"You want to break into Professor Snape's office?" The look on Neville's face was deeply suspicious, like he thought he was being set up for something. Draco supposed he didn't blame the other boy. After years of being at the edge of everything, he had good reason to wonder, but it also made him miss Harry more. Harry would have been more than up for breaking into Snape's office.

"It's for a good cause," Hermione said reassuringly.

Neville did not look reassured. "What if we get caught?"

"He yells at us and we have to do a detention," Draco said. He considered. "Possibly several detentions."

"But we have an excuse," Hermione said. She held out her pile of Potion's notes. They were color-coded with little boxes drawn along the side holding the most important facts from the lecture. Hermione always had the prettiest notes, mostly because she copied everything from class over into her organized format. Draco sort of admired it – and knew he should probably be at least a little more diligent – but it honestly seemed like too much work.

"You're writing a Potions textbook and want his opinion?" Neville asked.

Draco's laugh surprised him, and he barely swallowed it back in time. A lone snort escaped, and Hermione glared at him. "Don't be mad," he said. "You do have those things looking like a professional made them."

"Oh," Hermione said, but she didn't seem all the way mollified, so he reached over, took her hand, and squeezed it.

"They are very nice," Neville offered.

"Well," she said, "I appreciate that, and you could both do a little more studying, but no. He'd laugh me out of the room."

"Which might give us a good chance to get the stuff," Draco said.

"The point is," Hermione said a tiny bit too loudly, "I am asking him for study help."

"Snape," Neville said, and Draco had to admit the doubt in his voice was reasonable. No sane Gryffindor would ever go around asking Snape for help.

"I am very worried about not doing well on my O.W.L.s," Hermione said. "I am asking for extra help. If we get caught. What I'm hoping is that we do not get caught and none of this matters. In, grab and out."

"It'll be fun," Draco said.

Neville still looked like he wasn't sure, and for a moment Draco missed Harry so much his chest hurt. But Harry was hanging out with Blaise Zabini now, whenever they saw Draco, their eyes narrowed in matching hatred.

"It's the only way to get basilisk parts," Hermione said, and with that Neville was in. Voldemort's lieutenants had tortured his parents to madness, Voldemort was back thanks to the darkest of magic, and the best ways to fight against it were fiendfyre and basilisk parts. They couldn't all carry a jar of fiendfyre around, but Snape had the parts right there in his stuff. Well, somewhere. It was only logical to go and take a few bits just in case they happened to come across a Horcrux. Draco didn't think they would, but he had to do something. He couldn't just sit around feeling Harry's cold, angry eyes and act like nothing had happened. Sirius had died to get rid of one Horcrux. The least they could do was be prepared.

The corridors seemed unnaturally filled with people. Draco couldn't remember this many people out and around at one time before. This group pushed past them, and that teacher stopped to compliment Hermione on her latest essay, and every single one of them knew that they were together, that they were walking in the direction of Snape's classroom. Even the portraits seemed to be staring at them. Hundreds of potential witnesses and each one made Draco jumpier than the one before. He wished they had Harry's invisibility cloak, wished they could slip through these hallways unseen.

When they reached Snape's door, they were blessed with an empty hallway at last. A tired witch in a portrait pried one eye open as they knocked on the door, then let themselves in, but she didn't say anything, and Draco let out a sigh of relief.

The classroom was empty. Or, rather, it was empty of people. It was filled with ingredients. Draco had never thought about how many, many different things you used in potion-making. Jars of lizard tongues. Bottles of bat eyes. And Snape seemed to have taken to flower arranging because several tables were loaded down with great bunches of holly.

"Bit late for Christmas decorations," Neville said with a sneer. He stayed out of reach of the stuff, sharp plants, and Draco didn't blame him. Holly could bite.

"It won't be out where students could grab it by mistake," Hermione said. "Maybe his office?"

The office door was locked, and Draco's alohomora didn't have any effect.

"Figures," Hermione said with frustration when hers didn't work either. "He's got charms on it."

"Let me try," Neville said. Draco stepped back because they had invited him along and it was kind of shitty to not let him have a go, but Neville wasn't great at magic except for plant stuff. Everyone knew it. Or at least that was what Draco remembered from the last time they'd hung out, but the Neville that stepped forward and ran his fingers over the lock seemed like a totally different person. He was sharp and quick and he licked his lips like he was pleased to find something worth focusing on.

