Chapter 3

. . . . . .

Harry left before Draco finally emerged from the room, fully clothed and looking fresh. Hermione gave him a once-over. He was still unshaven, and his long hair was swept back and tied into a ponytail that emphasized his hollow cheeks and pointed chin. She gave him a look of disapproval.

"You need a haircut," she informed him, "and a shave."

"Nobody asked for your opinion, Granger."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why do you have to make everything so difficult? Looking like a jungle man doesn't suit you. I thought you still cared about being pretty. I'm trying to do you a favor."

"I don't need any favors."

"Fine. Then it's an order."

"Whose orders?"

"Dumbledore's, through me."

Draco smirked. "Dumbledore is ordering me to get a haircut?"

"Yes." She looked at him critically, as if he were a piece of art in need of chiseling. Then she tapped her foot. "Come on. I know someone who can give you haircut. She can give a whole new look, actually, in a really short amount of time." Draco stayed where he was. Hermione huffed impatiently. "What is it now?"

"Who's going to give me a haircut?"

"One of the Order members. She's good at it, she does it for everyone."

"I don't need anyone's help," Draco said. "I'm perfectly capable of bewitching a pair of scissors to cut my hair for me."

Hermione raised an eyebrow sardonically. "Have you ever done it before?"

"No."

"Then shut up and come with me. Just do as you're told." She pushed him forward and he moved. They passed about five doors before Hermione said, "She should be in now…ah, there you go." They had stopped by an open door and Hermione called out, "Hello?"

"I'm in here," someone replied, and then they heard several things crash and bang while someone swore. "Shit, this always happens. I keep telling Remus to move the table away from the chairs…"

Hermione was chuckling under her breath. Draco could hear what sounded like someone putting things back into place before a flash of pink bounded up to the door.

"Wotcher," she greeted Hermione with a warm smile.

"Tonks, this is Draco Malfoy," Hermione said with a smirk. "Draco, this is Nymphadora Tonks."

"Just Tonks," Tonks said quickly. "My mother was pumped with Muggle drugs when she named me. I know who you are – I was in the stands when Dumbledore enlisted you. Add that to the fact that we're related. Nice to finally meet you."

Draco raised an eyebrow. Hermione smiled.

"Malfoy needs a haircut," Hermione said.

"I can tell," Tonks said with a grin. She turned to Draco. "So, what'll it be? You want to keep looking like that or will you trust me enough to cut your hair?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Tonks seemed to really think this over before shaking her head and grinning. "Nope."

"Then why ask?"

"To make you feel a little better about the situation. No offense, but I think two well-fed women can handle your scrawny ass right now. So this can be as easy or as difficult as you like."

Hermione was smiling, too. With a roll of his eyes, Draco shrugged. "Fine. I'm all yours."

"Oh, goody." Tonks took hold of his hands and led him to the bathroom. She conjured a stool and sat him into it. "Don't worry. You'll be looking pretty again in no time."

. . . . . .

Tonks did a wonderful job. Hermione watched the scissors snip away under the direction of Tonks' wand and marveled at how the length of a few strands could alter Draco's appearance. Tonks bewitched a razor to work at Draco's face ("Just don't twitch," she warned him) and once she was done, he looked almost like his old self.

He was different, though. His haircut was the same and now Hermione had a clear view of the Draco Malfoy she had once hated so much, but something about him had changed. There was a guarded look in his eyes that had never been there before, a sharp edge to his expression, something different in the way he carried himself. She looked at him and wondered how someone could have changed so much and yet still be such an asshole.

"So?" Tonks stepped aside. "What do you think?"

Hermione nearly complimented Tonks' work until she noticed Draco giving her a look she had never seen before. She didn't recognize it, but his expression was fierce enough to make her hold her tongue. She simply nodded and smiled.

"Come take a look at yourself," Tonks told Draco. "I'll let the broom get to work with the sweeping."

Draco stood in front of the mirror and gave himself a blank look.

"We'll give you a minute," Hermione said. She and Tonks stepped out of the bathroom, though she was careful to leave the door open to keep an eye on Draco.

Tonks nudged her with an elbow. Keeping her voice down, she asked, "You doing alright?"

Hermione gave her a small smile. "I've had better days."

"Has he said anything about what made him come here?"

"No. We haven't really talked. It's not like we've spent the last hour bonding."

"I just don't understand it," Tonks said. She looked over her shoulder to where Draco was in the bathroom, still looking at himself in the mirror with an empty expression. "What happened to him? What did the Death Eaters do to make him switch sides?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't know, either. None of us do. I guess we'll find out eventually."

