Disclaimer: The people who don't get to live in my story live on Rowling's, and those she doesn't let live in hers live on in mine. At least, most of them - so far... the nature quote Draco spouts in the middle of this chapter is from James Prior (I have to admit I don't really know who he is, but the quote fit perfectly, so yeah ;))

A/N: This chapter is a buildup to the next one, which will be really exciting! But meanwhile this one is full of emotions, memories, tension... hope you guys like it, and let me know! Once again, a huge thank you to all my readers and reviewers; I broke the record again with 800+ hits on the first day the last chapter was published! Keep helping me break records, okay :p

In the meantime, enjoy!

Upon their return to Hogwarts via Professor McGonagall's office fireplace, Draco and Hermione were told to wait a while before the Ministry officials came to discuss Narcissa's funeral with Draco. There was an emotionless expression on Draco's face as he sat down, with Hermione taking the chair next to him, casting worried glances at him every now and then. It had just been minutes ago that Draco had watched his mother fall onto the carpet of his own house, dead. Just when he was on a mission to avenge his father, his mother was taken away from him as well. Hermione knew she would never understand the kind of grief Draco must be going through at the moment. She saw Draco's clenched fists, and wished she could touch them to ease the tension. However, when she saw Professor McGonagall's sharp eyes flicker towards them, she lowered her head and closed her eyes instead, only to be confronted with the image of Bellatrix taking Narcissa hostage, her wild eyes flashing...

"Hogwarts..." Narcissa suddenly trained her gaze on Hermione. "Hogwarts and its houses..."

Draco's eyebrows furrowed together; Hermione raised hers.

"And – and trees! Lots and lots of them!"

"What are you talking about, Cissy?" Bellatrix's grip on her sister seemed to have tightened as Narcissa grew even paler.

"The tree... inside..." Narcissa's eyes widened as she choked.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of various important-looking people, who had to be the Ministry officials. Arthur Weasley was with them, and after a short bout of whispering with Professor McGonagall and the other officials, he came forward to Hermione and Draco.

"Mr Malfoy," Arthur began to say, but Draco was not looking at him, his head bent low. "Mr Malfoy?"

"Draco," whispered Hermione, this time reaching out to touch his hand. Draco flinched; she withdrew her hand, shaking a little.

"Just speak." Draco's voice held no emotion.

"Mr Malfoy, we would like to discuss with you your mother's funeral arrangements, if that's possible..."

Draco held up his hand, his head still bent. "I leave it to all of you. But I wish for it to be delayed."

Arthur looked puzzled. "Delayed till?"

"Till I'm done with what I have to do."

There was a flicker of understanding in Arthur Weasley's eyes. "But..."

"It won't be long." Draco finally raised his head, his features set in a hard line. "Just let me finish him off."

Nobody moved for a while.

Hermione looked at Arthur, and he returned the look. Finally, he took a step back, and motioned for the officials to leave the room. Just before he exited the room with them, his gaze fell on Draco again. But without a word, he turned and left.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"So..." Ron hesitated, as all of them settled into the small armchairs that were neatly arranged around the fireplace. He cast a suspicious glance at Draco, whose face was tilted away from the glowing light of the fire, gazing at the door from which they had come through. Harry had decided that the Room of Requirement was the best place to come to discuss, given the throngs of students that were all around after Dumbledore's funeral had ended. Ron had not been pleased that Draco was allowed to come into the Room, though Hermione had to gently remind him that Draco had entered it before, only for a different purpose and thus in a different setting. "So how were things?"

Hermione shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "Well – we've got a clue for the Horcrux."

Harry nearly jumped out of his seat, and everyone looked at her in anticipation.

"We were given hints... and I've been thinking about it for quite a while, but it doesn't make any sense to me," said Hermione, trying her best not to look at Draco, who was in his own world. "What do the houses of Hogwarts and lots of trees – specifically, the inside of a tree – have to do with anything?"

"Huh?" Corrinne looked confused. "That sounds completely irrelevant to me."

"The houses of Hogwarts?" Ginny mused. "Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin."

"Trees? You mean like rosewood, maple, oak?" Ron raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Hufflepuff Oak?" Luna asked. "Ravenclaw Pine?"

