hate keeping this from him, but I think it’s best, under the circumstances.”

“I’ll go see if there are any books on warding in the library,” Luna offered, tossing her head. She had insisted on keeping the pink and purple streaks in her hair, although she had allowed Draco to return the rest of it to normal.

“I’ll help you,” Neville decided. “I feel pretty useless.”

“If you two can find a way to break the wards, you’ll be far from useless,” Hermione said. Neville nodded and they went inside.

The Great Hall was crowded once more, and in a surprising uproar.

“What did we do now?” Draco asked.

“I don’t think it was us, this time,” Hermione said worriedly. The others were clustered around Molly Weasley, who was seated in a chair sobbing hysterically. Harry noticed them and hurried over.

“What’s happened?” Hermione asked.

“Rufus Scrimgeour was just here. They haven’t seen Percy Weasley since yesterday evening. He stayed late at the Ministry to finish something and no one has seen him since. They checked with his Slytherin girlfriend, but she hasn’t seen him in two days.”

Hermione looked at Draco with a sick expression.

“My God, Voldemort has him.”

“Don’t even suggest that!” Harry hissed. “Mrs. Weasley is already hysterical, blaming herself for not making more of an effort to reconcile with the pompous git. Besides, we don’t know for certain—“

“Actually, I think we do,” Hermione whispered. “Snape mentioned to Draco that Voldemort knows your whereabouts, and hinted that you were here—at Hogwarts. Percy knows you’re here.”

“He knows I’m here, too,” Draco said quietly.

Hermione clutched his hand.

“They can’t suspect you’re working with us. I don’t think Percy would volunteer that information.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t he? He despises me like all the other Weasleys… well, except one, apparently, but that’s beside the point. He would hardly spill the news about Potter willingly. They either tortured the information out of him or used Veritaserum. Or a combination of the two, knowing the Dark Lord.”

“Well, now we’ve got even more incentive to find Voldemort. We’ve got to save Draco’s parents and Percy.”

“If there’s anything left to save,” Draco said grimly.

“Don’t even think it,” she said and squeezed his hand tightly. “Snape would have told you if your parents were in danger, right?”

Draco sighed and nodded.

“I think so, if Mother was in trouble, at any rate. He said he’d die to save her, but I wouldn’t exactly trust his word, even about that. If her life stood in the way of his grand purpose, he’d sacrifice her with the rest of us. I have little doubt of that.”

“We’ll have to hope his purpose coincides with ours, for the time being.”

“What are you three whispering about over here?” Lupin asked as he and Tonks approached. Tonks looked at them curiously and tugged at her green hair.

“Wotcher, cousin,” she said and grinned at Draco.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” he asked sharply. “Who are you?”

Tonks giggled. “Blimey, you don’t remember me? I’m not surprised, really. You were only four when I was banned from your house forever for scaring you and making you cry. Your dad hated my mum, anyway. Narcissa was forced to visit at our house after that. Which she only did about once a year, for mum’s birthday.”

It came to Draco in a rush.

“Aunt Andromeda’s daughter,” he gasped. “Tonks” had been a dirty word in the Malfoy household, rarely mentioned after Andromeda had thumbed her nose at the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black and married a Muggle.

“Cracking good memory, coz,” Tonks said.

“I don’t remember you at all.”

She laughed. “You probably blocked it. I wasn’t very nice to you after you called me a half-blood scum.”

Draco flushed. Lupin looked from him to Tonks.

“I’d forgotten you two were related.”

“The Blacks and Malfoys have been trying to forget that, too.”

“Sorry,” Draco said.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re finally coming around.” Her gaze flicked to his hand, still clasped in Hermione’s, but Draco felt no compunction to let go.

“We have some grave news,” Hermione cut in. “Best delivered in private.”

They left the gathered Weasleys and went to the nearest private place—Snape’s old office.

[Hanna Mia Sunrose]

Äge. Kusjuures, mulle meeldis kujutlus Lunast pruunide juustega, millel olid roosad ja lillad salgud sees. See vist isegi sobis talle XD
Igatahes, nunnu. Mitte nii nunnu, et see polnud tegelikult üldse nunnu osa. Ja see pole ka nunnu, et nüüd on ainult kümme osa järgi.
Aga mina tahan uut!

[Julia Darline Evans]

Kena, Neville tahab olla ka kasulik

[Liz-Miia Parker]

Mmm..aina põnevamaks läheb...järgmist !

[Lissandra Sylvania]

Chapter Forty Two – The Elven Council

Once inside the dark office, they each lit a few lamps to dispel the perpetual gloom. Besides Snape’s old chair, there were only two hardbacked wooden chairs before the desk. Lupin took Snape’s seat with a sigh and commented, “I have the feeling I need to be sitting down for this.”

