DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter. All characters, places, and things mentioned in this story are the property of J.K. Rowling.

CHAPTER 12 SUMMARY: As Draco is recovering from his injury, things are beginning to stir at Hogwarts. Draco offers his assistance to Harry in order to free himself and Hermione from evil's grasp. But what will happen when tensions run high? How will the students react when a new team of professors is appointed at Hogwarts? As battles arise and the war draws near, sides must be chosen.

WARNINGS: Rated T (13+) for strong violence and mild language. THIS STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS!

OTHER INFO: Okay this is my first fanfiction. Please read and review. I welcome critiquing comments also. If you have any favorite parts or least favorite parts, let me know... Thank you :)

Chapter Twelve

Battles

"Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best; it removes all that is base. All men are afraid in battle. The coward is the one who lets his fear overcome his sense of duty. Duty is the essence of manhood."
- George S. Patton

Draco was in a fitful sleep, blonde hair sticking to the sheet of perspiration on his forehead. His upper body was bare and bandaged, a blood stain slowly spreading under the tight gauze on his shoulder. Hermione was glad that it had at least clotted enough that Madame Pomfrey didn't have to check it every five minutes; the absence of the nurse allowed Hermione to talk with Harry, Ron, and Ginny in privacy.

They were gathered on two vacant beds, Hermione and Ginny sitting cross-legged together and facing the two boys opposite them. The conversation thus far had been strained between Ron and Hermione, probably because Ron was feeling rather stupid for ever accusing Draco of kidnapping Hermione, but no apology had been voiced yet. Honestly Hermione wasn't expecting it, and even if Ron did apologize to her and preferably to Draco, how could she know that he wouldn't turn on her again tomorrow as he had done before?

"I still can't believe Malfoy just saved my life," Harry muttered for the thousandth time. "I didn't think he had it in him."

"I didn't either," Ron shook his head and glanced up at Hermione. "What'd you do to get him to do it, Hermione? Did you guys...?"

"Ron!" Ginny stepped in. "Shut up, will you? Of course they didn't…" Then shooting a bewildered look at Hermione she gasped, "You didn't did you?"

"No!" Hermione squealed, brows creased incredulously over her chocolate eyes. "Of course not! I've tried to tell you all along that he is on our side. It hurts me that it took something like this to convince you."

Hermione's concerned pupils turned to the motionless Draco, to his chest heaving and falling gently beneath the thin fabric of the bed sheets, to the bloodstained gauze wrapped tightly around his shoulder. It pained her to see him in such a state. She was so accustomed to being in his strong, unmistakable presence that this was nearly too much to bear. She pulled her eyes away before the tears began to fall.

The other three hadn't noticed her sadness, ignorant as to how deep her emotions really ran for Draco, but she wasn't angry with them. Maybe slightly with Ron… but that wasn't anything new.

"So what of you, Harry?" Ron was saying. "What do you plan to do now?"

The question brought Hermione out of her dark thoughts, all her attention focused on her best friend. She hadn't really considered the idea that Harry would be leaving again, off to finish Voldemort. Now that Ron had mentioned it, it was at the forefront of her mind.

"I've got to find the last horcruxes. There are three left and I – "

"Two!" Hermione thrust two of her fingers into Harry's glasses.

He blinked, "What?"

"There's only two left," Hermione clarified. "You didn't think we'd let you get with all seven did you?"

"You – you destroyed one?" Harry stuttered, mildly surprised. "Which one?"

"Ravenclaw's diadem," Ginny beamed, clutching Harry's hand. "Well Draco and Hermione destroyed it, but Ron, Luna, and I did some research. You're lucky to have such intelligent friends…"

Harry grinned, scratching the back of his scruffy, black hair, "Well, yeah. I'd suppose I am. Blimey…"

There was a silence, and Hermione knew that everyone was wondering the same thing.

"You don't have to leave right away, do you?" Ginny asked, her voice strained with worry. "Not after you just got here."

"I should," Harry sighed. "Time is ticking, you know. The trouble is, though, that I don't know if it's safe, and if anywhere is truly safe, it's here. It's probably better that I wait for things to calm down out there before setting out again."

Though the news was good, though Harry was staying, his words did not comfort Hermione. The truthfulness and fear injected into them was real and justified, and they only reminded her of all the dreadful things happening outside of her protected little bubble. They brought back the knowledge of the evil that lurked past the iron gates of Hogwarts, past the security they provided. She shuddered involuntarily with the thought.

A noise came from behind them, a guttural, throaty noise. But no one turned to look at the source of the sound – which they all knew was Draco. They turned to Hermione, as if they expected her to rush to his aid. They obviously did not understand the way she and Draco were with one another. They were definitely not clingy. Neither one of them liked to be dependent on the other, but they knew that life would be ugly for both of them if they weren't.

