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I'm thinking of starting a blog just for my fanfictions. I put up a poll on my profile so you can let me know if that's something you're interested in reading or not. I would love to be able to communicate better with you all and run ideas and be able to answer any questions you guys have or share 'deleted scenes' and stuff like that from my current stories. It's fun talking to you guys through PMs here but I want more interaction. Sometimes it feels a little boring just dumping chapters off here and not being able to explain more about the stories or just have more feedback from you guys. I can post sneak peeks of future chapters and stuff like that, too!

If this is something you want to make happen please vote in the poll! But I need help with something else. I don't know what site I would start this blog on. I used to be a heavy tumblr user but ever since Yahoo bought it, it's become unbearable and I hate that the disorganization and archives there are so terrible. There are more ads than there ever were and I don't want to support that. I need other options: so far the one I'm leaning towards is LiveJournal. I know there's BlogSpot, too, but I'm sure there's more out there, I just don't know which are the newer blog sites currently, if there are any. Please include any suggestions you have in your reviews or PMs and I will check them out and let you know which one I decide on ASAP.

Thank you all SO MUCH for your patience, and sorry for the delay.

Thirty-Five.

Too wound up from the events of only one hour past, Hermione decided she would sneak into the Gryffindor dorms, because she was sure she would not be able to sleep, and did not feel like sleeping in an empty room anyhow. After Malfoy had left, she stood in the center of her bedroom, fingertips pressed against her lips, still a little dazed from bewilderment and an odd sort of buoyancy that she unsuccessfully tried to ignore.

Her neck was still warm and flushed from his attentions to it; she shuddered to remember the feel of his lips grazing against hers, and sidestepping the memory, fled to collect a change of clothes before she had to go splash herself with some cold water.

She had encountered no problems until she reached the Fat Lady's portrait and found that she was not there. She had waited there for ten minutes, not too annoyed, thankfully, as her mind was too preoccupied with something else. When she heard the clink of a bottle and the sound of a very heavyset person lowering themself into a chair, she stood, and whispered the password.

There was a short scream.

The Fat Lady staggered backwards and sank into her chair, her hand pressed over her heart.

"Who goes there?" the Fat Lady cried, her eyes wide and darting around.

Hermione revealed herself, smiling apologetically.

"Sorry," she said. "It's only me."

"And what," she said, still trying to catch her breath, "are you doing, still up so late? Were you planning on scaring me half to death?"

"Of course not," Hermione replied. "I had trouble sleeping—I thought maybe I could sleep here instead."

"Of course, of course," the Fat Lady said, sighing. "Get inside, child, and sleep. It doesn't do to have a proper young lady out here in the dark, you know. The things some of you students get up to at this time of night…" she shook her head as she poured herself another glass of wine.

Hermione had to suppress a smile at that. The portrait swung open to reveal the common room, halfway to pitch black except for the dying fire in the hearth, which sprang back to life at once, like a slumping soldier correcting their posture at the approach of a general.

"Goodnight, my dear," she heard the Fat Lady say as the portrait began to close over the entrance.

"Goodnight," she whispered as she climbed inside.

Upon entering she realized just how tired she was, and her eye fell upon the invitingly squashy armchairs and sofas around the fire, the plumped pillows littered about the space.

She took one step toward them, and then changed her mind. What would everyone think, when they came downstairs in the morning to find her there instead of in her dorm? It was a silly, paranoid thought, but she was afraid that they would immediately know what she had done, that they would sense her having done the unthinkable.

Resisting the urge to sneak into the boys' dormitory to give Harry and Ron a good fright, she crept up the steps to the girl's dormitory silently, up the narrow and winding staircase, past the small landings that led to the doors that guarded the bedrooms of the older girls. When she was almost to the top, she reached the dorm she had once shared with Ginny and Parvati Patil. Both their curtains were drawn around their beds. Hermione was glad they were asleep. Ginny had the habit of staying up very late, either to read or write, among other things. Hermione knew that if Ginny had been awake on this particular occasion, she would have demanded to know why Hermione was still up and why she had come so late without letting her know.

Granted, she would still face those questions in the morning, but at least she would have time to prepare.