Tonks perched on one corner of the desk and looked at some of the bizarre items Snape had left on his desk. Hermione marveled at the quantity of items Snape had left behind. When he’d left Hogwarts, he’d taken nothing but his wand. She wondered if any of his things held sentimental value. Or if Snape could even feel sentiment.

She sat down in one of the hard seats. Draco stood nearby, partially in shadow, likely uncomfortable as he usually was in the presence of others. Harry paced.

Without further delay, Hermione launched into an explanation of where they had gone—leaving out their side trip to Godric’s Hollow. Lupin’s lips thinned into an irritated line when he heard they had departed the school unannounced yet again, but he allowed her to finish without interruption. She felt quite guilty anyway, especially considering they planned to sneak out again at the earliest opportunity.

Draco willingly repeated his conversation with Snape and they postulated a bit on Snape’s motives, without managing a satisfying explanation.

“Maybe Voldemort killed someone he cared about,” Tonks suggested.

“I find it difficult to believe he could care enough about anyone to seek revenge for over a decade,” Lupin said.

“He cares about Draco.”

“He seems to care about him,” Harry snapped. “With Snape, nothing can be taken at face value.”

His pacing was beginning to annoy Hermione. “Harry, will you please sit down?” she asked. He stopped walking, but did not sit.

“Well, the first order of business is to send a warning to the Ministry. They will likely not heed it, particularly since we have only a vague caution, but at least we can keep our own Ministry officials on the alert. Unfortunately, there are only a few of them now.”

“Jack and I can trade off shifts. Kingsley and Arthur, too.”

“Try to spread as many rumors as you can to keep the sharper officials on their toes. If word gets out, some of them will pay attention. The rest of us will start combing the forest and try to locate some sign of Voldemort. I’ll recruit Hagrid.”

“And Grawp,” Harry interjected. Lupin cleared his throat.

“And Grawp.”

“Moody will leap at the chance for some action. I think we should start in the clearing where we found Draco—maybe we can figure out why he was taken there.”

There was a long silence.

“Why does it disturb me that you three are not leaping to volunteer for one duty or another?” Lupin asked.

Hermione flushed.

“I’m rather tired,” Draco said dryly.

“Would you let me help?” Harry asked bitterly.

“Probably not, but I think it is more likely that you are all up to something. Someone needs to invent a charm that will set off an alarm the instant any of you get too close to the outer wall.”

“We’d just figure out how to disarm it,” Draco replied.

Lupin stood up. “Yes, you probably would.”

He and Tonks went out.

Draco was looking at the books lining the shelves.

“Remarkably similar to the ones Snape had at home,” he commented. “Less deadly, however. At least he didn’t willingly allow some of the nastier volumes to fall into student hands.”

“Wouldn’t you have been first in line?” Harry asked.

“As long as it would have given me a weapon to use against you? Most likely.” Draco grinned. Harry shook his head wryly and tugged at his hair.

“Do you think there is anything useful in here?” Hermione asked.

“Like what?”

“Like a list entitled ‘Places I Already Seached for Horcruxes,’” Draco suggested. Harry shot a mild Stinging Hex at him and Malfoy yelped and rubbed his arm. “Watch it, Potter.”

“Don’t you think he would have told you if he had such a thing?”

“Not necessarily. He’s still a git. I think his need to destroy the Horcruxes wars with his need to make it difficult for me.”

“He’s probably just jealous of your blinding good looks,” Harry commented and then made a gagging face.

“Potter’s trying to hide the fact that he’s in love with me,” Draco said conspiratorially to Hermione. “You should see him grope me when we’re alone.”
A second Stinging Hex followed the first and Malfoy said, “d**n you!” But he grinned when he shot one at Harry, who leaped aside.

“Will you two stop acting like children?” Hermione snapped primly. “I’m sure the Order went through this place a dozen times, trying to find a clue as to why Snape killed Dumbledore.”

“Do you think he’d write that down?” Draco asked ingeniously. Hermione stood up and glared at him.

“You don’t want me to give you a Stinging Hex,” she warned.

“Maybe I do,” he said caressingly. She sighed in exasperation.

Draco was suddenly serious. “Is there any chance Voldemort has accessed the school? What if he found a weakness in the defenses?”

“We already checked,” Harry said absently.

“You checked the entire school?”

“We sort of cheated,” Hermione admitted, realizing Draco did not know about the Marauder’s Map. “We should probably look again, Harry. Just to be safe.”

“All right. We should also go say something to Mrs. Weasley, first.” Harry pointed his wand at Malfoy. “Don’t say it.”

