Hello everyone! I hope you are all staying safe in this difficult time. No time like a total lockdown to write fanfiction. It's the best self-isolation activity.

But in all seriousness, I'm living in Europe right now, and a lot has changed this week. I hope you are all feeling alright, and know that with caution and compassion, we can get through this together. No time like the present for the comfort of an online community.

On a completely different note - last chapter The Sapphire Princess passed 1350 followers and 700 favourites! Thank you all for your continued support of this story. We are all on this journey together. And trust me, it'll be a long one. I would guess we are a little over halfway through TSP. I promise the other half won't take 4 years.

Sending love

This is also the last chapter of this scene. The whole Malfoy drawing room scene and preamble was over 10,000 words. Finally we have reached the end. Another big reveal will happen this chapter. You all know already, but it's time our Order members discover the skeletons in Draco's closet.

Please remember (before you flame me out in a review or a DM, unappreciated), we have a long way to go.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter


His decision had been spontaneous, but it had lasted a millennium.

Had the whole incident really lasted only thirty seconds? Draco had heard his father taunting Hermione, pushing a knife delicately and slowly into the chinks of her armor.

She didn't realize she was bleeding until it was too late.

He knew that Lucius had more knowledge about the Le Fay legends than he did, especially since Nott's arrival on the scene. The two had spoken at length about Nott's memories of Celia and Tiberius earlier, while Draco had stared at the wall, desperately wishing for something… anything.

Anything other than the position he was now in.

The way Lucius had influenced Hermione in that moment was uncanny. He had seen his father wave his wand before beginning his monologue. Had he cast a spell? If so…what? What could possibly have made Hermione start to walk across his drawing room towards him, away from her friends, her allies, her side…

Away from everything she was.

He had watched in slow motion as the scene unfolded. She looked entranced, hypnotized, completely out of her body and mind, walking towards him at an Inferius's pace. A shimmering bubble appeared around her, which Finnigan unsuccessfully tried to breach. If he wasn't living in a complete nightmare, he would've enjoyed watching the Irishman fly backwards.

She didn't even notice.

Eyes on him. As if he was the only person in the room. In the world.

What was wrong with her?

Behind her, someone sent a curse towards the Death Eater side, deflected easily by Nott. He heard a crash as it hit the opposing wall.

She was still walking towards him.

"Hermione, I…" he said, his voice dying out. He what? Did he want her to keep walking towards him? Take his side, stand by him, and he by her.

Yes. And no.

The decision came fast and slow. Yes, he did want to stand by Hermione's side. He wanted her there. Where he could reach her. Where he could touch her.

But not here. Not like this. Not with her so obviously bewitched that she had no idea what was going on. Not against her own side, against people he knew that she would lay her life down for.

No. He wanted her next to him. But that did not mean she needed to join his side of the drawing room.

He had to go to hers.

He had to go to her.

The decision was made. He had cast his die.

Rubicon be damned.

He rushed forward, breaking through her shield without pause. Whatever she had put up to stop the others wouldn't work on him.

And for a reason he would not be able to explain later, he knew he was the only person who could get to her.

The impact of crashing into her must have been felt in the four corners of the Earth. He picked her up in his arms, refusing to let her stumble.

They had come too far. They were so close.

She reached out to grab him, steadying her fall. Panicked green eyes met his.

He saw recognition. He saw awareness. He saw Hermione.

Thank Merlin almighty, it had worked. She was cognizant.

Her mouth opened, silent, her eyes demanding answers of him.

He shook his head before lifting her back to her feet.

He couldn't give her the answers he wanted right now.

Hopefully one day, he could.

But that one day was not here yet. The only moment he had was the current one. And that moment required of him a choice. A massive, life-changing choice.

It had been haunting him for a long time. Since his sixth year at Hogwarts. What had the blasted old man said to him on the night his life had been ruined?

"Draco…years ago, I knew a boy who made all the wrong choices."

And on that night, though he would not live to see it, his old Headmaster had met another one of those boys.