Her friends' eyes were making her uncomfortable, however, boring into her with anticipation. She looked over her shoulder and her heart leapt as her eyes met with a pair of silver ones, staring at her with the same eagerness as Ron, Ginny, and Harry. This set of eyes, though, she could not ignore, could not scoff at, even if she had wanted to. They were the eyes of the boy who had risked his life for her, to save her from the evils that he had lived with his entire life. They were the eyes of her love - her real, true love – and those sorts of eyes can hold you under an inexplicable spell forever.

A tear escaped her eye as she quickly sprung to her feet and hurried to the side of his bed. She slipped her hand over his hand under the bed sheets, "How is it?"

Draco's free hand shot up to his right shoulder, shrugging it in circles just to show her that it was getting better, "It's a bit sore, but it could be worse."

"Exactly," Hermione replied, slightly upset. "Exactly, Draco. It could be worse because you could be dead! You could be gone, and I could be here! Alone!"

Her tears were falling freely now, thumping quietly on the mattress with no rhythm. For a cluster of moments, the only sounds in the room were the falling of her teardrops and her frantic gasps between sobs. Harry, Ron, and Ginny had left, hurried out to give her and Draco some privacy, and so they were alone together. Hermione was bawling and Draco was gazing at her with a sweetness that was nearly painful. He smiled with tired eyes and let a quick puff of air through his nose and looked rather amused. That bothered Hermione, but she was crying too hard to say anything about it.

"Hermione…" Draco whispered, half-smiling. He pulled her closer, letting her rest on the sliver of mattress next to him, close enough to hear her heartbeat. "Don't be afraid of that. I'm here with you now. Whatever risk I took was clearly a risk worth taking if it means that I don't lose you."

"You're mad, Draco Malfoy," Hermione murmured when suddenly her lips were lost in his. "Completely mental…" His hand found its way to the bend of her back. "And selfish…"

"Hm," Draco said between kisses, "very selfish."

Her hands were wrapped about his neck, fingers tugging at his hair, "Yes, I'm glad… that you agree…"

Draco's chest tensed unexpectedly, "Granger. Shoulder."

"Sorry," she said, realizing that her palm had snaked to his wound without her knowing it. She pulled her face away from his, "I'm sorry."

Their eyes met for a very long moment before Hermione's head fell limply against Draco's chest. And in the moments that followed, she listened to his steady breathing and it was such a reassuring sound that she almost didn't want to interrupt it to say what was on her mind. She did, nevertheless.

"Thank you, Draco," she muttered, speaking softly enough that she could still hear his lungs filling and emptying.

"For what?" he smiled. "Snogging you or saving your life?"

Hermione laughed, "Both I suppose, but mostly for saving my life… and Harry's. Even though it was reckless… thank you."

"Potter…" Draco mulled. "I want to talk to that git…"

Hermione pulled herself onto one elbow, the other arm thrown over Draco's torso. She looked perplexed – and perhaps a little worried, "You do?"

"Yes, Granger…" Draco nodded, as if his motive was utterly apparent. "I'm not going to murder him."

Hermione only nodded uncertainly as she rose from the bed and went into the hall. Harry, Ginny, and Ron were there, just standing and looking at each other. Judging by the looks on their faces, Hermione figured they were either still processing the idea that Draco Malfoy might not be as bad they thought, or they had just stopped talking about what a lunatic she was when they heard the door of the infirmary open. Either way, all eyes flickered to her as the thick door closed behind her with a deafening bang.

She looked at Harry, "Draco wants to talk to you."

Harry seemed taken aback, glancing nervously at Ginny and then Ron. But he hesitated for only a moment before nodding and moving past his friend back into the infirmary. He wasn't necessarily scared about what Draco wanted. He didn't think Draco had done any of his good deeds with any sort of evil agenda, and even if he had, he wouldn't be able to do much to Harry when his dominant shoulder was ripped through. Above anything else, he was anxious about what it would be like to have a conversation with Malfoy that wasn't sarcastic or spiteful. It had never happened before, and he wasn't sure exactly what to say.

Draco raised his head from his pillow as Harry lingered in the doorway, hands passively at his side. When Harry made no move towards him, Draco laughed, "Are you going to stand there all day, Potter? Merlin, despite the stereotype, Gryffindors are the most fearful lot here."

Harry half-smiled, not sure whether to take it as an attempt at humor or an insult. Sarcasm, at least, was not something that Hermione had managed to break him of. Harry approached Draco's bedside, still standing at least three feet away. He remained awkward and cautious even though Draco had teased him for it. He couldn't afford to take any unneeded risks.