“Don’t say what?”

“Whatever horrible, sarcastic comment you were about to make.”

Draco clapped a hand to his chest. “You wound me, Potter.”

“Let’s go,” Hermione said. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

As they began to enter the Great Hall, Fred and George Weasley stormed out.

“Hermione, just who we were looking for,” George said.

“Ron says you found Malfoy by some scrying method,” Fred continued.

“We need to use it to find Percy.”

“He’s a bloody git.”

“But he’s still our brother.”

“Do you have something that belongs to him?” Hermione asked.

“Of course.”

“I think we have something that belongs to everyone,” Fred mentioned.

“You never know when you might need it.”

“Even me?” she asked indignantly.

“Well, not you,” said George.

“We’d never nick anything of yours, Hermione.”

“Definitely not.”

She looked at them suspiciously, but it was impossible to be cross with them, even at their most maddening.

“The scrying?” Fred prodded. Hermione nodded and led them down the hall to Firenze. Harry and Draco followed.

The centaur seemed glad to see them—he likely got very bored hanging out by himself in a castle—all except Draco, who stayed back as though Firenze had some sort of contagious disease. The centaur still had the bowl and water was quickly fetched. When it came time to drop in the object, Hermione gasped.

“You took his Prefect’s badge?” she snapped.

“He foolishly left it out in the open,” Fred protested.

“We were just keeping it safe for him.”

“Hanging on that bare wall, in that flimsy frame, beneath that delicate glass…”

“Why, anything could have happened to it!”

“Peace, children,” Firenze ordered calmly.

Fred and George managed to not only stop chattering, but they were remarkably quiet long enough for the bowl to ice over and an image to appear.

“He’s alive!” George cried. Percy was lying on the ground, looking dead but for a hand he had flung up as if to ward off something. A guttering candle lay on the ground nearby. His clothing was torn and dirty and his spectacles were missing. A nasty bruise darkened one cheek and his chin seemed to be marred with dried blood.

“Doesn’t look too good,” Fred commented.

“Where the hell is he?”

“Looks like a cave.”

“Well, that narrows it down to about a hundred million places.”

“Hermione? Any ideas?”

Firenze pulled the image back as far as possible, but only darkness was visible beyond the rocky area surrounding Percy. She shook her head.

“It could be anywhere.”

They all sat in frustration for awhile, and then Firenze dispelled the image. Fred and George launched into a discussion with Firenze about creating portable scrying pools and Hermione walked back to join Draco.

“Do you think we should scry for your parents?”

His silver eyes went far away for a moment.

“I’d have to go home. I don’t have anything that belongs to them.”

“Lupin would kill us if we left again this soon.”

“I don’t think your centaur likes me, anyway.”

“I think it’s the other way around,” she said dryly.

“Well, it is a—“

She clapped a hand over his lips and hissed, “Stop that!”

He grabbed her hand and held it in place while he touched a tongue to her fingertips. She shivered deliciously. He released her when Harry walked over.

“Let’s go get that map,” he said. “I should double-check the Pensieve memories, to make sure I didn’t miss anything. We have to find those Horcruxes.”

They were on the third floor landing when a sharp pop halted them. Dobby stood on the step above Harry. The house-elf goggled at Draco for a moment before narrowing his eyes in an angry glare. Hermione realized she hadn’t seen Dobby since the rescue of Neville Longbottom.

“Dobby must speak to Harry Potter. In private,” he murmured loudly, shooting suspicious glances at Malfoy.

“Um…” Harry said.

“We’ll wait for you in the Trophy Room,” Hermione said with a gesture at the nearby door. She grabbed Draco’s hand and towed him into the room. Sconces sprang to light when they entered, dimly illuminating the glass cases that lined the walls.

“You just wanted to bring me in here to snog, didn’t you?” Draco asked hopefully.

Hermione’s pulse jumped at the thought. She grinned and looked at him sidelong, but sobered when her attention was snagged by the prominent case at the end of the hall. They walked forward to look at it soberly.

“The Tri-Wizard Cup,” she murmured.

The plaque beneath the cup had a memorial inscription for Cedric Diggory.

“Is it still a Portkey?” Draco asked.

“No. Dumbledore fixed it.” She sighed. “I hate looking at it. So many horrible memories. Let’s go next door.”

A connecting door led to the Armor Gallery, filled with sets of armor, weapons, shields, and other accoutrements of war. She didn’t think she’d ever been in the room, before.

“Remind me to hurry here if the Death Eaters invade the school. Magic is fine, but a fine length of steel is a nice backup.” Draco admired a thin rapier with an intricate, lace-like guard.

