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The pouring rain that had pummeled the castle roof the day before had transformed into a light mist, but the overcast sky outside the Room of Hidden Things was as foreboding as the now-clear outline of the Mark on Draco's left forearm.
Draco hadn't bothered forcing Crabbe or Goyle to keep watch; he figured there was little need with nearly everyone in the castle preoccupied with the Quidditch final, and truthfully, he was beginning to think all the memory charms he'd performed were somehow depleting Crabbe and Goyle's already limited supply of brain cells.
"All that's left to do now is cast this spell," Draco said smoothly, pressing his fingertip to the underlined spell in For the Greater Good. His fingertips tingled with the thought that Hermione herself had underlined the charm.
"How can you be sure it'll work?" Theo asked skeptically, gesturing for Draco to put the book in his hand for inspection.
Draco did not oblige, instead he snapped the book shut. He was reluctant to part with it, feeling as though its connection to Hermione somehow guaranteed a successful mending of the cabinet.
"I just know," replied Draco. In truth, he wasn't sure if the spell would fully fix the cabinet… but Hermione had obviously thought it would, and that was enough for him.
I've got nothing left to lose, he reasoned.
"What you mean is you finally trust Granger. I'm still not sure I do… although I can't say I'm surprised she gave you that book."
"Well, I removed her necklace," Draco replied lamely, knowing Theo had long ago suspected the connection that had grown between him and Hermione. "She wanted us to be even."
"Right," replied Theo through a dry chuckle. "She saved your life, then you removed the necklace. Weren't the two of you even then?"
"I might've kept McLaggen's slimy hands off her the night of Slughorn's party," Draco replied.
Theo smirked. "How chivalrous, Draco. Who knew Granger could elicit such gallantry from you? Bet your bravery made her little Gryffindor self ready to take off her—"
"What does it matter, Nott?" Draco asked through gritted teeth.
"What does it matter? It matters quite a lot, Malfoy. Granger just gave you all the answers in that little book, no questions asked, and now she's avoiding us at all costs— you think she'd just up and quit like that? She's a clever one, remember? Or do you not know her at all?"
"Of course I know—" Draco fumed at the idea that he didn't understand Hermione, but he wasn't about to admit to Theo he knew exactly why she was avoiding them now.
"Did she use the Imperius on you or something?" Theo suddenly eyed Draco suspiciously. "It's strange to admit, but she's a bit like us— she'd never just let this thing go… unless…" Theo smirked knowingly.
"… unless something happened between you two… Draco, Draco, Draco, what did you fuck up now?"
"We don't have time for this," Draco replied through clenched teeth, pulling the Protean coin out of his pocket. From the hospital wing yesterday, he'd had Rosmerta send an owl to Borgin to cast the spell to mend the vanishing cabinet at exactly eleven o'clock today.
"Are you going to help me or not?" Draco asked brusquely.
"Of course I am. Trying to instill some sense in you is just part of the package."
"Sense? That's coming from the git who decided to spend half his semester brewing a bloody potion with Granger."
"You just wish it had been you."
Draco rolled his eyes, doing his utmost to stifle the sudden flood of imagery of the golden flecks in Hermione's eyes so near to him as they'd kissed…
"Ready?" He asked, swallowing hard.
Theo rolled up his sleeves, "As I'll ever be."
Draco peered at the clock Hermione had propped up against a stack of books from Greystoke Castle; it was nearly eleven.
"We need to cast the spell simultaneously. On the eleventh chime."
Theo nodded in silence just as the clock sounded, marking the hour. The chimes of countless other clocks in the room joined in, all out of sync, but Draco and Theo had already accustomed themselves to the particular tone of the small golden clock.
As the eleventh chime reached their ears, they spoke in unison, their wands pointed at the door of the cabinet, "Harmonia nectere passus."
Draco and Theo watched with tentative awe as the ancient runes on the door's exterior glowed as they'd never done before; the air around the cabinet seemed to shift.
Draco breathed deeply, trying to steady himself.
"That's it then. I think we've done it," Theo said quietly.
Draco's expression remained impassive.
"There's just one more thing," Draco said stoically, turning to face Theo. "You have to leave."
"Leave—? Are you mad? Just as we fixed—"
"It's not just that greasy git Borgin on the other side of this cabinet. Fenrir Greyback is there too— Voldemort assigned him to keep Borgin in check."
"Voldemort assigned the most notoriously savage werewolf in the UK to do a bit of babysitting? Now that's mad."
Draco sighed, "So you understand why you have to leave… once he catches sight of you, he won't forget your scent. And there's no telling how— hungry— he'll be on any given day. It's no secret that he considers infecting children with lycanthropy as his own personal sport."
