Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

His demand of Theo was met with a short silence, filled only by the harsh breaths exiting his mouth. Draco pushed his wand further into Theo's throat, so close to breaking skin he could practically see the vein open.

From behind him, he heard shuffling until someone roughly pulled him backwards from the other man.

"Come on, mate," Blaise muttered, shaking his head and positioning his body between the two Slytherins as a shield. "This isn't going to get us anywhere."

"Can it, Blaise," Draco hissed, grey eyes still on Theo's hazel ones. "He knows… he knows something."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "And you really think he's going to tell you? You'll have more luck just badgering Hermione continuously…"

"She's gone," Draco spoke, watching Theo's face for a reaction. The other man seemed unsurprised. "She left this morning."

"Gone?" Blaise asked, thunderstruck, as whispering broke out among the Order. "Gone where?"

Draco shook his head. "I couldn't tell you. But he," he spat, pointing his wand at Theo over Blaise's shoulder. "He can."

"She… she left?" a voice asked from behind them. Draco turned to meet Potter's confused expression. "She just… left?"

"How are you surprised, Potter?" Draco asked. "She told you herself that she had to leave."

Potter shot him a glare. "I don't know… I thought she was going to say goodbye."

"She did," Draco said, holding his voice steady. "Just not to you."

The two men faced each other for a moment, until Potter's eyes glanced downwards. They reflected a feeling Draco recognized easily now.

Overwhelming absence.

"Excuse me, boys," Lupin said, voice barely controlled, disbelief evident on his face. He glanced between Potter, Draco, Blaise, and Theo. "Are you telling me Hermione has just left Grimmauld Place?"

Potter nodded. The werewolf's jaw dropped.

"For what possible reason?"

"Would love to tell you, Lupin," Draco spat, before turning back towards Theo. "But the only person in the entire damned Order of the Phoenix who knows where Hermione went and why is Theodore Nott."

"I don't know where she went," Theo muttered, rubbing his hand over his throat where Draco's wand had been pressing. "Just why."

"Care to share with the class, Nott?" the Weasel snapped from the table. His face had grown paler, showcasing good old-fashioned fear, in comparison to his normal rage.

Theo sighed, forcing himself to stand up straight to face the group. Draco watched his Adam's apple bob, and a single bead of sweat appear on his pale ivory brow.

Everyone had tells. And Draco had known Theodore Nott long enough to know that this was dread. Pure, overwhelming dread.

"I'm not going to betray Hermione's trust," he declared, looking at each person in the room long enough to make the declaration personal. "And this is her history, her story. It's hers to share or not."

"When have you ever been noble enough for that?" Draco sneered, reminding himself uncannily of his schoolyard self.

The look Theo shot him was straight daggers. "You haven't been around me for four years, Drake. Call your perspective a bit dated."

"Calm down, boys," Blaise said, stepping between them once again, nervousness seeping into his usually steady voice. "We don't need to come to blows over this."

"He knows!" Draco burst out, gesturing at Theo. "He fucking knows everything."

"And why do you think Theo will tell you when Hermione obviously didn't?" Blaise asked. "Or why should he? If Hermione left Headquarters this morning without telling you or even Potter why, there must be a good reason. Getting Theo to tell us the secret plan might ruin its execution. Hermione's not stupid."

"I know that," Draco snapped.

"Then act like you trust her," Blaise said, eyes only on Draco. "It must be important for her to do this. So we have to trust that. Have faith."

"She's the only thing in this war I have faith in," Draco whispered, his voice low, wanting the words to be for no one but himself.

"Then lay off Theo," Blaise muttered. "Whatever he said to Hermione must have been really bloody important for her to pull this. Let her be a Le Fay or a legend or a mythical princess of whatever the fuck."

Draco stared at Blaise in silence for a moment, until, backed into a corner with one of his oldest friends showing him the exit, he nodded. Blaise nodded back while Theo sighed visibly in relief.

"As rousing a speech as that was," Fred drawled from the corner. "Would someone like to inform us here plebeians of the current plot updates?"

Potter sat down at the table. "Hermione left this morning to fulfill some task. She promised us that whatever it is, it's big enough to change the tide of the war."

Stunned silence followed his words. Tonks looked over at Theo.

"Is that true, Nott Jr?"

Theo grimaced, as all eyes were on him once again. He sighed before speaking.

"Turn the tide may be a bit of a euphemism. End the war more likely."