"What'd you want to say?" Harry said, eyeing Malfoy suspiciously.

Draco saw Harry's hand slip into the pocket of his jeans, where his wand was protruding, but he ignored it, "Where are you going next?"

"What's it to you, Malfoy?" Harry narrowed his eyes, unable to trust Malfoy fully yet.

"Well contrary to popular belief, I do happen to have feelings, and I do care about what's going on out there in the real world," Draco replied snappishly, "So tell me."

Harry's hand left his pocket, bringing down his defenses, "Fine, but tell me something first." Harry waited for Malfoy to nod before continuing, "Hermione told me everything that's happened. I know that you care for her. Anyone with eyes can see that… But why? Why Hermione?"

Draco gazed at Harry, a look in his eyes that was half-annoyed and half-pained, "Why do you love Ginny?"

"I… well because she sees me in a way that no one else does, for who I really am past all the Chosen One rubbish and everything that's happened to me," Harry explained.

"And Hermione sees me as I truly am, even when she knows all the sin I've committed," Draco sighed, feeling vulnerable. "It might sound stupid, Potter, but she was there for me at a time when no one else was. So how could I give up on her?"

Draco took another deep breath, knowing in his heart that every word he spoke was true. Harry, slightly surprised by Draco's bluntness, only nodded. Uncertain of how to respond, he smoothly changed the subject, "I'm going in search on Hufflepuff's goblet. I think Bellatrix Lestrange might have had it last."

Draco sat up completely, not even bothering to wince as a pain struck his shoulder, "I'm coming along then."

"What?", was the only word Harry could gather. It was becoming a common word with him since he had returned; everything was wildly upside down.

"Look, Potter," Draco said, eyes dancing with the idea of adventure. "Bellatrix is my aunt. If anyone has the ability to rummage through her belongings, it's me. So I'm coming along."

The last five words were very solid, very sure. Harry knew Draco was serious about joining him, and moreover, he knew Draco was right. The presence and cooperation of someone knowledgeable of both the Death Eaters and the Order would be invaluable. Draco might not know much of the Order, but he knew the most important detail about it – its cause. And after witnessing its opposition first-hand, he'd be more than willing to contribute what he could.

"What about Hermione?" Harry asked. "She'll be livid that you're setting off again."

"Excellent point, Potter. She nearly stabbed me a moment ago," Draco chuckled. Then, becoming serious, he said, "But she will simply have to deal with it. I'm doing it for her benefit. The sooner Voldemort falls, the sooner our problems are over… the sooner my problems are over. So what is your brilliant plan?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply when Madame Pomfrey came bustling in, arms wrapped around some skinny first year that looked ready to vomit all over the pristine marble floor. Harry's mouth snapped shut as he glanced over his shoulder at them.

Then, turning back to Draco, he whispered, "We'll talk in the morning. You need rest."

And with that, he was gone.

Draco woke the next morning to the sound of light rain on the decorative windows of his bedroom. Someone must have moved him there during the night, though he vaguely recalled it. He looked about. He could not be certain of the time for the dreary sky outside, but it must have been too early for anyone to be awake. The corridor outside was dead, no sound reaching him, and he was alone. Slowly, trying to avoid upsetting his shoulder, he sat up in his bed and gently slid to the floor. He shuffled to the only mirror in the room, gradually like an old codger. He was sore and exhausted from the previous day's events. Reluctantly, he studied his reflection.

His arm was wrapped in a cloth sling, dangling just below his chest. His hair was a complete mess, and his eyes were bloodshot and tired. He gingerly reached to his back, where a small metal clip held his sling in place, and pinched the clasp. The cloth came loose from his arm, unwrapping itself to reveal the wound underneath. It was swollen and red, the hole in his shoulder deep enough to wonder if it in fact ever ended. The diameter of the puncture was large enough that if Draco had been mental, he could have easily fit his thumb inside. He thought it would leave a nasty scar.

And maybe having it leave a scar wasn't such an awful thing. Of course, it would remind him of the pain and suffering he went through his seventh year at Hogwarts, but it would also remind him why he suffered so much. He figured he would be rather proud when it melted into nothing more than damaged skin.

A quiet knock broke his contemplation. He tore his eyes from the mirror and, wondering who would be visiting him at this hour, opened the door. It was Harry Potter, of all people.

"Sorry, Malfoy, about the time," Potter apologized quickly, as if he was trying to make sure he did before Draco could gripe about it.

Draco closed the door behind him, "It's alright. I don't know what time it is myself…" He paused, "What is you want it then?"

"Well, I assumed now was as good of a time as any to come talk to you about my plans… No one will be awake to interrupt us I suppose…" Harry rambled, looking rather uncomfortable.