Hermione looked at a case containing a wicked looking morning star that bristled with sharp metal spikes.

“I can’t imagine hitting someone with this,” she said. Draco joined her.

“I don’t know, I think Snake-Face would look better with three-inch spikes imbedded in the side of his head.”

She chuckled. “Good point.” She laughed again and tapped the glass. “Get it? Point?”

Draco groaned and grabbed her.

“That was so bad I see I shall have to shut you up.”

He turned her to face him and kissed her. He pressed her against the glass case. That was a pleasant pursuit for a few minutes until she found herself drowning in sheer bliss. She broke away and ducked under his arm.

“Where are you going?” he asked when she hurried to put another glass case between them.

“I can’t think when you do that,” she said breathlessly.

“You don’t have to think all the time, you know.”

She watched as he peered through the case at her. Inside, a number of empty scabbards had been propped upright to resemble a teepee. They were all beautiful—leather or wood wrapped in gold filigree, silver gilt, or enameled metal.

“I wonder where the swords are,” Draco commented casually as he sidled around the case. Hermione moved when he did, keeping the case between them. She didn’t trust his casual interest in the scabbards.

“Probably broken in battle,” she replied.

“What does the plaque say?” he asked seriously. She bent to read it and Draco bolted. She tried to run, realizing his trick, but it was too late. He caught her and slid his arm around her waist.

“You won’t escape, now,” he whispered and kissed her again. She gave in thankfully and slid her hands into his hair. She would never tire of touching it. After awhile, she admitted he was right. She didn’t have to think all the time.

Harry and Dobby walked down the hall to the empty Charms classroom, which reminded Harry that he needed to show Hermione and Draco the spells Fred and George had developed.

“Where have you been, Dobby?” Harry asked, somewhat guiltily realizing he hadn’t even thought of the house-elf in days.

“That is what I have come to tell Harry Potter,” Dobby said seriously. “Dobby caught Kreacher when he left the house of nasty-bad Malfoy wizards. Kreacher fled, but Dobby finally caught him. Dobby took Kreacher to the Elven Council.”

Harry blinked at him.

“The what?”

“The Elven Council. They are not house-elves. In fact, they hold us in contempt for choosing to bond ourselves to a wizard household or family. Yet, we are bound by their laws.”

Dobby was unusually serious. Harry struggled to absorb the concept of elves that were not like Dobby and the other subservient house-elves.

“Did Kreacher break a law? An elven law?”

Dobby nodded.

“He betrayed Sirius Black and broke the covenant made with the Black household by obeying Bellatrix Lestrange over you, the rightful master. However, there is some question as to the legitimacy of your claim, Harry Potter. The elves are investigating.”

“What? You are saying I might not be the rightful owner of Grimmauld Place?”

Harry sat down hard in Flitwick’s chair. As much as he hated that house, it was his only connection to Sirius.

“Not by wizarding law!” Dobby assured him. “Only by elven law. Kreacher may be forgiven for his crimes. In the meantime, they are keeping him. Elven law is extremely slow where house-elves are concerned. They don’t care about us.”

Dobby sounded both sad and bitter. Harry was relieved.

“That’s fine! Kreacher was more of a nuisance than a help. This way, at least he won’t be assisting the enemy.”

Dobby nodded. “Very good, yes, Harry Potter.” The house-elf’s tone hadn’t changed.

“What is it?” Harry asked in trepidation.

“Dobby did not want to go to the Elven Council. Dobby did it for Harry Potter—to punish Kreacher for his betrayal.”

“But?” Harry asked resignedly, knowing whenever Dobby did something to help Harry Potter, it usually ended up a cocked-up catastrophe.

“Dobby also betrayed his master. When Dobby was bound to the Malfoys. Dobby betrayed them to help Harry Potter.”

Harry gaped at him. “But, you punished yourself every time you did anything against the Malfoys! You nearly beat your own brains out against my bedpost!”

Dobby scoffed. “Small pain is not elven punishment. The Council is looking into my crimes, also. Only because I am now free was I allowed to return to Harry Potter. I must go back once the matter has been decided.”

“And if they find you guilty? What will happen?”

“I could be stripped of my magic. Or sentenced to a century of enslavement.” Dobby shuddered. “Forest elves are horrible masters. They would make my time with the Malfoys seem like a happy holiday.”

Harry couldn’t fathom such a thing. “When will you know?”

Dobby shrugged. “A long while. As I said, elven justice moves slowly. I just wanted Harry Potter to know.”

“Well, if there is anything I can do… just tell me.”

Dobby beamed. “Thank you, Harry Potter!” His eyes welled with tears that Harry quickly staved off with a question.

