/

It was Monday afternoon, not even two whole days after he and Draco had mended the vanishing cabinet, and Theo was stuck inside the Room of Hidden Things. Literally stuck.

He'd come alone with the hopes of figuring out a way to stop Draco from carrying out Voldemort's task, the task Theo was nearly certain— despite his faith in his friend's determination and magical abilities— Draco would surely fail. He'd also come with the hope of running into Hermione, who he felt was perhaps Draco's only hope, and although Theo would never admit it out loud, he missed her— she was his friend, after all.

He pressed his ear to the wall separating the Room of Hidden Things from the hallway beyond and again heard the thump of Professor Trelawney's pathetic kicks and punches against the stone wall as she attempted to regain entry into the room.

"I always knew she was barking mad," Theo muttered to himself as he slid to the floor.

He'd been just about ready to leave, when none other than the Divination professor herself, arms leaden with sherry bottles, had appeared around a corner in the Room of Hidden Things. Theo had wasted no time in promptly throwing her out with a particularly well-aimed spell; he hoped she hadn't seen his face.

As he sat on the floor now, Theo remembered when Hermione had walked out of Trelawney's Divination class in their third year; he remembered his awe at her boldness, wishing he'd had the courage to walk out with her, having always considered Divination an extraordinary waste of time— to Theo, Divination was nothing more than an excuse people used to justify "answers" that were really just their own personal feelings or desires, a form of magical study for those who are too lazy to actually study.

Theo wondered where Hermione and Draco were right now, wishing they could be by his side, knowing there'd be amusement in their shared commiseration over Trelawney.

"At least the old bat's got good taste in sherry," Theo mused, smirking at the memory of the sherry-fueled Christmas Eve he'd spent with his friends.

His smile faded however as another voice, a male voice, joined the Professor's on the other side of the wall. Theo again pressed his ear to the stone, and recognized that it was Harry's voice on the other side.

"Bloody Potter lurking around again," Theo whispered to himself, his ear aching as he increased the pressure on the side of his head, as if smashing his ear into the stone would somehow amplify their voices.

"The Inner Eye did not allow me to see! Everything went pitch-black and the next thing I knew, I was being hurled headfirst out of the room!" Trelawney exclaimed.

"And you didn't see that coming?" said Harry.

Theo couldn't help but smirk at Harry's sarcasm.

Apparently Potter's not exactly a fan of the fine art of Divination either.

"No, I did not, as I say, it was pitch—"

"I think you'd better tell Professor Dumbledore," Harry interrupted.

"Yes, go," Theo whispered to himself, hoping they would leave, and soon. It wasn't good to leave Draco to his own devices… not now that they had mended the cabinet.

"The headmaster has intimated that he would prefer fewer visits from me," Trelawney said, and Theo detected raw bitterness in her voice. "I am not one to press my company upon those who do not value it. If Dumbledore chooses to ignore the warnings the cards show—"

There was a pause. Theo was quite certain his ear was about to fall off.

"Again and again, no matter how I lay them out— the lightning-struck tower! Calamity! Disaster! Coming nearer all the time…"

"Right," said Harry dryly, and Theo had to actually slap his hand over his mouth to stop himself from bursting into a fit of laughter.

"Well… I still think you should tell Dumbledore about this voice, and everything going dark and being thrown out of the room…"

Theo vehemently nodded his head. "That's right, you old bat, listen to the 'Chosen Prat…'"

"You think so?" Professor Trelawney seemed to consider the matter for a moment.

"I'm going to see him right now," said Harry. "I've got a meeting with him. We could go together."

Dumbledore's back? Theo thought. So that means… the cabinet… his heart began to race.

"Oh, well, in that case," replied Professor Trelawney agreeably.

Their voices faded away, presumably as they walked down the hall, away from the Room of Hidden Things, and Theo again relaxed against the stone wall. "Bloody hell," he sighed.

To be sure he wouldn't be seen, Theo waited a few minutes before exiting the room. Making his way toward the Great Hall to find Draco, Theo couldn't help but pause outside the storeroom he and Hermione had used to brew Fexlis Felicis. Even though it was highly unlikely she would be in there, his hand grasped the doorknob anyway. Just as he was about to enter, a familiar voice called his name.

"Mister Nott!" Professor Tonks' voice sounded from down the hall. Theo removed his hand from the door and turned to find she was beckoning him toward her.

Finally, he thought, the identity of the woman Draco had seen in the professor's mind and the question of how she'd come into possession of his portrait still burdening his thoughts.

"Follow me, please," Andromeda's tone left no room for argument, and Theo did as he was told.

