For one week every two months Voldemort left his sanctuary and travelled to the capitals of all the countries that he occupied. He was a ruler from far, but he made it his priority to make sure everyone knew and well understood that he was still near and very much in control. Draco was thankful for this week because that meant he could travel freely through his old home. "Freely" meaning still wandering through the shadows and dodging the few Deatheaters (his aunt and uncle specifically) who were put in charge while their evil overlord was gone.

Despite how much time his dear Auntie Bella and Uncle Rodolphus spent in Malfoy Manor –not to mention the other Deatheaters who were allowed to stay for extended periods of time –no one knew the ins and outs of his once-beautiful home like he or his parents. The only risk Draco took in coming was if he was seen or heard Flooing in. His lie was always the same, however, if it came to that: "Just giving the Dark Lord's pet a tune-up."

And, in fact, that is what he was there to do. Draco had been fortunate to Floo in without being caught, and the moment he had he ducked into a passageway next to the fireplace that would take him straight to the dungeons. Most secret passages the Dark Lord knew. He had to be told unless Draco and his parents wanted to be tortured for withholding valuable information from him. They had, however, opted not to tell him about the passages that he couldn't get into anyway. They were the ones that required the blood of a Malfoy, and those, the family had decided, were worth dying for.

And so after a trickle of blood Draco was walking down a long, winding staircase and soon across a level floor to the dungeons. There was only one other prisoner there and he Stunned her as well as wiped him from her memory. He didn't bother locking the dungeon door. Ron Weasley was Voldemort's pet. Very recently so was the girl. They weren't to be touched by anyone and so Draco knew that he would be safe.

Ron was asleep in his cell. As Draco grew closer he felt the array of emotions that he always did when he saw him without the Deatheater crowd. For one thing, he felt guilty. It was his fault that his once most-hated redhead was here in the first place. His guilt was magnified times ten now that he knew Hermione was alive. He hoped that Georgie had kept his promise and zipped his lip about Ron because if she ever found out what he'd done before the right time… Actually, no. She'd hate him no matter what. Her mental state had deteriorated –was deteriorating –because she thought he was dead. Draco had done that. And all at once the other emotions he usually felt, pride that he'd saved Ron's life, hope that he could still get him out of the Manor alive, happiness at the prospect of having him fight on the side of Light again and take down the sick bastard he worked for… All of that faded. Because even though he'd done something "good," and although he hadn't given up on his plans, the fact remained that Hermione Granger was, indeed, crazy.

Nothing could ever make that right.

With a deep sigh filled with regret Draco opened Ron's cell. He conjured a seat for himself and once he was he was comfortable, he leaned over and woke Ron with a gentle shake.

"W-what?" He questioned as he stirred.

"Wake up."

Ron's eyes were wide and alert then and he sat up. "What is it? Is there someone to torture?"

Draco cringed at how eager he sounded. Instead the blond shook his head and took out his wand. "Just keep still."

Ron nodded and obeyed. Draco raised his wand and pointed it at his head, muttering the counter-curse. As his lips moved he could see the effects taking place. Coming out of the Imperius Curse had disorienting effects. Unless ordered otherwise, most people wouldn't remember a single thing that had happened while under someone else's will. Draco, to save the redhead peace, had made sure that he wouldn't remember all the terrible things that he had done. But it was more than about memory loss now. It had been two years. Two years since being put under. Granted Draco took the curse off of him whenever he could in order to give Ron's mind some rest, but it still didn't change the fact that he was under the Imperius Curse more often than he was out of it. The brain damage as a side effect could be...extensive.

Another thing Granger would never forgive me for.

At that thought Draco could only chuckle. When did he even begin to care what she thought of him? But soon he remembered. It was just the other day when he had practically begged her not to think of him as evil if they saw each other again. Yes, he'd certainly cared then.

With the curse lifted Ron sat perfectly still and he stared robotically. The gazing thing was a rather new phenomenon to occur this year. Before he would just be confused. But now? Now he just seemed lost. That's why Draco had begun bringing some of the redhead's personal effects to help him.

