Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy sat on weathered wooden stools at a workbench covered in Muggle artefacts in Arthur Weasley's private workshop. There were grey boxes with antennae and numbers from zero to nine printed on tiny rubber squares, shining silvery rainbow coloured discs that slid in and out of a black box, glass orbs with strands of dark metal twisted inside them. It was one of these that burst into shards between Lucius's fingers as he handled it.
Narcissa jumped at the sound of the breaking glass.
"We shouldn't have come," she said, sliding off her stool to pace between the shelves stacked with coils of red, black, and white wire. "We should have taken the boys and disappeared without a word to anyone."
"That won't work anymore, darling," Lucius said, using his wand to restore the broken light bulb. "The only place in this world where we can be safe and secure on a long term basis is in the manor. But now that Bella and the Dark Lord are settled there, it's too late. We're stuck."
She pounded a fist on the workbench. "I should never have taken her in."
Lucius clucked his tongue. "Bella was nearly starved to death after all those years in prison. Rodolphus's femur was pulverized and needed weeks of mending. How could we have turned them away?"
She let out a growl, fierce sounding to herself but sweet to Lucius. "Can't we get rid of them now? What would it take to make them leave? Could we convince them Potter was alone and unprotected somewhere, waiting to be captured - or something - anything?"
Lucius chuckled miserably. "The Dark Lord understands the peril he is in outside our grounds, especially with Dumbledore now at large. He'd send a minion to collect Potter, wherever we said he was. It's what he's done all along." He stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders until her head drooped to one side. "I'm sorry, darling. These people, their order is our best hope."
"They're not going to help us," she said, slumping backward, against his body. "It's one thing for us to convince Molly and Arthur to work with us, quite another to win over the rest of them. And frankly, the way Severus digs at them, I think he's doing our cause more harm than good. That Alastor Moody…"
The door was flung open, as if speaking Moody's name was a spell to conjure him. "You may as well come back in," he barked at them.
In the Burrow's kitchen, everyone was frowning into their teacups except for Molly, who was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief, and Kingsley, who was on his feet as if about to deliver a speech.
"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," he said. "Thank you for the information you've provided us tonight. We have formed a plan whereby we may help each other."
Molly hiccoughed into her palm, stifling a sob.
"Please." Kingsley gestured to the empty chairs next to Snape, and they re-seated themselves as Arthur filled their cups with tea.
"None of us shall interfere in You-know-who's plan to bring Harry Potter to the Department of Mysteries. In fact, we will make sure Harry makes his way safely and easily through the after hours security and into the ninth level. For your part, Mr. Malfoy, you will meet him there with whatever deputies You-know-who assigns. Harry may resist retrieving the prophecy for you, and may need to use - some skilful coaxing - "
"You're just going to let him get it?" Lucius blurted. "After all this, you'll just let the Dark Lord have it?"
Moody thrashed uneasily in his chair as Kingsley showed his hand. "That's right. The prophecy itself is of no matter."
"That cannot be right," Narcissa said. "The Dark Lord - for months, he's been obsessed - "
"Cissa, please," Severus whispered. "Trust them."
Kingsley went on. "When the prophecy is in the Death Eaters' hands, members of our order shall appear at the Ministry, and no doubt fighting will commence. We will protect Harry until two other parties appear: the Minister, as called to the scene through Alastor's connections, and You-know-who himself. You can summon him with the mark on your arm, can you not, Mr. Malfoy?"
Lucius sputtered. "Yes, but then what? We unleash the monster and then we all flee for our lives?"
"Maybe," Tonk said. "Our goal is not to defeat You-know-who all at once, just to expose him to the authorities so something can start to happen on a nationwide scale to oppose him. No more fighting rumours and conspiracies but a real enemy. That's the only kind that can be defeated once and for all."
"Meaning," Kingsley continued, "that once our enemy is seen and acknowledged by the Minister, this operation will be finished for now, and we may return Potter to the safety of the school. And while You-know-who is engaged in combat at the Ministry, you may return to your home and seal it against him. No one will pass in or out except for your children coming and going to school through the secure Floo network. This leaves our enemy scrambling for refuge, more vulnerable to us, to the Ministry, and to Dumbledore."
Lucius scoffed. "Dumbledore - this is where we place our hopes? In a sacked teacher - "
"A great wizard," Snape corrected him. "The greatest living, the only one feared by the Dark Lord himself."
"And still just a man," Lucius railed in return. "Even if we do escape the Ministry, the best we can hope for is to become prisoners in our home until the end of this conflict, for however many years it may drag on."