"I have this image of a forest," Hermione sighed. "Lots and lots of trees... what could it possibly mean? And the inside of a tree –"

"The inside of a tree is a hollow," offered Neville.

There was a sudden noise from Harry that sounded like a wild yelp. Even Draco turned to look at him.

"Did you say hollow?" Harry's eyes were glittering with excitement.

Neville nodded, puzzled.

"What's up with a hollow?" Ron demanded.

"When I went to find Dumbledore at the Hog's Head, his brother Aberforth was there," said Harry, in a low voice, cracking slightly when he mentioned the Headmaster's name. "He told Dumbledore that he had to tell me my parents' resting place. But Dumbledore said he didn't have the time to tell me about it, he just said he would bring me there one day."

"And so...?" Corrinne looked at him skeptically.

"My parents' resting place was called..." Harry took a deep breath. "Godric's Hollow."

"Godric!" Hermione was enlightened. "Godric Gryffindor!"

"But that doesn't explain the 'lots and lots of trees' bit..." Neville hesitated.

"Forests grew / Upon the barren hollows..."

This time, everyone's gaze shifted to Draco, who was still staring at the door.

"My mother..." Draco's voice was shaky. "She loved nature. Sometimes... she collected nature quotes from famous wizards and witches and made them into her own song. I could memorise all the lyrics even though –" He gave a bitter laugh. "Even though I'd never admit to singing them."

Then he closed his eyes.

Hermione clammed her lips together to prevent them from shaking.

"Hermione..." Harry's voice was gentle now. "What – happened?"

Hermione hung her head. "Bellatrix... she killed Narcissa Malfoy."

There was a quiet gasp that rang round the room. Even Ron looked disturbed, and shot a guilty, uneasy look at Draco.

"Narcissa managed to drop us some hints just before – you know," Hermione mumbled. "I thought she was incredibly brave."

Draco opened his eyes to look at Hermione, and his lips tugged upwards a little. Hermione managed a smile back.

"So where is this Godric's Hollow?" asked Corrinne, clearly determined not to look at Draco.

"Haven't the faintest idea," muttered Harry, then he looked rather angry. "But thinking that Voldemort made a Horcrux in a place where my parents are buried and where we used to live as a family... that's just sickening!"

"Yeah." Ron shook his head. "That creature is completely abominable!"

"Anybody who could possibly know of that location?" Hermione pressed.

Harry shut his eyes. "Remus Lupin?"

Ron shrugged. "Worth a try, Harry. I don't think any of the other professors are going to be free to entertain our requests for now. I think they might even try to stop us from doing anything stupid now that Lestrange was able to elude all the Aurors!" He quietened down, casting another awkward glance at Draco, who was still not looking in their direction.

"That's true," Ginny chipped in. "They're not letting the students go home because of the 'dangers' surrounding Dumbledore's death. They're not going to let us out of the school. Also," she eyed Hermione and Draco. "Professor McGonagall announced earlier that there's going to be a reduction of classes, and that she and Professor Flitwick will take on Slughorn and Snape's classes..." She trailed off, with a worried expression. "Do you think Snape is really working for Voldemort?"

Up till then, Draco was swarmed with images of his parents, overcrowding any possible ideas that could come in after the discovery of the location of the next Horcrux. When he heard Snape's name, however, a wave of emotion overtook him and he had to close his eyes again. He didn't know whether he should finally reveal Snape's identity. But as of now, he did not know what had happened to his Potions master and mentor. Perhaps it was best not to say anything. His fingers curled up and his nails scratched against the wood of the armchair. He has to be safe...

"Essentially, we know the locations of all the Horcruxes now, it makes things easier," Harry said firmly, only to have Hermione round on him in surprise. Even Draco sat up straight and stared at Harry. "Oh – yes, you still don't know..." And he proceeded to tell them about what Blaise had suggested to be the last Horcrux.

Draco managed a weary smirk. "That's a good one. But at the same time, nobody knows where Nagini is."

"Are you positive, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I think it's our best bet," said Corrinne. "Malfoy, we really can't find it?" She scowled a little, for her tone sounded more gentle than she intended it to be.

