Hi friends! I so appreciate your support of my story, sometimes it is hard to find/make time for something like this in the midst of school, work, and a pandemic but when I receive so much love from you all it really does fuel my writing fire and I appreciate it so much! Every favorite, follow, and review really leave my heart feeling so full, so thank you for engaging so much with me and my work! I also want to let you all know that I'm trying to keep updates as consistent as possible, but I've nearly caught up to where I've written so far because I've taken so much time off from writing to completely re-imagine, re-storyboard, and rewrite the ending (which we are nowhere near, by the way.) So, if you notice that it has been a little longer than usual since I updated, don't worry, I'm just taking a bit longer than usual! Thank you so much, and please let me know what you think!


Draco did not know what to do. He had spent the better part of the week following his conversation with Blaise analyzing every possible course of action. Blaise had revealed to him that his parents had coerced him into joining the Death Eaters, as You-Know-Who needed someone inside Hogwarts. Blaise was rather mum on what he was asked to do, only that it was important that he understood how a Vanishing Cabinet worked.

Draco's first instinct was to tell Eleanor, but something stopped him; that something terrorized him all hours of the day and night. He couldn't tell her because there was a part of him that genuinely wanted to help Blaise. Besides Eleanor, Blaise was his oldest and closest friend. Blaise had done a lot for Draco in the past, and Draco was nothing if not loyal and true to his friends. He had just spent the entire summer trying to get away from You-Know-Who's clutches, and here he was, seriously contemplating being an assistant to a Death Eater.

If he told Eleanor, he knew what she would say. He thought that if he helped Blaise a little, then Blaise would be safer, and Draco would still keep his hands clean. All he had to do was help Blaise figure out the Vanishing Cabinet, and whatever Blaise did with that information wasn't Draco's business.

But Draco kept coming back to Eleanor, not only how disappointed she would be if she found out what he'd done, but about her safety. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was after her, and if Blaise's mission led to harm on Eleanor, then Draco couldn't do it.

He was fretting over it constantly. To the point that after the week had passed, he looked very much like Blaise had. Sunken, sallow, worried, ill. He hadn't intentionally avoided Eleanor during that week, but perhaps it was in his subconscious. He knew that when she laid eyes on him, she would know there was something wrong. She knew him too well.

Eleanor hadn't noticed anything a miss at all, she was delighted at how busy she turned out to be that term. Helping Hagrid and Professor Sprout ended up being a lot of hard, energizing work, and she found herself a bit lost in it. However, on Saturday morning, Eleanor looked across the Great Hall to see Draco looking exceptionally pale and worried. Eleanor never crossed the table lines, she knew it would make a scene if she did, even if everyone knew about her and Draco. She also never had a particular want to go sit with the Slytherins, but in that moment she knew she had to go.

Hermione looked at her quizzically when she pushed her plate from her and marched over to where Draco sat, alone.

"El," He breathed out in surprise when she sat next to him, "what are you doing over here?"

"You look sick, are you sick?" Eleanor questioned softly, careful not to jeopardize any reputation he had with his housemates.

"Sick? No, I just have had a stressful week." Draco replied, careful not to lie, but not to divulge the whole truth.

"What's stressful?" Eleanor asked. "I'm sorry I've been so busy this week, I should have tried to sit down with you." She began worrying over him. She knew this year was not going to be easy on Draco, just as last year had not been easy on her. She knew their downfall last year had been a lack of communication and time together, and she was already falling back into that habit.

"No, no." Draco shook his head. "It isn't you. Just-" He was going to lie, he had to, he was going to say it was his classes, but just briefly his eyes shot over to Blaise who sat further down the table. The glance was less than a second long, and it was subtle but Eleanor was able to follow his eye line.

"Did you talk to him?" Eleanor pressed, searching Draco's face, knowing something wasn't right with him.

"Yeah, I...well, kind of. I don't know-" He stammered, and hung his head. He didn't know what he should tell her, he didn't know what to do, he didn't know anything.

"Hey," Eleanor gently whispered, putting her hand over his lightly, "I'm here. I'm not leaving. We can figure it out. Together, right?"

Draco smiled softly, feeling slightly warmer and calmer than he had the whole week of fretting on his own. He realized that throughout all of his confusion, with all he didn't know, he did know one thing; he knew he loved Eleanor with all of his heart. "You're with me?" He asked softly.

