I spent the rest of the day cowering in my bed, unable to deal with the rising panic from the micro-prophecy of the night before. It was unmistakable that it had been Draco who had struck me with the killing curse and I was driving myself insane trying to imagine how that could ever come to be. Then there was the horrific imagery of Harry's burning skeleton in the distance and the blackness that had somehow seeped into my magic. If it were to come true the war would be lost and I would come to my death at the hands of my lover. Between crying fits I tried to concentrate on remembering the first micro-prophecy from the dungeons as I recorded both for analysis later.

I woke late the next day and realized I needed to peel off the bandages and face the arduous task of bathing in the creek. It was beyond breakfast when I pushed my way through the cottage and out to the trickling water bed. I stood trying to calm my breathing as I waded into the water fully dressed in my old nightgown, a fresh dress sat folded at the waters edge.

I decided to start with the worst one first; the gash on my side. I was incredibly light headed and sick to my stomach as I worked the bandages off with the help of the water. The magic that Luna had applied had sealed the wounds, leaving behind a bright pink set of thick lines in the shape of a claw across my ribs. I nodded, breathing more steadily. It wasn't as terrible as my mind had worked it up to being, but the scars would remain for an eternity given their source.

I timidly pulled the nightgown over my head, trying to hunch down in the river behind the singular tree that precariously balanced on the riparian border of the running water between my naked body and the windmill. I shut my eyes, and ripped off the other bandages on my shoulders and neck where the werewolf's claws had nearly sliced several major arteries. I threw the bandages to the shoreline and dropped down below the water's surface, holding my breath and shutting my eyes. I ran my fingers along the bumpy slices on my upper body. I had survived, and that was most important. The image of Ginny on the first day of my awakening from the coma danced in my mind. Her pitiless gaze and judgmental snort, her words regarding battle scars, "You'll get used to that. This is a war. There's no time for pretty dresses and beauty products."

I resurfaced and brushed my hair back, deciding to heed Ginny's advice. She had been going through exactly what I had just experienced for far longer than I had, and perhaps I had never been fair in my perception of her. I shook out my hair and roughly had to force my new dress over my still soaked body. Towels were a luxury not present at the farm.

When I returned to the farm only Seamus and Pansy were in the living room, bickering about the qualities of the houses at Hogwarts as though they even still existed. Hogwarts was a Death Eater base now. I made to ignore them before Seamus called up at me, "Eh, princess, Harry's lookin fer yah. He's in 'is room."

"Okay," I grumbled, unsure of which room was Harry's. I started on the first floor with no luck, knocking on every door and pissing off several Order members in the process. Finally, back on the third floor I realized there was only two other doors besides my own. I knocked on the closest one and no one answered, so I moved down to the final door. If I was rejected again I would give up, but this time it in fact opened and I was staring straight into the blue-green swirl of Harry's vivid eyes.

He gestured for me to come in and I noticed that Ron was sat on a bed with his usual shove-offish mannerisms in place. There were two beds in the room and I assumed they shared it. My skin prickled in the presence of Ron's personal space. My eyes gazed over the many photographs on the walls of his family members and of some other individuals that I didn't recognize. The area was highly personalized in this fashion; the boys had piles of books, clothing hung up, pictures and drawings, and numerous random possessions. I took especial interest in a golden snitch that was somehow sitting complacently on a table that separated their beds.

Harry's eyes followed mine knowingly, "It's the Hogwarts snitch. It was...a gift."

I nodded, too afraid to pick it up even though I strongly desired to investigate it's design. Harry sat on the bed opposite of Ron and clasped his hands, "We wanted to talk to you about a few odd things we'd noticed during the accident last week, between you and Malfoy. And we want to show you something very dear to us. Will you come with us so we can show you?"

My eyes slid to Ronald in surprise that he wanted to spend any time with me. The avoidant stare on his face confirmed that it was all Harry's idea. I smiled pathetically at Harry, "Ef you want dat, den I will come."

Harry snapped up off of the bed like he had been bursting to receive the acceptance of the offer. He held out his arm, his wand in his other hand, and Ron and I both grabbed different spots along Harry's green sweater.