Draco didn't look like he wanted to answer that, but finally he just shook his head. "More likely that it will find us first. And I must warn you – a basilisk fang is not enough to penetrate Nagini's skin. Furthermore, it's likely that a twitch of his head will send you flying before you even try."

Hermione smiled. "I know just the thing that might work."

"What?" Harry was surprised by Hermione's confidence.

"The only item by the founders that was never made into a Horcrux."

-.-.-.-.-.-

"So how does the sword recognise a true Gryffindor?" Draco stared disbelievingly at the Sorting Hat that Harry had just taken down from the top shelf of Dumbledore's office cupboard.

"I don't know, maybe in times of – courage?" Harry looked a bit embarrassed. "I pulled it out when the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets was about to kill me. I suppose we will know in time."

"That means, I won't be able to use it, right?" Draco narrowed his eyes.

Harry shrugged. "We're on the same mission, Malfoy. It doesn't matter who destroys the Horcruxes."

Draco scowled.

"And you will do well to remember that both my parents were murdered by Voldemort as well," said Harry, thinly, and he looked around the office. "In fact, directly. I want him dead as much as you do."

Draco was silent for a moment, trying to suppress the grief in him. Then he snickered a little. "So Harry Potter the Chosen One is believing that a Death Eater will help him achieve his mission?"

Harry threw him a dark glare, then was about to turn away when Draco called him back again. "Potter!"

"What?" Harry spun around, annoyed, only to see Draco's hands on a book on the table. "Hey, don't just touch anything in sight!"

"It's addressed to Her – Granger," Draco pulled a little note off the book cover. "Tales of Beedle the Bard?" He scoffed. "Dumbledore wanted to give Granger fairytales?"

"Hey," Harry warned, and then he stepped up to take the book, flipping a few pages. "I'm sure there's a reason why he wanted her to have this book."

"Oh, I forgot, you don't know what this book is about." Draco's tone was condescending. "Every wizarding child knows this story." He paused, wiping the sneer off his face, for he knew that was quite a low blow at Harry; even Hermione. "Look, it's a real war out there, why'd the hell would he..."

"Don't be..." Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, putting down the book. "Malfoy, Dumbledore has a reason for doing what he does. Including trusting you." He eyed Draco, who didn't look too happy about that. "And when he and Hermione both decided to trust you, I don't think I have much of a choice either."

"I don't give a damn whether you trust me or not."

"Oh yes, you better do," Harry shot back. "Because Hermione will want me to trust you."

At the mention of Hermione, Draco felt a dull ache in him. He had originally only wanted to make use of her to help him decipher his father's clues, he had even considered making her the sacrificial lamb at the beginning. But now, he was deeply regretting getting her into all this. After losing so many people that were dear to him, he didn't know if he could handle it if Hermione was to be killed. The mere thought of it made him cringe.

"Malfoy?" Harry's voice broke into his thoughts.

"You know," Draco leaned against Dumbledore's desk, "my first mission as a Death Eater was to kill Dumbledore."

He didn't know why he said that, especially to Dumbledore's pet Harry Potter. Harry stared at him, gaping. With that reaction, Draco knew that Hermione had definitely kept it a secret. And with that, he could feel some semblance of warmth rise within him. He was now more than sure that her 'betrayal' before was nothing more to ensure that both of them would escape from the depths of Optimisticheskaya safely, than to expose him to her friends. He remembered how he had treated her so coldly upon their return to Hogwarts, and shook his head slightly. The way she had whispered, "Sorry..." with her brown eyes searching his, hoping to tell him what really happened, but he had been too angry and too hurt to reciprocate.

"So..." Harry took a while to recover. "So why didn't you?"

Draco laughed mirthlessly. "Do you think I was capable enough?"

"No, it's not that." Harry eyed him suspiciously. "That might have been a reason in the past, but I saw you – I saw you when he..." Harry chewed his lip. "When he died. When Bellatrix Lestrange killed him. I saw your face. You didn't want to kill him."

Are my emotions all written out there for everyone to see? Draco thought, bitterly. No wonder I was never meant to be a Death Eater. First it was Hermione, then it's Potter...

A wintry image popped up in his mind. Words that echoed to him every night when he was lying awake, and even seeped into his dreams.