Tonks nodded. She moved to retrieve something, but when she tried sidestepping the table, she bumped into it with such force that the vase on the table tipped and rolled to the floor, crashing at Hermione's feet. It broke to a million little pieces at Hermione's feet.

"Oh my God!" Tonks exclaimed as Hermione stooped down and started muttering a repair spell. "Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry."

Hermione laughed. "Don't worry. I'll fix it now. Nobody will ever know."

She flicked her wand and the shattered pieces of glass flew back together. "There you go," she said, handing the vase back to Tonks. "Good as new."

She looked over her shoulder to see what Draco was up to, except he wasn't there. The bathroom was empty. She had stopped paying attention for only a second, but it had been enough. Draco was gone.

. . . . . .

He wasn't sure why he did it.

He had stared at himself in the mirror as he listened to Granger and Tonks talk about him, and an overwhelming sense of exhaustion creeped up on him, as if it were making its way through the very marrow of his bones. Is it worth it? Draco thought, staring into his own eyes. Wouldn't death beeasier?

The crash had jolted him out of his thoughts. He only had a few seconds, but he took them. Granger wasn't looking and Tonks was distracted. He made it out of the room and ran down the hallway, the carpeted floor silencing his footsteps. He made his way down the stairs, running past several Order members on the way, but nobody stopped him. He ran until he made it to the front door.

And then he stopped. What was he doing? Was he leaving?

He looked at the door, almost hoping it would make the decision for him. Stay or go? He wasn't sure what to do. If he left now, he would be digging his own grave. He didn't even have a wand. But if he stayed, he would lose his mind. He couldn't just stand around and do nothing.

"Leaving so soon, Draco?"

Draco felt the blood drain from his face. It was Snape.

"I thought you would at least stay for a day or two," Snape said. Draco turned to face him. "You didn't even last a few hours. I clearly overestimated you."

Draco felt his face contort with rage. "This wasn't part of the plan."

"You had no plan. You were desperate. Or do you not remember?" Snape's lip curled in disgust. "I risked my life to find you. This is how you thank me? By running back out?"

"I don't know if this is what I want."

"You don't even know what you want. What's your plan now? To walk outside this building without a wand and hand yourself to the Death Eaters?"

"It would be better than this."

"Would it?" Snape shook his head. "Grow up, Draco. You can't keep running away when things don't work out the way you want them to."

Draco looked back at the door.

"Please don't make any stupid decisions. I can't come running to save you every time you get in trouble." Snape put a hand on his shoulder and guided him away from the door. "Why don't you take some time to think about it? You haven't even seen the gardens yet."

. . . . . .

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I'm going to fucking kill him.

Hermione ran down the hallway, stopping to check every single room she passed by.

"Relax," Tonks said. "He has to be around here somewhere, right?"

"He could hurt somebody!" Hermione stopped short, gasping for air. "Oh my God, this whole thing could've been a set up. He could've been sent here by Voldemort. Holy Merlin, Tonks, we have to find him!"

"We will. Just calm down." Hermione was about to say she couldn't possibly calm down considering the situation, but Tonks held up a hand. "Everyone in the Order has a wand. Malfoy doesn't. There's only so much damage he can do. We'll find him and you'll report the incident to Dumbledore, and we'll just keep a sharper eye on him in the future."

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded. She was about to keep making her way down the hall when a house elf appeared in front of her with a crack.

"Miss Granger!" the house elf said, taking a bow. "I bring a message from Professor Snape!"

"Professor Snape?" She couldn't think of any reason why Snape would want to contact her. Unless–

"Yes, Miss," the house elf said. "It's regarding the Malfoy boy."

Oh, shit. Malfoy killed somebody. Malfoy killed somebody and I'm to blame.

"He would like you to know that Draco Malfoy is waiting for you in the gardens."

Hermione blinked. "In the gardens?"

"Yes, Miss."

"He ran away to go sit in the gardens and wait for me?"

"I'm not sure, Miss," the house elf said, shifting in place.

Hermione locked her jaw. "I'm going to fucking kill him."

. . . . . .

Malfoys never really regretted their actions. It was one of the first lessons his father had ingrained into his skull.

"We have no regrets, Draco," Lucius would say as he sat by the fireplace and smoked a cigar, a glass of firewhiskey by his side. "We do what we have to do, regardless of the consequences. If it works out in our best interest, then great. If it doesn't, we learn from our mistakes and move on."