We reappeared in a densely occupied landscape, the sun setting in the distance behind a nearby church. I twirled slowly to scrutinize the morbid setting that we had apparated to. It was a sleepy and ancient graveyard dominated by tall, thin tombstones with arched and pointed tops. The grave markings were mainly weathered and jutting at haphazard angles from the movement of the earth over time. Large, mossy trees provided impressive canopy over the scared space.

Harry and Ron started drifting through the tombstones with a clear goal in mind. I pressed on behind them, lifting up my pale pink dress hem to avoid dragging it over anything precious or personal. We reached what appeared to be a brand new, bright gray tomb. It had the most beautiful scripture written on it, simply stating, Hermione Granger. And below that The brightest witch of her time.

My hand flew to my mouth. I looked between them in disbelief at where we were. Ron's face was contorting with pain as he looked forlornly and longingly at the words on the grave. Tears were sliding down his pale cheeks uncontrollably and he turned away, weeping into his sleeve in deep and harrowing sobs.

Harry put his hand on my shoulder as he too let tears escape his eyes, lifting his glasses off of his face as they fogged, "We wanted you to see the loss of what we've been through. We don't know where he took her body, so we had to create a place marker for her here, where my parents are also buried. So she would not be forgotten."

I bit my lip as I watched them cry and my own eyes pricked with the knowledge of their pain. I shut my eyes, gasping softly, knowing she was alive somewhere in Denmark. I shook my head with my hand over my mouth and was suddenly knocked sideways by Ron shoving my shoulder hard, "How dare you pretend to cry for her! You didn't even know her!"

Harry and I both stumbled several feet to the left as we looked up into Ron's livid expression. His bottom lip trembled and his blue eyes were red from crying. His eyes were burning into me.

"She's...she's alive," I choked it out before I could stop myself. A horrifically thick silence ensued with the information I had just revealed.

"What?" Harry yelled at me and I backed away from both of them, suddenly aware of the damage I had just done. The grave had been too much; my sensitivity to their loss had clouded my better judgement.

I wiped a tear from my face, fumbling helplessly on my words, "Draco - 'e d-didn't kill 'er."

Harry stepped towards me with darkening eyes that I didn't recognize on his face, "Exactly how long have you known this?" He was fuming, his nostrils flaring from the betrayal.

I stepped back as well to match his stride out of a familiar fear of being physically abused, "Not long at all. Et es so complicated, 'arry."

"Well you better explain how it's complicated Madeleine. Right NOW!" He was shouting at the top of his lungs, his finger pointed at the ground with fury and authority.

I heaved in air inadequately as I saw Ron take out his wand and point it at me. I gripped my own in my pocket, knowing that I couldn't take both of them on at once. The exposed secret had just opened a can of worms that could only be explained by letting slip that I was some form of double agent.

"She is with Malfoy, Harry I told you! You saw the way he acted when he thought she was dying. I knew something was off about it all. She begged me not to torture him!" Ron barked at a grandiose volume and I mildly glanced around us hoping someone would be nearby and be disturbed by the evident violence. The graveyard and surrounding streets were unfortunately silent.

"It is pretty suspicious Madeleine. You'd better have a good answer for all of this," Harry warned.

I gaped, opening and shutting my mouth with absolutely no idea of where to start, shooting Ron a pleading glance, "I'll tell you. Please, just lower your wand." I backed up again and they both stepped forward rapidly so I was pinned against the back of a gravestone. Ron's wand slid under my chin and the wicked anger on his face increased my hyperventilation to a dangerous level.

I realized I would probably get killed if I said nothing, and the possibility of them finally accepting Draco as a non-threat danced at the forefront of my mind. I took a chance, "Draco, 'e is trying to 'elp you. Death Eaters, dey watch his memories. 'e 'as to make sacrifices, 'e 'as to 'ave fragments of memories dat look like 'es making progress against you. 'e strangled 'er so she would drop 'er wand and den took 'er to dat prison 'e made. Et es a secret."

"So the prisons are Malfoy's idea?" Harry promptly retorted.

I nodded vigorously, "I only know about one, but yes, 'e is trying to 'ide Order members 'e was supposed to 'ave killed. To save dem." I was now deeply hoping they would give Draco the chance he deserved.