"Right…" Draco agreed.

Harry coughed awkwardly, "Erm… well. Firstly, I should probably tell you that I'm not absolutely certain that Hufflepuff's cup is in your aunt's vault. Frankly, I'm running blind in the dark, but I just have this feeling. You should have seen her when she saw we had Gryffindor's sword."

Harry looked at Draco tentatively.

Draco laughed, "You're not scaring me off just yet, Potter."

Harry didn't crack a smile, and Draco's soon faded.

"Originally I had planned to go in disguise, but now that you are coming along, the plan has become much easier," Harry explained, getting more eager with every word. "We will leave in a few days. You go as yourself, get into the vault, and get the cup. Easy…"

Draco raised one blonde eyebrow, "Wait a moment… That's your plan? Merlin, Potter. I thought you were supposed to be brilliant at this."

"What is wrong with the plan?" Harry asked, thoroughly offended.

Draco cupped his hand over his left temple and sighed, "You obviously came up with it just before you walked in the door."

"Perhaps, but I worked very hard on it then, too…" Harry replied, only half-joking. "What would you propose we do?"

"I think I should go as myself, get into the vault, and get the cup," Draco smirked. Harry gave him a look of befuddlement, and then Draco added, "I just like the look on your face when you're annoyed, Potter."

He patted Harry on the back and disappeared into his bathroom.

Remus Lupin stood still while his wife straightened his tie. Chin up, he gazed down upon her, "Dora, I've battled unspeakable things in my darkest nights. But this class frightens me more than I frighten myself."

Tonks completed the final loop in his tie and patted his chest, "You'll do just fine, Remus. I'm here to back you up in case you begin to lose your grip, eh? You'll do just fine, dear."

Remus nodded. When McGonagall had approached him and Dora with the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, they had been quite hesitant to accept. With his condition and Dora's pregnancy, they had been unsure whether they were fit for the job, but McGonagall had thought things through. With Remus's condition, he would be unable to teach all the time, and due to her pregnancy, it might be uncomfortable for Nymphadora to be on her feet for long. Inevitably McGonagall had come to the thoughtful conclusion that the two of them should teach the class as a team. Of course, both of them would have rather been assisting with the Order, but now they had a family to consider, a child they could not bear to abandon. Thus, Hogwarts was the second best place for the couple to be, especially since Harry was here. That is what McGonagall had told them the previous night anyway.

Remus glanced at his pocket watch and took a deep breath, "It's nearly time."

And as if those words had activated it, the bell rang. Noise sputtered in the hallway, feet and voices echoing off the high ceiling. Students filed slowly in, taking their seats one by one. Some of them smiled at Remus, perhaps recognizing him from their third year, but a few of them gave him looks of bitter discontent. Most of the latter were Slytherins.

Draco Malfoy sat in the back, neglected and ignored, which didn't bother him a bit. After a few weeks of mocking and teasing, the Slytherins had given up on trying to erode Draco's poise. They had discovered that he was imperturbable in every fashion, and he intended to keep it that way. That is, he had intended to keep it that way, but given the recent events, the Slytherins had found a new sore spot to probe – Hermione.

Had they known how serious Draco was about her, they might not have opened their mouths. However, Blaise Zabini never was one to follow directions properly. Draco should know; he'd attempted to order him around before.

The class had a rocky start. Remus Lupin – the werewolf from their third year - was taking Carrow's position, something that did not sit well with many people in the room. So, to begin the lesson, everyone was already a little unhappy – to put it softly.

Remus coughed. Draco almost felt sorry for him, as the class continued to speak over him. Draco sat with his head in his hands, unsure whether to pay attention or toss some hexes at the selfish gits. He wisely chose the former.

Remus raised his wand and growled, "Silence!"

The room died. Something in his voice – perhaps the animal – was much more intimidating than the class had anticipated. Lupin remained in control as he strode to his desk and lay a hand upon it, "As most of you know, your previous professor was unfortunately greeted with an untimely death, and so you all now have the complete misfortune of having me in his place. However, I can assure you that anything you learned in said professor's class is totally irrelevant, and we will be starting fresh with my own curriculum…"

"Does your curriculum have anything to do with us learning to duel werewolves?" Blaise Zabini taunted from the front of the class. "I think we would become very effective in that particular skill. That is of course if you taught us…"

Remus ignored the low blow, letting it roll off his back easily – so easily in fact that Blaise felt as if he hadn't made an effect at all. He turned to his classmates and laughed, white teeth glimmering like fangs in the bright morning light crashing in through the windows. Draco frowned. Blaise had obviously reclaimed the tribe since Draco had dropped out of the picture, and as far as Draco was concerned, he could have the tribe. The only thing Draco cared about was keeping the Slytherin fear of him alive. The longer he watched Blaise patronize Lupin, the more his blood boiled. He didn't know Lupin or his wife, but he knew that they were in the Order. And as far as he was concerned, anyone in the Order should be treated with respect. Thinking this, he scowled at the back of Blaise's head and fumed silently.