"Ron," Draco said, the man's name losing its bitter taste in his mouth after how many times he'd said it. He waved his hand in front of Ron's face and snapped his fingers twice. "Ron. Do you recognize me? Do you know who I am?"

Ron continued to stare. He had blinked once at the blond's second question, but other than that his steady gaze lingered. Draco frowned and pulled out a coin from the inside of his pocket. It looked like just any other coin, like his to apparate with as a matter of fact, but Draco knew better. He never could forget how panicked the redhead had looked when he took it off of him. There had been a second one with him as well, and along with the one he twirled between his fingers, he kept them separate from the rest of the man's things. There was something about those coins that Draco had yet to crack, and although there were no devious intentions behind it, he still wanted to know what.

"Do you remember this?" Draco questioned. He held it out for Ron to take and he did after countless seconds, perhaps a minute or two. Ron held it with his fingertips and examined it as though he'd never seen it before. He eventually dropped it and let his eyes settle on nothing.

"What about this?" Draco continued as he pulled out a wand. He was supposed to have destroyed it, but instead he had kept it and was now forcing it into Ron's hand. It was at this point, much like the previous time he'd tried, that Ron became just a bit more autonomous. With the wand in his hand he held it up to his eyes. He even smiled some.

"Mine?" He asked. Draco nodded.

"Yes, it's yours."

It was also about this time when Draco grew wary. With recognition that the wand belonged to him, there was also recognition that he could use the strongest spell he could muster to flee. Or at least that was one possibility. There were still two others, one being that Ron may not know or understand that he was a prisoner. The other, and perhaps the most frightening, was that although he knew that he was being held captive, he didn't want to hurt Draco. His master.

The thought unnerved Draco terribly and soon he found himself slipping the wand away from him. He replaced it with a photograph, and it was that that usually got the ball rolling and rolling hard.

It was a picture of Ron and his friends taken by the Hogwarts Express at, what Draco assumed, was the end of their first year. Ron held the photo with both hands and his eyes flickered between the faces that stared back at him. He raised a finger and touched it and Draco automatically knew who was making him smile before the redhead uttered her name.

Draco had heard floating rumors that he and the brunette he'd helped escape had been a couple. Had there not been a war, he could imagine them married and living quite modestly in a poorly constructed home with the first of several freckle-faced, brownish-reddish haired children running around. But that wasn't the reality they lived in, and he regrettably felt an internal dread that Ron didn't exactly know that. There was also another dread that Draco was feeling and it irked him. He couldn't help but wonder, despite how much he really didn't want to, if Hermione still felt anything for the man before him. Rumors weren't born out of nothing, and so a horrible thought burrowed inside of him that what if, what if, their moment back in his bedroom –her obvious enjoyment, the way she threaded her hands in his hair, the fervent passion with which she kissed him back –was nothing more than a reflection of what she felt for Ron?

Draco huffed. It shouldn't bother him, especially because he was guilty of the same thing –sort of. With a sigh he shook his thoughts off and focused his attention back on Ron. Pity filled him instantly when he noticed a lone tear falling from his eye and travelling down his cheek. Although he may not know the exact circumstances of his predicament, he did, it seemed, know that his best friend was dead.

Hermione felt as foreign as she looked. To walk around and look at life through the eyes of a Snatcher was the most uncomfortable thing she had ever done in her life. The way people recoiled from her made her feel like someone vile, someone you wouldn't want to be caught alone with late at night or, well, at any time of day. They were afraid of her. By rights people should be –of the person she was impersonating at the very least. Snatchers were thieves. Snatchers were rapists. Snatchers were the scum of the earth because they literally had been before given the title. Hermione had always feared running into and getting caught by a Snatcher –not because they would eventually turn you over to Deatheaters, but because of what they would do to you before they did. "Deatheaters get to have all the fun," one once told her after he'd backed her onto the wall of an alley and before she kneed him in the groin and proceeded to kill him. Snatchers liked to have "fun" too, and it was a cruel day if they got their hands on you.

Hermione and Angelina made it to the edge of town without being stopped by anyone. That was the point of these disguises anyway. When they got to Gavin's shoppe, Angelina did the secret knock they had all rehearsed. A second later the door opened and the two of them went inside. They couldn't make it much further than one foot pass the threshold because a barrier had been put up before them.