"Always." Eleanor assured. With this assurance he took her hand in his and led her out of the Great Hall so they could continue talking in private without the fear that everyone was going to listen in. The pair walked down to the tree by the lake where they had spent many moments studying and talking as friends the previous Spring. It was still warm enough to allow them to be outside amongst the elements, but not so warm as to attract a crowd.

"Blaise is one of them." Draco let out in defeat, kicking the dirt in frustration and sticking his hands in his pockets. He couldn't look at Eleanor, not with what he was about to say. "He told me a week ago. He asked for help. I should have told you right away, I just…" He trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

"You want to help him." Eleanor answered simply. Draco's eyes shot up to meet hers. She wasn't angry, or hurt, or frightened. She looked at him with complete understanding. Draco felt his heart melt a little. He took her in, every inch his true partner, his refuge.

"You're not angry?" Draco questioned.

"Of course I'm not angry." Eleanor replied. "He's your best friend. He's in trouble. You want to help."

"He didn't ask for my help getting out of trouble, El," Draco began to explain, afraid she misunderstood, "he needs my help for a mission."

"I figured that's what you meant." Eleanor nodded, not lighthearted on the matter, but not angry either. She seemed to puzzle for a bit. "I'm afraid that Voldemort knows how close you two are and is using your friendship to get to us."

"I'd thought about that as well." Draco agreed. "I can't help him, but I can't let him die if he messes up."

"What does he need you to do?" Eleanor asked.

"He needs me to help him figure out more about a Vanishing Cabinet. It's important that he gets one to work."

"Okay, here's what I say we do," Eleanor started, working over the information in her mind. "Let's find out more about Vanishing Cabinets, their history, all of their uses, how they work. Maybe if we figure it out without telling Blaise, we can be a step ahead, figure out why Voldemort wants that and then plan from there."

Draco took a deep breath. It wasn't exactly what he wanted, it still wasn't helping Blaise, but he understood her logic. He gave into the plan with a slow nod. "Thank you, Ellie." He reached out and grabbed her hand softly. "You know I love you, right? I couldn't do any of this without you."

"You won't have to. I'll be right here." Eleanor assured. She took a step towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist. His long arms held her close to him as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

"You're everything to me, now. I've always been looking to protect my family and my future, those are both you now." He whispered softly, kissing her hair. He meant every word. His father was imprisoned, his mother was in hiding, his name was tarnished on both sides of the war. Everything he had held dear, and everything he was taught to hold in high esteem was ruined in one way or another. But Eleanor, she was kept clean. She was the lighthouse in the night for him. She was his family, she was there helping him unconditionally, she was there to love him and encourage him. And he hoped she always would be. The world swirled around them, everything terrifying, confusing, and cruel. She was his peace. He'd fought for this peace, and he was going to hold onto it, hold onto her.

"Oh Draco," Eleanor sighed, "The world can't seem to give us a rest, can it?"


"Eleanor, those Gnome Violets are looking particularly lovely today." Professor Sprout commented as Eleanor tended to some flowers in the greenhouse. She spent a lot of her spare time amongst the plants, or with Hagrid and his many creatures. Her class schedule was so light that she had a lot of extra prep time for her teaching assistant jobs, which she was growing more and more grateful for every day. "I've never been able to get them that deep a shade of purple."

"They like to be closer together." Eleanor pointed out, showing how the pots were pressed up against each other and she had overcrowded them a bit. "I figured it out a bit by accident, I didn't have an extra pot for new seedling, so I put the two smallest in the same pot and they grew so quickly. I did a bit of research and found that they grow more together because they hide gnomes, hence their name, and-" She cut her rambling off when she saw Professor Sprout chuckling. "Sorry," Eleanor blushed slightly. She never let her passion for plants out in front of her friends, who cared very little for it and grew tired of her Herbology musings.

"No, no. I appreciate it. I'm just thinking how very much like me you are." Professor Sprout assured. "Your enthusiasm is making all of our friends sprout at twice the pace!" She giggled as she gestured to the life teeming around them. "To think a year ago you were making them wilt." She continued about her work. Eleanor recalled the darkness she had been in and how painful it had been to be in that place. "I'm so grateful to see you grow, just like everything else in here." Professor Sprout continued.

"I'm grateful to be growing as well." Eleanor responded, beginning to mist some other plants lightly. She liked how busy she had been because of the jobs she was doing, she liked keeping things alive and watching them grow and thrive.

