A shudder ran through Draco as he approached the tattered round table. Whatever Nott wanted to discuss had been so important they couldn't risk anyone overhearing — so Theodore had said he would hold the meeting at his own house. Draco almost felt sad for him as his eyes roamed the empty, cob-webbed room. It was a smaller place than the Carrow twins', and leaning towards derelict. Nott slammed two bottles of firewhiskey — likely pilfered — onto the table.

Draco exchanged a glance with Zabini. They seemed to be of the same mind, that the others couldn't be fully trusted. But it was important to keep informed. And even more important not to be murdered in the night.

"Where's the Ministry hag?" Flint asked, pouring glasses for everyone.

Malfoy glowered. "I hope you aren't meaning Astoria."

"Who else?" Flint scoffed.

Draco had to be physically restrained from pummelling him into the ground. Blaise kept a locked grip on Draco's arms, as the foulest words of the language came pouring from his mouth.

"That's enough," Nott snapped. "Cut this shit out, or I'll curse you both."

"I'm just looking after our best interests," Flint said.

"He has a point," Pucey frowned. "Astoria not keen any more?"

"She had something important come up with her parents," Zabini lied effortlessly.

Draco was shocked enough to go limp, and earn back freedom of his limbs.

"I think she's bringing Daphne next time," Blaise continued. "Her sister's keen to be involved."

"She might not be after I've said my piece," Nott warned.

Flint frowned. "And what's that?"

Draco looked down at the table. He poured and downed a firewhiskey as Nott spoke, trying to look surprised by the news.

"Voldemort's coming back. Left a horcrux last time."

"What's a horcrux?" Pucey asked, his brow furrowed.

"Keep up," Blaise rolled his eyes.

"They're trying to find him, bring him back," Nott continued. "Dad's been getting loads of visitors. They reckon once he's returned, they'll break all the old crowd free from Azkaban."

Draco was glad to see that the others were terrified upon hearing these words. Pucey gaped like a goldfish, while Zabini clenched his jaw so hard he could have broken teeth. Even Flint had turned a pale shade of green.

"We need to join," Nott said in a heated whisper. "If we start helping now, we'll be rewarded when he returns."

"Do you really believe that?" Zabini asked carefully.

Nott eyed him steely. "Don't you?"

Flint swallowed, then spoke. "I don't think he'd be so forgiving-

Nott shot to his feet, smashing the bottle of firewhiskey to the floor. "What the fuck is wrong with you all? You're acting like… like… a bunch of Gryffindors! Have you forgotten who we are?" He fumed in silence, glaring at them each in turn, landing on Draco. "You're awfully quiet, Malfoy. Why's that?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't have much to say."

Nott wasn't satisfied. "My father told me there are rumours. Rumours your parents are spies for the Ministry, waiting to bring down everyone involved."

"Did he?" Draco said lightly. "Azkaban begun meddling with his mind, yet?"

"It's no secret your family are more slippery than the giant squid. Exactly the sort of thing they'd do." Nott walked slowly around the table, eyeing Draco like a shark ready to attack. "I reckon Voldemort will kill your dad first. Then your mother. Or maybe he'll force her to watch, while he has his way with you."

Draco fought to keep his breath steady, his temper measured. He only had to endure this for a few more moments, then the meeting would end and he'd be free to go. He stared resolutely into Nott's eyes, using every last ounce of self-discipline not to attack. His hand longed to twitch to his wand, to have this utter scumbag hanging by his ankles, but there was a terrifying truth to Nott's words. He needed to begin playing this right.

"We're friends, aren't we, Nott?" he asked.

"You tell me."

"You stand there and accuse me of being a traitor. But if you were pulled into the Ministry tomorrow and questioned about my loyalties, what would you tell them?"

Nott's nostrils flared. "What the fuck do you think?"