That was back when his father had been Draco's idol. He would watch his father smoke his cigarette and he would think Lucius was the king of the universe. Every word he said was magic. Draco would memorize everything he told him so that one day he could earn the honor of sitting in that chair, in front of that fireplace, smoking that cigar.

When he had gotten a little older and he had felt his first twinge of remorse, his father set him back on the right path. "We never blame ourselves for what goes wrong," Lucius had said. "Don't ever feel guilty about anything, Draco. Guilt is for the weak. If something goes wrong, it's always safe to assume that other people are to blame. That's the mark of a true Malfoy."

But Draco was beginning to wonder whether or not he was a 'true Malfoy.' Hell, he didn't give a damn about ditching Granger. The girl would find him soon enough and she'd unleash all the Mudblood forces she had within her, and he would deal with it because this small amount of freedom and privacy was worth it.

But when he thought about it – about how Malfoys never had regrets – that was where he had to stop. He had done a lot of things that he'd live to regret. In the past few months, his regrets had been his constant companions, as if to make sure he would never forget them. If they weren't with him in his waking hours, they haunted him in his dreams.

His thoughts moved on to Granger and his lip curled in disgust. What the hell was that old idiot Dumbledore doing? It hadn't even been a full day yet, and Draco was already sick of her. How they were going to manage was beyond him.

Snape had led him in the garden and left him there. Draco only now stopped to look around him. It was simple but beautiful, decorated with neatly trimmed bushes and all sorts of flowers that colored the stone path leading the way to a water fountain in the center.

Draco thought the garden was much too cheery for Grimmauld Place. They completely contradicted each other: Grimmauld Place was dark and somber, while the garden looked like something out of a fairytale. Completely different in every way and yet here they were, side by side.

"Excuse me? Do you need help finding something?"

Draco turned and came face to face with a girl about his age. She had long dark hair and dark eyes. She was looking at him in amusement.

"You're not lost, are you? A lot of the new recruits get lost when they take a walk on their first few days here. You'll get the hang of it."

"I'm not lost."

"Oh." The girl shifted her feet. "Sorry. I just assumed…it's an awfully big place. I got lost about a million times until I figured it all out. You are a new recruit, aren't you? I haven't seen you around here before."

Draco eyed her warily. Either this girl was pretending to be friendly and getting a sick kick out of doing it, or she was just clueless. "And you are?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm Delia. A post-grad Hogwarts student."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Post-grad?"

"I graduated last year," Delia said, nodding. "I wanted to become an Auror, but the Ministry's being strict about it. You have to have all sorts of qualifications to join the Auror department now. It's obviously because of the war going on, but still. I had nothing to do until Dumbledore let me join the Order. I still have a lot to learn, but Tonks is my trainer now."

Draco snorted. "Good luck with that."

She smiled. "Tonks is actually a wonderful teacher. Most people don't think so because of how clumsy she is, but she's great. Have you met her already?"

"Yeah." he paused, wondering how much he should reveal. "We're…distant relatives."

"Oh?" She smiled at him. "She's probably talked about you, then. She tells me loads of stories about everyone. What's your name?"

He hesitated. Later, he wouldn't know why. It's not like he cared if anyone judged him. "Draco Malfoy."

Delia frowned in thought. "It rings a bell."

Draco nearly laughed. This girl obviously didn't pay attention to her environment. He was sure that he was the topic of hot gossip among every member in the Order, and he was pretty sure there were copies of the Daily Prophet lying around somewhere, with his father – and therefore, the Malfoy name – listed in the Most Wanted section.

His father wasn't the only one in the Daily Prophet. The Most Wanted section was almost two pages long, listing name after name after name of known Death Eaters. The last time he had checked, some of the names were familiar. Most of them weren't. It didn't surprise him that the list seemed to grow longer every week. The Death Eaters were obviously recruiting at a fast rate.

What surprised him was how many people were willing to join the dark side.

"Anyway," Delia continued, "I'll ask Tonks about you later."

Draco nodded. "You'll probably be disappointed. I haven't heard any nice stories about myself yet."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true. You're never as awful as you think you are."

He smirked but didn't reply. She smiled and said, "Well, I'd better get going. Maybe I'll see you sometime soon."

"Maybe."

Delia took off, and Draco turned once more to look at the fountain. And then he heard Delia say, from some small distance behind him, "Oh, hey there, Hermione!"

Draco groaned.