At the sound of his peers' laughter, Blaise raised his voice, "I don't know though. You don't look all that tough to me…"

"Well, Blaise, past your oversized mouth and your empty threats, you aren't really as tough as you'd like people to think either..."

All faces swiveled in Draco's direction, to the back, where he refused to look at anyone but Blaise. Blaise's dark, beady eyes snapped to Draco rapidly, looking quite shocked.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Draco Malfoy risen from the dead," Blaise mocked, raising his arms at his sides and looking about as if wondering where Draco came from. He began approaching Draco. A grimace was spread on his face, "Fancy that you should be correcting me when you're the one wasting time rescuing Hermione Granger."

Draco's gaze shifted behind Blaise to Lupin, who looked prepared for the worst. Draco ignored his worried expression, "What's she to you, Blaise?"

Blaise laughed, a cold and heartless laugh, "Nothing, which is what she should also be to you. And everyone else in this room." He yelled the last part loudly, frightening anyone who felt that he was wrong, but Draco – as usual – was unruffled. Blaise continued, feet from Draco now, "You walk these halls like you've still got some sort of power over Slytherin house, like you can play both sides. Truth is Malfoy, you made up your mind months ago. You –" his finger came hard into Draco's chest "– are nothing. And neither is your mudblood whore."

That was it. In a flash, Draco's fist pounded into Blaise Zabini's face with a loud crunch. People standing close enough began backing away. Draco's shoulder stung badly with the force of the stroke, but he was so blinded with anger he didn't feel it at all. Blaise hit back, but he was dazed. The punch was weak, and Draco batted his fist away easily. Again, Draco reared back his fist, this time coming under Blaise's chin in an uppercut. The shot landed squarely on the bottom of Blaise's jaw, and Blaise's neck snapped back. He was stunned once more, unfocused, and Draco took his opportunity. He shoved Blaise against the wall, against the shelving. Things crashed to the floor, breaking loudly, but Draco barely heard them. His fists were beating relentlessly against Blaise's head, and his knuckles were stinging from the impact. The wound on his shoulder had split open and was bleeding again; he could feel the warm dampness seeping under his robes. But he didn't care. He wanted to shut Blaise up, wanted to shut everyone up, and he had decided this was the only way to do it.

Blaise must have surrendered long before Remus Lupin appeared. Only moments had passed since Draco had tossed the first punch, but it had felt like much longer. Remus had immediately come between them, wand at the ready. If Draco had been thinking clearly, he might have used his wand during the fight, but what fun was that if he could outfight Blaise with his bare hands? Besides, traditional fighting was much more satisfying.

The fighting had stopped. Draco was panting, a bit bruised, and his shoulder was burning like fire. The blood trickled over his wrist and twisted about his fingertips. Drops pattered onto the floor. Blaise, however, was infinitely more damaged. His lips were bloodied, and there was a gash under his left eyebrow that was spilling blood into his eye. He looked like he might fall unconscious at any moment. The sight of him made Draco feel as if he had accomplished something; no one could look at Blaise and claim that Draco had lost. As the two boys stood staring at one another, Lupin stood between them with his arms outstretched, head snapping back and forth between them. If Blaise had thought Lupin was feeble before, the expression on Lupin's face would have changed his mind in an instant.

"Are you two completely mad?" Lupin was bellowing, red in the face. "You're a disgrace to your houses and this school! Fifty points from Slytherin for each of you! Zabini, go with Tonks." His voice became softer as he turned to his wife, "Dora, take him to the infirmary." His gaze became furious once again, turning it on Draco, "As for you, Malfoy. You'll be serving detention with me tonight after dinner! Now every single one of you sit down, and don't dare look up from your books unless it is to look at the lengthy assignment I'll be giving you!"

No one said a word and did exactly as they were told.

By lunch hour, the knowledge that Draco had saved Hermione Granger's life was the talk of Hogwarts. Draco couldn't begin to count that amount of people – student and teacher alike – that had approached him to congratulate him, or to thank him, or – if they were from Slytherin – to mock him. Although the recognition was nice, Draco would have preferred that he be left alone. It wasn't like he had done anything that he was afraid of doing or that he hadn't needed to do. He had needed to rescue Hermione; anyone would have done it given his position. Draco was overwhelmed with gladness at the fact that McGonagall ordered that Harry's presence be kept secret. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to step out of his dormitory without either getting beaten up or showered with rose petals.