Snape was shouting. "You will stay, and you will stay alive, all three of you!"
"All four of you!" Molly shouted louder than either of them.
"Yes," Snape agreed, his voice now quiet, his eyes closed. "All four of you. Of course."
"This is exactly my complaint," Molly said. "This plan fails to consider our Ronald, his relentless drive to be loyal. He won't let Harry go by himself."
"She's right," Narcissa said. "He'd fly through fiendfyre to make sure Potter didn't face danger alone. It's been true since they were eleven years old."
"The Granger girl will be the same," Snape added. "We won't be coddling one child during a firefight. It will be three at the very least."
"You talk as if they're infants. How old are they, sixteen? I say it's high time they learned to handle themselves at war," Moody crowed.
The room shouted him down at once, everyone but Remus who stared into his untouched tea, nodding faintly.
"Draco," Narcissa said. "He has been given a position of power and trust at school by that Umbridge woman. He could use it to prevent any of the other students from following Potter. And if we give him this assignment, he won't be tempted to come to the Ministry himself."
Snape cringed. "But then he'd need to be told about this plan while the rest are kept in the dark. It is a grave secret, and it will be difficult for him to keep it from his brother and from - his friends. And in the end, he might have to rise up and fight them, fight his own brother."
Lucius waved a hand. "Schoolboy trifles, Severus. You've been at Hogwarts long enough to get caught up in them yourself. Draco is not like other students his age. He has been taught to see beyond such things. We've been preparing him for a duty like this his entire life."
Snape grit his teeth. "Yes, by always demanding too much of him. Really, Lucius, you have too little sympathy for him, too inflated a sense of his resilience. He is not you. He is his own self, still just a boy, and I insist you find within yourself some scruples when it comes to pitting Draco both physically and emotionally against his dearest friends."
Lucius scoffed. "His dearest friends? You mean the Crabbe and Goyle boys?"
Snape sprung to his feet. "If you had any idea - "
"Severus." Narcissa had taken his hand. "I know, Severus. But sit down. Please. It can't be helped now."
He stood for a moment more, glaring at Lucius over Narcissa's upturned face. The Malfoys had decided together. He was outvoted. And the Order knew no reason to give his feelings concerning Draco any special weight. No one was on his side. No one was on Draco's side over Ronald and Potter's, the good of one boy over that of two. He sat with a crash at the table.
Kingsley cleared his throat. "Are we agreed, then, that this is the best we can hope to do?"
"Not quite." It was Remus, raising his head for the first time since the Malfoys had rejoined the meeting. "Harry is a minor under the care of his godfather Sirius Black. Especially since we've gone to the trouble of getting the Malfoys' consent, it would be wrong of us to proceed without Sirus's consent."
Tonks was nodding. "A formality, but still the right thing to do. There won't be any problem getting his consent."
Remus pushed his teacup to the centre of the table. "No, Sirius won't have a problem, but he will have a condition. I know it. I know him - know him like my own mind." Remus sighed. "The condition will be that he, Sirius, be permitted to come along."
Moody threw his hands up, exasperated by everyone's dramatic emotional nonsense. Kingsley frowned, one finger tapping his jaw. Snape did not have to feign being beyond caring about anything at this point.
It was Arthur who spoke first, his arm jostling Molly reassuringly. "If that's how it must be, then that's how it must be. Might be good to have someone in the group tasked specifically with watching out for Harry. Might actually make it better. What do you reckon, love?"
No one agreed out loud that Molly Weasley's word would speak for everyone, but it did all the same. She said, "Yes, that will have to do."
So began the wait for the Dark Lord to learn how to plant a thought in Harry Potter's mind and lure him out of Hogwarts and into the Department of Mysteries.
In the meantime, under Umbridge, Hogwarts remained a zoo of bad behaviour. A few short weeks after setting off an entire crate of enchanted fireworks inside the school, Fred and George Weasley turned seventeen years old, installed a swamp on an upper floor, un-confiscated their brooms, and quit school in a blaze of glory with the oppressed young masses cheering them on.
The quidditch season ran its course. Ronald successfully defended Gryffidor to a championship win, Ginny beating Cho Chang to the snitch. To say there were hard feelings would be an understatement. By the end of the week, both Harry and Ginny were decidedly finished with their Ravenclaw romances, and Michael Corner and Cho had found each other. None of the four of them seemed very bothered.
Draco wasn't bothered about Slytherin missing the cup that year either. With Montague still in the hospital, their chances were already reduced so it was hardly a surprise. But the diversions of school life weren't bringing him the same satisfaction they used to. After his parents visited him at school during Easter break, he was quiet, vaguely morose, nervous, as if waiting for something terrible to happen.