Andromeda paused outside the door to an empty classroom and nodded her head to direct him inside. She promptly closed the door behind them.

"I will be direct, Mister Nott," she announced, her expression serious.

"How unusual of you, Professor," replied Theo sarcastically. Andromeda ignored him.

"I am sure Draco has informed you of my patient and her locket."

Theo nodded, seeing no reason to lie.

"Unfortunately, things are changing at St. Mungo's, and quickly. I no longer believe it is a safe place for many of our staff… nor our patients."

Theo's eyes widened in surprise.

Is she implying Voldemort's infiltrated St. Mungo's? Theo wondered.

He swallowed hard, knowing Hogwart's was next.

"You mean—?"

"I do not wish to get into details, but I will tell you I have been forced to break protocol in order to protect my patient, the very one who Draco believes possesses a portrait of you. If we are to help her, you must come with me."

"When?" Theo asked excitedly.

"Now, of course," Andromeda replied plainly.

Theo hesitated, reluctant to leave the castle, to abandon Draco when he was on the brink of enacting his plan. His hand clasped around the small vial of Felix Felicis he kept in his pocket.

I'll be right back, Theo reasoned with himself. But Dumbledore's back, his thoughts reminded him. Draco won't delay any longer.

But he needed to know the truth about this mysterious patient.

"Okay," Theo agreed.

"I will require your utter compliance, Theo, and of course your discretion. If word of this were to leave your lips, the consequences could be dire— for all of us."

"Of course," Theo replied.

Andromeda nodded silently, her jaw set. "This floo has been set up for my personal use this term, and it's scheduled to be active in—" she paused to check the watch on her left wrist, "three minutes."

Theo swallowed hard, his heart beating fast.

"Does Dumbledore know?" He asked curiously, suddenly realizing it was more than a bit odd for a student to leave the castle with a professor.

"I have alerted your Head of House," she replied simply as she walked to the hearth and beckoned him to stand beside her. Andromeda reached into her pocket, and Theo noticed the familiar sight of floo powder. He preferred Apparition, but other than a secret vanishing cabinet in the Room of Hidden Things, or a chilly— and likely lengthy— broom ride, he knew this was the most efficient way to leave the castle.

"Step up."

Without hesitation, Theo stepped forward and Andromeda tossed the powder into the hearth. The once orange flames turned emerald and rose to the height of his nose.

"Home!" Andromeda shouted clearly as they stepped, side-by-side, into the flames.

/

/

In the Great Hall, Draco held the vibrating Protean coin in his hand. It was a message from Rosmerta, who, as far as he could tell, was still under the control of the Imperius he'd casted all those months ago.

'Dumbledore back,' it read.

Draco felt instantly lightheaded, knowing the time to enact his plan had come. He glanced over at Hermione's usual spot at the Gryffindor table to find it empty. He wondered where she was, if maybe he had enough time to warn her, or— knowing she'd never willingly shy away from a fight to protect her school and her friends— lock her in a broom cupboard somewhere.

He shook his head and rose from his seat; he was wasting time.

Draco reasoned Dumbledore, as old as he was, would be weakened from over a week of travel, but he couldn't be sure how long the Headmaster would be present in the castle before leaving again.

Draco also reasoned it would be wise to take advantage of Theo's mysterious absence; he didn't fancy another meeting between him and Greyback, particularly after Theo had done an outstanding job of pissing the werewolf off.

It has to be today.

Draco rose from his seat ay the Slytherin table to make his way toward the Room of Hidden Things. The students, professors, portraits, and ghosts Draco passed on his way were nothing more than blurred murmurs, shadowy figures in his periphery.

He idly wondered if today would be the last day he'd ever step foot in Hogwarts— a place that had more often than not been so much more than a school— it had been home. He tried to remember the last time he'd ridden his broom around the pitch, the last time he'd gone to the library, he last thing he'd said to Theo… but he couldn't.

Draco wondered if he'd ever see Hermione again… and the pain and the loneliness that overtook him was so excruciating, so unbearable, he resorted to his Occlumency training— he suffocated the sudden barrage of every good memory he'd experienced inside the castle walls, every laugh he'd shared with Theo, the joy of every spell he'd mastered, the freedom he'd felt on his broom at the sight of the castle, it's windows twinkling with the sun, far below—he used the best of his efforts to bury the image of the golden flecks in Hermione's brown eyes, the sight of her smile, the memory of the feeling of their combined magic, of her wrapped in his arms, of her lips against his.

Draco startled as if from a dream as he overheard a passing student whisper his name disparagingly. He looked around to discover he was nowhere near the Room of Hidden Things; his feet had taken him to Gryffindor Tower. Luckily, the corridor was relatively empty, but he could not ignore the odd stares he received from a few passing Gryffindors.