"I'm human!" retorted Hermione. "So I can tell that even though you may be mean, you may be insulting, rude, spiteful, arrogant, the thing is – you're not evil! How can someone who is not inherently evil just obey an evil being's orders, who happens to be his enemy for killing his father, and not find out what were the true circumstances in which your father was killed?"

"That killing that you mentioned is probably a mission, and you'll probably do it just to get under the nose of Voldemort so that you can find out everything about your father's death and avenge him. So now I'm telling you, don't go down the path that led to your father's death. And don't become the monster who killed your father. There are other ways to do it, if only you'd let down your pride and let others help you make decisions you shouldn't be making yourself."

Don't become the monster who killed your father.

"So?" Harry repeated, patiently.

"I'm not the Dark Lord..." Draco drew a sharp breath. "I'm not Voldemort."

The Dark Mark sent a searing pain through his arm, but Draco Malfoy gritted his teeth.

Harry tried to conceal his surprise at Draco finally using Voldemort's name, but failed. "Is that why after all this while, you never harmed Hermione? Even after she betrayed you?"

"If she really betrayed me, she would have told you about Dumbledore."

Harry's eyes widened. "She knew?"

Draco nodded, then he picked up the book on the desk gently. "But don't chastise her."

"Ron and I are her best friends," retorted Harry, hotly.

"I love her."

There was a startled silence.

Draco hadn't even planned to say that. He hadn't even thought about saying it out loud. And he was saying it in front of Harry Potter! What the... what had he been thinking? Flushing a deep angry crimson, he turned away, fingers curling around the heavy book in his grip.

"You..." Harry ran his hand through his hair, a gesture of discomfort.

Yes, I love her. The realisation coursed through his veins; it was like the hot, tingling feeling of Firewhiskey that made him delirious and heated all at the same time, along with a slight, sweet aching – the accompanying sensations when her lips were moving in time with his, and when he outlined her shape with his hands. The hundreds of expressions and thousands of words that were embodied in those warm, brown eyes of hers... they were the soothing balm to his raw, bleeding wounds that had been torn apart time and again by the murderer – the murderer he nearly turned into, if not for her. And he had known it a long time ago, that he couldn't move on without her, when the look of terror was etched on her face as he lost his hold on her delicate hand, and she slipped off the cliff towards the dark abyss, with him falling headlong after her... despite the overwhelming fear of death and fear of failing to avenge his father, there was a small niggling fear that she would die, and he couldn't let it happen.

"How can I trust you?" Harry did not sound suspicious now, although it was clear that he could not really reconcile the fact that his nemesis at school was in love with his best friend.

Draco fingered the cover of the book, upon the copper letters of the title. "Not everything's a fairytale, Potter, that I can assure you."

Harry's eyes narrowed. But Draco continued. "I can't promise you anything, not when this war is still on. Not when that murderer still lives out there. Not when all our lives are still hanging by threads that he could easily snip off with a wield of his wand. But I can tell you that I will do anything to protect her for now. Anything."

It would almost be a weak, cliched assurance if not for the fact that Draco's eyes were shining unusually brightly, ironically along with a very hard expression. Privately, Harry thought that Draco had matured so much ever since his father's death, and even more so once he had gotten close to Hermione. Gone were the pathetic smirks and rude haughtiness of the young Malfoy heir. Before him now stood a more resilient, determined, even defiant Draco Malfoy, with a mind and tenacity well beyond the age of a sixteen-year-old.

"Okay," was all Harry could manage, as he collected the Sorting Hat. "Let's go."

-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione placed a finger on the copper lettering, and slowly moved it across to feel the accentuation.

Tales of Beedle the Bard.

She had read all the stories already, but they had given her no clue to what Dumbledore would have wanted her to gain out of them. What had a hopping pot, a cackling tree stump, or three fictional brothers, got to do with the Horcrux search? Harry had said they were a collection of wizarding fairytales, and that it was clearly meant for her only. He had a strange look in his eyes as he talked to her, but when Hermione asked, he said he really knew nothing about the book.

She thought of Professor Dumbledore winking at her, and sighed.

What do you mean?