"End it?" Tonks replied, her hair suddenly going dark blue. "Just like that?"

"No, not just like that," Theo said sarcastically. "It's… more."

"More?" Fred asked.

"More."

"A real Shakespeare you are, Nott."

"Look," Theo said, frustration saturating his voice. "What Hermione is doing, only she can do. You all knowing… there's no point. If you trust that woman as much as you pretend to, you need to let her do it. We all have our roles to play. Let Hermione focus on hers, and you on yours."

He stared pointedly at Draco.

"Does this have anything to do with you lot taking off again?" Lupin asked, turning towards the Wonder Duo.

"Not just us," Potter replied, eyes trained on Draco.

The implication was obvious.

"You're the replacement for Hermione?" Fred asked, too shocked to make a joke.

Draco shot him a look. "Who else could do it?"

"Draco, you are an insufferable twat," Blaise muttered. "But you do have a point."

"So the three of you are going off on the mystery quest together?" Tonks asked, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Sounds… enjoyable."

"It never was going to be," Potter muttered, elbows resting on his knees, eyes downcast. "This just makes it more explicit."

"So let me get this straight," Lupin said, looking around the room, shock etched into the deep lines on his forehead. "Hermione left this morning for reasons unknown to everyone, except for our newest member of the Slytherin defects group. Harry and Ron, your recent decision to follow a mission left to you by a man three years dead has now expanded to include Draco Malfoy, a man the both of you have fought against since his arrival at Grimmauld Place?"

Potter nodded in response, not evening bothering to look at Lupin.

"Have you all gone certifiably insane?" Lupin demanded, seething.

Ron shook his head. "It's… it's Hermione. She… she's the one who suggested Malfoy."

"Suggested may be putting it mildly," Potter muttered.

Lupin looked between them. "Has Hermione gone certifiably insane?"

Of all the voices to speak up, it was Fred.

"You've got to be insane to have hope in this world," the twin said, glancing around at all of them. "But if Hermione, for whatever reason, Nott's secrets be damned… if she thought this was the only way, then I trust her."

"Hermione is not the end all be all decision maker of this war," Lupin burst out.

"Neither are you, wolf," Draco said coolly.

"No one asked you, Malfoy," the old professor retorted.

"You're all missing the point," Theo said, leaning against the wall once again. "What Hermione can do, her brain, her power, her legacy… she is a gift. She is your weapon at the midnight hour. She's the only chance you have."

"You don't know that," Lupin declared, turning on Theo. "You don't know anything about the Order, or our plans and strategies…"

"But I do," Potter said, suddenly lifting his face to meet Lupin head on. "And he's right. We've been fighting this war for three years, Lupin. Longer now. I've been fighting since I was one year old. Always three steps forward, two steps back. Something had to give, we need to get out of this stasis. And what Dumbledore left for us, it's the only way for us to kill him. For real."

"And Hermione?" Lupin asked.

"Hermione may be acting like a general," Potter replied calmly. "But I trust her. As confused as we all are, I have faith that she knows what she's doing. And that's she right. She always is."

"Right about what?" Fred asked.

Potter's eyes drifted to Draco. "This is going to be over soon. And we're going to win."

Draco, Weasley and Potter were all sitting awkwardly around the room that the Golden Duo shared at Grimmauld Place. The other two men sat on a bed while Draco fidgeted on a chair he had conjured. After Potter's proclamation downstairs, Blaise had taken Theo away before Draco could have another go at it, and the so-called Chosen One had called a meeting of the unfortunate few.

The unfortunate few who now had to figure out how to break into the most heavily guarded place in the Wizarding World, besides Hogwarts.

"So," Draco started, unsure what the best approach would be. "Any thoughts on robbing Gringotts?"

Weasley shot him a glare, while Potter just looked thoughtful.

"The Lestrange Vault must be one of the most heavily guarded," Potter mused.

Draco had to bite his lip to avoid a snarky comment.

"It's going to take a combination of force and deception, probably," Weasley muttered. "I can talk to Bill. See if he has any thoughts."

"Bill?" Draco asked, thinking briefly to the elder Weasley brother he had seen briefly at Finnigan's funeral. "What does he have to do with it?"

"He's a curse breaker for Gringotts," Weasley replied, his voice lacking its usual bite. "He might have some insight we don't."

"That's brilliant, Weasley," Draco said sardonically. "Just waltz up to old Bill and ask 'hey mate, any inside tips on breaking into a place that has literal dragons guarding it?' Easiest quest to end the Dark Lord, ever."