"Malfoy?"

He recognized her voice immediately. He quickened his pace in the opposite direction, away from Gryffindor Tower, away from her.

"Malfoy—!"

Don't, his mind urged. You won't be able to go through with it if you see her. He gripped his wand in one hand and the platinum necklace, which he'd been keeping in his pocket, in the other.

"Malfoy! Stop!"

He lengthened his stride, bounding up a flight of stairs and rounding a corner, hoping she'd lose sight of him.

"Draco!"

He heard the anger in her voice and turned on his heel just in time to see the blinding light of Hermione's silent spell hurtling toward him. He leapt to the side of the otherwise deserted corridor and felt the heat of whatever spell she'd cast hum by his ear. Hermione was sprinting toward him, her hair streaming behind her, her wand pointed in his direction, her expression fierce.

Draco's breath caught in his throat.

"Bloody hell, Granger! You're mental! Can't you take a hint?"

She reached him, panting and glancing over his shoulder. Her eyes landed on the open door of a classroom.

"I don't have time for this," he urged.

"In here," she breathed as she pulled on his sleeve. Despite his protestations, and better judgement, he did not resist— he couldn't resist.

The classroom was comically small, but its largest wall was dominated by an enormous arched window, flooding the room with the vibrant light of sunset. Draco watched as Hermione locked the door behind them and cast a silencing charm with a silent wave of her wand.

Hermione turned to face Draco, but her words caught in her throat at the sight of him; his eyes reflecting the light pouring in through the window, the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips.

"What is it, Granger? Potter got his head stuck in a Snargaluff somewhere?"

She shook her head. "What were you doing in Gryffindor Tower? What's going on?"

"None of your business," he replied sharply, looking away. Every second he spent with her was a strike to his resolve.

"You're lying."

"What do you care? You said you couldn't help me anymore," Draco replied, unable to conceal his bitterness.

"You know what, Malfoy? You don't deserve my help," Hermione exclaimed.

"You were telling a different story two weeks ago, Granger— what's changed?" Draco asked, smirking lopsidedly.

She paused. "I don't know, maybe I finally came to my senses."

"Doubtful," Draco replied, leaning against an empty desk. "I'm listening."

Hermione sighed, knowing her conscious would not allow her to leave this room without telling him.

"Dumbledore's back."

"And?" Draco replied impatiently.

"Don't act like you don't care. I know you fixed the cabinet the first chance you got— thanks to me, by the way— and I know you've been waiting for Dumbledore to get back to the castle."

Draco's jaw clenched, and Hermione shot him a satisfied look.

"He's back, but he's leaving again… just for a while. Or at least I think just for a while," Hermione explained, realizing she actually had no idea how long Harry and Dumbledore would be gone.

Fuck, Draco cursed internally.

"How do you know?" He asked hurriedly.

Hermione hesitated.

"Granger—"

"He and Harry went somewhere," she replied, biting her lip.

"Where the hell could they be going?" Draco asked worriedly, considering maybe Dumbledore had found him out and had decided to take Harry to a safer place. "Or do they have a habit of taking field trips together?"

Hermione ignored this comment.

"I think they left from Hogsmeade, so I imagine they will be back—"

"Are you sure they'll be back tonight?" Draco interrupted, too anxious to care he was doing a poor job of hiding his fear.

"I can't be sure… but it's the best I've got," she sighed.

It has to be tonight, Draco's mind urged.

He couldn't risk another day— another opportunity to change his mind, another day of pain for his mother, another chance to run into Hermione.

An idea came to him now, as the last rays of light spilled over the horizon outside the castle's walls, illuminating Hermione's silhouette; he'd make sure Rosmerta would be there when Potter and Dumbledore returned to Hogsmeade, and he'd cast the Dark Mark into the sky over the Astronomy Tower, to lure the Headmaster to an isolated part of the castle, away from other professors and students— and then he'd… Draco closed his eyes, unable to visualize what he knew he had to do, or at least, what he knew he had to try to do.

"It's happening tonight, Granger," he replied before he could stop himself. "That's why I was in Gryffindor Tower… to warn you." He looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

"You should stay out of the way," he added softly.

"I'll do no such thing."

He looked up to find her expression set in defiance. He strode across the room, his jaw set, stopping only when their faces were mere inches from one another. She tilted her chin upward, unflinching.