"He wouldn't do that to me, the pureblooded son of one of Voldy's merry Death Eaters. My blood's too valuable. Greyback knows Voldemort would kill him when he found out."
"You'd think that, but you're giving the fleabag too much credit; he might be vicious, but he's not particularly bright. And Voldemort's dead-set on getting the werewolves on his side…"
Theo paused, considering this information. "I don't agree with his methods, but I've got to admit, our Dark Lord's got style."
Draco grimaced, "Don't remind me. Now get the bloody hell out of here before I hex you," he pointed his wand in Theo's direction.
Theo laughed, but did not put his wand away. "If you think I'm leaving you're about as daft as Greyback."
Just then, the doorknob on the cabinet jiggled. Theo and Draco had just enough time to turn as the door burst open and Borgin fell through, the sallow man tumbled to the floor.
Draco's mind raced with what to do— to petrify Theo, or to erase his memory— but there was no time. Not a moment passed before Fenrir Greyback stepped through the open door, his his pointed teeth shaped into a grotesque smile, his scar-ravaged arms folded over his broad chest.
"About time, Draco," he spat. "The Dark Lord was getting very impatient," Greyback continued, ignoring Borgin, who was still struggling to get up from the floor.
"Hogwarts… I haven't been here in years… but I don't recognize this room…" he added, his dark eyes wandering around the cluttered room until they at last settled on Theo.
"And who the fuck are you?" Greyback barked.
"None of your bloody business," retorted Theo, his hand gripping his wand tightly at his side.
Fan-fucking-tastic, Draco thought, glaring in Theo's direction.
The werewolf balked, and somehow seemed to grow in stature.
"Suppose it won't matter once I'm through with you," growled Greyback as he stepped forward menacingly.
"Hands off, Greyback," Draco seethed, his wand poised in Greyback's direction. "This arsehole is Theo Nott. He helped me mend the cabinet."
"You're Nott's boy? Your father's one unlucky bastard."
"Pleased to meet you too," replied Theo with mock politeness.
"Master Malfoy— sir— might I return to my shop?"
They all turned to look at Borgin, as if they'd forgotten he was there. It seemed to Draco that Greyback's frequent visits had taken a toll on the man since their meeting in August; he was rail thin, his greasy hair disheveled, and his beady eyes unsettled.
"And quick, you scum. We need to act fast. Send word to—" Greyback barked.
"Keep yourself in check, wolf," Draco interrupted sternly.
"You little—" Greyback tensed.
"As much as I'd like to get this over with, we can't attack now—" Draco explained impatiently. He had no tolerance for Greyback's brute, and brainless, demeanor, and the thought of the monster's free rein in the castle made him want to be sick.
"Why the hell not, boy? Voldemort gave me explicit directions—"
"First of all, the only direction the Dark Lord gave you was to make sure Borgin was doing as I instructed. Secondly, Dumbledore's been gone from the castle all week. I'm not sure the Dark Lord would appreciate his Death Eaters so foolishly wasting their time. I have a plan, Greyback, and it does not include failure, which is almost a guarantee with you at the lead."
Greyback bared his pointed teeth and Theo smirked in satisfaction.
"What're you smiling at Nott?" Greyback snapped.
"Ignore him," Draco commanded, turning again to glare at Theo, who now wore an innocent expression on his face.
"You'll both return to the shop. Greyback, you'll be pleased to give the good news to the Dark Lord, won't you? Maybe he'll be so delighted he'll finally agree to give you that mark you've been after."
Greyback growled, his eyes flashing hungrily to Draco's left arm, but the werewolf said nothing.
"You can tell him I will send the signal when the time is right."
"When the time is right? Those are a coward's words. Why the Dark Lord hasn't killed you and your mother yet is beyond me."
Draco felt a wave of relief at the verification that his mother was indeed alive. He hadn't heard from her in months.
"Like I mentioned before, there's no room for failure. Now go," Draco commanded darkly.
"With pleasure," Greyback smiled grotesquely as Borgin scurried into the cabinet. He turned his beady eyes on Theo. "Looking forward to working with you again soon, Nott."
Theo opened his mouth to reply, but the werewolf disappeared into the darkened cabinet. The door slammed shut behind him.
"That went well, wouldn't you say?" said Theo, turning to face Draco.
Draco sighed, "You're lucky I don't have the energy to hex you."
"So it seems Granger really did just give us all the answers. Now I wonder why she'd go and do a silly thing like that? Any thoughts, Draco?"
"Oh, I have plenty of thoughts, and they all have to do with murdering you."
Theo smirked. "But I thought Voldy tasked you with murdering someone else… now who was that again?" Theo tapped his finger on his jaw. "Oh— right. Only arguably the most powerful wizard in the world. So tell me— what's this great plan of yours?"