"We haven't forgotten who we are." Draco shook his head for emphasis. "We're fucking Slytherins. And when the world pushes us, and prods us, we adapt. The serpent is slippery, Nott. And if you'd rather my father, or mother, or me, had lost our lives defending a losing cause, you'd better jog on and mate up with some Gryffindors." He approached closer. "If Voldemort returns, we stand with him. But you'd better be fucking sure. Because I'm not championing a dead man, only to end up in a cell beside your father."

Before he could explode, and monumentally fuck everything up, Draco nodded to Zabini that it was time to leave. The others began muttering the moment they'd left the room, but Draco barely paused to notice. He marched outside, flinging the door open without a second thought. Zabini followed in his wake, almost panting from the exertion.

"Did they buy it?" Draco asked through clenched teeth.

"I think so, mate. I fucking hope so, after you trying to muggle-fight Flint, then Nott's tirade…"

"Do you think it's true?"

Blaise was quiet for a moment. "I'm not sure. Between you and me, I hope not. I don't think even Nott's dad wants Voldemort to come back. But if he does… Well, we know what he's capable of. I don't fancy a lifetime of running until he finds me. I couldn't do it to Hestia."

"All cleared up in paradise, then?" Malfoy sulked, beginning to walk up the street.

"I wish," Blaise sighed. "Honestly, I don't think I'm cut out for long-term relationships. How did our parents do it? Write off every other woman, for the rest of your life."

Draco's stomach flipped as though he'd been kicked. It had been more than a week since Astoria's attack, and still nobody would let him in to see her. He'd even considered polyjuice potion, pretending he was a relative, but found he couldn't do it. Too weird.

But he knew exactly how people could commit to the sort of love Zabini was referring to. Why would he want another woman, if he had Astoria? To say they all paled in comparison would be an understatement. His throat burned dry and he said a hurried farewell, needing to get away before he lost control completely.

Despite it's many shortcomings, Nott's meeting had been a reason to get out of bed. They were seldom these days, and Draco found his sleep patterns becoming more and more warped the more time went on. He'd lost interest for alchemy, for socialising. He felt physically ill at the thought of having to dress and go into the Ministry, spend the day with Zabini. Even his twice-daily routine of feeding the owls exhausted him.

So, when the creak of the front door disturbed his slumber, Draco blundered about wildly before drawing his wand. A quick glance to the clock told him it was almost nine in the morning, and a hasty snapping back of the curtains confirmed that fact. He listened, his heart thumping loudly… Definitely footsteps below.

Astoria!

He kept his wand aloft, just in case, but bounded down the stairs two at a time in his enthusiasm. Adrenaline shot through every vein of his body, and his body couldn't move fast enough to meet her, he should have apparated, and he hadn't a clue what he would say to her, but just the fact she was here…

He stopped short in the sitting room. He growled, anger replacing the excitement of moments before. Never in his life had he detested Potter more than right now, gazing on the back of his stupid, spiky head.

"Potter," he fumed. "What the fuck are you doing in my house?"

He turned, eyes widening in surprise. He, too, had his wand drawn.

"Malfoy," he said curtly. "Just a follow up visit. I did knock, but given the nature of Astoria's attack, thought I'd investigate when nobody answered."

"You have no business being here. Fuck off now."

"Actually, I do have business being here." Wand still aloft, Potter used his other arm to retrieve a piece of parchment. "The wand we found? It belonged to a Kelvin McIntyre. No discernible connections to the Death Eaters, as far as we know. Name ring any bells?"

Draco only shook his head.

"We're still looking into it. He's on the run at the moment, but we'll have him within a few days. He's holed up somewhere near Madrid. That reminds me," Potter pulled a different parchment from his robes, "I've had your vault freed. Your parents, too. We've got a trace on them for the time being, so we'll know if large money changes hands. Just a precaution."

Draco glowered. "And me?"

Potter paused before answering. "As you live separately, you're exempt. You can do what you like, really. But if you leave the country, they can't come to visit. So keep that in mind."

Though the news came as a relief — a weight lifted that Draco hadn't even been aware he was carrying — anger still simmered beneath the surface at his prior disappointment.

"That all, then?" he asked.