Hermione sat on the side of her bed and carefully took off her shoes, setting them down in a way that would make no noise. She drew the curtains around her bed, changed into her pyjamas and gathered her hair into a braid, hard as that was through her curls, her teeth and skin care routine had already been taken care of before she had left her own dorm. With nothing left to do, she sat in the center of her bed with her hands fiddling at the worn ends of her bottoms, almost wishing Ginny had sensed her arrival after all.

Wake up, she thought, glancing in Ginny's direction. I've just kissed Malfoy and I don't know what to do next.

If only she could tell anyone. Not that she wanted to, as she preferred to keep personal matter to herself, but it would be nice to have someone know and understand the situation enough that she could get another perspective into it, and some advice would most certainly would not be frowned upon.

She laughed quietly to herself and leaned backwards until her head met her pillow. How upside down everything had become. She adjusted into her favorite sleeping position, and fell asleep almost instantly.

"Another biscuit?"

Minerva began to shake her head, but paused, and reached out anyway to the tray on Albus's desk, grabbing the closest biscuit and bringing it down to her lap, where instead of eating it, her hands worried it between her thumbs, the crumbs falling into her lap.

Albus sat reclined in his chair, his long beard falling over his front like a white waterfall, his withered hand lying motionless on the desk, the other writing on a piece of parchment.

By now everyone in the castle had gone to bed except for them, and a certain Slytherin. Albus had asked Minerva to visit him after dinner, and she had arrived, punctual as always, already in her bedclothes covered by her oldest set of robes, a heavy shawl about her shoulders. Her hair, always pulled back into an austere bun, was let down and braided into one thick coil that trailed down her back.

It was not unusual for the two to meet in such informal conditions. It was a sort of ritual they had adopted and held for many years, to meet after the school day was done and confer, or sit in silence and allow the pressures from all around fall from their shoulders for an hour or two.

This time, however, was different.

A strange sense of foreboding had penetrated the office before Minerva had even arrived. Albus was warm as always, but quiet, and odder still, restless.

Minerva let out a sigh and tapped her wand onto her lap to vanish the crumbs from her unfinished biscuit.

"You're brooding again, Albus," she said in a warning tone.

He had finished writing his note by then, and sealed it with wax.

"I'm afraid there isn't much time left."

"Regarding Draco Malfoy?" she asked, and Albus nodded.

"How are you certain?"

"The term will end soon. They are likely pressuring him to act as soon as possible. I would not be surprised if he acts before the end of the week."

Minerva shifted in her chair. "We still have no clue if he will manage to do it."

Albus took off his spectacles and rubbed at his eyes, sighing. "He must, or they will kill him and his family. They will not accept anything less. I have asked Severus to do it if Draco cannot, but that, too, will put him in great peril."

"Is that so bad?" she asked plainly. "Considering the alternative?"

"I am already dying, Minerva," he said quietly, and her features shifted to an expression of helplessness and frustration. "It may not look it, but I am in great pain."

"Then look for better Healers," she said quickly, angrily. "I will help you."

"I have already tried," he said. "Severus is the only one who has managed to do anything. He has helped me steal an extra handful of months to live. Were it not for him, I would have died last year." He raised his withered hand, inspecting it from multiple angles. "He managed to contain the curse to this arm, but the curse is relentless, and is spreading to the rest of my body. I will not let it devour me."

"Amputation would not have stopped it completely?" she asked, also staring at his arm.

"Alas, not all of the curse was contained into this arm. "Severus did what he could, but by then the curse had hidden itself away and attached itself somewhere else. It is only a matter of time before it reaches my heart or lungs, whichever it decides to attack first."

"What if Malfoy cannot do it?" she asked. "What happens then?"

"Then we must find another solution, and quickly."

Minerva shook her head, looking towards the wall. Albus looked at her, a sad smile on his lips.

"I have lived long enough," he said softly. "I would rather end my life soon than have his cut too early. I will not see another student of mine lost to those forces."

Minerva said nothing for a moment, but finally relented to her most pressing thoughts.

"You understand my selfishness," she began, "in trying to find a way around this. I don't want to lose you."