Everyone also happened to know that Draco had beaten the life out of Blaise Zabini in first period, though no one had come to congratulate him about that. He assumed that sending someone to the infirmary wasn't something that people felt comfortable celebrating publicly. He was fairly positive, however, that half of the Slytherins and most of the rest of the school did not particularly miss his absence.

Currently Draco was sitting with Hermione, hand twisted up with hers under the thick, wooden tabletop. Ron and Ginny were sitting across from them, watching them but watching them differently than they usually did. Their eyes were softer, more accepting, as if all they had required to trust him was a life-threatening feat to concretely back up his claims. They were also a bit wearier. He had always heard, of course, that actions spoke louder than words; he supposed he was a testament to that statement. Ginny had nearly smothered him with hugs this morning when he was waiting for Hermione outside the Gryffindor common room, marking the first time he had ever embraced a Weasley. It seemed that her love for Harry rivaled Draco's love for Hermione, and she wouldn't soon forget what Draco had done. In fact, now that Draco thought about it, Ginny was probably one of the people that had been spreading the news of the rescue.

"How's your… thing?" Ron said suddenly, waving a hand in the direction of Draco's shoulder.

Draco blinked, slightly annoyed, but he knew Ron was only trying to make conversation. He said, "Can't move it properly just yet, but it's better."

Ron nodded, satisfied with the answer, "That's good. You know there's blood all over your arm, right?"

Draco looked at his hand, still bloody from that morning, "Yes, well."

"'Yes well' nothing, Malfoy. I heard you had a pretty wicked scrap with Blaise Zabini this morning… I'd be willing to bet you split your scar," Ginny narrowed her green eyes.

Hermione went rigid, "You got in a fight?" She groaned. "The first time I miss first period and you get in a fight…"

Draco gave an urgent glance to Ginny and then said, "Yeah, but it was nothing. And where exactly were you this morning?"

"I went to talk to McGonagall…" Hermione mumbled, looking down at her plate.

Draco squinted at her bowed head, convinced that there was more to the story, but he didn't say anything. Ginny still could not shut up about the fight.

"Nothing?" Ginny added. "Merlin, Malfoy. You put him in the infirmary… If that's nothing then I'm not a Weasley."

"In the infirmary?" Hermione gasped. "Draco! What were you thinking?"

"Aw, c'mon Hermione. Lay off him," Ron grumbled. "That Zabini git probably deserved it anyway."

Hermione looked at Ron incredulously, "Ronald Weasley! I can't believe you are condoning this sort of irrational behavior!"

"He called you a mudblood whore…" Draco said frankly, looking to Hermione.

Hermione's curls bounced as her head snapped in Draco direction. She coughed meekly, "Does the infirmary have visiting hours?"

"Not any for you, Granger," Draco laughed. "You'd probably poison his medicine."

Hermione raised a finger, "Um… I have much worse than that up my sleeve, Malfoy. You must remember that you used to be the recipient of my inner cruelty."

"Ah… yes," Draco smiled. Then he changed the subject, "Have any of you talked to Potter?"

"A bit…" Ron replied. "He didn't say much though. S'pose he's tired…"

Ginny piped up, all smiles now that Harry was back, "I spoke to him! He was talking about the goblet of Hufflepuff. That's what he's after next. He refused to tell me where it was though… You know Harry. He probably doesn't want us to come along."

"Hm…" Draco hummed, giving an upwards nod in acknowledgement.

"Have you talked to him, Malfoy?" Ron said, eyeing Draco suspiciously.

Draco shook his head and told a white lie through his teeth, "Probably not any more than you have. You're the best friends, not me, remember."

Ron laughed, "Right…"

Hermione, who had remained very quiet throughout the entire meal finally spoke, "Well, if I discover where Harry is going, I'm following him there. I'm tired of leaving him to go fight alone…"

Draco lowered his head, staring down into his empty plate. Harry was right; when Hermione found out that he had taken off with Harry, she would be fit to be tied – or more like fit to tie him to a noose and hang him. She wouldn't be angry because Draco was going to risk himself again, though that was a major factor. No, she would irate because of the fact that he hadn't bothered to ask her to come along.

He glanced up at her, met her eyes and smiled, but he could not hold her gaze for long. She was perceptive enough that she could glimpse the lie in them as soon as he let his guard slip. His pupils darted quickly to his plate once again. After a handful of moments, Draco could not contain his internal guilt any longer, and he rose from his seat, muttering an excuse. Eyes down, he slipped out the doors to the entrance hall.