"Code word," he demanded.

Hermione cleared her throat and said, "Veil 1981,"

It hurt her to say that. So she had learned, the Order's code word changed once every three weeks. It was always a combination of a word and a year, both symbolizing a catalyst, no matter how big or small, to the events that overtook them now. These two in particular were for the night Sirius was killed as well as the year Harry's parents were murdered. Although it hurt, it also reminded her why they fought.

Satisfied, Gavin nodded and took own the barrier. "Granger, which one are you?"

Hermione raised her borrowed hand. He nodded again and frowned. "I'm sorry that I tried to kill you. Granted, I don't remember doing it, but-"

"It's okay. I'm...sorry I obliviated you."

Angelina gave her a small smile while Hermione fought her scowl. She, Georgie, Andy, and Ginny all made her swear that she'd apologize for erasing his memories. She didn't want to, but did it anyway for the sake of her friends and newfound confidants.

"Let's get going." Gavin said as he hefted a small chest in his hands. "I don't know how much longer that Polyjuice Potion is going to last and you need to get past the checkpoint."

Hermione kept in her gulp. The checkpoint. It hadn't been in place when she and Ron… When she had gotten into Edinburgh, nor through each particular district to Newington, but Voldemort was still very keen on finding Angelina. With that said, Draco had told her that it had been put in place the very night Theo his team had failed to find her. The checkpoint was just outside of the section of Edinburgh they were in and it was guaranteed to have Dementors the closer they went to it, not to mention Snatchers.

The pretense for the night was simple. Gavin had made it a routine to meet someone named Jacob Darby to trade for items to sell in his shoppe every Thursday night. Darby was a half-blood like himself, but he wasn't an ally. Not by a longshot. He was a loyal supporter of Voldemort and everything he did which made him the world's best snitch. But the only reason this was the escape route that they had come up with was because Darby's shoppe was in Blackford, just outside of Newington. It was past the checkpoint and then Hermione and Angelina would be on their own with, hopefully, no one tailing them and still in their Snatcher form until they could hide properly.

And so down the street they went. Hermione and Angelina posed as Gavin's escorts and gave anyone who looked at them their best "Don't look at me or I'll curse you" look. So far, everything seemed to be going well. They had been walking for a solid fifteen minutes without so much as a hiccup and their disguises remaining intact. That is until they grew closer to the checkpoint.

The checkpoint itself was nothing special. In fact, you wouldn't know it to be one were it not for the three Snatchers who were standing at the corner. Beyond them, a decent distance away, were a few Dementors hovering in the sky. A Patronus was keeping them up in the air, probably ready to be let down at the first sign of trouble.

Hermione took a deep breath.

"He a prisoner?" One of the Snatchers asked, soon after letting go a disgusting wad a spit off to the side. Hermione had to fight from grimacing.

"Does he look like a prisoner?" Angelina answered in a deep, gruff male voice. "He's a shoppe keeper and we're escorting him to Darby's shoppe not more than a block away from you."

One of the other Deatheaters chuckled. "'E's a lil' too old ter be needin' an escort. Don't yer think?"

"I wouldn't need one if it weren't for these crazy checkpoints." Gavin said as he eyed the Dementors in the background. Hermione wondered to herself if he really was as nervous as he seemed to be or was merely a good actor. "What are all these for anyway?"

"None of your business," the spit-shooter snapped at him. He then turned his eyes to Angelina. "We don't babysit. We're on the clock, as you two should be. The Dark Lord wanted all hands on this."

"And we'll get right back on that as soon as we get him over." Hermione said. "So, move aside and we'll be back before you can say firewhiskey."

She smiled in what she hoped was a cocky fashion and urged Gavin forward. They all moved, but the three Snatchers crowded the intersection, blocking their paths. Hermione swallowed and thought about the borrowed wand up her sleeve and her own wand on the inside of her cloak.

"We'll let him go." The third Snatcher who'd yet to speak said. "For a little payment, of course."

