Chapter 17 - We're having a crisis here

"You don't know," he says. "There's no way you know."

Draco paces around in the recesses of the library, hands gripping the back of his head. Hermione watches, leaning against the shelves of musty magical tomes.

"Whatever you think you know, you're wrong," he continues. "There's no way. There's definitely no way. I've been careful. You can't know."

"I'm pretty sure I do."

"You don't. If you did, you wouldn't still be here. You'd have told somebody. I'd be in Azkaban by now," he rants. "Fuck, I shouldn't have said that. But it's fine. I'm sure you know it's illegal, but you don't actually know, you can't — What do you think it is? No! Don't tell me. Not here."

"Where then?"

"Fuck, I don't know! I don't know anything!"

Draco looks frantic, somewhere between disbelief and terror. The back of his hair stands on end.

"How about the Room of Requirement?" Hermione suggests patiently. "No one can overhear us there."

"Yeah. Right. Okay," Draco says, collecting himself. "We'll go there, you'll tell me what you think, you'll be wrong and everything will be fine. This is fine."

Hermione bites back a rogue smile at his antics. It shouldn't be funny. They're talking murder here. "Let's go then. Meet you in front of the tapestry in a few minutes?"

He nods and she straightens her robes and hair, making herself presentable to walk through the library. She picks up the books she was going to read for her research on horcruxes and checks them out on her way. She'll have to read them tonight.

She makes her way up to the seventh floor and waits in the deserted hallway by the tapestry. It only takes a couple minutes for Draco to arrive.

"Did you seriously stop to check books out from the library on your way here?"

"They're important!" she says indignantly.

"We're having a crisis here, Granger."

She huffs. "Let's just go in."

"Fine," he clips and paces back and forth in front of the door three times.

A massive arched doorway appears and Draco pries it open with practiced ease. Hermione steps in after him and gasps.

There's just so much stuff. Piles and piles, row after row of old books and clothes and furniture, glass bottles and vases, art and maps, single shoes, broken lamps, and something that's making an odd whirring noise.

"What is this place?" she asks in awe, voice breathy and eyes wide.

"The Room of Hidden Things," Draco says, as if that's supposed to mean something to her.

"All this stuff… some of it looks like it could be hundreds of years old!"

Hermione itches to explore, to dig through the items and uncover the layers of history. It's like an extremely disorganized museum that one needs to solve like a puzzle. Hermione loves museums. And puzzles. She nearly forgets why they're there.

"Done yet?" Draco asks.

"Sorry, it's just," she says, peeling her eyes away gradually, "so fascinating. Where did all this come from?"

"Students, teachers, whoever needed to hide something over the years. It ends up here," he explains. "But that's not the point. Hermione, tell me. What do you think you know?"

Merlin, she's going to have to say it out loud, isn't she? The blood rushes out of her head and she's swept up in a wave of sudden fear. She's come to a secret location to accuse a boy who's prone to violence of plotting a murder.

"You," she says, taking a deep breath, "have been tasked with killing Professor Dumbledore."

There's a moment of total silence.

"Fuck."

He grabs a glass bottle off a nearby pile and hurls it, full-strength, at the wall. It shatters, the sound of glass hitting stone echoing around the vast room. Draco's shoulders slump and a moment later he drops to his knees, staring up at her in total defeat.

"I don't —" he starts, voice cracking. "I don't understand. I was so careful."

Hermione approaches him slowly and eases herself to the floor next to him. She places a tentative, soothing hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay," she says gently. "I haven't told anyone. Well," she corrects herself, "Pansy knows too. I didn't tell her, she already figured it out, but…"

Draco raises his head. His eyes are rimmed with red. "Pansy knows?"

"Yes," Hermione admits. "We talked about it. She threatened to ruin my life if I told anyone. So, you know she's looking out for you."

"That's not the point," Draco says roughly. "Do you not get it? No one was supposed to know. If he finds out, he'll kill you both. God, if he were here, he'd make me kill you right now." He heaves in several rapid breaths.