He only felt like himself when he was with Hermione. With her, he could smile and lay down his restless watchfulness, close his eyes and lose himself. But when she would see him before he saw her, watching him when he didn't know he was being watched, she saw the strain and sadness in him. And while she hoped it was just the pressure of the coming exams, she felt like something more ominous was vexing him.
It was true that exams were taking their toll on everyone, especially Hermione herself. For anyone but Draco, she was rather terrible company during those weeks, frantically revising and reciting. Draco was inclined to do the same, and they spent much of their time sitting at opposite ends of long library tables studying together, though apart. Late in those evenings, when the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad's fifth years had worn themselves out and returned to the dungeons for the night, Hermione would migrate down the table, until she came close enough to cover the toe of Draco's shoe with hers. This was romance during OWLs preparation season.
In the library, they wouldn't look directly at one another until it was time to leave, when they'd duck outside, one of them leaving a half minute after the other, and spend the last few moments before curfew devouring one another behind a conveniently located tapestry decorated with finely woven studious fairies reading from tiny scrolls.
"Three weeks of hardly anything but footsie between us," Draco said as he kissed her face. "It's got to stop before I end up with a foot fetish."
"It will stop," Hermione laughed at him, smoothing the back of his hair where the tapestry was matting it against his scalp. "Two more days until exams start."
He hummed in anticipation. "And then we switch to doing most of our - erm, socializing outside in fresh air, somewhere date-like, by the lake or something. But no feet action involved - well, maybe a little. Like I said, I may be growing fond of it."
She laughed in her throat as he kissed her.
"And I promised you flying lessons, didn't I?" he whispered.
She hummed. "I remember it more as you threatening me with them. Is that the same thing to you, Malfoy?"
"Call it what you want, as long as it gets you on my broom."
"Malfoy!"
That was how they got through exams.
Unfortunately, the school's administration didn't seem at all concerned with students' exam-time mental well-being. It was during the astronomy practical exam that Umbridge had Hagrid sacked and detained. McGonagall moved to intervene and wound up so badly injured she was sent to St. Mungo's.
And then finally, when the last of the OWL exams, the History of Magic, was almost finished, it happened. Harry Potter fell to the floor of the exam hall, screaming in fear and pain and something else - an edge to his voice Draco recognized, the cruel glee of a second, wicked presence in Potter's mind.
This was what his father had come at Easter to warn him to look for. It was Potter's vision of the Dark Lord, the false one that would be planted on purpose to flush Potter out of safety and into a plan the adults refused to explain in detail. All they told Draco was that he must prevent any other students from leaving with Potter.
In the exam hall, the teachers and proctors had just revived Potter and were insisting he go to the hospital wing as Draco rushed through to the end of his parchment. He followed, Disillusionment spell in place, as Potter made his way from the hospital wing to the classroom where he argued with Ronald and Hermione about whether or not his vision of Sirius Black being tortured in the Department of Mysteries was real or a trap.
By the stars, Hermione was brilliant. There she was, exhausted from days and days of exams, but standing up to Potter's panic, his belligerent frustration, trying to get him to think clearly. She was right. He did have "a saving-people-thing" and it was being used against him. No one had to explain this to Hermione. She saw it right away and wouldn't be shouted out of insisting they investigate more carefully before tearing off to London.
He loved her. Draco knew it for certain at that moment, watching her through the crack in the classroom door. She was brave and wise and caring and honest and everything he wanted. He wouldn't tell her now. It wasn't the right time. They were so young and she was so wise, she might not accept it. But he felt it all the same, like something flexing and glowing with energy, like the very magic inside of him. He loved her.
The flexing halted as Luna Lovegood nearly tripped over him, not noticing him through his spell as she and Ginny Weasley barged into the classroom to see what Potter was shouting about. Minutes later, there was a new plan to use Umbridge's fire to test whether Sirius was at home or not. Draco stood back and said nothing as Hermione led everyone out of the classroom.
It was time for Draco to step out of hiding, to assemble the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad and stop Ronald and Hermione from following Potter into town. As he ran to the Slytherin dormitory, he remembered his father's words. "You may trust that I am not speaking with undue dramatics when I tell you that if you cherish your brother and your friends, you will not let them leave Hogwarts with Potter. Whatever it takes, Draco. Do not let them go."
Potter's head was still in Umbridge's fire when the Inquisitorial Squad came charging into the office. Umbridge had turned up all on her own, alerted by the new, more sensitive alarms on her office door and Floo. It was her who hauled Potter out of the flames.