He looked at Hermione, knowing his next move would change his life forever. A move he should have made in August of 1996.

He was a coward.

But she, thank the gods, was not.

"You'll be the death of me," he muttered before turning his back to her.

And pointing his wand straight at his father.

The silence that followed his action was deafening. He could hear nothing but his own heartbeat, and the shallow breathing of the woman standing right behind him.

Or was that her heartbeat?

"Draco," his father said, uncertainty flickering behind his eyes. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Doing what I should've done a bloody long time ago," he answered, his voice shaking.

He saw Nott roll his eyes. "You cannot be serious, Draco. What is this? A gallant act of chivalry?"

"No," he shook his head, refusing to look back at Hermione. "A cowardly redemption."

He heard a scoff behind him.

Maybe redemption was going a bit too far.

"Draco," he heard her murmur behind him. He still wouldn't look. "What is this?"

He shook his head again, his eyes focused on his father. He couldn't break on this. Not after everything.

The blood in his veins was pumping with a ferocity he hadn't felt before. Energy, adrenaline, magic, he couldn't say, was moving through his body at lightning speed. Had his body every felt like this before? Had his magic ever felt this intense?

Of course, it hadn't. He knew it hadn't.

Because he was not just feeling his own intensity.

He was feeling Hermione's.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his, her – their heartbeat. He heard her shallow breaths slow behind him.

As she calmed down, Draco felt strength return to him. He faced his father – his side - dead on. The other men in the room had their wands pointed at him.

He found he didn't care. He wasn't worried.

He was on the right side of the room.

"She is not staying," he said, his voice no longer shaking. Loud. Confident. Certain. "This ploy is over. If your plan was to use mine and Hermione's connection to magically submit her into switching sides, consider yourselves colossally wrong."

That's what had happened, wasn't it? They would probably be unable to overpower Hermione magically, unless they all worked together. But the Dark Lord hadn't wanted her harmed. So, they used the tool that had fallen into their hands.

He had succeeded in his mission after all.

This 'Other' business was complicated, and he barely understood it himself. What he did know was that moments before, when Hermione had been entranced, bewitched, walking towards him… she wasn't consciously choosing to. It was her magic. It was their bond.

Lucius had put enough doubt in her mind to delay her rationality – those famous bookworm smarts. With just enough doubt creeping in, her magic, her glorious, earth-shattering magic had overpowered her, pushing her towards him. Towards what her magic wanted.

But not what she wanted.

He tried not to wince at the thought.

"I will not participate in this," he said, glancing back at her for this first time. She looked shocked. She looked angry. She looked so goddamn powerful.

He turned back to his father and took a deep breath. "You cannot force her into submission. You knew that you couldn't. That's why you wanted me to do it."

"Draco," Lucius started again, his voice full of warning.

"Not today, father," Draco said. "Not tomorrow. Not ever."

"And you think she will just forgive you for your betrayal?" Nott interjected, his dark eyes narrowed, wand hand twitching.

Could she ever? God, could I ever?

"It doesn't matter," Draco said, forcing himself to stare forward. "It's not about that. It's about her."

It's been about her for longer than he cared to admit.

"Draco," his father said once again. "You cannot turn your back on the Dark Lord over a woman."

"You said it yourself, father," Draco said. "She is my superior and to be revered. How else can I revere her but by standing at her side?"

"If she will let you," Nott snarled, his anger increasing. "Do not…do not make the same mistake my brother did, laying himself at the feet of a Le Fay woman. He died at the hand of the Dark Lord because of that stupidity."

Draco took a deep breath.

"Then the Dark Lord will have to come and get me himself."

He heard Hermione gasp quietly behind him.

"You daft boy," Nott said, his voice approaching a scream. "Do you not understand what you are doing? Do you not understand what you are risking? What you are sacrificing? You are turning your back on your family, your kin, your blood for her…"

"Her blood recognizes mine," Draco continued, trying to stand tall. "Her magic recognizes mine."

"As Celia recognized my brother before she left him to die," Nott barked. "He turned his back on the most powerful wizard in the world…"

"For the most powerful witch."

