A/N: SO SO SO SO sorry for the delay! Junior year is killer. Here's a quick chapter for you all. Thank you for sticking with this story! I promise the next chapter will be much more action-packed! And hopefully on time... Please review to make me smile :)

Chapter 36: The Last Week

In a few days' time Draco found himself back on the scarlet Hogwarts Express in a compartment with Crabbe and Goyle. Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Theodore Nott had passed by their compartment earlier, but thought better of entering. Draco sat with his head pressed against the window, gazing out at the muddy fields. Crabbe and Goyle had their heads together, consulting a tattered copy of the Daily Prophet. Draco reached in his pocket and felt the smooth cover of the notebook.

A few hours into the journey, the train slowed to a stop in the middle of the countryside. Draco didn't even flinch. He watched from the corner of his eye as two hooded Death Eaters walked down the corridor outside of their compartment. One of them smirked at Draco.

Within 20 minutes, the train began moving once more. Draco now turned, his back against the window, his feet up on the seat, facing the compartment door. He felt his eyelids slowly drooping.

An hour later, Draco awoke to Crabbe roughly shaking Draco's shoulders. He got up slowly, feeling quite lethargic, and grabbed his trunk from off of the shelf. He disembarked from the train and climbed into a carriage with Crabbe and Goyle, staring warily at the thestrals.

Once inside the castle, Draco did not follow the rest of the school into the Great Hall. He didn't care about the sorting, and he didn't want to have to endure the looks he knew he would get from the other students. Instead, Draco headed for the kitchens, but Peeves proved to be an obstacle.

"What do we have here?" Peeves cackled. "The school's very own resident Death Eater!"

"Sure," Draco murmured, more preoccupied with the rumbling of his stomach.

"What was that?" Peeves asked, swooping over Draco's head. "Not feeling very murderous today?"

Draco tried to step forward, but was blocked by Peeves's second low swoop.

"Why aren't you at the feast, Drakey?" Peeves said, continuing to fly over Draco's head? "Too...scared?"

Draco clenched his fist, his jaw locking at the same time. Having to hear these accusations from the Death Eaters was bad, but for some reason, hearing them from Peeves was worse. He whipped out his wand and shot a curse at Peeved, who dodged it spectacularly. Draco should have hit him, but that was what happened when you were using your mother's wand.

"You know Peeves," Draco said in a mock-sweet voice. "Even the Bloody Baron's afraid of Death Eaters..."

Peeves was gone in an instant. Temporarily energized, Draco continued to the kitchens. He stopped in front of the painting, tickled the pear, and climbed into the kitchens. The house-elves noticed his presence in an instant and quickly hurried a plate of food toward him, fear clouding their bulbous eyes.

Draco frowned, and hurried up to the seventh floor with his dinner clutched in his hands. He paced in front of the tapestry thrice, muttering, "I need a place to be alone...I need a place to be alone..." but the room would not reveal itself. Draco kicked the wall in frustration and headed down to the dungeons, his toes throbbing.

Providing the password that he had heard a few second-years whispering while he roamed the castle, Draco clambered into the Slytherin common room. He felt a sense of dread as he entered the greenish room, but was relieved to find it empty. He made a beeline for his dormitory, drawing the curtains around his bed as soon as he had shoved his trunk under the bed and sat down.

He pulled the little black notebook out of his bag, fumbling with the quill and ink he had extracted from his trunk. He opened to the next blank page, disappointed to see no response from Hermione. He opened the inkpot and dipped his quill into the black liquid. The tip of his quill hovered over the page for a bit before Draco began writing.

Hermione,

Where are you? Are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay?

Draco didn't know what else to write. He waited for the ink on the page to dry before closing the notebook and shoving it under his mattress. He threw his quill and ink into his trunk, pulled on his pajamas, and climbed into bed. He pulled the covers over his head and pressed his face into his pillow, inhaling the scent of freshly laundered sheets. He heard the other boys enter the dorm a while later, and didn't fall asleep until Goyle's snoring was the only noise in the room.

A few days later, Draco entered the Great Hall at breakfast to find the room buzzing with conversation. Nearly everyone had a copy of the Daily Prophet out in their table. The headline read:

HARRY POTTER AND ACCOMPLICES BREAK INTO HIGH SECURITY GRINGOTTS VAULT

Yesterday afternoon, Harry Potter and two accomplices broke into and stole from the vault of Bellatrix Lestrange. They allegedly took several valuable items. In addition, they stole the dragon that guards the high security vaults. Potter's accomplices are suspected to be his fellow classmates, one of which who has been identified as Muggle-born Hermione Granger...

Draco felt his heartbeat quicken in his chest. They were bound to get caught now. He slunk off to the Slytherin table and ate his breakfast, sitting sandwiched between Crabbe and Goyle.

After breakfast, Draco had Potions. He headed down to the dungeons alone, his bag slung over his shoulder. On his way there, he found his path blocked by none other than Snape.

"Hello, Draco," Snape greeted him in his eerily soft voice. "Might I have a word?"

"Like I've got a choice," Draco responded with a huff. He followed Snape to the headmaster's office. They climbed up the spiral staircase- the password was Dumbledore- and entered Snape's office.

"Have a seat," Snape said, gesturing to the armchair in front of the desk. Draco sat, dropping his bag on the floor beside him. His ink bottle was smashed in the process and spilled onto the carpet. Snape flinched, but Draco made no move to clean up the mess. Snape sat down behind his desk with a sweep of his cloak and folded his arms in front of him, a single strand of greasy hair hanging in front of his face.

"Draco," Snape began. "How are you?"

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and did not respond. Snape frowned but continued.

"I am sure you saw today's Prophet," Snape said. "And I am sure you are aware of what will happen next?"

Draco shrugged.

"Very, well, Draco," Snape said sharply, "If you want to act like a child, I will spell it out for you. There will be an attack. Soon, I presume. Now, your mother has asked me to inform you that you may return to Malfoy Manor if you wish so you will not be at Hogwarts when the fighting begins."

"Why should I leave?" Draco drawled

"I think that it is apparent, Draco, that you are unable to act logically when in life-or-death situations," Snape responded coldly. "So, for your protection, we have decided to allow you to leave Hogwarts before any battle starts."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, 'cause the Dark Lord'll definitely let me miss the chance to be killed by some Order member, right?"

Snape's face remained passive. "The Dark Lord only needs one Malfoy to suffer. Your father is willing to fight at Hogwarts if need be-"

"Then I'll stay." Draco interrupted.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Saving your father, are you?" He asked rudely.

"Yeah, right," Draco rolled his eyes. "I don't need to save him. And he doesn't need to save me, either. Now can I go to class?"

Snape scowled. "Very well."

Draco picked up his bag, only after kicking the remains of the ink bottle onto the floor, and headed for the dungeons. He had a rather uneventful Potions lesson, but found himself with a long essay to write.

Maybe the attack'll happen before next Tuesday, Draco thought to himself. That way I'll be dead, or Hogwarts will be destroyed, before I have to turn in this bloody essay.