Chapter 11

A/N: Hello readers! Sorry this took a while, but I've been busy.

Anyway, huge thanks to Irianaceleste for betains (and reminding me to edit a chapter so I can send it to her). You guys would have had to wait longer if she hadn't reminded me.

Also thanks to all the wonderful people who review!

~Frosty

Harry watched me closely all through Transfiguration, even afterwards as I packed my things and hurried out of the room. His vigilance made it difficult for me to slip away after class ended, but I managed. Harry would undoubtedly question me about my disappearance later, but I had more important things than his feelings on my mind. His trust issues weren't my problem anyway.

Evading Harry had taken me a little extra time, so Malfoy was already in the Room of Requirement when I entered. Looking lost, he was sitting on the pile of shredded pillows again. It was strange to see him so completely directionless and without any bite in his eyes. The silver orbs were unfocused and almost vacant.

"What did you want?" I asked. My words weren't the most polite, but there was no harshness in my voice.

He glanced over at me and the lost look lessened. I wasn't sure if it was because he felt less lost around me or if he was just schooling his expression because I was there. I liked to think it was the former and I was doing a decent job of being there for him.

Either way, I wasn't going to let my attitude towards him soften just because he'd looked a little distraught. There was a good chance it was just a ploy so that I wouldn't be upset with him over his avoidance of me.

"I've been summoned," he said hollowly.

Oh. That was worse than anything I had imagined. Without thought, I knew that Malfoy wouldn't use something so serious for an ulterior motive.

Zombie-like, I walked over and collapsed down beside him on the fluffy mountain. My eyes shifted over to the blacked wreckage that had once been the vanishing cabinet. Somehow I doubted that Voldemort was going to accept that a freak explosion had engulfed the cabinet, leaving the rest of the room perfectly intact – Malfoy being free of blame for the entire incident, of course.

"You're not going," I said, a twist of worry squirming in my stomach at the mere idea.

Malfoy glanced over at me and raised an eyebrow. "I thought we were past this. I've agreed to do everything I can to take those bastards down, and if that includes a little pain, then so be it."

"While I admire your determination, suicide isn't going to do anything for the cause," I said, trying to reason with him. "Think about it; what can you possibly learn in the most likely short time before he tortures you that Snape won't learn without any difficulty?"

His eyes flared in surprise at my words and I winced. I had just assumed that he'd already known about Snape's true allegiance. I suppose it's true what they say about what happens when you assume... Ugh. I was horrible at the whole spy thing. I only hoped the mistakes I was sure to make wouldn't be the death of someone.

"Snape's a turncoat?" Malfoy asked.

I sighed. "You're going to have to ask him about that. My point was that going there and getting yourself killed isn't going to accomplish anything. You can't avenge your mother if you're dead."

"There's actually a pretty good chance he'll only torture me," he tried to reason. "The Dark Lord's one sadistic bastard; killing me immediately would be too quick. He'd probably send me back to Hogwarts after a thorough torture session with orders to find some other way to let the Death Eaters in and to hurry up with my mission to murder Dumbledore."

I winced at the horrible picture he'd painted. Who in the world would willingly support someone so horrible? I just couldn't fathom it. With someone as insane as Voldemort, it was only ever a matter of time before he turned on his own followers.

"If that's the case, there's no reason for you to go through that," I said. "Besides, I refuse to patch you up even one more time."

If I ever saw him as abused as he'd been not so long ago when he'd come back after seeing Voldemort, it would be too soon.

He gave me a small smirk, probably too shaken for a proper one. "If I didn't know better, Granger, I'd think you were concerned about my wellbeing."

I was, but admitting this would take our conversation in a direction I didn't want it to travel. It was probably his plan that I start sputtering denials and completely forget about convincing him to stay as far from Voldemort as possible.

He didn't give me enough credit.

"No," I said, "I'm just tired of washing your blood off of my cloths and hands. Scraping it out from under my finger nails took me forever last time." Trailing off, I shuddered. My nonchalance had failed, making me remember too vividly those times when I'd had to mop up disturbing amounts of his blood.

Malfoy, watching me, probably didn't miss a moment of my distress.

He stood from the pile of pillows with a sigh, his lips twisted into a sneer of distaste. "I suppose I'd better be off to see that doddering old fool then."

My heart, which had stopped at the suggestion that he leave, started beating again when I realized that he wasn't going to face Voldemort. It seemed that I cared a little more about his wellbeing than even I had thought. I tried to shove that feeling aside, not wanting him to read it on my face.