Draco's voice echoed throughout the room. Bouncing off stone, glass, windows, tapestries, embedding itself in the minds of all those who heard him.

Nott's eyes narrowed. "Do not desert the Dark Lord for her."

Draco lifted his arm, with two scars in an X across his now faded Dark Mark.

"Too late."

As a stunned Nott stared at him in anger, Draco heard a murmur from behind him.

"We need to get out of here."

"You are not going anywhere, Werewolf," Nott said, his wand now raised, pointed directly at the group. "We have unfinished business."

Draco felt the Order fall into battle positions behind him, wands at the ready for what was about to happen.

"There is no unfinished business here, Nott," Hermione said, her voice quivering slightly. What was she thinking? "I will not stay here. You have no power over me. Your magic is no match for mine, and you know it."

Nott smirked. "Perhaps. But there are many ways to take down a city, my dear. You can storm the gates, scale the walls. Or, simply find the chink in the armor. The break in the army formation. And yours has been revealed readily."

Hermione scoffed. "And what might that be?"

Nott's eyes shifted very quickly from Hermione to Draco.

"Him."

He cast the curse so quickly Draco did not have time to react. A booming voice filled the drawing room.

"CRUCIO!"

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Draco had felt pain before. He had had his forearm cut open by a knife, had been beaten and dropped in a burning building. He had fought in a war, been injured, suffered under a tyrant.

But this. There was nothing that could prepare him for this.

The curse hit Draco squarely in the chest, sending him to his knees immediately. His eyes blacked out. Did he scream? Did he curse? Did his body indicate the suffering coursing through him in any other way than sending him to the ground?

Agony. Pure agony.

His hands hit the floor. He was on all fours. He heard screaming. Was that him? Animalistic, ragged, desperate. Broken.

End it. End it. End it.

And then suddenly, it stopped.

He had fallen fully to the floor. His face felt wet. Had it been a minute? An eternity?

Opening his eyes, he looked up, fully expecting to see the gates of hell. Burning. He was burning.

That was not what he saw.

He saw salvation.

Hermione stood above his crumpled form, tears streaming down her face, one arm clutching at her chest desperately, the other pointed at Nott. She was staggering, her body beginning to collapse on itself.

"That'll be quite enough," Hermione choked out, voice shaking, sparks emanating from the end of her wand.

Draco forced his eyes to look at Nott's smirking face. The bastard still had his wand raised.

"Do you realize now, Miss Le Fay?" Nott murmured, his voice loud in the dead quiet room. "You could have the power of a thousand suns, but this weak man is your downfall. You felt his suffering as your own, did you not? You felt his pain as your own. Every bit of agony he feels, you feel now as well."

"It was as if you, Hermione, were the one tortured on the drawing room floor."

She had felt it.

The noise that left his mouth was indescribable. A moan, a whimper, a prayer? Was he praying to her? For her? His savior, not once, but twice now. His deity. His father's words from earlier replayed in his head.

How could he not revere her?

He couldn't take his eyes off her. Was the curse causing him to hallucinate, or did she just look like that…beautiful.

He felt arms around him, pulling him to his feet. Before he was up fully, he snatched his wand, which had clattered to the floor next to him.

"Pull yourself together," Blaise hissed in his ear, holding him up. Could he stand? Could he breathe? He gripped the hawthorn wood like a lifeline.

"How long was…how long did…" he asked his once friend, trying desperately to string words together.

"A few minutes," Blaise answered. "Hermione started screaming when you fell. We couldn't…we couldn't get to either of you."

"Why?" he whispered.

"It was like an explosion, too much force."

Hermione was still shaking. Draco wanted to reach for her, hold her, comfort her, do something.

But Blaise was still holding him up.

Useless.

"Don't you see now, Hermione?" Nott said, smirking. "You may have power. But you are still vulnerable. There is only one thing that would protect you fully."

"Which is?" she gasped out, still clutching her chest.

Nott stared at her for a moment, pausing before speaking.