"Can it, Malfoy," Potter snapped, as Weasley flushed a brilliant tomato red. "I don't see you coming up with any brilliant ideas."

Draco rolled his eyes in response.

"I don't know how Dumbledore expected you twits to get this done," he replied. "I mean, it's an impossible task. Breaking into Gringotts? And that's before killing the snake, not to mention finding the third missing Horcrux, before you even get to killing the Dark Lord himself… I mean, honestly, Potter. Did he help you at all?"

Potter looked at him for a moment before answering. "He didn't leave us much," the other man admitted, glancing down. "We weren't expecting him to die when he did…" Potter looked at Draco awkwardly, but before the latter even had the chance to respond, Potter continued, skipping over the topic completely.

"But when he died he left us some things in his will," Potter continued. "At first we thought that they were tools for the Horcrux hunt, but they were so random. We just… Merlin, I haven't even thought about Dumbledore's will in years."

Draco looked between the other two men as they exchanged a look he couldn't quite decipher. After a moment, Potter turned back to Draco, hesitating before he spoke.

"Malfoy, maybe you can look at what Dumbledore left us," he said slowly. "Dumbledore was never a man of much clarity… he liked the long way 'round. Maybe… maybe somehow he knew you'd end up here and have some insight we didn't… the way Hermione knew that."

Draco wasn't sure what to say to that. "Or maybe a fresh set of eyes can unlock the puzzle."

Potter nodded, and though Weasley rolled his eyes, he reached under the bed and pulled out a dusty box.

"We put it all in here," Weasley muttered, wiping off the top of the box. "Just in case it turned out to be important, and if one of us… you know."

"In case one of you died, and the item was lost," Draco filled in the blank.

Weasley nodded and opened the lid.

"He gave Hermione a copy of that kids' book The Tales of Beedle the Bard," the redhead said, lifting out the old copy and handing it across to Draco. "Merlin know why."

"A children's book?" Draco asked, looking over the worn copy. "My nanny used to read this to me."

Weasley scoffed, while Draco raised an eyebrow.

"While Weasel, just because my family could afford…"

"Absolutely the fuck not," Potter interrupted, speaking across Draco. "Not right now. We have more important shit to deal with than this. Malfoy, just can it."

Draco made a face but began to flip through the book. "There's no way it would just be because she likes books…"

"That's what Hermione thought, too" Potter said. "She was certain it was a clue of some sort. But she scoured over that thing for the better part of a year and found nothing. I'm not sure what you could find that she missed."

"Fair enough," Draco muttered. "What about you two?"

"Dumbledore gave me the Deluminator," Weasley muttered, his skin still flushed from Draco's previous comment. "It's a little invention that turns lights on and off."

Draco eyes focused on the small device Weasley was twiddling between his fingers. It reminded him of the muggle lighters that Blaise had nicked during the summer before their fifth years, the first time he had ever smoked a cigarette.

A past life, as irretrievable as smoke drifting through the air.

"And you, Potter?" Draco asked, turning his eyes to the Chosen One. "What did Dumbledore leave the Wizarding World's final hope?"

Potter's face remained blank as he reached into the box on Weasley's lap and pulling out a small gold ball.

"He left me the Snitch I caught during my first ever Quidditch match."

"Sentimental," Draco muttered, as he watched Potter glance down at the small Snitch. Its wings extended and it fluttered for a moment above the Chosen One's palm.

"At first I thought it might be a message," Potter muttered. "Or that there was something hidden inside… but I've never been able to crack it."

Draco frowned, watching Potter play with the Snitch. Something was tickling the back of his mind, reminding him of a fact once forgotten.

"Potter," he said, slowly. "You know snitches have flesh memory, right?"

"Flesh memory?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, while next to him, Weasley's face lost all colour.

"It means the Snitch remembers the flesh of the seeker who caught it," Draco said, his heartbeat increasing. "It's to avoid disputes over who really caught a Snitch. It's also why they never reuse Snitches. What kind of Seeker are you?"

"Flesh memory," Potter said, his mouth playing with the words. "So you mean, this Snitch…"

"It should remember you," Draco continued, leaning forward towards the small gold ball. "It should recognize your flesh."

"But I've touched this Snitch one thousand times since Dumbledore left it for me," Potter frowned. It's never given me any sign that it recognized me."