"Some of the most despicable monsters are going to be in this castle in a matter of hours, including Fenrir fucking Greyback. I'm sure I don't need to explain to you who that is—"

"What?!" She exclaimed in horror. "You can't possibly be telling me you're about to let the most notoriously savage werewolf just stroll into a castle— full of children? And here I was idiotically thinking you actually have some good in you— you're as bad as the people you just called 'despicable monsters'—"

Her words stung, and Draco looked away for a moment, the idea that she thought him as bad as Voldemort's most wretched followers too painful.

You are a despicable monster, remember? A voice in his mind whispered.

"I didn't want anything to do with the dirty wolf—"

"Have you gone mad, Malfoy?! Never mind— that's an idiotic question, I already know you're mad."

"So you'll stay up in your common room then?" Draco asked, knowing how naive it was to hope she'd agree. He knew her better; she would stand and fight.

Hermione laughed sarcastically and Draco winced at the sound.

"If you think I'm going to just sit back—"

"Hermione— please—" the words, as desperate as they were, tumbled from his lips. He ignored the spark of warmth that burned inside him at the sound of her name on his lips.

Trying to ignore the pleasure she felt at Draco's use of her first name, Hermione took a step forward, her expression softening only slightly.

"You don't have to do this— the Order will protect you… Dumbledore will protect you," she replied, unable to hide the desperation in her voice.

"And my mother?"

Hermione hesitated, unsure. "Dumbledore will protect her too."

"It's too late," he answered immediately. "And I told you, Granger, my mother would never take the coward's way out… and neither will I."

"It's not the coward's way out!" She yelled, taking a step backward, her voice breaking. "It's not a sign of weakness to want to live!"

"Yet you won't agree to stay out of harm's way tonight."

They stared at one another in electrified silence, neither willing to relent, both reluctant to admit their admiration of the other for not giving in.

"Are you done?" Draco finally asked.

"No."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Well, I am."

With every ounce of strength he could muster, he moved past her, toward the door.

"Wait! Is— is Nott all right? I can't see him anywhere in the castle."

Draco tried not to show his surprise at this new information. He hadn't seen Theo all day, and figured his friend must be up to something, but Draco hadn't imagined he'd somehow left the castle grounds.

"Using Potter's little map again, I see," he replied dryly.

Hermione bit her lip; she had been using the map earlier— Harry had given it to her before he'd left with Dumbledore, it was how she'd noticed Nott's absence from the castle, and Draco's presence in Gryffindor Tower.

"Where is he?" She asked again.

"I honestly have no idea," replied Draco sincerely, doing his best to hide his concern.

"Did Nott— did he give you anything? Before he left?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"I really don't have time—"

"Just answer the question, Malfoy."

"No— okay? He didn't give me anything."

The room was again heavy with silence. Hermione sighed, resolving herself to do what she knew she had to do— even if it meant Fenrir Greyback entering the school, even if it meant Dumbledore's demise, although she sincerely doubted Draco's ability to complete the task, even with help; Dumbledore was the most powerful and talented wizard alive, but more than that, she believed— she hoped— Draco's conscious, his compassion— there good she saw inside him— would prevent him from it… but there were too many variables, too much at stake to leave it all to chance…

She had to do it— for him.

Draco watched with marked curiosity as Hermione pulled a small vial out of her pocket, and his eyes widened in shock as he recognized the shimmering liquid within.

"That's not— it can't be—" He whispered. Suddenly, all the hours Hermione and Theo had spent brewing a potion in secret made sense.

"Felix Felicis," Hermione replied quietly. "Nott and I worked on it all year. I think it will work… I hope it works."

She held out her hand, the liquid luck in the center of her palm. "Take it."

His breath caught in his throat.

"You're giving this to me?" He asked, disbelieving, considering good luck for him meant bad luck for everyone else, struck by the fact that Hermione certainly realized this too.

"Yes," Hermione whispered firmly, stepping toward him. "I need you to take it…"

"We can share it," Draco replied.

She vehemently shook her head, biting her lip. "Nott and I were only able to brew so little… I don't know if this will even be enough for you… and you need all you can get."

"I can't take this," he replied, turning his head away. The light in the room was fading fast. "You'll need it tonight."

"Harry had some left, and he shared it with Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville, and I… just in case."

She swallowed hard, knowing she'd have to explain to her friends exactly why they would need to use Harry's Felix Felicis tonight.

"What, one drop each?" replied Draco incredulously. "That can't have any actual benefit, can it? And with Weasley's saliva floating around in there, contaminating it—"

She shook her head, not cheered by his attempt at diversion.

"We'll be okay… we have each other. And the Order. And don't forget the castle and Hogsmeade are basically swarming with Aurors."

He'd nearly forgotten about the Aurors posted in the castle and Hogsmeade. The weight of his task pressed down on his shoulders; suddenly, it was difficult to breathe.