"You would need the sapphire…"

As the words left his mouth, Draco heard his father shout, then spring forward desperately to stop Nott from whatever admission he had just made. His father slammed Nott to the floor, forcing the older man to fall to his hands and knees.

"Do not!" His father screamed, cutting off Nott Sr, his face a mix of fear and fury.

Draco gaped at Lucius's anger. His anger…at what? What…what was Nott talking about? He had never heard of any sapphire…

But, in their brief moment of distraction, confusion, chaos, the Order sprang into action.

Lupin shot a well-aimed curse towards Lucius, sending the other man to the ground.

"Now!" Lupin screamed, and like clockwork, the Order sent curses barreling at the Death Eater side, knocking them back. Draco saw Finnigan grab for Hermione, supporting her as the group began to run for the Apparition point. Before he had time to react, he felt Blaise pull at him.

"Come on you bastard, we're getting out of here."

He was leaning on Blaise, trying desperately to help, but the other man just pulled him along, following the group sprinting out the door. He could barely breathe.

"I really hate you sometimes, you know that right," Blaise muttered, forcing his limping form forward.

"Oh, trust me. I know."

Crashing out of the manor, the group rushed towards the borders of the Malfoy property. The similarity to their last mission was not lost on Draco. Desperately trying to escape. Desperately trying to understand how things had gone this way.

He hoped the ending wouldn't be the same this time.

He wouldn't survive being pulled away from her again.

Draco didn't know how, through either the mercy of a god he didn't believe in, or just sheer luck, they made it to the border.

All of them stood at the tree line. Draco looked up, trying desperately not to collapse and realized he was looking straight down the length of Remus Lupin's wand, pointed at his face.

"Give us good one reason we should save your life right now," the older man snarled at him.

Draco opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was still holding on to Blaise for support, urging his body to return to its full capacity.

"Remus, listen," Blaise said, eyes darting between their old DADA professor and the manor. "We have seconds here."

"One good reason!" Lupin shouted. He was shaking in rage.

"If we leave him, they could use him against Hermione," Blaise interjected. "You know it's true. We all saw what happened."

Lupin faltered.

Across the manor lawn, they heard a bang as the front doors slammed open.

"Remus, now!" Blaise cried out, still holding Draco up.

Lupin's eyes darted to the manor, where he could see figures started to run towards them.

"Fine," he shouted. "Headquarters, everyone, now!"

Draco didn't even get a chance to look back at his childhood home before he found himself whizzing through the air, holding onto Blaise with one hand and his wand with the other as his old friend returned him to Grimmauld Place through side-along apparition.

He felt his feet hit the ground, before being pushed backwards until he had his back to the wall. The entirety of the mission crew stood before him. Finnigan and Lupin had their wands raised, fury in both their eyes.

"You are a real son of a bitch, you know that right," the Irishman snarled at him.

Draco coughed, leaning against the wall, his body still feeling the after-effects of the curse. "News to me, Finnigan."

He nearly growled.

"Mr. Malfoy," Lupin interjected, his normally kind eyes narrowed. Suspicious. Angry. Disappointed. "It would seem that we all made an error saving you from that burning building."

"You didn't make an error," Draco choked out, putting his hand on chest. His eyes flickered over to where she stood, now being held up by the Weasley twin. Her eyes were on the ground, tears streaming down her face.

"Fuck off, Malfoy," the Weasley said, his grip on Hermione tightening. "We saved your ass. We let you stay here. We…we trusted you."

He closed his eyes. "I know."

"Then how on earth was it not a mistake?" Blaise asked, his voice softer than the others. "Seriously, Draco. What happened here?"

"It started as a mission," he admitted, warily, eyeing Finnigan's wand.

"With what purpose?" Lupin asked.

Draco sighed. "Like you don't already know."

"Who gave the order?" Lupin continued, eyes narrowing to slits. "Who wanted Hermione?"

"Voldemort."

Silence.

"Why did they want Hermione?" Longbottom asked after a moment, once the shock had worn off. Draco had forgotten he was even here.