Draco ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Truthfully, he had no plan… but one purpose rushed to the forefront of his mind as his thoughts again wandered to Hermione and the way she had felt in his arms.
Stay alive, Draco thought. Keep her alive.
/
/
Hermione was silent on their way back to the Gryffindor common room after their detention with Snape. Harry paused just outside of the portrait hole, however, and she felt his gentle hand on her arm.
"What did Snape want?"
Hermione sighed heavily. Snape's detention had done little to distract her thoughts from Draco, and she wanted nothing more than to take Harry's Invisibility Cloak and steal away to the library, thinking at least she might be able to avoid her own thoughts there.
"He thinks I know what Malfoy's up to," she relented.
"I'd never thought I'd say this, but I can't say I blame him."
Hermione looked away, unable to meet Harry's concerned gaze.
"Snape was acting strangely…"
Harry looked at her questioningly.
"He mentioned something about his failed attempt to protect someone—"
"Snape? Protect someone?" Harry interjected incredulously with a sarcastic laugh. "Impossible. The only person the slimy git would ever protect is himself."
"Regardless, Harry— I didn't tell him anything. There's— there's nothing to tell."
She motioned toward the portrait hole, but he stopped her again.
"It's not fair, Hermione."
"Not fair?" She asked without turning around to face him.
"All the times I tried to stop you from helping me, to keep you safe… but you never listened, did you?"
"Harry—" she pleaded, straining with the effort of withholding her tears.
"How can you expect me to let this go? Let Ron and I help you now… please."
Hermione shook her head in silence, feeling his gentle hand on her arm. "Let's go— you don't want to keep the team waiting."
She averted her gaze to the Fat Lady, "Quid agis?"
Her eyes scanned Hermione with concern as she replied, "I should be asking you that question, dear."
Without another word, the Fat Lady swung forward to allow them entry, and a roar of celebration erupted from the hole behind her.
Hermione was immediately parted from Harry as people began to scream at the sight of him; several hands pulled him into the room.
"We won!" yelled Ron, bounding forward and brandishing the silver Cup over his head. "We won! Four hundred and fifty to a hundred and forty! We won!"
Through her pain, Hermione felt a small spark of joy as she watched a grin spread across Harry's face at the news of Gryffindor's victory.
"They did it!" Luna exclaimed, her hat roaring with a pride matched only by the expression she beamed in Ron's direction. Blushing scarlet, Ron returned her smile, pushing the cup into Harry's open arms so he could wrap an arm around Luna's shoulder.
"I can't believe it!" Harry exclaimed as the crowd of Gryffindors (and Luna) allowed him entry.
"Ye of little faith!" Ginny shouted from atop Neville's shoulders, a golden snitch clasped aloft in her right hand.
"Congratulations, Ginny! Harry's just worried there won't be a spot on the team for him next year," Hermione exclaimed, reappearing at Harry's side and nudging him in the ribs.
"See Potter— some people believe in me, right Neville?" Ginny replied, looking down at Neville.
"She was brilliant, Harry, you should've seen—" Neville praised, but he was interrupted as Ginny bent over to plant a kiss on his forehead.
Startled by her unexpected gesture, Neville wobbled on his feet and promptly toppled over.
"Watch out!" Harry shouted, the silver cup crashing to the floor as he leapt forward in a failed attempt to brace Neville.
Ron bent over at the sight of it all, unable to control his laughter.
"Ginny— Neville—!" Hermione gasped as she knelt low to check for injury, only to find Neville and Ginny in an entangled heap on the floor, both gasping for breath through their raucous laughter.
Ginny managed to free her arm from entanglement, the glimmering snitch still miraculously clasped between her fingertips, "Got it!"
The room erupted into cheers once more.
Hermione stood, a small, reminiscent smile gracing her lips as she recalled the Christmas Eve she'd shared with Draco and Theo— the unexpected fun they'd had, the laughter they'd shared, and the magic they'd created, together. She imagined what Draco might say at the sight of the Gryffindor celebration, of the way they might spiritedly debate the true value of something like Quidditch, of the way Theo might pass around shots of 'Ogden's finest', or the way Draco would roll his eyes at the sight of Luna's roaring hat… of how good it would feel to be by his side after the dark and dismal hours she'd spent in Snape's detention…
Her heart fell at the thought of all these things that would never— could never— be. Hermione's smile faded as she considered the danger that loomed around every corner now— both inside the castle and out— her inability to put a stop to it… her own part in it…
Her eyesight blurred as her eyes welled with tears, and she ran from the room, ignoring Harry and Ron's calls as she escaped through the portrait hole.
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A/N: I can't believe this fic is nearing the end! It has been a year in the making. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!