“We think Voldemort might be hanging around the forest or somewhere close by Hogwarts. Do you want to do some spying for the Order?”

Dobby nodded. “Yes, of course, Harry Potter.”

“Well, go talk to Lupin, then. I’m sure he’ll find somewhere for you to look.”

Dobby disappeared.

Harry sighed. Elven Council. Another freakish complication he didn’t need.

[Lissandra Sylvania]

Chapter Forty Three – Death Eaters

Hermione vaguely heard Harry calling them from the Trophy Room. Draco was seated on the marble floor, leaning against the scabbard display and Hermione was in his lap, pleasantly lost in a fog of bliss.

Harry's voice grew louder as he entered the Armor Room. Hermione fought her way out of Draco's embrace with effort and stood up shakily.

“Here!” she called brightly. She took Draco’s hand and pulled him to his feet, surprised to note he looked just as dazed as she felt.

Harry blinked at them when he approached. Hermione giggled at Draco’s disheveled appearance.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Harry asked dryly.

Hermione shook her head, but Draco said, “Yes. Can you make yourself disappear, Potter?”

“Never mind,” Hermione said. “We were just… looking at the displays. What did Dobby have to say?”

Harry frowned.

“Malfoy, have you ever heard of the Elven Council?”

Draco paused in smoothing his hair back to its normal perfection, although Hermione thought he looked delectable with it hanging over his eyes in a silver curtain…

“Elven what?” he asked.

“That’s what I thought. It doesn’t matter, at the moment. We were going to fetch the map, remember?”

“What map?” Draco snapped.

“You’ll see. Come on. The sooner we check this, the sooner you two can get back to snogging.”

Hermione blushed, but Draco laughed.

“Smartest thing you’ve said all week, Potter.”

They were nearly to the fourth floor landing when a cry from below halted them. They stopped and peered over the railing at Ginny Weasley, who bolted up the steps, looking agitated.

Hermione felt a sinking sensation, wondering if they received bad news of Percy.

“Harry, come quickly!” Ginny yelled when she was near enough to be heard. “Susan Bones just killed the Carrows!”

“She what?”

Harry raced down the stairs two at a time, followed by Hermione and Draco.

“She tried to get Greyback, too, but he kept dodging her Avada Kedavras. Nearly blew his cell to pieces. Moody had to knock him out and move him.”

The Great Hall had an atmosphere of shocked silence.

“How did it happen?” Hemione asked Fred and George, who stood nearby.

“We came in here and announced that Percy was alive,” said Fred.

“Mum started going all to pieces again, knowing Percy was trapped somewhere,” George continued.

“Possibly tortured.”

“Susan got up and walked out.”

“Hagrid came in from outside and heard the shouting.”

“Susan was screaming, calling them murderers.”

“By the time Hagrid tackled her, it was too late for the Carrows and Greyback was pretty singed.”

“Too bad Hagrid wasn’t a bit slower,” Draco said dryly. No one contradicted him.

“And Wormtail?” Hermione asked.

“She doesn’t know who or what he is. She let him be.”

“Another pity,” Draco commented. “We should have labeled his cage.”

“Where is Susan?” asked Neville. He and Luna had come in to hear the tail end of the story.

“Sedated in the hospital wing,” said Ginny.

“They’ll have to turn her over to the Ministry, of course,” said Fred.

“McGonagall went to contact them.”

“I’ll go sit with Susan,” Neville said quietly. “After what happened to my Gran, I sort of understand how she feels.”

“I’ll go with you,” Luna said.

Bill Weasley stood up from where he’d been sitting near his parents.

“Since most of you are here now,” he said, “I have an announcement. We have decided the wedding will be held August fifteenth, and the ceremony will be outside, near the lake. You are, of course, all invited.”

Fleur suddenly burst into tears and fled the Hall. Bill hurried after her. Draco looked confused.

“What? Now she doesn’t want to get married?” he asked. Hermione rolled her eyes. Males were so dense, sometimes.

“This is supposed to be the happiest time of her life, and look what’s happened. Percy kidnapped. Death Eaters everywhere. The Ministry in danger. Voldemort a complete unknown… of course she’s upset.”

“Maybe they should postpone the wedding,” Harry suggested.

“Well, that would be admitting defeat, wouldn’t it?” Hermione said forcefully. Ginny nodded.

“I’d better go talk to Ron,” Harry decided. He and Ginny moved away.

Hermione looked at Draco seriously.

“We have to go tonight,” she said quietly. His silver gaze sharpened. “I feel like we’re running out of time.”

Draco slipped out the large front door with a brief thought back to the number of times he’d crept out the same doors. Those days seemed so carefree and simple, now.

