Draco and Theodore stood side-by-side in the main corridor of the fifth floor.

"What are we supposed to do?" Draco asked, glancing over. In Theodore's hands was a small cube; on it was written, 'Portable Swamp: Just add water!' Sure, the instructions were simple enough, but Draco carried some doubts. He checked his watch and trained his ears to detect any noise in the distance. They'd cleared the entire floor of students – just as they'd been instructed. "So we just –"

"Add water," Theodore finished with a shrug. "And then…" he looked around but they were the only two there.

"You're sure about the time?" Draco asked.

"Yes," answered Theodore, taking no effort to hide his exasperation.

"And this is the right corridor?"

"Yes."

"On the right floor."

"Draco…"

A couple of first-years came up the stairs, lost in laughter among themselves. They froze when they spotted the two fifth-year Slytherins guarding the hall. "This floor is closed," Theodore declared, wresting a small squeak from one of the younger students. "Ten points from Hufflepuff," he added with a bit of a sneer. "Now, scoot!"

Looking on the verge of tears, the two first-years fled. As if nothing had happened, Theodore checked the time again. "Theo," Draco said with a look of surprise. "That was a blatant abuse of your authority."

"Really?" Theodore challenged. "You'd rather I let those two waltz through and catch us in the act? Or would you have liked them stranded on the other side of this Portable Swamp we've no idea how large or dangerous is going to be."

"You've no idea the size of the Swamp?" asked Draco with a little concern. "Aren't you a partner or something?"

"General investor in the company," Theodore clarified. "I don't know what goes into the making of the products; I leave all that to the geniuses."

"Never heard a kinder word," Fred Weasley said, suddenly appearing. Draco wondered where he'd come from when he saw George step out after him from behind a suit of armor.

"Indeed, Brother mine," the second Weasley agreed. He clapped an arm around Theodore and shook him in a friendly manner. Both boys were tall, but Theodore was so much thinner, it seemed he might snap in half from George's enthusiasm. Fred checked the time on a pocket-watch he retrieved from inside his robes.

"Only a few minutes now, mates," he said, snapping it shut with a click.

"So," Draco started again. "We just add water."

George nodded once. "Simple, eh? Make it too hard and people won't be interested. A swamp at hand should be an easy sort of thing, not a complicated task that takes twenty-minutes to set-up."

"Because who would want a swamp that takes twenty-minutes to set-up," Theodore commented dryly.

"Exactly," Fred said, winking at the boy.

"So we just add water," Draco said a third time.

Theodore gave him a withering look. "You know, Draco, you've been a bit off ever since that day –"

Draco clapped loudly, cutting Theodore off. "Well, gentlemen, I think it's just about time," he said with an exaggerated glance at his watch. He didn't want to recall that moment just yet; it'd had enough trouble settling the first time around. He snatched the cube from Theodore's hands and placed it on the ground.

"Actually," George corrected, picking it up. He cleared his throat and smiled at his brother; Fred snapped up his wand and nodded with a wide grin in return. Turning back to Draco, George continued: "It goes a bit like this."

Winding back, he launched the cube into the air, and just as it begun its descent, Fred directed his wand and shouted, "Aquamenti."

The water splashed over the cube and in an instant, it inflated into an enormous swamp the width and length of the entire corridor, growing down from its place in the air. "Size of the Swamp directly correlates to the amount of water you apply," Fred explained with a smug smile of satisfaction. "Now, all that's left is for you to turn us in."

The departure of the Weasley Twins came as a surprise to Draco, even though he had been forewarned that they'd planned something big. The great challenge now was trying to keep actual peace with numerous students vying to take their place as Chief Mischief Maker. Thankfully, O.W.L.s were literally around the corner, and Draco gladly left an older Slytherin in charge of the Inquisitorial Squad while he turned his focus to his exams.

What he ended up focusing on, however, was Harry's "love" comment. While the dark-haired boy had immediately clarified that he loved Hermione "like a sister", it didn't recant the implication that Draco loved Hermione. But did he? He was barely sixteen! How was he supposed to know? Yeah, he loved being with her, and he loved when she smiled and the way her hair smelled; he adored her brilliance and tenacity, and the way she rolled those beautiful brown-eyes when she was exasperated. But that didn't mean he was in love with her… Did it?