Draco couldn't hear what he murmured, but the door unlocked with an audible click.

"You didn't use your wand," Hermione said, her eyes wide.

Neville shrugged, but it was impossible to miss the flash of gratification in his eyes.

"That's N.E.W.T. level stuff," Hermione said with awe. "When did you learn that? How did you learn that?"

"While the rest of you go to the beach, I've been stuck at my grans," he said. "Not much to do but practice."

"We aren't allowed to use magic out of school," Hermione said.

Neville raised his brows. "And you are so very worried about breaking the rules?"

"Let's just go look for the stuff we need," Draco said. They were breaking the rules, and while this wasn't the first time he'd broken into Snape's rooms, it hadn't felt as dangerous when Harry wanted to release a pixie to wreak havoc. That had been nothing but a prank. This was weighted with the knowledge there was real danger they were trying to prepare for. They stepped into Snape's private storeroom, and, after he closed the door behind them as quietly as possible, Draco reached over and took Hermione's hand. It wasn't so much that he wanted to draw strength from her. He wanted to remind himself why he was here. What he valued so much he'd face down a week's worth of detention to protect.

A life's worth of detentions.

A shadow crept over him, weighing him down. His life itself, even, his brain whispered. He would stand between her and hell if that was what it took. Hermione must have seen something in his face because she squeezed his hand. "It'll be okay," she whispered.

Draco nodded sharply and shook off the worry. Snape wasn't going to demand his life if they were caught. He was being ridiculous, and he needed to focus on finding those basilisk parts.

"Let's each take a row of cupboards," Neville suggested.

They did, and Draco opened one cabinet after another, scanned the contents quickly, and moved on. Snape was organized and almost pathologically tidy. Everything was labeled and set in perfect rows on the shelves. The groupings didn't make sense to him. They weren't alphabetical or sorted with all the plants together, but Draco recognized the trappings of a system when he saw one.

"Eww," Hermione said.

"What?" Neville asked.

"Hand of Glory," she said.

"What is that?" Draco asked.

"Dark magic," Neville said. "You cut the hand off a condemned man and… well, there's a lot of steps, but in the end, you have a light which only shines for the person holding the Hand."

"Well, that's disgusting," Hermione said. "I stand by my ewww."

Neville laughed. "Well, it would be useful if you wanted to see in the dark, so I think I'll take it if you don't mind."

Draco didn't see why Neville would ever need anything like that, but he didn't really care and Neville's interest in it turned out to be fortuitous. Behind the Hand was a series of neatly lined up row vials, each labeled 'basilisk venom.'

"More than enough for all of us to have one," Neville said. He handed them 'round, and Hermione did a quick no-break spell before they dropped them in their bags. Draco hadn't thought of that, but he was grateful she did. The last thing any of them needed was basilisk venom leaking all over their stuff, and they'd have to carry the things everywhere.

Leaving was as much of a risk as entering, maybe more so, because on the way in they could have claimed they were there for extra help. That would be hard to sell anyone if their bags were searched. Hermione opened the door back to the classroom as slowly as possible and peered around the edge. Draco held his breath, waiting for Snape to swoop down and demand to know what they were doing, but no one appeared. They slid out of the storeroom, and out of the classroom itself, and were three steps down the hall when a group of rowdy first years came tumbling by in Slytherin green.

"What are you lot doing down here?" one of them demanded. It was a good question. Gryffindors didn't tend to hand out in the dungeons where Snape's classroom was.

Hermione opened her mouth, almost sure to dole out the lie that she wanted extra help, but Neville cut her off.

"Looking for children to boil up in a cauldron," he said. "We didn't want to use anyone from our House, so we came hunting."

"Weirdo," one of them said, but they backed away more cautiously before turning and running. Neville laughed with a cold delight that sent chills down Draco's spine.

"Anyone up for a game of Exploding Snap?" he asked. It was probably just the cold of the dungeons making him shiver like this, and he wanted to go back to their warm tower and chase away the darkness with a game.

"Sounds great," Neville said, and they hurried back up, heedless of the sleepy-eyed portrait watching them.

#

"No idea," the painted witch said. She yawned and took another sip from the cup of tea she'd taken from a different painting on her way to Minerva McGonagall's office. "You know Snape removed all the portraits from his classroom."

Minerva sighed. She knew all too well that Severus had cut her off from her spy network, claiming he didn't care for the art, brows lifted as if daring her to contradict him.