He hurried down the steps and around the side of the castle to find Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom waiting for him.

“Where’s Granger?”

Ron made a sound of disgust and even in the dark, Draco could picture him rolling his eyes.

“She stopped by the library again to check on something. If she could find a way to bring the whole library along, she would.”

Draco glanced at the sky. No stars were visible. Clouds had begun to roll in shortly after dusk. Longbottom yawned.

Hermione finally hurried up.

“Sorry,” she said. “Let’s go.”

They mounted brooms—Hermione rode with Draco by unspoken agreement and he wished he had his own broom. It was back at Malfoy Manor. Even Weasley’s broom was better than the substandard school broom Draco rode. Luckily, the distance was short. Once beyond the school walls, they Disapparated.

The graveyard near Godric’s Hollow was creepy at night, which was most likely true of all graveyards everywhere. Rain was spitting fitfully.

“Perfect night for grave digging,” Draco said cheerfully. Weasley gave him a toxic glare.

Hermione had brought a backpack filled with supplies. Salt was useless in the rain, but she had also brought sand. She poured it out into a pentagram around Lily Potter’s grave. The candles were more challenging as it began to rain in earnest shortly before they lit the candles. After they went out several times, Hermione commandeered a nearby vase, broke it, and transfigured the pieces into covered holders for the candles.

Hermione had instructed Neville on his part earlier and he invoked his quarter nervously, but managed not to stutter. Ron and Draco did theirs and when the circle was complete Hermione pulled out her wand and began the complex incantation to cancel the wards.

They quickly became soaked as they waited. Draco had worn a cloak, but the hood did little to keep the rain off his face. He blew at a droplet of water that hovered on his nose.

Hermione finally finished and quickly cast another spell. She sagged in relief.

“I think it worked,” she said. “No ward lines.”

Draco hadn’t doubted her for a moment.

“All right, let’s get this dirt out of here.”

“Wait! I want to disturb the site as little as possible,” Hermione said. “Not just because it’s the right thing to do, but I also don’t want Voldemort to know we were here, if at all possible.”

The four of them used their wands to cut the grassy hillock from the grave and set it gently aside to expose the soil beneath. After that, it was sheer, grueling labor to levitate out as much dirt as they could life—soil that was quickly turning to heavy mud.

Finally, the top of the coffin became visible. They barely had time to sigh in relief before the crack of Apparition shocked them out of their tired stupors.

Three masked Death Eaters stood among them. There was a stunned moment of silence before they all erupted into action.

Draco threw himself sideways and leveled a blast that sent one Death Eater sprawling backward. Hermione cried out, hit by something. Draco looked at her worriedly, but she thankfully remained on her feet.

He heard Weasley shout and glanced back to see Ron dodge a green blast. Weasley shot an orange bolt at his attacker, who slipped in the mud and narrowly avoided it.

Neville was down on one knee, blasting madly with his wand like an American gunfighter shooting at a running Death Eater.

Hermione giggled and threw her arms wide before spinning in a giddy circle. Draco groaned. Confundus. He pointed his wand at her, intending to counter the spell, but the Death Eater he’d hit originally was up again. Draco felt a spell tug at his hood as it passed and experienced a moment of alarm, hoping his hair wasn’t singed. He shot an absent curse at the man and tried to get to Hermione.

Neville’s opponent suddenly turned and hit Longbottom full on with something. Neville dropped like a stone.

Another spell shot by Draco and he glared before sending his patented gale force wind at the man, who miraculously braced himself and did not fall.

“Malfoy!” the Death Eater yelled in recognition. Draco swore roundly. He had assumed the Death Eaters to be standard-issue underlings, like Crabbe, Goyle, and McNair. Now, he wasn’t so sure. What if the Dark Lord had sent someone competent, like Lars or Mulciber? As if on cue, Ron went down with a yelp. Draco shot a Full Body Bind at Weasley’s attacker an instant before he was enveloped in pain.

Draco went down on one knee, trying to fight the blinding excrutiation. Neville’s attacker had hit Draco with the Cruciatus Curse—the other one laughed chillingly and Malfoy felt fear begin to overwhelm his pain.

“You are alive, Draco,” Mulciber yelled. “Did you desert us for this? A girl?”

The agony forced Draco to his knees. He put one hand in the mud and it clenched convulsively as he strove to keep from screaming. His teeth were clenched in an effort not to bite his tongue.

“Will you come back to us when she’s dead?” Mulciber continued conversationally. “Let’s see, shall we?”

Ron’s wail of denial behind him told Draco that Weasley was alive, but wandless.