"Potter, you are the stupidest fucking Chosen One I've ever met," Draco muttered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Even I remember this… mostly because I was hoping you'd choke, but I still remember…"

Weasley was shaking his head slowly, eyes glued to the Snitch in Potter's hand. "Harry, your first game of Quidditch. You didn't catch the Snitch… you nearly swallowed it."

Potter's green eyes snapped up to meet Draco's. "You don't think…"

"Have you tried snogging the Snitch in the past three years, Potter?" Draco asked drily.

The dark-haired man was shaking his head slowly, as if in disbelief that it really could have been that simple. Slowly, with a focus Draco hadn't seen on Potter's face since their Hogwarts, he raised the Snitch to his lips.

Perhaps it was the anticipation breaking, but the moment afterwards seemed like milliseconds compared to the lead up. Potter frowned, pulling the Snitch away from his mouth. He glanced down at it, and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

"There's writing on it," Potter whispered.

Draco's jaw dropped. "Well? Does it tell us what the final Horcrux is?"

"It says 'I open at the close'," Potter replied, frowning. "What does that mean?"

Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Let's hope it doesn't take you another three years to figure it out."

Weasley was shaking his head in bewildered wonderment. "All this time, it was just… there."

"Another mystery to unlock," Potter muttered, rolling the Snitch between his fingers. He glanced up at Draco. "A new pair of eyes, huh."

Draco shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"How did Hermione know…" Potter whispered; his voice barely perceptible.

"She didn't know about flesh memory Snitches, Harry," Weasley pointed out.

"No," Potter replied, shaking his head. He met Draco's eyes. "But somehow, she knew you would. Can you explain that, Malfoy?"

He refused to bow down under Potter's accusatory gaze. So, he said the only thing that could possibly explain how Hermione knew Draco would be able to solve this puzzle that she hadn't been able to.

"That's called faith, Potter."

Draco sat on the fourth-floor landing, legs sprawled out in front of him, staring at the open book on his lap. He had no desire to return to his bedroom, with the memory of Hermione and the evening prior seared into his brain. He couldn't. Not alone.

Facing her absence was a hurdle he wasn't ready for yet.

He flipped through Dumbledore's old copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, trying to distract himself from Hermione's disappearance. As much as he hated her absence, on some level, he understood that this was not something he could be privy to.

But it still burned. It would always burn without her.

He dreaded going to bed alone tonight, with Hermione so close in time to him and so distant in location. Forgive him for putting it off as long as he could.

Besides, after he had left his meeting with Potter and the Weasel, he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to this book, or to the Weasel's Deluminator. It had taken Potter three bloody years and Draco Malfoy switching sides to figure out the clue the old Headmaster had left him. Perhaps there was something vital in these pages, in this children's book that Hermione, perhaps, had just missed.

It felt like blasphemy to even think that.

He flipped through the pages at random, his eyes skimming the stories he had known since childhood. Hermione was from a muggle background, perhaps she had not understood the significance of a story? Perhaps Dumbledore had thought she would enjoy learning about wizarding childhoods? Maybe he gave it to her because she likes to read…

Draco slammed it shut in frustration. Why couldn't the bloody headmaster just leave them a treasure map where the X marked Horcrux?

"I didn't realize children's stories made you so angry," a soft voice came from the staircase.

Draco's eyes snapped up. The soft feminine tone… for a second his imagination ran wild, and Hermione was the one speaking, making her way up the stairs to him.

But he blinked again, and reality set back in.

"Daph."

Daphne Greengrass was standing at the top of the staircase leading to the landing, leaning against the banister. Though he had not seen her in over three years, she looked the same as he imagined she would, the few times he had thought about her and Theo.

Soft, blonde hair framing her face. Skin the colour of snow, piercing blue eyes. Tall, thin, the perfect pureblooded wife. Except for here. Here, she was a refugee at the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. A thin scar on her forehead alongside her bandaged wrist gave away the ruse.

But, just for a second, Draco imagined he was meeting her again in better circumstances.

She stared back at him, a question he couldn't answer dancing behind her eyes. It seemed, at least to Draco, that she wanted to live in that world, too.

"Can I join you?" she asked, gesturing with her good hand to the floor next to Draco. He nodded, scooting slightly to give her space. She awkwardly settled in, cradling her wrist.

The scene gave him pause. Years ago, he and Daph had sat like this on the floor of the Slytherin Common room, studying for tests, arguing about Theo or Pansy. With Pansy Parkinson taking the majority of his romantic attention when he was younger, Daphne had fallen into the role of a sister. She only had eyes for Theo. It made her and Draco's relationship easy. Comfortable.