"I know that the world has not always been kind to you, Miss Cordarri, and I know that the future is a bit of a question mark for you right now, but I have to tell you that I have seen you change, and grow, and adapt, and become stronger. Anywhere you end up will be lucky to have you."

Eleanor blushed under the praise. "I appreciate that very much." Last year she had been reprimanded for her poor work and lack of dedication by every teacher at Hogwarts. She was always falling behind, and she couldn't keep up. She could barely keep herself from crawling into bed early each day. Life wasn't without it's challenges, but Professor Sprout was right, she had grown. "Where do you think would be a good fit for me?" Eleanor asked, hissing slightly as she cut her skin on a thorn of a plant and brought the wound on her hand to her mouth swiftly.

"You know what I would love to see?" Professor Sprout sighed. "Community gardens, sustainable farms for wand and broomstick materials, a sanctuary for endangered plants and creatures, children having a place to learn about the importance of ecology before coming to me at 11 bloody years old and have already made up their minds that the environment is boring." She shook her head as she realized she was ranting. "There's a few ideas for you. Run with them."

Eleanor took those ideas and thought them over as she continued to tend to the plants in silence. "How would I go about doing any of those things?"

"Money." Professor Sprout stated bluntly. "Which is why they've never been done. You need research, well laid out plans, community members on board with helping, then money from a bunch of rich old men who will then want to decide how you run it."

"Like philanthropy groups?" Eleanor asked, eliciting a snort from her professor.

"Sure, that's what they call themselves. Really they just throw money at things, or people, they like. We don't need another bloody monument in the Ministry of Magic, or more clubs to honor our Magical History. We need action for the future, but no one wants to spend money on that." Professor Sprout huffed about. Eleanor loved working in close proximity to Professor Sprout. She was an outspoken, wonderfully funny woman. She reminded Eleanor a lot of her mother, and she felt like she was learning more and more every time she was around her.

"I could probably fund some things myself, though. If I had plans. Couldn't I?" Eleanor wondered. Professor Sprout stopped for a moment and pondered the question.

"Ah, Cordarri." She seemed to remember, then her eyes grew bright. "Yes, you could! Oh, Eleanor, you could fund such amazing projects. Forget those stuffy old men, you can do things all on your own!" Eleanor chuckled at Professor Sprout and kept doing her work. "Oh, my dear, you do make me so proud."

"Me?" Eleanor clarified, as Professor Sprout had a tendency to say similar things to her plants.

"Yes, you." Professor Sprout laughed. "I remember when you first came in here when you were a first year and told me all about your experiences gardening with your mum."

"She was quite the gardener." Eleanor smiled affectionately, her heart squeezing at the memory of her mother.

"You were just so excited to show me everything you knew. It reminded me so much of your mother when she first came to Hogwarts. I swear the plants grew just by being around her." Professor Sprout smiled at the memory.

"My mother loved your class, too?"

"Oh, yes." Professor Sprout laughed. "Your father hated it. It seemed like all of the plants rebelled against him. When the OWLs came, he couldn't drop my class fast enough. But your mother," Professor Sprout sighed happily here, "your mother just had life flowing from her. She would sneak in here between classes and just fix up anyone's plants for projects that were dying. She couldn't stand to let them rot. Her classmates loved her for it, of course. She rebelled against what people thought of her in the softest of ways."

"She rebelled?" Eleanor asked, loving hearing the stories of her mother. She had never thought to ask professors about her parents, but many of them had taught her mother and father. They knew things about her ancestry that Eleanor was excited to still learn.

"That girl was a handful." Professor Sprout tsked. "Oh my, she would just push the boundaries always. But she had a way of doing it that was so sweet and innocent that all of us just passed it off as her disposition. She always had a smart remark, but it was never disrespectful. She was careful, and quiet, and she always stuck up for the little guy. I was always disappointed she wasn't a Hufflepuff. But I suppose Slytherins look out for their own with ferocity, and she considered everyone her word, you remind me so much of her."

Eleanor couldn't say a word. She just basked in the retelling of stories of her mother. She knew her mother had been widely liked, but it was refreshing to hear how similar the two of them were. Eleanor knew her mother's blood didn't run through her veins, but it was calming to know that she was still about to be a legacy for the Cordarri family, that she was still doing them proud.