Angelina eyed Hermione and instantly she knew what she was thinking because Hermione had begun tallying their options as well. They were three on three and if they were quick about it all of the Snatchers could be down in seconds. The only problem was the horde of Dementors just before them. It had to be the Patronus of one of the Snatchers, and once he was unconscious, the Patronus would break and a new form of hell would be on them in a millisecond.

Gavin held the chest in his hands protectively. "I need these for my trade."

"You'll do as you're told your-"

"Archie, yer hair? Whas tha' matter with it?"

Hermione looked over at Angelina and saw that her male, short hair wasn't very short anymore. She then locked eyes with Gavin who instantly knew what to do. The chest in his hands dropped to the ground while he, Hermione, and Angelina covered their eyes. A blinding white light erupted from the case the moment it hit and ear-shattering screams were heard. That was to be expected, considering that their eyes must've been on fire. The sudden dip in temperature was also something they knew would happen. What they didn't expect was the sound of an alarm to accompany the Snatcher's screams as well as the sound of apparation all around them.

Gavin had his wand out and was already Obliviating one of the Snatchers. Hermione and Angelina were doing the same. By the time they were finished Gavin was gone as per their arrangement if things got rough and the two of them were darting headfirst into the swarm of oncoming Dementors with Snatchers and Deatheaters alike chasing after them.

Draco hadn't been down these halls in years and it was still so eerie how fresh it all felt. The chaos. The fires. The screams. The death. Merlin, the death. Bodies littered the ground everywhere. Although he had been killing and had seen murders happen over the course three years, still there was no scene worse than the Battle of Hogwarts. Blood dirtied the previously pristine floors. Every once in a while he saw a spare limb somewhere and it made him want to gag. He continued walking, looking for what he shouldn't be seeing and found it.

Fiona.

She was crying over someone, a boy her own age, and by the looks of his eyes he had just been struck dead quite suddenly.

"Stop those bloody tears, you foolish girl." A woman who very much resembled Fiona snapped at her. Her wand was in her hand and it was obvious that she had been the one to do the boy in. "We're in a war and we have duties to perform."

Fiona wrenched her eyes away from her dead boyfriend and stared coldly at her mother. "Duties? Duties? Do you think I care?I've wanted none of this. None of it! And you…" Fiona choked on a sob and turned her gaze back to the boy whose head was resting on her lap. "You've punished me for it."

Fiona's mother scowled. "I've yet to punish you. Haven't you heard? Potter is dead."

Fiona's eyes widened as she quickly brought her attention back to her mother. "He's what?"

"Dead. Gone. Deceased."

More crying came then, but now not for her boyfriend. "Then the war is over." Fiona swallowed. "Voldemort has won."

"He's won the war, yes, but the battle is far from over." Her mother said as she drew closer. "The resistance will still fight us, and you have a choice to make."

Fiona scoffed. "What choice?"

"You can leave now and be labeled as a blood-traitor, fighting against me, your own mother, until you and the rest of them are dead, or be branded with the Dark Mark tonight. Be branded-"

Fiona flinched.

"-and I'll forget your betrayal. You can redeem yourself to me by joining the ranks. Obviously the latter option is the better one, but the decision is yours."

Draco could see Fiona's conflicting emotions, but before he could see anything else he was roughly pushed out of her mind. When his eyes refocused he saw Fiona on her hands and knees beside his bed. He'd told her to stand there knowing full-well that she might collapse during these sessions. Somehow she had still managed to miss the bed anyway.

"I was in your mind for far too long, Carrow." Draco said as he approached her. She didn't say anything. She merely sat on her knees, her hands busily wiping at her face at the tears that were steadily falling. "Were I the Dark Lord and it was any other memory I was seeing, you'd be dead. Did you hear me? Ca-"

"I heard you." Fiona replied in a soft voice. Draco frowned. With the combination of a groan and a sigh, he got down on his knees as well and faced her. "Why did you have to look for that one?"

"I didn't look for anything. I could have if I wanted, but I didn't. I just wanted to see what memories were at the forefront of your mind."

Fiona scoffed much like she had in her memory and wiped at her eyes again. "What are you going to see next? My mother slapping me because I didn't want to torture a First-Year? Actually torturing said First-Year after I just couldn't stop battling my mother anymore?"