"For now." Potter lowered his wand. "I'll keep you updated. How's Astoria? Ginny mentioned she's doing lots better."

The words cut Malfoy like a serrated knife. "How the fuck would she know?"

"I think she's visited," Harry said. "She went into London yesterday."

Draco trembled with rage, feeling the heat emanating from his own face. "No. Astoria isn't allowed visitors."

Harry's face drew hard. "Malfoy, calm down."

"Next of kin only," he spat. "Been the same all week."

"Look, I don't know for sure-

"But maybe they just don't want a Malfoy in there," he laughed derisively. "Maybe they're terrified I'll place the whole ward under the Imperius curse and crucio all the healers in their sleep."

"Malfoy-

Draco hadn't uttered the spell, hadn't even thought one, but his rage finally erupted and cascaded through his wand. A bolt of light escaped and racketed around the room, destroying everything in sight. The sofa ripped apart and went flying, the coffee table smashed into the wall. The books all flew from the case, ripped and ruined. He barely had time to feel the relief of release before Potter had cast a stunning spell and he fell to the floor. Prick.

When he came to, the room had been repaired. Potter was nowhere to be seen — probably for the best. Draco had half a mind to march into the Ministry, demand to see him and curse him for real this time. He probably would have, too, if not for the more important task at hand.

He was getting in to see Astoria, healers be damned.

Dark Secrets of the Daily Prophet Establishment: Sexual Harassment, Unlawful Dismissal, and Public Intimidation — My Story, by Astoria Greengrass

"So," Daphne concluded, her eyes scanning the final paragraph of the article, "the matter remaining to be seen is regarding the very laws our own Ministry have penned and their adequacy in such an age. Perhaps more importantly, the proposed enforcement of such constitutions, and our own wizarding world's lack of resources and coordination between departments possessing such abilities."

I sighed. "It's far too wordy. I should have read it aloud before I submitted it."

Daphne shook her head slowly, her blue eyes opening wide. "Tori, this is incredible. This is fucking brilliant! This is the best thing the Quibbler's published since the Harry Potter interview."

I considered for a moment. "I hope it gains enough traction."

She laughed softly. "How could it not? The best thing Marcus ever did was label you a death eater. Every witch and wizard who's ever read the Prophet will want a look at this now. What did Xenophilius think?"

"Well, he was a little disappointed the surveillance owl story will have to wait. But he sent a box of dirigible plums, so he can't be too upset."

Daphne wrinkled her nose at the plums. "Don't eat those."

I laughed and stood from my bed, stretching my arms as far as I could. "You want to go for a quick walk?"

My bandages still needed changing twice daily — an improvement from the initial hourly bleed-outs — but I could wear my own clothes now, and walk around the garden area for fresh air. I grew weak easily, so Daphne held me by my good arm, and we went slowly. I batted her away as soon as my strength increased. This would usually peak for around ten minutes or so, before the colour drained from my face and I ran the risk of passing out from the exertion. But I pushed each day, as hard as I could. I refused to lie around in a hospital bed, awaiting death. Or shuffle around a hospital garden, even less animated than the one-hundred-year-old wizard who talked to the bushes, adamant they were other wizards in disguise.

"How's things for Rob at work?" I asked.

I still hadn't met Daphne's boyfriend — he wasn't exactly allowed into St. Mungo's — but she'd filled me in over the course of the week.

"Busy. It's the end of the financial year, so he's got to wrap things up for all his clients."

"Huh. What was that machine thing you said he uses?"

"A calculator. For number work."

"Well, you know I love you Daph, but if you start using things like calculators, I'm walking away," I joked.

"I did offer to sort the paperwork for him, it would only take a moment with the right spell, but he thinks that would be cheating," she rolled her eyes.

I laughed. Daphne had the tact to keep her conversations about Rob from being too sloppy, which I appreciated. Even so, such light-hearted comments stung a little.

No sooner had I thought it, than I heard a familiar voice call my name. No… No, surely it couldn't be…

Daphne frowned. "Is that-?