Mulciber raised his own wand and gestured at Hermione. Draco’s wand was still clenched in his hand. Using every ounce of willpower, he fought the Cruciatus Curse and lifted his wand. It seemed to move through molasses—slowly, too slowly. Green light erupted from Mulciber’s wand.

“Avada Kedavra!” Draco screamed through a haze of red. Mulciber was felled like a tree and Draco was suddenly free. He sagged in the mud for only a moment before scrambling to Hermione’s prone form.

“You killed Mulciber?” the other Death Eater yelled in disbelief. “Malfoy?”

Draco paused long enough the stun the bastard—Rabastan or Antonin, he thought, and then he was cradling Hermione in his wet arms.

“Oh God, don’t let her be dead,” he begged, nearly overwhelmed at how much he needed it to be true. He shifted her slightly and raised his muddy hand to feel for a pulse at her throat. To his utter shock, her brown eyes blinked at him semi-lucidly.

“I fell down,” she said in a stage whisper and giggled.

Draco buried her face in his chest in relief and felt a hot wetness sting his eyes for a moment.

“Mmmm, you’re warm and you smell so good,” Hermione purred. Her voice was muffled by his shirt. “Do I know you?”

Draco smiled gently and touched her with his wand to cancel the Confundus Charm. Her bemused gaze cleared instantly.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Draco admitted. “I thought you were dead.”

“She tripped,” said Ron behind him. “Right when he cast—it barely missed her.”

Draco swiveled his head around to look at Weasley. Ron was lying in the mud, looking as though he’d dragged himself forward with his hands.

“You okay, Weasley?”

“I can’t move my legs. And my wand is gone.”

Draco cancelled the Leg Locker Curse on Ron while Hermione Accioed his wand, which snapped into her hand from the undergrowth.

“Where’s Neville?” she cried when Ron stood up and retrieved his wand. Draco helped her to her feet.

“He went down over there,” he said and pointed. If the Death Eater who had hit him was Dolohov, Longbottom might not be getting up. Ron hurried over to check on Neville and Draco walked to Ron’s former attacker, who was still stiff from Draco’s Full Body Bind. Malfoy knelt and tore off the mask.

“Hello, Gerald,” he said to Goyle. “Nice to see you, again.”

The Death Eater’s eyes registered surprise for a moment, but Draco left him to remove the mask from Titus Mulciber, whose dead eyes stared into the rain, unseeing.

“Neville’s okay!” Ron called. “Hit with a Stunner, looks like!”

Hermione joined Draco. She gasped at Mulciber.

“My God! Did you—?”

Draco nodded and laughed humorlessly. “Looks like I really am a killer.”

“I can’t believe it,” she murmured and Draco’s jaw clenched. He’d acted on impulse, but he hadn’t hesitated to use the Unforgivable Curse. Potter would never have done it. He would have used a Stunner or Disarming Charm or something non-lethal. Now, Hermione knew what Draco was capable of. Regardless that he’d done it for her, she would still be properly appalled. He could practically feel her shrinking away from him.

Draco turned and walked abruptly to the last Death Eater, unwilling to meet her accusatory gaze. Ripping away the mask, Draco revealed Dolohov, who was unconscious. Malfoy conjured ropes to bind him further, and then did the same to Goyle. He levitated them and bound them to nearby headstones, making sure they would be unable to view the upcoming proceedings.

Neville was up, looking rather annoyed at having been knocked out. Hermione touched Malfoy’s arm.

“Draco—“ she started, but he shook her off.

“Let’s get this done with, before he sends reinforcements.”

“How did they know we were here?” Ron asked. “I thought we broke the wards.”

Hermione cast a spell into the grave to reveal another set of glowing lines.

“How could I be so stupid?” she cried. “Second wards, right above the coffin. I should have guessed!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Draco said shortly. “It’s already been triggered, so we no longer have to worry about it.” He issued terse instructions and Hermione stood at the base of the grave, ready for anything, while the others cast an opening spell. The coffin lid snapped upward with a crack and they all cast Lumos spells.

Lily Potter’s corpse was no prettier than any other body that had been lying in the ground for over a decade. The hair was a dull red, and looked almost too lifelike on the grayish skull.

Hermione turned away with a sob and the other two looked like they might be ill. Draco ignored them and knelt to peer closer at the body, increasing the light from his wand. Prisms of light glinted from an object on Lily’s left wrist—the Ravenclaw bracelet.

“So… who volunteers to hop down there and get it?” Draco asked lightly. Both Weasley and Longbottom stepped back, horrified. Draco sighed. “That’s what I thought.”

Bloody squeamish Gryffindors.