"Please take it. If not for yourself, for your mother… and for me," Hermione whispered, lifting her hand to gently rest it on his cheek. She turned his face toward hers.

"Please, Draco."

Looking into Hermione's familiar brown eyes, hearing his name on her lips, he found he could not refuse her.

Draco nodded silently, carefully placing the vial into his pocket and retrieving one of the galleons he'd modified with a Protean charm.

"Here," he offered, the galleon glinting in his palm.

"I know you're not used to this sort of thing, but you don't need to pay me off, you know—"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I modified it with a Protean charm. Take it in case that speckled git gets greedy with his map, or…"

If we need to find each other, Draco thought.

Hermione's surprise transformed into a very smug look as she realized Draco had copied her use of a Protean charm on coins as a means of secret communication.

"They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, you know."

Draco rolled his eyes again, "You're brilliant. Is that what you want to hear?"

"It's a start," she replied, grinning up at him. Draco could not resist grinning himself at the sight of it, at the effect her happiness had on him, particularly when he'd been the one to make her smile.

"Your ego is about as bad as Theo's sometimes."

"About being the key word," replied Hermione, taking a step backward as she tucked the coin into her pocket, still smirking.

"I got the idea from the Dark Mark, you know." Hermione mused aloud. "How Voldemort uses it to communicate with—" she hesitated, still unable to think of Draco as a Death Eater.

"—his dutiful servants?" Draco asked sarcastically. "Seems like we've come full circle."

"Well, this coin's not nearly as nice as your last gift," said Hermione lightly.

Draco's eyebrow lifted in amusement as he replied, "I see your taste has changed… for the better."

It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. "I always thought the necklace was pretty— even if it was a bit, um—"

"Possessive?"

"Possessive is putting it lightly. It burned me, remember?" She asked, brushing her hair and the collar of her shirt aside to reveal the mark of his 'M' on her collarbone. Were it not for the small shreds of restraint and sanity that somehow miraculously still remained inside of him, Draco would've taken her into his arms; he couldn't be sure he'd ever let go.

"Well, you're in luck, Granger. I have it here," he said, pulling the delicate chain from his pocket.

Hermione's eyes traveled to the vibrant platinum suspended between his hands. "You keep it in your pocket?" She asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Just in case you get the opportunity to track another girl or something? Who's next, Parkinson?"

Draco grimaced. "Save it, Granger—" he replied, unable to refrain from smirking lopsidedly.

She gathered her hair into her hands, gesturing for him to place the necklace around her, but he hesitated.

Hermione sensed his reservation; she had many of her own, but she couldn't deny her desire for a more permanent, tangible symbol of their connection, however fraught, however impossible— for Draco to be able find her, should he lose his way.

"It's okay," she whispered, and he leaned forward to deftly clasp the necklace behind her, his fingertips lingering on her neck for a moment as he savored the feel of her skin, of their proximity to one another, before he pulled away.

They stared at one another in silence for a time, the space between them charged— with everything they desired, with everything keeping them apart.

Hermione's fingertips found their way beneath his sleeve, lingering on his left forearm.

They both looked down.

"It's healed…" she whispered, her fear overtaking the electrified warmth she'd felt at the sensation of his skin on hers.

"I took your advice," he replied softly as he drew his wand with his right hand. He pressed the tip of his wand into the mark; it was now or never.

"You don't have to do this," she whispered, covering his Dark Mark with her hand. Her touch was gentle and warm, and even though the room was dark now, Draco recognized the fear— for him— in her eyes.

It was unbearable.

He grasped her hand in his and brought it to her side. "What choice do I have?"

He pressed the tip of his wand into his arm once more. Draco and Hermione watched, equally horrified, as the mouth of the skull opened and the snake inside writhed with delight on Draco's pale forearm. The mark darkened, and Draco winced as it burned, a sign his message had been received.

"It's done," he whispered.

Hermione's liquid luck was suddenly heavy in the pocket of his robes. He removed it, uncorking the bottle.

"Just do me one more favor, Granger."

He brought the vial to his lips and downed the silky golden liquid in one gulp; Hermione had been right, the amount was no greater than a capful of Ogden's.

"What is it?" She asked softly.

Felix Felicis already tingling as it coursed through his veins, Draco took a step toward Hermione again, so close the wavy ends of her hair brushed his robes, so near he could individually count her dark eyelashes. If he were to die tonight, Draco reasoned, at least he'd have this memory— the image of her face, the feel of her cheek in his hand, the knowledge that she cared for him— fresh in his mind.

"Stay alive," he whispered before he kissed her, hoping to share whatever liquid luck lingered on his lips.

/

/

A/N: As always, thank you so much for reading!