Draco and the squad disarmed Harry and Hermione and held Ronald, Neville, Ginny, and Luna while Umbridge raged and fumed, hurling accusations of Potter being in league with Dumbledore. Threats of Veritaserum, Cruciatus curses - there was nothing she wasn't furious and desperate enough to try in the hopes of finding out where Dumbledore had gone and why Potter had been attempting to contact him at this moment.
Snape appeared long enough to defy Umbridge's demands for Veratiserum. He remained completely unfazed as she put him on probation, ignoring her as he nodded knowingly at Draco. Everything must be unfolding smoothly so far. Snape would tell his other father and whoever else needed to know. He was sure of it.
But now Potter needed to be carved off from the rest of the group and allowed to leave somehow.
Before Draco could think of a way to do it, Hermione was pushing forward with a plan of her own - some fib about a weapon hidden in the forest. Umbridge leapt at it, greedily, stupidly. She was marching Harry and Hermione at wand-point toward the door, leaving behind orders for Draco and the squad to hold the others in her office until the three of them returned.
Only, Draco knew the three of them wouldn't return. There was no weapon, and Hermione and Harry would make quick work of Umbrige in the Forbidden Forest before heading off to London, into something awful.
"Headmistress!" Draco called after Umbridge as she was about to leave. "I'll come along as a guard. Otherwise you'll be outnumbered."
She scoffed, insulted. "Calm down, Mr. Malfoy. I should think I can manage two wandless teenagers." The door slammed itself behind them.
"Right." Ronald's voice sounded as soon as the students were alone. "That's enough, Draco. Get this lunk to unhand me." He made a vicious twist between Goyle's hands and jerked himself free. "Give me their wands and I'll be off. You can come too if you like."
"No."
"Fine, suit yourself." Ronald stepped toward him, his hand extended. "Look, we don't have time for this. Harry and Hermione won't have much trouble with Umbridge, but they will be needing their wands. Hand them over. There'll be no changing Harry's mind."
"That's fine," Draco said. "Potter can go wherever he wants. But not with you. Not with Granger either."
Ronald was coming closer, his colour rising. "You don't get to decide that, Draco."
"It's not me. It's Dad. He made me promise I'd keep you at school, whatever it took."
Ronald was shaking his head, his hand still extended. "Dad doesn't understand what's going on here. He can't."
"Oh, I'm pretty sure he can," Draco said, acting powerful even though he'd been backed into a corner of the office. The other members of the Inquisitorial squad kept hold of their prisoners, gawking nervously at the Malfoy brothers. Goyle, whose hands were free now, was quietly stepping up behind Ronald, ready to grab him again if he pounced at Draco.
"Let's get Snape," Draco tried. "He can vouch for everything. It's fine, Ronald. Stay here."
Ronald scoffed. "Right, Snape. Always on your side, he is. No, we won't be asking him."
"I don't want you to get hurt," Draco said.
"Then don't get in our way."
With that, Ronald made his move, not a blow but the tackle, like one their childhood tussles, only with nothing held back. As Ronald sprung forward to grab Draco, Goyle lunged from behind, catching a fistful of his robes only to cry out in shock, stupefied.
As Goyle fell to the floor, the door of the office came into Draco's view. In it stood Pansy Parkinson, her wand drawn, her hand shaking slightly after having protected Ronald from Goyle. The moment of inattention when Draco looked away from Ronald to Pansy was all the time Ronald needed to knock him off balance and wrench the wands from his hands.
"No one touch him!" Pansy shouted, brandishing her wand as Ronald scrambled behind her and tore down the corridor.
All at once, the office was a flurry of physical and magical attacks. Draco didn't stay long enough to join in the fight. He pushed through the scuffling bodies, making his way to the door and into the corridor in time to see a rectangle of sunlight appear afar off, in the Entrance Hall, as Ronald made his way outside.
Draco swore and ran after him. He didn't know if Pansy was with Ronald or hanging back, waiting like a sniper, ready to jinx whoever followed him. Draco risked it, running down the hill toward the forest. At the foot of the hill, near Hagrid's empty hut where students were most accustomed to entering the forest, Ronald stood in the path, bent as he kissed Pansy.
Watching them from behind a large purple-leafed shrub, Draco couldn't hear what they said, but he could tell they were gazing at each other, their hands and mouths moving over each other's faces with a troubled intensity, as if they were taking leave of one another before something difficult, risky, important. It wasn't long before Pansy kissed him with a fervent finality, then stepped away, toward the school.