"If I wait here, will you come back and tell me what he says?" I asked hesitantly, not looking directly at him. I waited, braced for his mocking laughter, but it never came.

When I snuck a peek at him, there was a hint of understanding in his eyes. He gave a curt nod, "I shouldn't be too long."

I leaned back in the pillows to wait, listening to the door closing with a sense of dread. What if Malfoy never came back from the meeting with Dumbledore? If they both decided that it would be better for Malfoy to see what he could learn from Voldemort? Or if Malfoy, fuelled by his desire for revenge, never even bothered going to Dumbledore's office and went straight to death at the hands of the Dark Lord and had just been lying to me so I'd let him go?

No, Malfoy had done what he'd said and gone to see Dumbledore. He had no real reason to lie to me about it. I reminded myself to have some faith in him just as I was always nagging Harry to have for me.

Despite the frantic circles my mind was turning, the softness of the pillows and the early start I'd had that morning began to make my eyelids heavy. When I'd been running about throughout the day, worrying about taking notes and acting as referee for Harry's insane suspicions while fending off Malfoy's notes and odd stares, I had been fine, but now the waiting was pushing me towards the rest my body needed.

With a hitched breath, I opened my eyes, stretching my arms above my head. My mouth felt coated with something foul and all my limbs felt heavier than they should. This is why I didn't nap; they always left me feeling horrible and even more tired than I'd been before I'd fallen asleep.

"I'm being sent to a safe house," said a voice from behind me.

I jumped, managing to launch myself from the pillow mountain and onto the floor in an ungraceful heap.

Malfoy laughed.

"Prat," I muttered, glaring up at him.

To my surprise, he was standing over me, holding out a hand to help me to my feet.

As he pulled me up, it finally occurred to me what he had said. "They're sending you away?"

I found that I was actually a little disappointed that he wouldn't be at the school anymore. Logically, I knew that he was leaving to be safe, but I was actually going to miss his presence. Somehow I'd become used to having him around, making snarky remarks and inciting Ron and Harry with barrages of verbal barbs. It would be weird without him – more peaceful, but weird.

"What's wrong, Granger, going to miss me?" he asked with a smirk. That lost look he'd worn when I'd first entered the room was long gone, and he was looking much more like his usual mocking self.

This back-and-forth was familiar ground.

"I'm just wondering what I'm going to do now that I don't have to keep your sorry butt out of the Hospital Wing."

He raised an eyebrow and drew himself up to his full height, a spark of challenge in his eyes. "I seem to remember a time when it was me rescuing your sorry butt from a pack of wolves."

That he had, and I was grateful for it. Reaching out, I took his hand and squeezed it. "Be careful, there are people on both sides of this war that want you dead."

His teasing expression faded as he squeezed my hand back. "You be careful as well. I don't want to hear that I wasted that effort saving you just to have you die at the hands of some Death Eater."

I nodded, fighting off tears as I released his hand.

"Where's Malfoy?" Harry wondered at breakfast the next morning.

I didn't look up from the muffin on my plate that I had been shredding for the last several minutes. Not a single bite had yet to pass my lips, I just wasn't hungry. Harry was idly wondering, not asking me a question, so I didn't feel obligate to answer. Instead, I tore off another large chunk of muffin and poked at it until it was only crumbs. In all honestly, I was trying not to think of the blond. Something strange was going on between us; he hadn't said it, but I was pretty sure he was going to miss me too. We weren't supposed to miss each other. We weren't even supposed to like each other.

I made a noncommittal noise so that Harry knew I was listening.

Ron, seating on the other side of Harry, chose then to give his input. "Maybe he's left school to join You-Know-Who."

Rolling my eyes, I ripped off another chunk of the muffin, resisting the urge to throw it at Ron. I had to remind myself that it wasn't entirely his fault he was biased; he didn't have my knowledge of Malfoy to give him my perspective. However, I had asked them to trust me about Malfoy, and while Ron had no reason to trust Malfoy, he should have trusted me.

When Harry turned towards Ron and started discussing what Malfoy could be doing that very moment, I squashed the rest of the muffin on my plate with my fist and then left the Great Hall.

The second night after Malfoy left, I had horrible nightmares. Flashes of our deaths in our past lives and visions of him in this life, suffering a horrible death. Instead of lessening as time passed, the dreams only intensified.

My grades started to slip as I lost more and more sleep and eventually resorted to taking dreamless sleep potions to get the rest I needed in order to function. It was horrible and I became a basket case from sleep deprivation and stress.