With his mind in a fog, he was surprised to have survived the first week of exams – especially since, at the end of his practical exam for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry's examiner had asked him to produce a Patronus, which he did, and rather spectacularly. The shimmering stag, cantering down the Great Hall past all the other students and examiners metaphorically gutted Draco; Harry could do it, so why couldn't he?

As if he didn't have enough things plaguing his mind, in the middle of the second week of exams, in the middle of the Astronomy exam, which was held in the middle of the night, Hagrid was quite literally chased off grounds by Professor Umbridge and a small band of supporters in a small battle where Hagrid took out nearly all his attackers before sprinting off into the night. Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall got caught up in the ordeal when she ran out to defend the Groundskeeper, and received no less than four stunners to the chest. The Gryffindors were beside themselves, and after the exam had ended, Draco and the other members of the Inquisitorial Squad present had their hands full keeping them from immediate retaliation. Somehow, he managed to convince them to return to their quarters, and just when he got back to his own room, thinking he could lay his weary head down, he found Imperia perched on his desk, a letter tied to her leg. She fluttered over to him immediately, hooting impatiently for him to receive his note. It was from his father:

'Dear Draco,' it began.

It is imperative that you remain at Hogwarts no matter what situation might entice you to leave. I know that we have not met eye-to-eye on certain matters, and I promise that, when you come home for the summer, we will discuss them – as men. But for now, I need you, as my son, to listen to me – your father. Do not leave Hogwarts.

"Imperia!" Draco shouted as he frantically searched for a spare piece of parchment and his quill. Only after gathering these things did he notice that his owl had already flown away – unusual behaviour considering he hadn't even rewarded her for the delivery. This only furthered Draco's ominous feeling. "Dobby," he then said, more to himself than an actual summon, but moments later, the elf appeared.

"Time for tea?" Dobby asked cheerfully, looking at Draco with his large, spherical eyes. He wore a bright purple-knit hat that Draco was sure he'd seen Hermione knit not too long ago. It bobbed up and down on his head as he swayed where he stood, awaiting his order.

"I need you to deliver a letter for me."

"Certainly, Young Master. Dobby loves delivering letters and never, ever reads them first." He pulled on his ears sheepishly, causing his hat to fall off.

Draco began scribbling his note, asking his father for clarification. "I need you to take this to my dad, and I need you to get his reply before returning." When Dobby made a loud gulping noise, Draco looked up from his letter. He remembered Dobby's contractual stipulations. "It's really important," Draco said quickly, hoping to convince the now fearful-looking elf. "It might be really important to Harry as well."

But slowly, Dobby shook his head. "Dobby must refuse," he said in a very quiet voice.

"Dobby!" Draco got to his feet and walked over to the elf. "You have to! Something bad is going to happen and I need to know what! Only you can do this!"

"Dobby must refuse," the elf said once more, this time a little louder.

"DOBBY!" Draco yelled – but then he stopped himself. Dobby stared at him looking both terrified and adamant; there would be no convincing him, and he was not obligated to comply. With a heavy sigh, Draco fell onto his bed and ran his hands over his face. "No, you're right. I'm sorry." When he looked up at the house-elf again, he smiled meekly. "Dobby, I'm sorry."

"Dobby is sorry," the little elf apologized as well. He took small steps toward where Draco sat on his bed. "Young Master said… something bad is to happen? To Harry Potter?"

"I'm not sure," answered Draco, feeling very tired. He stared at the elf for a moment and thought. "Dobby, I might need your help soon – I promise it won't have anything to do with my family but… it could be dangerous."

To his surprise, the elf perked up. "If Dobby can help, Dobby will help."

"Whatever I ask you, Dobby, remember this: Keep Harry and his friends safe, and keep yourself safe. Okay?"

The house-elf nodded before bowing low to the ground, his purple hat falling off once more. He picked it up and placed it on his head again. "Alright," Draco said with a sigh. "Thanks, Dobby."

On his way out, Dobby side-stepped to the desk where Draco's half-written letter to his father still lay and grabbed it. Draco watched curiously as the house-elf shuffled to the fireplace in the room where he dropped the letter into the flames. Then, with one final bow, he disappeared.