Albus's eyes shined behind his spectacles. "I do. I'm quite flattered, actually."

"Don't you go giving yourself airs," she said, smiling a little, though her eyes were wet, too.

"I don't think I have ever had as good a friend as you, Minerva," he said. "Most people tire of me rather quickly. I don't blame them."

"It's their loss," she said. "Though sometimes you do get a little too cryptic. It wears a little thin, at times, but I know you do it for a reason."

Albus chuckled. "Do you remember your first year here as a Professor? I was convinced you hated me."

Minerva laughed at the memory. Despite her usually stern expression, she had a warm, lovely laugh.

"You were—and still are—the strangest wizard I've ever met. I thought you were making fun of me every time you spoke to me. I felt you were too young for the position."

"Oh, I could never make fun of you," he said. "I'm glad we got to know each other very well throughout our years here. I'm afraid Severus would never humor me for tea and biscuits at this time of night."

Minerva suppressed a smile at that. "I am glad, too. It has been an honor to work alongside you. I would not trade these years for anything."

"I'm relieved to hear that," Albus said. "I seem to remember you threatening me with your resignation once or twice."

"Well I never said it was easy."

"I don't think you would have stayed had it been easy."

"I don't think so either."

"And I don't think I would rather have anyone else take my place when I am gone."

Minerva gave him a long stare. "Don't tease me, Albus."

"I'm afraid we have no time left for jests. I cannot walk calmly into what happens next without knowing that I leave my students and my school in the hands of someone I trust completely and have every faith in."

"I'll do it," she said, and frowned, shaking her head. "I only wish the circumstances were different."

"As do I," he agreed. "But we are rarely given the luxury of choosing how things play out." He paused. "Watch after Harry. The coming times will not be easy for anyone, least of all him. He must complete my mission when I am gone."

"I still think it's too dangerous," she said, "but I promise."

Albus nodded and his eyes closed briefly.

"If I could stretch your kindness a little more," he added, "I need you to promise me you will protect Malfoy as well. He will need every kindness we can give him. We must remember he is not who he used to be, and is acting on love for his family."

Minerva hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second. Her bent brow suggested she had questions she still wanted to ask. "I promise."

Albus picked up a piece of parchment off his desk. "An hour before you arrived I received this letter from Hermione Granger. She wrote to say that Draco Malfoy is completely changed from whom he was last year. She says he has proved himself to be trustworthy and regretful, and ashamed of his past behavior, to the point that he has asked for her forgiveness and that she has given it, but only after she was sure of his character. She also says that he has confirmed he is a Death Eater, and that he is under threat by Voldemort, that he has confessed his wish to leave Voldemort's grasp, but does not know how to ask for help."

Minerva's frown deepened. "Why did he not write it himself?"

"Probably he thought I would not believe it, but she says he does not know about the letter."

Minerva sat back in her chair. "Well. I have seen it all now."

"I confess it relieves some of my worries," Albus said, running a hand through the ends of his beard. "I have been waiting for him to ask for help—I feared he would be too proud to do it. Even if he admitted it only to her, that is enough for me to know we will not be dragging him into something he does not want."

"You mean we will have to take him with us."

"It is the only way to prevent his murder."

"And Lucius and Narcissa?"

"Our main priority is Draco. If we take him, even with him willing, they will believe he is our hostage or prisoner, or maybe even that one of us has killed him. We must rely on that. As long as I am dead it will buy us time and he and his parents will be safe. We may approach Lucius and Narcissa later, at the earliest opportunity."

"Reformed or not, he will be a target amongst our own," she said, raising a brow. "I hardly believe the rest of the Order will be willing to accept him, especially after...that."

"It can't be prevented, but I have prepared for that. I trust in you to make them reconsider hostility, but ultimately it lies on Draco himself to push past old prejudices, if he has not completely conquered them, and prove he is worth our effort. Now that you have heard Hermione Granger's account, I hope you will be able to vouch for him with less trouble."

"Would it not have been simpler to speak to Malfoy himself and tell him you are aware of what he must do?"