Hermione could not stop worrying about Draco. Every second, he was the only thing on her mind, the only thing that she fretted over. She didn't know why; it wasn't as if he was in any immediate danger. Something that might have attributed to her weariness, however, was Draco's sudden secretiveness and interest in Harry. For one thing, Draco never hid things from her and in spite of her love for Harry and Draco, she knew them both too well to think that they weren't plotting. Though it wasn't something she had considered before, Harry's willfulness coupled with Draco's cleverness was volatile. Whatever trouble they were concocting was mad and dangerous enough that Draco felt compelled to hide it from Hermione. She supposed that is what she was most concerned over.

Draco was hovering outside the Charms classroom when the bell rang. He watched the students file out of the room patiently, as he waited on Hermione. It was a few moments before she appeared, naturally the last pupil out of the class. She glanced up at him as she passed by.

Meeting his gaze, she whispered, "I need to talk to you."

Immediately, Draco knew what it was about; he knew she was too observant to have overlooked it. Despite the fact that Draco had only been to see Harry once, he had to admit that he had been openly distracted since Harry had returned. Because of that, combined with his periodic questions of Harry, it did not surprise him much that Hermione had put two and two together.

She grabbed his hand and led him to a small alcove farther down the corridor. Unlike the previous time they had been together in a nook such as this one, Hermione was not crying. But she was quite angry.

"What are you and Harry up to?" she demanded, fingers digging into his wrist.

He twisted his wrist free and rubbed the red indentions her nails left behind, "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"Yes, Draco," Hermione said through clenched teeth. "You do."

"What makes you think that I'm talking to Potter?" Draco asked, slightly fearful.

Hermione stomped her foot against the stone floor, "That's what I talked to McGonagall about this morning! You've been asking so many questions that I knew there was something going on! She said that Harry told her you two had been talking about leaving!" She paused to catch her breath. "Tell me that you're not leaving, Draco."

"Hermione…" Draco tried to make her understand. "I don't have a choice. Potter won't take anyone else with him. He cares too much about all of you, and besides, if he wants to make it out alive, he's going to need me."

Hermione didn't know what to say, so for a long time, she didn't say anything, just stood there gazing at him. She did look angry anymore; she looked heartbroken. She looked like someone had reached into her soul and wrenched it apart. Tears balanced on her bottom eyelid as more rolled in.

"Draco," she sniffed. "You don't understand. I want you to help Harry, I do, but you're going to have to survive. You have to survive for me, Draco. I'm not telling you to abandon Harry if you feel like you need to go with him. But please, please, please don't die trying. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself for letting you go. Do you understand?"

Draco didn't say a word. He wrapped his arms around her neck and pulled her close to him, twisting her hair in his hands. She was shaking, maybe with fear and maybe with anger. He knew that she was scared for him, scared of losing him, and terrified of being alone. He was afraid of that, too. Every morning when he woke up he was horrified that there would be a Death Eater leaning over his bed with a wand at his throat. Every night when he went to sleep he prayed that he would wake up alive the next morning. Hermione failed to comprehend the sheer terror that Draco experienced day to day, and she could never do so. There wasn't a moment that he didn't live in fear, and there never would be until Voldemort was brought to his death. That is what drove him to help Harry.

"I'll come back, Granger," Draco whispered. "I always do."

Dusk was settling outside, bathing the grounds of Hogwarts in a rusty orange glow. Students were full and happy as they dispersed from the Great Hall, completely oblivious to the dark world rushing about outside their precious protection. Draco envied their ignorance. If only he could be so lucky to go through life as unaware as those around him; life would be infinitely simpler. He stuck his hands deep in the pockets of his robes as he trudged to the Defense Against the Dark Arts Office for detention with Lupin. The thought of what Lupin might make him do to pass the time made Draco shiver with dread. He didn't think Remus would take lightly the fact that - although Draco had stood up for him - he had blown up his entire class on his first day.

He turned a corner and came upon Lupin's office door. Tentatively he turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. Remus Lupin was inside at his desk, looking quite stone-faced as he sifted through the numerous papers piled before him. He glanced up briefly as Draco shut the door softly behind him.

"You can have a seat there," Lupin mumbled, bringing his eyes up from the documents to gesture at the seat across from him.

Draco couldn't decide if Lupin was bored or annoyed, and he was quickly discovering that the professor was nearly impossible to read. Draco did as he requested, however, placing himself in the old, cushioned chair. He folded his hands awkwardly in his lap and looked around the room. It was rather small and a bit crowded with all the odds and ends scattered about. Draco noticed a cabinet of Wolfsbane behind Lupin's desk, but he didn't allow his eyes to linger on it for too long. Lupin was watching him.

"So you know why you're here then…" he said, pulling Draco's eyes to him.