Ronald was left alone, peering into the shadows of the forest. Harry and Hermione still hadn't come out. Ronald stood in the path, tapping their wands together, looking all around himself.
In the office, Ronald had taken Harry and Hermione's wands but had left Draco with his own. Draco looked at it now, gripped in his hand. He wasn't sure what to do with it. What did his father mean by telling him to do "whatever it takes" to keep them here? Was he supposed to wait in this dense undergrowth to ambush everyone but Potter with a stupefying hex?
No, it wouldn't come to that. All he had to do was talk to Hermione once she appeared. She had seen through the fake vision. She was still critical, suspicious of all this. She would understand him and stay. She'd make Ronald stay. If only she'd come back.
Glancing the way he'd come, Draco saw a group of people racing down from the school. That would be Potter's friends after escaping the Inquisitorial Squad. He had until they arrived at the bottom of the hill to settle everything.
Come on, Granger.
In a moment, he spotted her hair bobbing through the tall grey trees. Ronald stood hailing them from the path, waving their wands over his head. They paused when they saw Draco come crashing out of the thicket where he'd been hiding.
"Draco, no," Ronald groaned. "Let us alone, if you don't want to help."
"Will you shut up and listen?" he said.
"Just get on with it," Potter said, close enough now for Draco to notice the fresh bloodstains on his clothes. "Say it and then we'll go."
"This crisis isn't what it seems," Draco began. "I'm not sure what's going on, but I'm almost certain the vision Potter had in the exam is fake. Dad told me to be on the lookout for exactly this sort of thing. And when it happens, I'm supposed to make sure no one goes running off except for Potter."
"Yeah, well it's not fake," Potter snapped. "I've just called the person I saw kidnapped and tortured in the vision, and he isn't at home. They've got him."
"Not being home could mean all sorts of things," Draco said.
"Not for this person. He's never away from home."
"Just say 'Sirius Black,' would you?"
"Oh, you'd like that."
"Will you two stop it?" Hermione said, standing between the boys, a hand on each of their chests. "Malfoy, can you tell us for certain that Sirius hasn't been taken by Voldemort?"
"Not for certain, no. But - "
"But nothing," Harry burst, taking his wand from Ronald. "This is a life and death matter and I can't take a chance on what anyone thinks they may know about Sirius's safety. I'm going. You lot can't tell, but there are thestrals just there. They must have caught the scent of this centaur blood all over me. And just in time for me to ride one to the Ministry. Don't follow me if you don't want to."
"Of course we're following you," Ronald said, striding beside Harry.
Draco snarled. "Didn't you hear what I said? It might be a trap."
"Of course it's a trap, one way or another," Harry said. "That doesn't mean we leave the bait to die."
Hermione was turning away, about to follow Potter to where the thestrals must have been.
Draco's heart gave a thud so strong it hurt. "Granger, no," he was saying, stumbling after her as Ronald handed over her wand. "You understand what I'm saying, don't you? They're taking advantage of Potter. And he's falling for it. He's ignoring all reason and falling right into it."
"That's why I have to go with him," she said, turning to face Draco, her eyes shining and teary. "We have to stay with him or his strengths turn into weaknesses. He's all guts when he's like this. But what he needs is me for a brain and Ronald for a heart."
"Hermione, no. Please, I'm begging you. Dad said not to let you go. I don't know exactly why but - " His voice was rising, frantic, pleading. He had come near enough to take her in his arms, crushing her against him, her face hidden in his robes. "Please don't go to them. I can't take it. Please..."
She choked out a sob. "Draco, I'm sorry." She didn't say anything more, not one word as light flashed from the wand she held between them in his embrace. She had locked his feet to the ground, something Mrs. Weasley had taught her last summer holidays.
He noticed too late. "Granger?" he said as she bent at the waist, walking backward, slipping down and out of his arms.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"No!" he wailed after her as she jogged toward where Harry was waiting to boost her onto a thestral behind Ronald. "Granger, no!"
He threw himself forward, falling over his stuck feet into a crouch, clawing at the grass and turf around himself, trying to pull himself free with his hands.
The others had mounted the thestrals and we're climbing into the sky. Draco heard the bat-like flap of their wings as he took a breath. He blasted at his own feet with his wand, desperate to unstick himself but not knowing the spell.
"Ronald!" he called, his voice hoarse. "Don't go!"
His brother looked back at him, Hermione's head at the back of Ronald's shoulders, her face hidden, sobbing. "We'll be back!" Ronald answered as he lurched with the creature beneath him, wheeling around before soaring away. "We'll all be back. I promise!"