"It would, but I want no chance of that secret being discoverable to anyone undesirable. If we fail to take him, and if Voldemort looks into his mind and sees that he has spoken to me, he is as good as dead."

"Promise me, Minerva," he said, a little more urgently after a bleak pause. "Promise me you will not let him fall."

"There's so much I can promise," she said by way of answer. "I cannot be his mother. He has one already, and look what she has put him through."

"Let us not forget that his father had a role in this," Albus said. "And I never imagined to ask you to be a parental figure. I only ask that you not blame him for my death. Please remember that I planned this, and that I would rather have him saved than take up more time than I have been allowed."

"You see Grindelwald when you look at him, don't you?" Minerva asked, only daring to ask the question because she knew, that as her closest friend, Albus had never lied to her.

Albus's bright blue eyes were misty. He didn't look away or even reply, but nodded, the barest inclination of his head.

"I see a boy," he said. "A lost boy whose friends and family failed him. I stood by and let Gellert become a threat. I did not intercede when Tom Riddle was my student and I suspected him. I saw what they became. I knew there was a risk. I did not do enough."

"You could not have prevented everything," Minerva said sternly.

"I will take my chances and prevent anything I may," he said, and stood from his seat.

Minerva stood too, and he approached her.

"I am forever grateful to have known you and have had the honor of working with you," Albus said. "I am indebted to you, in this life, and what may come after."

"Don't talk nonsense," she said. "You owe me nothing."

She stepped closer and they embraced.

She patted his back. There were tears in her eyes.

"I am glad I met you too," she said. "I will watch over them. I promise."

"Thank you." He drew back and they separated. "It gives me great comfort now, in spite of what's coming, to know there is someone here who I trust completely."

Minerva bent her head, her eyes turning uncharacteristically red.

"I will greatly miss your company," he added quietly.

"And I yours."

There being nothing left to say, Minerva nodded one last time and gave her friend the best smile she was currently capable of giving, and then left the room quickly, struggling to stop the heedless tears that had begun to leak from her eyes. Albus was weeping, too, but made no effort to hide it. He sat back in his chair and with his good arm propped the cursed one onto the desk. Fawkes was asleep on his perch, and had been since Minerva had come in. He opened the pocket watch lying beside him on the table and took the time. It was already dawn. The sun would rise soon, and he'd had no sleep whatsoever, but felt no exhaustion yet.

He had a brief urge to go visit Hagrid, but stopped himself. His heart was heavy enough and his arm ached from the chill. Now and then he'd feel sharp stabs of pain along his chest—his breath would catch involuntarily but a moment later it was gone, but still spreading inside him, latching onto its next target. It was uncomfortable to breathe, sometimes, but there was little could be done. Even Severus had admitted defeat to the curse, taking it as a personal fault though he hid it behind impatience.

It would be best to leave as soon as possible. He should try and sleep now, even if he wasn't tired.

He would have to go get Harry after lunch. It wouldn't do for him to miss too many of his classes.

For now, though, he had another letter to write.

The hour was early, the air cold. There was no wind, just an eerie stillness in the night that did nothing to calm him. Above, the stars and moon were hidden by a thick wave of clouds, muddling their light so that the school grounds below were a patchwork of shadows and branches that stuck out above the line of trees.

He had taken off his robes because he was sweating despite the cold. It lay in a rumpled heap beside him on the ground, and his arms were around himself, holding tight to suppress the shaking that had come over him.

The warmth, the feverish memory of Granger—Hermione's kisses were regrettably flung far from his thoughts. In the face of the horror and anticipation of what he had to do, he tried to bring up the memories, the physical sensation of her pressed against him, her hands and lips scorching him from the inside out, the erection he'd hidden as he'd left. The distraction was only fleeting.

You could go back and tell her what happened. Ask her for help.

He wanted to. But she was probably asleep by now, and he didn't know if he could bring himself to tell her what he had to do so soon after they had kissed.

She'll know soon enough, anyway.

And she would hate him again, once she found out the true nature of his task. She would become ashamed and regretful of the kiss, and of having forgiven him, and everything would come back to normal, and it was something he would have to live with.

They had run out of time.