Draco scratched his head, "I s'pose it's because I sent Blaise to the infirmary?"

To Draco's shock, Remus Lupin laughed, "Well, yes. I'd expect that is one of the reasons. You also provided quite a distraction. So much so, in fact, that I could not give a lesson and assigned enough homework to last everyone in the class a month or two."

Draco shifted uneasily in his chair.

"However, that is what the teacher in me has to say about it," Remus added. "Personally, I think that you were quite valiant, standing up to that bloke the way you did. The git right well deserved it." He laughed, and Draco relaxed a bit. Remus continued, "That being said, the real reason I wanted you to be with me this evening was to talk to you about Harry."

"Yes, he seems to be a prevalent topic today…" Draco sighed.

Remus smiled, "McGonagall told that me you are going with him to Gringott's."

Nodding, Draco replied, "That's right."

"Ah, good. In that case, I've decided to give you this…"

Remus reached under his desk and removed an instrument that Draco had never seen before. It was small and rectangular, and on the front, it had a screen with a thin red dial. Lupin placed it on the desk in front of Draco.

"What exactly is this, Professor?" Draco wondered aloud.

"It's a Disenchantment Device," Remus explained, as if it was something people saw every day. "Let's say that you happen upon the horcrux, or something you think might be the horcrux. My guess is that you aunt was smart and put a protective spell on it. What she doesn't know is you can simply take this instrument out of your pocket and it will reveal any enchanted objects in the room. The higher the dial, the closer you are to the spell."

"Wow…" Draco said, taking the device and turning it over in his hand. "I have a feeling we might need this. You're right. Bellatrix wouldn't have left a horcrux unprotected. Thanks, Professor."

Remus smiled lopsidedly, "You're welcome, Malfoy. Now if that's all, I believe you are free to go. The punishment was rigorous, I am aware, but hopefully you can return to your dormitory without trouble?"

Draco smiled and then hesitated, a question lying heavy on his tongue. It had been stirring in his mind since Harry had returned, and maybe even before then. But before now he hadn't realized how impending it was.

"Professor," he coughed, "the war is nearing, isn't it?"

Remus's eyes went somber. Draco saw them shift emotions in an instant, like the darkness just after the sun has set in the evening, "Draco, m'boy, war is a tricky beast. It's always there, hiding in the undergrowth of human doubt and denial, but people ignore it or are otherwise ignorant of it until it becomes quite apparent that they are going to be required to fight or die. In the end, most of them remain incredulous to the idea of battle, and some pretend still that it does not exist. But the people who believe in it and fight for what they stand for are the people that are remembered when the battle is over. In short, my friend, to say that the war is nearing would be complacency in believing that war is a thing that begins and ends, when in fact, war is happening all the time with no definite start or finish. Brace yourself, m'boy, for the war has already begun."

A sick feeling rolled in the pit of Draco's stomach, a feeling of dread and utter despair. Remus's words echoed in his head while his shoes clicked quickly as he rushed up the steps toward his dormitory. The war has already begun… He straightened his collar nervously. He wasn't sure if he was crazy or overtired, but he felt like he needed to talk to Harry. He felt that they needed to leave. Now. It was a completely mad thought, brought on partially by Remus's burning words. But something else was urging him forward, a deep-set intuition that tugged at his body to act. The Dark Mark on his forearm tingled strangely. Until now, he had almost forgotten about it entirely, but there it was, prickling like static electricity. He didn't have an explanation for any of it. He simply knew. He knew that if they didn't leave immediately, they would both be killed, and even now as Draco hurried to the dormitories, he felt that it might have been too late.

Less than a minute later, he was banging on Harry's door with a tense urgency. Even his own knocking made him nervous; the way his knuckles cracked against the wood was so desperate. Harry answered almost immediately, a concerned expression on his face. At the sight of Draco, he poked his head out of the door and shot a glance up and down the hallway. Then he quickly ushered Draco inside.

"What is it?"

Apparently this was the phrase they used to greet each other now.

"We need to go. We need to go now."

Harry looked puzzled, which didn't surprise Draco much; he was quite puzzled himself.

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know exactly," Draco explained, trying to make Harry understand. "Just trust me, Potter. If we don't leave soon, we'll never make it."

Harry stared at Draco for a moment, and Draco could see him planning their attack. His eyes were serious and deep in thought. But he was trusting Draco's intuition, which took Draco slightly aback. Draco's heart was beating unnaturally fast, for he knew deep in his gut that whatever answer Harry offered would determine whether they lived or died, and every second they wasted was one second more that they would suffer. Draco was wretchedly sure of it.

Finally Harry nodded, "Alright. We'll leave as soon as I can gather my things."