"They said," Draco choked out, coughing again. "They said they wanted Hermione returned to her proper side, where she would be respected. Everything they said today."

"So, you always knew that Hermione was a Le Fay?" the Weasley asked.

Draco nodded.

Weasley let out a low whistle. "No fucking wonder you did the transfer, then. Get your hands on that magic."

"No," Draco interjected. "That wasn't it, at all."

"You honestly expect us to believe you, ferret?" Finnigan snarled.

"You have no reason to," Draco admitted. "But I wasn't trying to steal her magic. I just…I was just trying to help."

Lupin appraised him for a minute, the emotions in his eyes not disappearing. "Was all of it deception, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Remus, are you kidding?" Finnigan burst out, the tip of his wand now pressed into Draco's chest. He winced in response. "Of course, it was all deception."

"It started that way," Draco admitted, ignoring Finnigan, and keeping his eyes on Lupin. "It did. I admit it. But it changed. I…I wasn't sure if I…I wasn't sure if I could or would complete the mission."

"You weren't sure?" Finnigan snapped. "Boy, do you know how to inspire confidence."

Draco ignored him. "The mission at the summer house wasn't a setup, I promise. I…I didn't know it was going to be an ambush. I didn't know I was going to be taken from it, or that they knew you were coming."

"What did you tell your father?" Tonks asked, also speaking for the first time. She had been standing back, watching with forced neutrality, displaying none of the anger overtaking her husband.

"About my relationship with Hermione, and what I had seen of her powers," Draco said, his voice low. "Nothing else. Nothing about the Order. They didn't care. They didn't ask. I didn't offer."

He watched Lupin give a visible sigh of relief before something occurred to him. "Why didn't they care about the Order?"

"Because a Le Fay was on the table."

"So then what, Malfoy?" Finnigan asked, cocking his head slightly. "You didn't betray us fully. That doesn't change the fact that this was all a ruse from the beginning." He glanced over at Lupin. "I told you this was bullshit."

"I mean," Blaise started, pursing his lips. Finnigan turned to glare at him so quickly Draco could've sworn he heard his neck crack. His old friend didn't buckle. "I'm not saying that Draco isn't a conniving, lying, piece of shit."

"Thanks," Draco muttered, wincing as another shot of pain went through his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione wince too.

"But he's stepped up a few times now, hasn't it?" Blaise said. "The magic transfer saved Hermione from overloading; you all can't deny that."

An uncomfortable silence followed.

"And he saved Neville at the Summer House," Blaise continued, crossing his arms, gaining speed. "And today. Hermione was three seconds away from being trapped, we all know it."

"She wouldn't have joined their side," Finnigan rushed out, the anger in his voice replaced by fear.

"She wasn't herself," Blaise responded. He turned to Hermione, who was now shaking in the Weasley twin's arms. "Were you?"

"No," a small, tepid voice answered. She was still looking at the ground.

"Exactly," Blaise nodded. "And Draco broke her the fuck out of whatever enchantment Lucius put her under – we all saw him wave his wand – and was tortured for it. That's not behavior I'd expect of a double agent."

"He let himself be tortured before," Weasley pointed out. "That's how we ended up in this bloody mess in the first place."

Blaise shrugged. "That was before."

"Before what?" Lupin asked, exhausted. His wand lowered a fraction.

The dark-haired man sighed. "Before Hermione. I mean, really? Are you all blind?"

Draco allowed his eyes to wander to her once again. Had it only been less than a week ago that he had woken up with her at his side?

She finally looked up from the ground, to look at him dead on. Behind her eyes, behind the pain she was so obviously trying to fight through, he saw something he had grown accustomed to.

The wheels in her brain were turning quickly. The famous Hermione Gran—Le Fay brain.

She opened her mouth, then closed it quickly, as if debating whether to speak. After what finally felt like an eternity, she did.

"What sapphire?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nott," she repeated, his name sounding like a hiss. "That's what he said I needed to protect myself against yo…what happened earlier."