She leaned back in the armchair, and almost immediately, another memory came back to her. But it was not of Dumbledore. It was her and Draco Malfoy, in the exact same seats of the library just a few weeks back. She stared at the armchair in front of her. The library lights were still on, so the chair looked rather unfamiliar in the yellow light. She tried to imagine him in the seat, but failed.

"Lights out!" Madam Pince's stern voice rang through the library, and Hermione dropped the book back into her bag. For once I'm obeying her, she thought wryly, in a really, really long while. She walked out of the library, and had just turned a corner when she found Draco Malfoy walking towards her.

"Oh!" She gasped, softly, unconsciously taking a step back.

Draco raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Hermione took a hesitant glance at him, and noticed that his grey eyes were stony once again, though not overly harsh.

"Draco...?"

He shook his head. She wished she could pull him close to her and feel his warmth radiate, enveloping her. But she knew there wasn't a single bit of warmth in him right now.

"Goodnight," was all he said, and she thought she saw his mouth twitch a little, before he walked past her and round the corner. She stared after his tall figure, noticing that instead of the arrogant sauntering, it could only trudge along – wearily, contemplatively.

-

"I've got Lupin's message," said Harry, the next morning. However, the crestfallen look on his face said everything. The rest had gathered around him at the corner of the common-room, away from the rest of the Gryffindors who were chattering away.

Ginny took the letter from him and scanned through quickly. "That's helpful!" She threw it down, angrily. "All these grown-ups still think we're little kids, don't they!"

"I'm guessing he refuses to tell you?" Hermione cocked her head to the side.

Harry nodded, dejected. "He says he will bring me there one day, but it's just too dangerous now for me to travel there. I guess he has a point, but it's not helping."

"Then what are we going to do?" Corrinne demanded. "Sit around and wait for Voldemort to ring our doorbell?"

"Oh yeah, with room service," remarked Harry, dryly. Hermione cracked a little smile, but the others merely looked perplexed.

"I could ask my brothers," said Ron. "They know all the secret escape routes in Hogwarts."

"I think they've told Harry everything," Ginny muttered.

"No, wait," said Harry, sitting up straight. "There might still be someone who will let us go."

"Who? McGonagall?" Corrinne scoffed. "Maybe Filch?"

"Dumbledore's brother. He promised that if I needed any help, he would be on hand to help."

"The one whom you met at the inn?" asked Neville, surprised. "But you can't even go out of Hogwarts to see him now, Professor McGonagall won't let us!"

Harry gave a devilish smirk, very unlike him. "When I came back with Dumbledore, we came back through a secret passageway in his office. It leads directly to the inn. Since McGonagall lets me have free entrance to Dumbledore's office for the time being..."

So there it was, the little parade of them sneaking along the corridors that night, along with Luna, and Draco, after Hermione found him after lessons (even though, none of them were in the mood for studies, including Hermione herself). Again, he had been unresponsive, only responding with a curt nod, and disappearing. Hermione bit her lip, but decided against saying anything else. None of the others were keen on having Draco along, particularly Ron, but Harry had insisted, so there was nothing more to argue about.

It was not yet bedtime, but no students were really willing to walk past Dumbledore's office now that it was vacant (and had of course become haunted in no time). It was decided that Harry, Ron and Hermione would look less suspicious visiting the office, since they were most likely to do so out of reverence for the wizard and with permission from Professor McGonagall. Draco performed the Disillusionment Charm on the rest of them. Harry had brought along the Sorting Hat, while Draco the basilisk fang which many a Horcrux had been destroyed with.

Once inside the office, Harry quickly located the entrance of the tunnel by turning a secret knob in one of Dumbledore's drawers. He explained to the rest that Dumbledore had told him about the knob when they were in the tunnel, and Hermione secretly wondered if Dumbledore had every contingency planned for them. If that was the case... she felt the little pouch by her side, where she had magically shrunk the book of fairytales into, in hope that she would find an answer to his clues soon.

A panel in the floor slid open, and they quickly hurried down it. It was a long way, and Hermione could feel her breath coming out in stunted gasps along the way. Fortunately, the end was in sight, and Harry pushed open the panel above with all his might.