She doesn't know what to say to that, so she just rubs a circle over his back.

"How did you even find out?" he asks desperately.

"It was something Harry said —"

"WHAT? Potter knows?"

"No, no, Harry doesn't know anything. But he — and please don't get mad at him or go after him — he followed you the night of Slughorn's party and heard you talking to Professor Snape, and — wait. Hold on a minute."

"What?"

"Snape knows about the task. He knows what it is, he knows you have to kill Dumbledore?"

"Yes…" Draco says hesitantly.

"Why didn't I think of this before!" She jumps to her feet and takes several steps, her thoughts racing too fast to be contained in a still body. "Snape knows."

"So?"

"Snape is in the Order! And I know he's acting as a Death Eater too, but he's in the Order! Dumbledore trusts him, he's always trusted him. He has to have a good reason for it. And unless Dumbledore is completely wrong about him…" She whirls around to face Draco. "He already knows. Snape would have told him!"

"He can't have."

"Why not?" she asks excitedly.

"I'd be in Azkaban," he says flatly. "Snape can't have told him. And anyway, Snape's not on his side, he never has been."

"Are you certain?" Hermione asks skeptically. "I suppose no one really knows for sure, do they? But he does have Dumbledore quite convinced."

"Maybe." Draco shrugs. "Some people have their doubts. But he still can't have told him –– I'm walking free, remember?"

"But Dumbledore could have a plan to stop it before things get too far," she argues. "Maybe…"

"Or he just knows I can't do it? And is going to let my mother die when I fail?"

Hermione thinks on this for a moment. If Dumbledore knows, Draco's right –– he should have done something to stop Draco by now. After Katie Bell… he would have to, right? To stop more people from getting hurt.

She thinks back over the few times she's seen Dumbledore this year, the meeting in his office, what Harry's told her about their meetings. There must be something…

"Oh my God! Oh my God, Draco!" she exclaims. "His hand! His hand!"

"It looks like it's been cursed, yes, but I don't —"

"He's dying anyway. He's not stopping you because he's dying anyway."

"I don't know…" Draco looks hopeful, almost painfully so. "Are you sure? A curse could have lots of effects…"

"You haven't seen it up close," Hermione says. "The arm is dead. And he won't tell Harry what's wrong with it! If it was just a regular curse, there would be no reason to keep it a secret, right?"

"But even if he is dying… why wouldn't he stop me?"

"Because of Snape!" Hermione cries. "If he stopped you, Voldemort would know that Snape told him and he'd lose his spy. It all makes sense!"

Hermione reels, going over the details of her theory again and again as she paces around between the piles of discarded objects. She can't find any holes in the theory, there's nothing that doesn't fit. It would be better if she had something concrete, but still… if this is true, if Dumbledore knows about Draco's task and he's dying anyway… well, it changes everything.

She drops to the floor in front of Draco and kisses him, letting the movement of her lips speak her relief and elation into being.

She presses her forehead against his. "It's going to be okay," she says. "Dumbledore knows. He won't let anything happen. And if he's dying anyway — well it doesn't negate the moral issues —but it at least makes the answer to this specific trolley problem a little more obvious."

"What about a trolley?" Draco mumbles.

"Nothing," she says, letting a gentle laugh escape her lips as she sits back on her heels and studies Draco's face.

He still looks unsure. Shocked and concerned. He's quite pale.

"What is it?" she asks.

"I don't know if this changes anything," he says. "I still have to do it. And the Dark Lord will still kill you and Pansy if he finds out you know. It's still dangerous and I — I was going to do it anyway, so I don't exactly have the sudden moral high ground here."

He's not wrong. Maybe the only thing that's changed is Hermione's next step, and possibly her ability to sleep at night.

"Do you want to do it?" she asks softly.

Draco grimaces. "I don't know," he whimpers. "It's… a lot. But at the same time, being the one to kill one of the most powerful wizards of the century… I — I don't know anymore."

She sits with him for a little while, his admission lingering in the air.

Power, glory, ambition, — in truth, she can relate.