"Keep an eye on them," Minerva said. She supposed she should be glad poor Neville Longbottom had finally found a friend, even if it happened because of Draco and Harry's rift. And naturally, Draco Malfoy had sucked him right into the same kind of trouble he used to cause with Harry. And she was glad for the boy – he'd had a tough time of it – but she had more important things to worry about right now than the shenanigans of fifth-years blowing off steam, and if Severus didn't want her spying on him, he didn't need a head's up from her that students had been sneaking into his classroom. "I doubt it's very important."

The witch yawned, which was as close to agreement as she was going to get, and Minerva turned back to her grading. Evil could be on the horizon, but that didn't stop the essays, or improve anyone's grammar or rhetoric.

#

Molly Weasley tapped her finger on the note Narcissa Malfoy had sent her and pursed her lips. She did not like the Malfoys. Lucius' claim he'd been under the Imperious Curse during the War didn't pass the sniff test, and the whole family was arrogant and vain. And she resented their wealth. It wasn't fair her children had to wear hand-me-downs while people like Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had new robes every year and the best brooms money could buy.

On the other hand, they hadn't gone and blasted their child out of their family when he was Sorted into Gryffindor years ago, and if Narcissa Malfoy was right that He Who Must Not Be Named was back, she'd taken an incredible risk sending this message. And if Minerva was really on board, it wasn't a fraud. And, of course, even if it was, she wouldn't mind seeing the inside of Malfoy Manor.

She took out a quill

Dear Narcissa, she wrote. I would be delighted to join you at Easter. It's always nice to get to know the parents of Ron's school friends better, and the boys have been sharing a room for five years now. It's certainly time, and Ron will enjoy the chance to visit a friend over the short holiday. And I'm very interested in the project you mentioned and Easter would be an excellent time to sit down and talk about it with you and Minerva McGonagall. I'll just Floo up to the school and ask her if there's anything I can do to help out right away

That would give Narcissa Malfoy pause if she was making this up, and it gave Molly immense satisfaction to imagine the snooty witch caught in a trap of her own making.

Much more pleasant to imagine that than the possibility she was telling the truth.

Thank you for thinking of me.

Molly Weasley

#

Minerva McGonagall sighed, reached down into her bottom drawer, and pulled out the firewhiskey.

Molly's heart sank because if Minerva was offering alcohol instead of tea and biscuits, it meant she thought they'd both need the fortification. "It's true, then," Molly said.

Minerva began to pour. "Unfortunately," she said. "But I'd be grateful for your wand when it comes to it."

That monster had killed her brothers. Killed her friends. Molly didn't need alcohol to brace her spine for another confrontation. She'd follow that bastard to hell itself if that's what it took to get rid of him permanently. "You'll have it," she said.

#

Neville waited until the rest of his roommates were away to pull his diary out. It felt a little girlish to be keeping a journal. A little weak. But it compelled him. If he didn't write in it every few days, his brain started to itch and he felt empty. Lonely.

They were all gone now, though. Harry was off scowling with Blaise, the baby. Neville didn't have a father figure to lose, but he didn't slouch around feeling sorry for himself. Harry was really rather pathetic when it came down to it, and he – Neville – was not. He'd learned magic and fooled everyone. And now he was sliding into the Malfoy orbit. Weasley was nothing. As poor as any orphan, Neville thought. Or someone thought with him. Poverty wasn't something he planned to endure.

Endure again?

Weird thought. His grandmother might be cold and hard and interfering, but she wasn't poor. Neville brushed it away because the core idea was right. Weasley was worthless and sitting out in the Common Room, hoping someone would help him with his homework.

And he, Neville, was worth ten of Weasley. Twelve.

He pulled out his quill and considered. He didn't want to write down the bit about the Horcruxes, or the trip to Snape's office. The pages usually absorbed the ink and responded, but he couldn't be sure someone like Professor McGonagall couldn't bring the old writing back. It was better to leave no evidence and stick to things that seemed ordinary.

I can't wait to go to Draco's over Easter. I've never gone home for this holiday – most people don't – but his mum is having a party and for the first time I get to go, mostly because I'm not telling my gran.

The words swirled away.

Be sure to bring me with you so you can tell me all about it, the diary said. I want everything.

Neville smiled to himself because he did. And he was going to get it. One step at a time.

. . . . . . . . . .

A/N - Thank you Torrilin for beta reading!