Something he hadn't realized he had missed until this very moment.

He didn't know what to say. When was the last time he had seen her? Before Snape had killed Dumbledore, it must've been. Maybe that very evening, on his way to the Room of Requirement. Maybe she had given him that concerned look he had grown accustomed to from her throughout sixth year. Maybe she had been arguing with Theo, as they had a lot at that time, and she hadn't even noticed him leave. Maybe she had already gone to bed, and he hadn't seen her at all.

For some reason, the very concept filled him with regret.

"I never imagined us meeting like this, Drake," she said, glancing over at him.

He nodded stiffly, unsure of what their dynamic was now. It had been too long. Too much had changed.

She glanced at him, her face betraying nothing. "How are you?

Daphne had always been different than Pansy. The latter woman wore her emotions on her sleeve. Anger, hatred, lust, rage… Draco had always known where he stood with the brunette. But Daphne… Daphne Greengrass held her cards close to chest. She was softer… not in that she was more sensitive, but in that she delivered her blows with a precision that required no brute force. And where Pansy loved with the passion of a wildfire, Daphne loved like an iceberg… ferociously, but with opaqueness. So that you never knew how much was hidden underneath the surface.

"Been better," Draco muttered, in response to her question.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "You don't say."

He glanced over at the wrist she was cradling. "Are you alright?"

She glanced down at her bandage. "Yes. It was more the surprise of the whole attack than anything. I had… I had never thought that we were a target."

"Recent events," Draco replied, glancing at the book on his lap. "Everything has changed."

"I've heard," Daphne replied, her voice betraying nothing. "Something about you and Hermione Granger and the mark of Morganna Le Fay."

Draco looked over at one of his oldest friends, completely at a loss as to what to say.

Daphne met his gaze head on.

"I can't say I'm much surprised," she said, shrugging. "I mean, I always knew you were fascinated with her. You wouldn't shut up about her at Hogwarts."

"Because she was so infuriating," Draco spluttered, Daphne disarming him verbally, as only she could.

"Denial has never been attractive, Drake."

"I'm not trying to be attractive," he retorted. "I just… lots has changed recently."

"Not really," Daphne replied. "I mean, yes, you are now magically fated to Hermione Granger, who's actually a pureblood. But besides that, not much."

"Daph, how can you even say that?" Draco exclaimed, his voice echoing around the staircase.

He felt Daphne's head rest on his shoulder softly.

"We're here," she murmured. "Theo's downstairs with Blaise. We're all still alive. And we're together."

"Real Slytherin reunion," he responded, but leant down to rest his head on the top of Daphne's.

They stayed like that for a moment of silence and peace, reminding Draco of a time before war. When it was just him, and Theo, and Blaise, and Pansy. A time perhaps they could see again.

"Daph," Draco murmured, a thought occurring to him. "Have you… have you seen Pansy lately?"

He felt Daphne still beside him.

"Drake," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. He sat up straight and stared at her in surprise. Daphne Greengrass did not shake.

"Did you… did you not hear?" she whispered; her skin paler than he had seen recently.

"Hear what?" Draco asked, a pit of dread building in his stomach.

"Pansy," Daphne whispered. "I'm sorry, Drake… but she was killed when there was that big battle at Diagon Alley last year. She had gone to do her shopping… and just… wrong place, wrong time."

This revelation did not shock him, per say. They lived in a war. But somehow, the knowledge that Pansy Parkinson had died almost a year prior made the floor give out beneath him… his first girlfriend. One of his best friends from childhood.

She was gone. And he hadn't known.

"I…" he whispered, unsure what he could say. "I didn't know."

Daphne's face flooded with pity for a moment, before falling back into the ice.

"You were too busy, I suppose," she said. "Too busy for us in this new world."

And there it was.

Daphne Greengrass was intentional. She never did anything without mapping it in her mind beforehand. She was not one for spontaneity, for the passion of the moment. No. She waited. She planned. She strategized.

The viciousness of a viper; deadly in her attack. A lioness tracking her prey, only ever pouncing when she knew she was ready.

She had had three years to prepare for this moment.

Draco sighed. "You're angry."