"No," Draco shook his head. "Next time I'm actually going to dig. Next time I need you to really try to block me out as though I was the Dark Lord trying to out you as a traitor. Hopefully you're better at keeping those memories away from me than the ones that hurt. Get up. We're going at it again."

It was obvious that Fiona didn't want to, but she put on a brave face and nodded. Draco was up on his feet and he reached out a hand to her. She took a deep breath and allowed him to pull her up. Just then the bedroom door was rudely opened and Theo burst in as though there was a fire.

"Draco! We've got action! The alarm-!" Theo paused. He blinked twice before letting an amused smirk grace his features. He even had the audacity to fold his arms over his chest and lean against the doorway. "My, my… It looks like we've got action in here, too."

Draco's teeth clenched. "What do you want, Nott?"

"We've got to go." He answered, having wiped all the fun out of his tone. "The alarm's been tripped."

Draco kept his panic in check and made sure to step in front of Fiona in case she couldn't control hers. Theo had told him what he had done in his efforts to find Angelina. An alarm had been put in place to go off the moment any offensive magic at Newington's borders had been fired. Apparently some had, and both Draco and Fiona knew who had been the cause. They wasted no time in following Theo out of the room with their wands in hand.

"How bad do you think it is?" Fiona asked in a tone so low that only Draco could hear. He didn't reply. He didn't reply because his answer wasn't going to be something that he "thought" but rather something that he "knew." And what he knew was that Newington's borders were a warzone right about now.

"Expecto Patronum!" Hermione shouted. A silvery shield erupted out of the end of her wand and she nearly staggered back at the force the Dementors came at her with. At her back she could hear Angelina firing spells left and right at the onslaught of Snatchers and Deatheaters who kept appearing.

Her Patronus was weakening. It was already at half strength without it being in its corporeal form. They couldn't stay there; they had to leave. Hermione could feel her body shape changing and her borrowed clothes hanging on her uncomfortably. She could only imagine what Angelina was looking like considering she had gulped down her potion at least two minutes before she had.

"Let the shield go!" Angelina yelled in her own voice and that's what Hermione did –what she was going to do whether Angelina had told her to do so or not. Her arm slackened and the Patronus Charm disappeared, unleashing the Dementors on the crowd and not discerning between the Light and the Dark. Hermione felt a scaly hand grab the front of her robes, but a Patronus chased it away and a new hand grabbed her upper arm and pulled her across the border of Newington into Blackford.

She ran behind Angelina all the while awkwardly tugging on her clothes as they shifted and tried to fall clean off of her body. Her fellow Order member was having the same difficulty as they ran down Blackford Avenue. They ducked into an alley to catch their breath which turned out to be the best decision of their lives as spells narrowly missed them.

"Quick! Change your hair! Add freckles! Something! They can't know it's you!"

Hermione nodded and pointed her wand at herself as Angelina expertly shot spells around the wall and at their enemies running towards them. She wasn't sure how blonde she had made her hair. She didn't know if she had done her freckles right. Hell, she probably had given herself dimples and horrible acne in the current state she was in.

A huge blast came out of nowhere and Angelina was knocked back onto the corner of the alley wall. If Hermione didn't know any better she could've sworn she heard a vicious crack. What was worse was that Angelina's eyes were closed.

"Angelina!" Hermione shouted. She pulled the woman by the legs and dragged her further into the alley. Once she was safe, Hermione stepped out with a Shield Charm in front of her and put her wand to work.

When Draco, Fiona, Theo, and the other three Deatheaters who had been in Edinburgh castle apparated to the outskirts of Newington they had seen a dark-skinned woman pulling along another woman and heading straight past the checkpoint. That, however, had been Draco's second concern as his eyes widened at the Dementors that had been let loose to feast on whoever had been unfortunate to be left in their wake.

Draco readied his wand. He cleared his mind. He thought about a funny joke that Giselle had once told him and recalled how that had been the hardest time he had ever laughed in his life. A fox flew out of the end of his wand and the majority of Dementors were shot straight off. Unfortunately that let the mob of Snatchers and Deatheaters to chase after the fleeing witches and Fiona was soon tugging on his arm to get them moving.