“Wait, there might be a trap!” Hermione said. “Can’t we just levitate the bracelet out?”

She tried several times, but it could not quite fit over the wrist bones, even though it seemed impossible that it wouldn’t. Draco swore and impulsively jumped into the grave, ignoring Hermione’s cry of protest.

Draco was prepared for just about anything, but he was still surprised when Lily Potter sat up and clamped a bony hand around his leg.

Hermione shrieked as Lily’s corpse began to pull itself upright and the leering jaws gaped open. The Gryffindors began to pelt the body with spells while shouting madly. Draco began to shout, also, hoping to be heard over the din.

“Stop it!” he bellowed. “Inferi are immune, d**n it! They’re already dead!”

The jets of light either bounced off the corpse or were absorbed. Several ricocheted and nearly hit Draco. If one of the idiots Stunned him, he was dead.

“STOP!” he thundered. Lily’s face drew close to Draco’s groin as she pulled herself upright with the painful grip below his knee. He felt the circulation in his foot going fast. He put his left hand out and kept her clicking teeth away with a tight grasp on her jaw, cringing when his fingers sank into the decomposing gore.

The nearness of his flesh seemed to excite her and she strove to turn her head and bite Draco’s arm. Her strength was incredible and Draco felt his sinews strain with effort.

“Draco!” Hermione screamed. “What should we do?”

“Nothing!” he gritted loudly. He pointed his wand at the Inferius and began to chant. A Binding was effective against the undead and similar horrors, but it took a bloody long time to cast.

Lily’s other clawed hand reached up and snagged his waistband, dragging her long nails through the flesh of his waist. Draco winced, but his chanting did not falter. The Inferius heaved herself at him suddenly and he jerked backward to avoid the teeth that clicked where his belly had been an instant before. Draco’s chant became a shout and finally a deep purple cloud began to form around the body.

The Inferius began to wail—a horrific, unworldly noise that raised the hairs on the back of Draco’s neck—as it sensed its prey beginning to escape. The snapping jaws bit at the air more savagely and frantically. Then, it was still. Draco was completely drenched now. Covered in sweat on the inside and rain on the outside. He panted with exertion.

“Get off of me,” he ordered. The Inferius obediently released him and he felt the blood begin to flow back into his left foot. He shook it experimentally. Lily’s body scooted away from him. The eye sockets seemed to stare at him balefully.

“Now, give me the bracelet,” he snapped. She reached a bony hand to the bracelet and slipped it easily off her other wrist. It dangled between them from the nearly fleshless bones of her fingers.

“Well,” he said. “That was too easy. Give me something to put this in.”

Hermione handed down the leather bag that had contained the sand.

Draco held it open beneath the bracelet.

“Drop it,” he said. The sapphire encrusted trinket slipped into the bag and Draco tossed it up and out of the grave. If there was another curse on it, they could deal with it back at Hogwarts.

“Now, lie down like a good dead body,” he commanded and the Inferius obediently, if somewhat petulantly, resumed its original position. Draco levitated himself out of the hole and slammed the lid of the coffin with a spell.

“Should we just leave her like that?” Hermione asked anxiously. He looked at her sadly.

“It’s not Lily Potter. It’s just a husk of flesh, animated by a dark spell. It will lie still as soon as we replace the soil.”

“Can’t we free it?”

“We don’t have time. The Dark Lord will be wondering where his underlings are any moment, if they were sent to check the wards and return. We need to get the hell out of here. If you like, we can return later.” His voice was sharper than intended.

Hermione nodded soberly and raised her chin.

“Let’s cover it, then,” she said and they started to lever the mud back into the grave. When that filthy job was finished, they replaced the grassy knoll. Draco looked around. The whole area was torn and muddy—it looked like… well, it looked like a battle had been fought there.

“So much for being inconspicuous,” he commented.

“There’s no help for it,” Hermione said as she gathered the guttering and unlit candles. She tossed them into the bag with the bracelet and slung it over her shoulder. She took a moment to repair and replace the vase she had stolen from a nearby grave, something that wouldn’t even have occurred to Draco. “What should we do with…?” She gestured to Mulciber.

“We’ll have to take him. And the others. No sense broadcasting what we’ve done. If he checks for the Horcrux, he’ll know we have it and the whole secret is out. I don’t plan to leave him any witnesses, alive or dead.”

Ron was charged with taking Gerald Goyle and Hermione grabbed Antonin Dolohov. Draco partially hefted Mulciber’s body. The four conspirators and three incapacitated Death Eaters appeared back near Hogwarts’ outer wall, covered in mud that the rain couldn’t wash off.

Even with brooms, it would be a long, silent journey back to the castle.