Yet as motives for murder go, it's not great. Not righteous or noble.

But combined with the other factors… even if there's a part of him that wants to do it, would he so much as consider it if Voldemort hadn't ordered it?

"Do you think you would do it on your own? If he hadn't asked you to and threatened you?"

"No," Draco answers quickly.

"Okay then," Hermione says, taking hold of his hand. "Tell me your plan."

"What? No!" he protests. "You know too much already. I can do this on my own. You're not involved."

"I'm not going to help you do anything," she says quickly. "But if I knew, maybe I could help make sure it's safe for you? Or just so you'd have someone you can talk to about it?"

The truth is, knowing would set her mind at ease. One less thing to wonder about, one more piece of information under lock.

It should scare her, the idea that knowing more will make her a target for Voldemort. But what actually scares her more is the prospect of Draco doing something risky on his own.

"So," she prods, "plan A was the necklace, right? Katie was supposed to deliver it to Dumbledore?"

He nods curtly.

"But it didn't work. So what's next?"

"Fine." Draco closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "I had an idea of how I was going to do it. Set a trap, lure him somewhere he can't escape from — the top of the astronomy tower."

Hermione shivers. Trap. Can't escape. It all sounds so calculating and cold. But that's really the only type of murder plot there is, isn't there?

"And after I did it… I was going to get out of there. There's a vanishing cabinet in here that links to one in Borgin and Burkes. But this one's broken — Montague got stuck in it last year. I was going to fix it up and use it to get out. It's not perfect, it's a long way to get from the tower to the Room of Requirement, but it was the best plan I had, if the necklace and my second idea didn't work."

"Second idea?"

"A bottle of poisoned mead. Dumbledore was supposed to get it for Christmas, but he must not have drunk it. It was a long shot. He probably identified the poison the second he saw it."

Hermione nods solemnly. Poison.

"Anyway, the Dark Lord wanted an update over the holidays. I had to tell him what I was planning," Draco continues. "And he liked it. Too much. He doesn't just want me to use the cabinet to escape, he wants me to use it to let other Death Eaters in."

"No," Hermione gasps. "Death Eaters in the school? You can't, Draco. You can't let that happen."

"What choice do I have?" he asks miserably.

"I don't know," she says. "I'll think about it."

"You'll think about it?" Draco says, a hint of his familiar sneer creeping over his face. "Not even you can think your way out of this one."

"Let me try," she insists. "Show me the cabinet."

"No!"

"I'm not running away," she tells him.

"You should," he says bluntly. "You should already be gone."

Theo's on his back, nearly naked, in Neville's bed.

Which is truly his absolute favourite position to be in on a Sunday afternoon.

He tangles a hand through Neville's golden hair and closes his eyes, a low groan escaping his lips at the feel of his boyfriend's tongue in the hollow of his collarbone, the gentle scraping of teeth against skin.

Theo whines as he cants his hips upward, desperate for attention. Neville reacts with a brief grin, but maintains the slow, deliberate pace of his ministrations. He kisses Theo's chest, runs a palm over the flat of his stomach, wraps a hand around his wrist and presses it into the mattress. Theo scrunches up his face in contortions over the unbearable sensation of it all.

Neville shifts further down the bed, his lips ghosting lower over Theo's stomach as he finally, finally hooks a finger into the waistband of his boxers and tugs them off. He's almost, almost there when the dorm room door bursts open.

Neville startles at the sudden intrusion and bangs his head against a bedpost.

"When's the next quidditch practice again?" Weasley asks as he clangs across the floor.

"Tuesday," Potter answers absently, throwing something heavy on a bed. "Then we'll have to do next Sunday since we have apparition lessons on Saturday."

Theo groans in frustration as Neville holds the sore spot on the back of his head. No one knows how to kill a mood quite like Potter and Weasley.

"We could keep going?" Neville offers half-heartedly.

"It's fine," Theo sighs, pulling his underwear back up. They still have privacy — closed curtains and a silencing charm — but it's not the same. Trying to get off with their roommates' voices in the background would just be too weird.