Spells, curses, and hexes were being flown from every direction, not to mention Draco's and Fiona's. Fiona, as always, shot wide and missed the targets terribly. She did, however, get a Snatcher or two, and Draco could hear Blaise grumble about how she was a terrible shot. Hermione and Angelina turned down an alley, but soon Angelina was back out and taking down as many witches and wizards as she could. One spell came incredibly close and Draco had to throw up a shield to block it. Although no matter how powerful the shield, it still knocked Draco, and several others with him, back on his arse.

That'll remind me never to piss her off.

One wizard who was pissed off was Goyle, and of all the times to be a good Deatheater he had sure chosen a terrible bloody time. Whatever spell he used was strong enough to throw Angelina back and knock her out. Her name was called. She was pulled out of view. Following that, a young blonde witch had stepped out and began picking up where Angelina had left off.

"The bleeding little half-blood!" Theo growled once he saw the new witch. Draco was confused at first, but soon he understood. Blonde hair. Freckles. Clarissa James was before their eyes yet again and knowing the fuming man beside him, he would be far from forgiving if he ever got his hands on her.

Theo readied his wand.

Draco flicked his wrist once.

Theo tripped over his feet.

Hermione's spell stunned him right where he lay and she ducked back into the alley. Draco ran up with Fiona on his heels. If anyone was going to catch up to her and Angelina, it would be them, no one else. By the time they made it Hermione was at the end of the alley with Angelina semi-awake and half-supporting her own weight. Other Deatheaters and Snatchers were behind them, and so, to keep up appearances, Fiona shot another spell at them that narrowly missed Hermione's cheek. She turned, eyes ablaze, and aimed surprisingly well for someone who was carrying dead weight. Draco knew the spell (or curse rather) that was coming her way before it had properly left Hermione's lips and he grabbed Fiona by the shoulders and dragged her down to the ground. A ball of fire enveloped the small group of people behind him and their screams were hideous. Draco looked up at the no-longer-brunette whose eyes were full of surprise, hurt, and disappointment, but he glanced once at Fiona before letting his eyes meet hers. He gave a subtle shake of his head, pleading with her with his gaze in hopes that she would understand. He didn't know if she did. Hermione abruptly turned and continued heaving the half-conscious witch down the rest of the alley and to her left.

"We're almost there!" Hermione said with heavy breaths. She could see it. The abandoned shoppe that Georgie said would be there. She huffed. She struggled. She ran as best she could when she cried out in pain and fell over. Whatever she'd just been hit with felt like boiling hot water had been poured directly onto her back. She dug her nails into the soil and let her top teeth clamp down onto her bottoms. She then gasped loudly as a hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head up.

"Hit me, Granger." Draco whispered roughly into her ear.

Not a problem.

Hermione elbowed Draco straight in the face and he certainly didn't need to fake the pain. Spells flew overhead, but it wasn't towards her. It was at her enemies, and she couldn't help but smile when she saw Angelina alert, clearly in pain, and joining the fight. Hermione crawled enough until she could get onto her feet. The shoppe was within arm's reach and both women threw themselves in there. There was only one thing of interest to them in that abandoned place, and it was a vanishing cabinet with plenty of room for two people. And so they wrenched the door open and hastily stepped inside. Hermione closed the door just as she saw the angry eyes of Pansy Parkinson. The black-haired witch raised her wand and said, "Bombarda!"

Hermione's eyes widened as the spell collided with the vanishing cabinet. Splintered wood from the spell's blast erupted everywhere and she could feel her body getting demolished by it. However, the damage could've been worse. Angelina had been saying the spell to get them from one cabinet to the other. And so, the two witches travelled through space, both of them tumbling out of another vanishing cabinet and were practically covered in dust, wood, and blood.

There were no more spells. No more yelling. No more chasing. Nothing.

Nothing except one male voice.

"Get them."

Author's note: I hope that was exciting for you! Action scenes always make me nervous to write and I'm afraid how they'll turn out/read. Hope that it lived up to your expectations!

Until the next chapter

-WP