"Tori."

There he was. Draco. He looked out of place as ever among the begonias, with his hair bright in the sunlight. His green eyes held mine for a moment and my breath hitched in my throat. I tugged at my sleeve over my bandages, terrified they'd be exposed. A million things ran through my mind, each of them I'd ultimately be unable to say.

"I'm starving," Daphne mumbled. "Tori, will you be alright if I-?

"Yeah," I nodded, far too fervently. "Yeah, go get some food."

Draco waited until she was out of earshot before speaking. "I tried to see you. I came here the night you got hurt, but they wouldn't let me in."

"It's okay."
He nodded. "You look…"

"Like shit?" I tried to grin.

He shook his head. "Never."

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I knew exactly what I was going to have to do. I'd pondered it, each time Daphne left, each time I closed my eyes to sleep. Each time my mind quieted, I was reminded of the horrible fact I would need to hurt Draco. I despised myself for it.

"Draco," I began slowly.

The change in him was alarming. His entire posture changed, along with his facial expression. Gone was the vulnerability I'd become so accustomed to in varying degrees, replaced by the same sneer he wore around those he didn't know or care to like.

"I don't need your pity. I knew something wasn't right when I heard Weasley had been visiting, but I wasn't allowed."

I frowned. "Nobody's been allowed to visit but Daphne."

"How have you been speaking to her, then?"

"By owl."

His neck tensed. "You couldn't send me an owl?"

"I don't have mine," I tried to explain. "I returned hers each time."

He glared menacingly. "That's a shit excuse."

I squared my chin, holding his eyes. But it was true.

"I know," I reasoned. "I've been avoiding speaking to you."

He nodded again. "So, why have they kept you in so long?" he asked.

Stalling the inevitable. Truthfully, I was grateful.

"It was a rare curse," I lied. Technically. not a lie. He just didn't need to know the curse came not from the attacker's wand, but from my blood. "It's taking a while to heal."

"For a politician, you're a terrible liar," he said scathingly.

I refused to cry. I refused to break down as I looked at him, standing there like heaven in human form. I'd had my moments, late at night, when Daphne was gone. I'd balled my heart out at the injustice of it all. Draco and I may never have lasted — we hadn't even begun, not officially. We may never have married, or had children. But that choice had been taken from me. Now, it wasn't even an option. And Draco was all I wanted in the world.

But I wanted him happy. And he was still so destroyed from all the horrors he had endured, I couldn't let my death become another. And if, at my time of demise, he had found somebody else to heal all the broken pieces of him, I knew I could leave this world at peace. I drew upon this thought for courage.

"You're welcome to stay at the house as long as you need," I said. "I mean that. But we are going to need an alternative arrangement."

"Don't bother." He stared at the ground. "I'm going away for a bit."

"Oh." My legs grew weak beneath me. My time was running out. I sat on the bench, drawing it out as long as I could. "May I ask where to?"

"Somewhere in Europe," he shrugged. "I might buy a home. Blaise and Hestia want to come, so."

I wondered if Hestia's sister was included in the arrangement. I refused to ask.

"Well, I wish you the best of luck," I said. "Stay in touch. I'd love to hear all about it."

"Spare me the bullshit," he spat. "It doesn't suit you."

Anger flared in me. "Yeah? Fuck you, Draco."

I dug deep for the strength to stand and walk away — physically, and emotionally. I'd almost made it to the doors when he spoke again.

"Tori. I…"

Say it, I begged silently. Say those three words. Say it, and I'll lose my resolve. I'll tell you everything. I'll be selfish and end this pain for both of us. Please…

"I don't want you seeing my friends again. Nott, those Slytherin meetings. Just stay away if you can. It could really fuck things up for me."

Nice priorities, Draco. I didn't turn to look back as I left. I held in the tears, knowing at some point I would be alone once more, and then I could let them fall. It was time to get my affairs in order, and now I'd done the hardest task of all, I was filled with confidence to handle anything else thrown my way.

It was time to prepare to die.