"Angry?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, a slight tremor in her voice betraying the rage beneath the surface. "No, Draco, I'm not angry. I'm not angry that you lied to us for all of sixth year and didn't ask for help when your task was obviously killing you. I'm not angry that you left without so much as saying goodbye to me, Theo, Pansy or Blaise. The people who had stood by your side since the beginning. I'm not angry that you let yourself be a Death Eater for three years, when you know as well as I do, that no matter who you are, you are not a bad person."

"No, Draco, I'm not angry. I had years to be angry. I had years to hate you for what you did, for the wreck you left in your wake. But not anymore. You're one of my best friends, and I love you no matter what. That's what unconditional means."

"But I've also had years to prepare for this moment. Theo and I used to talk about it, you know. What we would do if we ever saw you again. There were moments where we didn't think we would. That you were too deep. That you would get yourself killed for a cause you didn't believe in."

"Daph," he tried to interrupt, but she shook her head.

"Just let me finish, Drake," she said, her voice unwavering. She was staring straight forward, her eyes burning a hole in the opposite wall. "I love you like a brother. You are my brother. And I hated you. But then I pitied you. You hurt all of those around you, but you hurt yourself more. I want to punch you in the face as much as I want to hug you and never let go. But I swear to Merlin, Draco. If you ever pull something like that again, I will hunt you down and end you before He Who Must Not Be Named can. That's a promise."

A silence followed her proclamation. Draco felt numerous emotions wrack through his body, before one achieved dominance.

Guilt.

"I'm sorry, Daphne," he whispered, taking her hand like he had when they were young. "I didn't know… I didn't know you would be so affected by me leaving."

"Yes, you did," Daphne replied. "You just didn't let it stop you or ignored it until it didn't matter anymore. I don't know why you hate being loved so much. But we all loved you, still do in fact. Pansy… Pansy loved you, as well. Probably did until her dying day. And I love you. And Blaise does. And Theo does, even though you've been such a prat since we arrived. You decided that hating yourself was more important than the people who loved you. God, if anything, I hope Granger has knocked that out of you. It's your worst quality."

Draco couldn't help but smile. "Don't worry, she has."

"Good," Daphne sniffed, and only then did Draco realize she was crying quietly.

"Daph," he whispered, reaching over and wiping a stray tear from her face.

She blinked up at him, shock and tears filling her water-blue eyes.

"Granger sure has done a number on you," she muttered. "An emotionally mature Draco? The world isn't ready."

They sat in silence for another moment.

"I missed you, Drake," she whispered. "You… you are an incredibly frustrating masterpiece of a friend."

"But a masterpiece nonetheless."

Instead of smacking him, like Draco expected her to do, she chuckled, and a demure smile appeared on her face.

"A clusterfuck of a masterpiece, that's what you are, Draco Malfoy."

"Nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," he murmured into her hair before sighing. "I missed you too, Daph."

"You better have," she retorted. "No one else has ever put up with you shit like I have."

He laughed. "That's true. You don't give yourself enough credit."

She rolled her eyes. "I give myself credit enough."

He watched her eyes wander down to the book in his lap.

"Are you ever going to explain why you're sitting alone in a corridor reading a children's book?"

Draco sighed, flipping through the book errantly. "Dumbledore left it for Hermione before he died."

"Before you were tasked to assassinate him, you mean."

He ignored her. "And I'm trying to figure out if there's some secret message in it."

"Albus Dumbledore was not known for his clarity," Daphne muttered, glancing over at the book. She raised an eyebrow and opened her empty hand. "Do you mind?"

Draco shrugged, handing it over. He was getting nowhere on his own. "Give it your best shot. I've found nothing."

Daphne pursed her lips as she began flipping through the pages. "It doesn't seem like anything special. Just an old copy of some stor…" Daphne's voice trailed off as her eyes landed on a page.

"Daph?" Draco asked, glancing over at the page she was on. He read the title across the topic.

The Tale of The Three Brothers.

"Draco," Daphne replied, her voice low, a finger running across a marking at the top of the page. "Why did Albus Dumbledore draw the mark of the Deathly Hallows in this copy of Beedle the Bard?"

"Sorry, the deathly what?"

Daphne stared thoughtfully at the page, ignoring his question, as if she was no longer aware that Draco was even there.

"And more importantly, why was that his final message to one Hermione Granger."

I've always loved the Slytherin friend group (Pansy/Daphne/Draco/Theo/Blaise). I know we always focus on the Harry/Hermione brother/sister relationship, but I like the idea that Draco had that too, at one time. That's what I tried to do here with Daphne.

Review :)