They looked at each other with growing incredulity. "I don't believe it!" Ron spat suddenly, shoving the wand cruelly far into my jugular.

I whimpered, knowing my time had probably come, "Fine, don'. But ef you want to see 'er again you would be foolish to kill me. I can get 'im to talk to you and tell you where et es. 'e 'as already told you 'e would 'elp you, what more do you want?"

Harry's eyes drifted down to the ground as he processed my words. "Ron, he did kill Greyback to save her. He also agreed to help us get into the castle." He looked up at me and a hint of sadness dotted in his eyes, "Do you love him? What kind of relationship do you have with Malfoy?"

I pressed my lips together with dread, "Yes, I love 'im. 'e is not who you think 'e is. Draco will 'elp you, 'arry."

"Bullshit!" Ron roared, "She's manipulating us, like she's been doing this entire time."

He lowered his wand and in a split second he had grabbed my left arm, yanking back the sleeve of my dress to check for a dark mark. Then he dropped my arm in a huff when nothing showed and paced around behind Harry.

"You... you're in love with Malfoy?" Harry looked at me dripping in awe.

My heart ached for him, "Yes. I'm sorry. I did not know 'ow to tell you."

His shoulders slumped as he looked into my eyes, probably desperately searching for some kind of hint that I was lying. When he apparently had accepted the situation he sighed, "And... does Malfoy love you?" He said it as though such a thing were not possible.

I nodded, "'e is good, 'arry. I know 'e doesn't always show et. 'e simply is not allowed to."

Harry swallowed and looked away sickly, "And...Are you telling the truth about him and Hermione? She's alive? And he will actually help us?"

"Yes, she's in Denmark. I can find out de exact location from 'im," I offered in a weak tone.

Harry turned around to Ron who was holding his hands to the crown of his head in utter disbelief, shaking his head angrily. "Well," Harry said, "How soon can you get us this information?"

Upon apparating back to the farm Ron once again stomped away from his latest interaction with me. His disposition towards me seemed to be impossibly strong and the endless rejection stung indescribably. I shut my eyes feeling once again lost about who I was and exactly what I was doing in the middle of the British wizarding war. It felt as though no matter what I did I would consistently be viewed as a deceiving traitor by both sides.

Harry lingered with me in the cold field before the farmhouse. "Madeleine, I'm actively choosing to trust you, even though my gut is really against it." His eyes sized me up slowly.

"Dat is understandable," I whispered, avoiding his penetrating gaze.

He cocked his head to the side and his glasses gave off a glint from the farmhouse lighting, "You really aren't lying about Malfoy?"

I wearily met his eyes, "What would I be lying about?"

"I just remember it differently, at Hogwarts. You weren't happy with him," he bluntly stated. "You were trapped in a marriage."

"I know, and things changed," I argued back, "I fell in love wit' 'im. I cannot explain et."

He frowned deeply in disgust, as though the concept of anyone falling in love with Draco was abhorrent at best. "Well, good luck with that," he said sarcastically. Then he was gone, walking towards the farmhouse, and I felt impossibly isolated in that moment. It had been entirely lucky that both boys had taken my word about my relationship with Malfoy and not only allowed me to live but also allowed me to return to the farm.

Later that night I stashed my notes on my micro-prophecies through the gap below Ron and Harry's door and clambered into my lopsided bed. Then I thought better of it and ripped the thin sheets off, deciding finally to go through the trunk at the base of the bed.

I carefully lifted the creaky hinges and peered inside. There was a cluster of random items. Clothing was messily strewn about; a pink sweater, some jeans, old raggedy t-shirts, and pajamas. Below the fabrics were piles of books and notes.

I carefully extracted a well-worn, leather-bound journal filled to the brim with effeminate writing. Most of the research seemed to be tailored around the removal of unbreakable vow marks including dark marks and bequeathment marks. Theories spanned many of the pages and I struggled to read the messy cursive writing that slurred the majority of the time with Hermione's hasty thought process. She had indeed been trying to help me.

I sat back on the floor realizing how integral she had been to their operation, and now they had me; a Death Eater sympathizer and a girl who didn't know how to control her powers. I went to sleep that night overwhelmed by guilt.