"Harry?" Aberforth's amazed voice boomed amidst clinking glasses. "W-what..." He stared in confusion as the rest of the students clambered out from the hole in the floor behind the bar counter along with Harry. The few customers that were in the bar turned to stare at all the underaged newcomers, and looked skeptical. Seconds later, they were back to clinking glasses and speaking in deep, throaty voices. When they were all out, including Draco, Aberforth narrowed his eyes at the blonde Slytherin, who glared back at him.

"What's he doing here?" Aberforth jabbed his finger towards Draco, who was definitely not pleased at being targeted once again. But one thing was for sure; the long, flowing mane ran in the family. Even though Aberforth's was a rough mixture of brown and grey, he had the same air of confidence as his brother Albus. There was, however, an added sense of ruggedness, and an air of distrust that Draco did not appreciate much.

"Aberforth... you know about your brother, don't you?" Harry asked, tentatively.

Aberforth's eyes narrowed; they certainly did not twinkle like Albus'. Instead, they were fierce and suspicious. He let out a low grunt, before he shuffled past them and made an announcement to his few customers that he was closing early. There were some disgruntled mutters, but once that was cleared up, Aberforth came back to find the children surrounding his bar counter. He shuffled back behind the counter and glared at Harry. "And what does that have to do with the fact that you have brought the nephew of my brother's killer before me? Or shall I say," he turned a furious gaze onto Draco, whose eyes were blazing by now, "a colleague serving the same filthy master?"

"Pleasant words you have there," spat Draco, and Hermione had to move forward to tug at his sleeve. He shook it off angrily, and Hermione rolled her eyes from behind.

"I'm sure your brother has told you of the Horcruxes," Harry said, struggling to keep his voice calm and steady. Aberforth raised his eyebrows. "They are the only way to get rid of Voldemort. And we know where one of them is. We have to go there to destroy it."

"And where might that be?"

"Godric's Hollow."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Aberforth. He looked positively furious. "No! I'm not going to help you all do this!"

"Why not?" burst out Corrinne, flushed red with anger.

"It's too dangerous!"

"That's bloody obvious." Draco scowled. "You think Voldemort would put his Horcruxes right at the gate of Hogwarts?"

The mention of Voldemort's name from Draco was decidedly unnerving. Aberforth hesitated for a while, but then he shook his head again. "No, I'm not going to lead you all to your deaths. This is too risky! You should have consulted Minerva, or..."

"There's a reason why we came to look for you!" Corrinne glared at him. "If we could approach them and get a perfect sendoff, I don't suppose we would need to come beg you. Come on, Harry, let's just go back, this is ridiculous!"

"Look." Harry's face was grim, staring fixedly at Aberforth. "Apart from your brother, Bellatrix Lestrange killed my godfather Sirius too. She made Neville's parents insane." Neville looked away. "She is now dead. But at the same time, she was influenced by the puppet master Voldemort. He's the one responsible for all our loved ones' deaths. I don't want to lose anybody I love to him anymore. The war ends when we destroy him. There's no way anybody can do anything to him, otherwise. Please!"

Please... Draco heard his father's pleas once more, and he clenched his fists. "Maybe you don't think much about avenging your brother." He sneered at Aberforth, who was now staring at the window. "But I lost both my parents to that monster, and I'm not letting him get away. How about you? Are you just going to watch him get away like that? Are you?"

Aberforth stared outside the window. There was complete darkness outside; all he could see was his reflection. A reflection that reminded him of his wise brother. A brother whom he had hated and loved dearly; hated for causing the death of their beloved sister Ariana due to a spell experiment gone awry, and loved because – just because they were brothers who had no one to turn to all these years but themselves. Now, even he was gone. Gone, and his fight with the most evil wizard of all time still hanging in mid-air. He felt a lump in his throat, and swallowed hard. He turned back slowly to survey the strange little crowd before him. Harry's eyes, pleading with him. Ginny's, a hard look in hers. Ron's, suspicious. Luna's, dreamy but yet oddly piercing. Corrinne's, a brilliantly raging red. Neville's, a sorrowful brown. Hermione's, hopeful. Last but not least, Draco's, alit with burning fury.

"No," he said, finally. "No, I'm not going to let him get away like that."