"We could go somewhere else," Neville suggests, his voice low against Theo's ear. "I really want to keep going."

Between the low, rumbly tenor of his voice and the hot feel of his breath on his skin, Theo can't imagine any other option.

"Fuck," Theo says. "Yes. Where?"

"We could try the Room of Requirement… it gave us anything we needed for the DA, I'm sure it could manage a bed."

Theo shivers at the idea. A whole room to themselves, no interruptions, any item they could possibly want… He reaches for his shirt. "Let's go."

"Wait," he hears Weasley say in a not-particularly-quiet whisper, interrupting his own monologue about quidditch strategy. "Neville's curtains are shut… do you think he's… here?"

"Um," Potter says, noisily shifting around where he sits. "Oh. There are two sets of shoes by the bed… he and Theo…Oh."

Theo grins and wiggles his eyebrows at Neville — who looks positively mortified — and rips open the curtains. He grabs a set of loose robes and throws them on, tossing another pair to Neville.

"Potter, Weasley," he nods, delighting in their obvious, red-faced, squirming embarrassment. "Nev and I were just going."

Theo holds out his hand and Neville takes it, tossing his friends a sheepish look as they go.

They make their way urgently through the castle to the seventh floor, coming up with predictions of how they think the room is going to look for them.

When they arrive, there is already a door in the wall. Meaning the room is already in use.

"Oh," Neville says, crestfallen. "We never had a problem getting in last year… But I guess everyone knows about the room now, after Umbridge caught us."

Theo examines the large door, and pulls perfunctorily at the handle. He's not expecting it to turn. "It's not locked," he says. "Maybe there's no one in there?"

"The door only appears when it's being used…" Neville says

"How does it work, though?" Theo asks. "Like, did it know we were coming? Could it be unlocked for us?"

"I don't know," Neville admits. "Hermione said you have to come to the door and set your intention, but I don't know how close you have to be for it to work."

"Well then let's check! Even if someone's using it, it can't be that private or they would have locked the door," Theo reasons.

He pushes the large arched door open, Neville hovering anxiously behind them.

Inside the room, it's not at all like he expected. It's full of stuff, just piles and piles of miscellaneous objects, no rhyme or reason to them at all.

"Was all this stuff here when you were here before?" Theo whispers, some instinct telling him to keep his voice low.

Neville shakes his head as he scans the room, taking in the vast randomness of it. "I don't think this was meant for us."

Theo nods in agreement, starting to turn away and leave, when a glint of blue and silver catches his eye on a distant pile. He turns back and looks for it, searching for that sparkle, so out of place within the heaps of junk. He narrows his eyes when he finds it, squinting to make it out. A crown.

It's familiar from somewhere… and deeply compelling. He steps forward.

As he does so, he hears voices. Theo freezes.

"So the apple made it through both ways, but the bird died on it's way back?" says the voice of Hermione Granger, saying a deeply incomprehensible sentence.

"Yeah," says — Draco? "I hope we're not counting birds as murder, cause I've killed like six of them so far."

Theo looks at Neville in confusion, who looks equally mystified. What are Draco and Hermione doing together anywhere, let alone in a room full of piles of junk talking about bird murder?

Hermione laughs for a moment, then her voice gets more serious. "I don't think I can be part of helping you fix it —"

"And I don't want you to be," Draco interjects quickly.

"But it looks to me like you have everything you'll need," Hermione continues. "Borgin's instructions, all the right books. It'll take time to tweak things, but… I think you can do it."

Theo takes another couple silent steps forward. If he could just see what they're talking about —

His elbow bumps a tacky, tarnished serving platter, sending it crashing to the floor. The ringing, metallic echo spreads throughout the room.

And the next thing he knows, Draco's wand is pointed at his throat.

A/N: Thanks for being here. I would love to hear what you think, as always!

And do please come over and hang out on tumblr (at diana-skye) - I'd love to get to know you all a bit better!

Beta-read by Sunshineceline.