Draco flinched.

"I don't know," he responded.

She frowned. "Lucius freaked out, like he didn't want me to know about it. What is it?"

"I don't know," he repeated.

Her eyes were pleading. Angry. "Draco. Please."

He shook his head again. "I'm sorry. I really don't know."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Finnigan interrupted, prodding Draco's chest with the wand once again. "We can't trust the bastard. Everything he has said has been a lie. The whole damn premise of him being here is a lie!"

"Is it?" Lupin asked, raising an eyebrow, his gaze suddenly calculating.

"What are you going on about, Remus?" Finnigan burst out again.

"Seamus, lower your wand and back up."

"Why the FUCK…"

"Do it."

Making sure to forcefully stab the wand into his chest once again, Seamus did as he was told.

Draco took a deep breath without the pressure forcing him against the wall.

His old professor glanced down at Draco's hand, where he was still clutching his wand.

"Hand it over, Malfoy."

"Why?" Draco asked, suddenly nervous, his wand nearly vibrating between his fingers.

"Because if you don't, I will blow you into so many pieces that they won't be able to collect them all for the funeral."

The vitriol in Lupin's voice alone almost made him drop the wand. Unsure of if he had any other option left at this point, he handed it to the leader.

The second it left his fingertips, his hand went cold.

Lupin examined his wand for a moment. "Is this your own wand, Malfoy?"

He nodded, heartbeat increasing.

"The one you got at age eleven? The one you had your whole life, before coming here?"

He didn't like where this was going.

He nodded again.

Lupin twirled the hawthorn stick between his fingertips. "When you arrived here Malfoy, you told us the story of why you were branded. It was because you refused to kill a young girl. Blond with braids, you said."

Oh no.

Draco felt his face blanch as the memory assaulted him.

She had looked so scared when he killed her.

"If that's true, then perhaps there's a soul in you to save. However, if you killed that innocent muggle girl, we will be having a completely different conversation."

Draco knew what Lupin was going to do before he did.

It was over. He couldn't salvage this.

Lupin eyed him for a moment. "Wands track spells, you know that?"

He did.

"And one can reveal that tracker, very easily," Lupin said, before pointing his own wand at Draco's.

As Lupin cast the spell, Draco watched the walls of his city crumble.

"Prior Incantato!"

It was over.

As the old professor forced Draco's wand to reveal its more recent spells, he closed his eyes, savoring this last moment.

Would they kill him? Would they send him back to his side? Either way, it was unlikely he was making it through the day.

As he pondered this, he heard an echo of a scream. A scream burned into his nightmares.

He heard gasps echo through the room.

No rest for the wicked. No peace for the wicked.

He opened his eyes.

Out of the tip of his wand had appeared an image. A smoke shadow. He knew it was going to be there, but still…

The sight of that little girl again shook him to his core.

He had killed her to save her from a worse fate, he thought weakly, allowing guilt to wrack his core.

He hadn't felt guilt in a long time.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy," Lupin said, his voice strangled with anger. "It would seem that all has been revealed."

He opened his mouth to respond, to plead, to cry, to argue, he wasn't sure. But before he was able to say anything, something else caught the attention of the room.

The ghost of the little girl was now fully out of the wand. However, at the tip of the hawthorn he had held in his hand for almost a decade, another cloud of haze was forming.

It was another figure, a grey smoke, forcing itself from the tip of his wand, blossoming back into existence.

Draco's heart went cold.

Prior Incantato revealed the most recent spells the wand had cast. It produced an echo.

A month before that little girl, there had been another. Another person shot down by his wand.

He knew who the figure was going to be.

The Order didn't.

The one secret left.

He heard a scream reverberate from the past.

It was nothing like the young girl's scream. This one was older. Male.

And as the figure clambered its way out of the hawthorn, Draco knew that it was over. It was truly over.

He heard Finnigan's wand clatter to the ground in shock.

The smoke figure righted itself, to turn and stare at Draco.

And he, with bated breath, stared back into the dead eyes of Dean Thomas.


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