His master had sent an order.

He had to obey.

His thoughts ran wildly for another solution. Every trail led back to her, and desperate, frustrated, he stepped up and onto the ledge, one hand plastered to the column beside him for balance.

A coward's choice, the voice said.

I can't take this anymore.

The wind began to pick up. It blew his hair in disarray.

Suicide was never ideal. He had never thought he would have come to this.

But it's all too much.

He was so high up Hagrid's hut looked like a black little dot; the trees may as well have been scribbles on parchment. His legs shook, his head pounded.

No more sleepless nights. No more blistering headaches. No more guilt over what he had done. Just darkness.

He stepped back off, tears burning at his eyes.

You don't deserve peace, the voice hissed to him. Killer, liar, coward. You're a disgrace to your family.

His family…he couldn't leave them behind. No matter what they had done in the past, no how they had endangered him in the past, he still felt a sense of duty towards them. They had raised him; they had spoiled him and loved him despite their faults. He owed them this, at least.

Disgrace, disgrace, disgrace.

Another, calmer, gentler voice spoke up:

Go to her. Tell her the truth.

He couldn't think of anything else. He would have to run back.

He picked his robes off the ground and hurried back inside.

When he got to her door he remained invisible, just so no one could catch him off guard in case he didn't see them first. He knocked.

There was no answer.

He looked around quickly, then knocked again, a little louder.

No answer.

His heart pounded. He felt he might be ill.

He knocked again, three sharp raps against the door that echoed through the darkness. She would be cross to be woken up at this hour, but this was something that could not wait. He was itching with the desire to kiss her again, to touch her, to explore more than they had only just done, but that was no longer viable with what was coming next. She deserved to know the full story. He should have told her from the start. Now he would pay for it.

When she failed to appear at the door, he gave one last knock, loud enough to echo down the corridor. He didn't care if he was caught. He had to speak to her.

Nothing.

Draco let out an impatient sigh. She was either deeply asleep, or gone. He had heard Ginny Weasley mention once during class that Granger sometimes slept over in the Gryffindor dorms. That must be the case.

He swore under his breath. What now?

"Draco."

He whirled around, heart in his throat, expecting to see her. He was prepared to laugh in relief.

Instead it was Snape, blended into the darkness but for the pallor of his face, the eerie dead glint of his eyes.

"How did you know?"

"You appear to be her most frequent visitor. Reveal yourself."

Draco did so, and faced his Head of House, expecting another reprimand.

"She left an hour ago."

Draco frowned. "How do you know that?"

"I saw her leave, just after you did." Snape did not blink, there was no malice or glee in his voice. If he knew or suspected what they had been doing, he didn't allude to, thankfully.

"I know they sent you a message. What did they tell you?" Snape asked.

Draco's eyes were dry to the point that blinking was uncomfortable. He kept his voice as quiet as he could. "I've got to do it today, or He'll deliver his promise."

"What time will you do it?"

"I don't know."

"How will you do it?"

"I can bring them in through the Vanishing Cabinet. I fixed it."

"What do you need?"

"Nothing," Draco said. "I've got to do it on my own or he'll punish me."

"I took the Vow for your mother," Snape reminded him. "I will assist in any way I can. That means that if you cannot do the deed, I will do it for you."

"No," Draco said. "He said I have to do it. No one else. When He gave me the order, He said I have to prove I'm useful. If you or anyone else does it, He'll murder my parents."

Snape leaned back. "I see." He looked at Draco carefully. "You are ready, then."

Draco shook his head. "I have to be."

A mouse running across the floor caught their attention. Draco almost jumped. Snape watched it carefully, and muttered an identifying spell to make sure they were not being spied on, but the mouse ran on, ignorant to their situation.

"Go," he told Draco. "Sleep, if you can. Whatever you need to tell her, it can wait."

No, it can't.

But there was nothing to be done. There was no way he could hunt her down, much less in the Gryffindor quarters.

Snape was already halfway down the corridor, almost invisible in the dark. Draco cast one last look at Hermione's door, as if at that very moment she would appear there behind it, but it didn't happen, and after another slight hesitation, he left.

A/N:

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