On the day after the year end exams were finished, I went to see Dumbledore. He'd been away almost constantly since that night with Malfoy in the Room of Requirement , and I hadn't wanted to risk my grades with grieving on the off chance that Malfoy had died. I somehow knew that I'd be a wreck. Not necessarily for the loss of Malfoy – though that would be tragic – but for the loss of Bryn's soul. His soul had once been the other half of mine, and a part of me suspected that it still was.

I guessed random sweets until the gargoyle admitted me to the Headmaster's office.

"What can I do for you, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked. His eyes were still sparkling as always, but his cheeks were more drawn than I remembered. I'd always known he was old; although, he'd never really seemed it. Now he did. Every one of his many years seemed to be weighing on him heavily.

I faltered, feeling stupid about my worries when faced with Dumbledore and his much more pressing concerns.

"You're here wondering about the wellbeing of Mr. Malfoy," he said. It wasn't a question.

Blushing, I nodded. "I've been having these bad dreams," I muttered.

"Well, to my knowledge, he's doing perfectly fine at the safe house."

My face twisted in an anxious expression. I wasn't happy with the words "to my knowledge," they weren't nearly sure enough to satisfy my concerned mind.

"But you'll know for yourself firsthand as soon as school lets out," he continued.

What? What was he talking about?

"The Order has decided that Harry will be safest hidden away over the summer. Of course, arrangements have been made for you and Mr. Weasley to join him." He paused for a moment. "I fear that if you are not present, we may have a murder on our hands by the end of the summer since Mr. Malfoy will be in the same safe house."

While relieved that I was going to be able to see for myself that Malfoy was okay in jest a few short days, I was already dreading a summer spent with three boys who rarely got along. It was sure to be an interesting summer, that was for sure.

Trunk packed and trailing magically behind me, I approached the two story house that perched on a cliff over the ocean in the middle of nowhere. It looked homey and surprisingly welcoming. As the salty wind whipped up my hair, I glanced towards Harry and Ron, trailing behind Dumbledore and me and shooting suspicious looks in my direction. They knew that I knew something they didn't, but not what it was.

They definitely didn't even suspect that Malfoy was going to be inside the safe house, and I wasn't sure they were ever going to forgive me once they saw him. I sighed, dreading the confrontation.

Dumbledore went in first, knocking before he opened the rickety door.

"Why are you knocking, Professor?" Harry asked. "Is someone here already?"

The smell of burning whooshed out of the house in a cloud of black smoke, distracting me from Harry's questions. I didn't hear Dumbledore's answer as I rushed inside with my wand drawn, ready for anything.

I expected to see Death Eaters torturing Malfoy, possibly a fire consuming the house. What I didn't expect was to burst into the kitchen, ready to find something horrible, and all I found was Malfoy, wearing an apron and standing over the stove while it spewed out clouds of black smoke.

Mouth open, I stared for a moment in shock until I realized that I should probably open a window before we both died from smoke inhalation.

"What are you doing here, Granger?" Malfoy asked once he had used his wand to put out the smouldering in the casserole dish where the fire had started.

Wonderful. Dumbledore had decided that he was going to surprise Malfoy with the presence of people he was going to hate as well. I was starting to think the old man was trying to make them kill each other, or possibly just make them all kill me.

"We're staying here for the summer," I muttered as I hesitantly approached him, my eyes fixed on the smoking, black mess in the pan. Whatever he'd been cooking looked like it was liable to burst into flame again with the slightest provocation.

Malfoy slid the dish behind him, away from my gaze. "We?"

I winced; I'd been hoping he wouldn't pick up on that. It had been a stupid hope, but hope is rarely a logical, intelligent thing.

Come to think of it, why hadn't Harry and Ron burst into the room, ready to fight off any bad that may have sprung up to threaten the world. Dumbledore must have been delaying them so I could break the news to Malfoy that he was going to be staying with his three most favourite Gryffindors, stuck in a safe house for the entire summer. The old man had me doing his dirty work!

"We?" Malfoy asked again when I hesitated.

"Me, Harry and Ron," I said, trying to cover the last two names with a fake cough.

"What?" Malfoy hissed.

I took a step back and raised my hands defensively. "This wasn't my decision, you're going to have to take up any concerns with Dumbledore, but I doubt anything will come of it. Harry certainly protested enough when he found out he was being sent to a safe house, and it hasn't changed the outcome."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Potter and Weasley don't know they're staying here with me yet, do they?"

Wide eyed, I shook my head. "Whatever you're planning, stop it. This summer is going to be difficult enough as it is."

Ignoring me, he brushed past me and pushed open the kitchen door.