part II

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It was neither a threat nor the kind of topic one could retaliate to. As a matter of fact, he barely understood what that was all about. Yet, the words rang in his ears repeatedly like the persistent buzz of annoying bees.

I saw that. You're so incompetent, you can't even ki—Save the insults for tomorrow, Malfoy. I don't need to hear it tonight.

With a frown, Draco stared at the trail one Weasley had left as he trudged his way through the crowd of dancing pairs and out of the Great Hall. After the initial shock of the cutting hiss had passed, Draco felt anger. The emotion left him as swift as it came at the reminder of what tomorrow meant for all of them – for all he knew, there might not be one.

Suddenly, he didn't want to be surrounded by these delusional students. The bastards were all over each other. This could be their last night together, that was true, and everyone seemed determined to live their whole life in one night.

He left the ball with a disgruntled huff, deciding that he would rather double-check the potions meant for the missions. It was their last bout, hopefully. Although history had proven that the absence of Voldemort did not stop Death Eaters, it would still make a big difference to cut the head of this cockroach organization. His life was at a standstill because of this bloody mess. Literally.

The thought of how everything in his life halted sent his mind in a streak of expletives concerning this war. The words were at the tip of his tongue, ready to be spat out when two voices stopped him dead on his tracks.

I am Harry's keeper.I understand, Mr. Weasley, but you can relax tonight and we will handle the preparations. Do get some rest. You will need it.good night.

And with that, Ronald Weasley walked on and turned for the hallway that led to the Gryffindor tower. Draco Malfoy found himself staring at Dumbledore's inquiring blue eyes the next second.

May I help you, Mr. Malfoy?

Draco mentally cursed himself for forgetting to hide before eavesdropping. Overlooking his own dilemma of getting caught, a series of things clicked together in Draco's mind. He knew that factions were leaving by dawn; some for diversion, others for rescue of the wizard towns and then those who were to go straight into Voldemort's lair. That suicidal group included the annoying Boy-Who-Should-Win-Or-Else.

Said boy must win even if it meant lives on their side were lost.

That notion irked Draco beyond compare. Was one boy so important that others should die for him? Granger wouldn't be with the Golden Boy. Though miraculously gifted to have a brain bigger than her hair, she had little knowledge of the wizarding world that she would be of little help in navigation. Instead, the Weasel, as Potty's most trusted companion, was to navigate it through. Why Dumbledore won't ride a broom and be Potty's keeper was another irritating subject to dwell on. There probably was a logical reason for that but he would disparage that later. There was some flaw in the suicide stunt that needed Draco's immediate attention.

As a matter of fact, you may.
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A group of ten gathered in an empty classroom, which was an uncanny spectacle as it was still dark outside. On normal days, no decent teenager would be awake before dawn.

All rightI have the map, Weasley ran in the room, disheveled but very much awake, waving a smaller version of the map on the floor. We can leave as soon as everyone's ready.

Weasley was grabbed by the arm as the others filed out of the room but cut he Potter off with a grin before the boy could say anything. He patted his best friend on the back, We'll win, Harry. I'll make sure you get to finish this.

With that, Weasley dragged his best friend out of the classroom.

Someone stepped out of the shadows, gray eyes narrowed at the marks on the huge map spread on the floor. Why wasn't he surprised? He noted that the tactician never once thought of this plan for his own survival but for his best friend's. The escape route back to Hogwarts was a difficult area with strong winds and stormy clouds at this time of year. This path would slow down anyone chasing them, not to mention greatly impair their vision to add to the handicap of the weather. Weasley also chose members of the Quidditch team from various houses --- all with impeccable abilities to fly. The gnat was going to bet their survival on speed and instinct once they hit the clouds.

How dare he not include Draco in this mission? Not that he was willing to sacrifice his life for some halfblooded hero to start with but it was still an insult not to be included. Especially because Draco knew he could damn well fly like one born with wings.

However, that was not the most aggravating part of this whole scheme. Skill was one thing and the group had it, for the most part. But from where the little lack of skill was a handicap, good equipment would more than atone for it.
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Harry was worried; more so for Ron than anyone else in this group. His best friend had explained to them the route more than enough but he knew there was something amiss. When he realized what it was, there was no time to change plans.

He watched as the others kicked off from the ground, hovering in air with their most valuable item in this journey. Their escape relied heavily on flying and it would take more than a decent broom to finish the course. His jaw tightened as his thoughts bordered on derogatory remarks about his best friend's broom. The handle might break because of the wind and with the heavy clouds, he wasn't sure if any one of them could fly against the blow of the wind to grab a fallen comrade. Where was Ron, anyway?

To Harry's surprise, Ron lowered next to him with a reassuring smile, riding the latest model of Nimbus. Ah, I was just looking for you. You know, I thinkI know what you're worrying about. Well, don't. Dumbledore let me have this baby for a while andI think I can go through the clouds with this. Let's go?

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Draco entered Dumbledore's office. He had never been in this place before and his eyes noted the artifacts that decorated the whole room. The feast that his eyes were currently busy with was cut abruptly as the headmaster cleared his throat.

Mr. Weasley wanted you to have this.

Draco couldn't help but frown in confusion as to what the Gryffindork wanted as he opened the small piece of paper. The message was short but it took him all his will to tame the tug of his lips and he hoped the old bloke would stop looking at him with that knowing small smile.

Looks like you get to insult me tomorrow, after all.

R.