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Draco brought the glass of firewhiskey to his lip, eyes trained on the kitchen table. It burned his throat going down, but he could not bring himself to care.
Nothing burned like her absence.
He had been sitting in the kitchen since Potter and Weasley had stumbled through the floo that afternoon. He supposed that he was still a prisoner here and should have been banished back to his room. But now, it seemed like a mere technicality.
Everything seemed like a technicality in comparison to the mission they had to complete the next day.
He wondered if he would ever get used to days like this. Days where she wasn't there, and he didn't know if she was safe. Days where he was separated from her, and could feel his anxiety coursing through his veins, with nothing but the bottle to offer him distraction.
He assumed he would have to. Even if they got her back safely, it wasn't like she would stay.
At least, she wouldn't stay with him.
He took another swing from his glass of firewhiskey, and the ice cubes hit his mouth. Glancing down, he realized he had hit the bottom. Sighing, and accepting this as his only cure from insomnia, he stood up to refill from the glass. He turned around, and for the first time realized he was not alone.
He stared at the other figure in the room for a long pause before speaking.
"Would you like something, Finnigan?"
The Irishman was leaning against the counter, shadows flickering over his face from the fireplace in the room. His arms were crossed over his chest, and body so perfectly still that Draco might have guessed he was a statue.
However, no one could deny the heat radiating out from his eyes.
"I figured it's high time for you and I to talk."
Draco raised an eyebrow, unsure of how to read the situation. He regarded the other man for a moment, before letting out a sigh.
"Look, Finnigan, if you want to talk about Thomas…"
"Don't," the other man said sharply, cutting him off with a voice of steel. "Don't say anything about that."
"Then why are you down here, Finnigan?" Draco asked. "Do you want to get me so liquored that I don't notice when you punch me in the face?"
The Gryffindor glared at him for a moment before reaching towards the bottle of firewhiskey. Whipping out his wand, he conjured a glass. He poured it until full, glancing over at Draco's hand, who was clutching his own.
"Do you want another?"
"Did you come here for a drink?" Draco questioned, cocking an eyebrow but holding it out, nonetheless.
Finnigan filled his glass. "No. But I think it might make this less agonizing."
Now Draco was curious. He turned back towards the table, gesturing. "Then take a seat."
The two men moved to sit, each taking an end, facing each other with a fair amount of distance. Finnigan swirled the firewhiskey around his glass for a moment before taking a generous sip.
He breathed out, his brown hair blocking his gaze for a moment. In the pause, Draco noticed how disheveled the other man looked. Dark circles under his eyes, skin pale and cracked, Merlin knew the last time he had had a good night's sleep. The shadows from the firelight danced over his face once again.
Finnigan himself was now only a shadow.
"I don't like you, Malfoy," Finnigan whispered, his eyes still on the table.
"Really?" Draco drawled, glancing at his own glass. "I thought we were best mates."
"That's not far enough, actually," the Gryffindor responded, ignoring the Slytherin's comment and looking up. "I hate you. I fucking hate you. I think the only thing that would bring me joy is cursing you into oblivion."
Draco crossed his arms. "Then why are you down here? Clarifying your feelings? Defining the relationship? Don't worry, Finnigan, it has been defined."
"I'm down here," Finnigan continued, eyes narrowing. "Because you need to understand something."
"Understand what?" Draco asked, exasperated. He took another swig of firewhiskey.
Finnigan regarded him for a moment, his face going blank.
No, not blank.
Empty.
"You have taken so much from me, Malfoy," Finnigan whispered, his voice deadly low. Draco watched his hand clench around the glass. "You've taken away my best friend. You've taken away this house, a place I called home for years. You've taken away the girl I love."
The words hit Draco with a little bit more force than he expected. "The girl you love?" he asked, incredulous. "You mean the girl you slept with for a year and used as a substitute to bury your pain about losing Thomas? That girl?"
The silence that followed almost made Draco regret saying it.
Almost.
"Don't presume to know anything about my relationship with Hermione," Finnigan said, voice shaking, eyes back on the table. "You…you just don't know. And you don't need to."
"Then why bring it up?" Draco barked back, crossing his arms reflexively. Even the idea of Finnigan and Hermione's past relationship taunted him, a part of her that he couldn't reach.
She was unreachable no matter what.
"Tomorrow we are going to save her," Finnigan declared, looking back up. "And Malfoy, I swear to God, if you don't give everything you have to get her back, you will never see the light of day again."
"That's what this is about?" Draco asked, almost laughing. "You're here to tell me that I have to… what, try to save her? Wasn't that already assumed?"
Finnigan looked at him. "I don't understand you or your relationship with her. But I do understand Hermione. And I understand how easy she is to love. I understand that the way you do."
Draco flinched, but felt that he couldn't look away from this shell of a man and whatever life he had left glaring him down.
"Do you want me to admit it?" Draco asked, his voice quieter than he would have liked.
Finnigan shook his head. "You don't need to. We all know you're in love with her. We're not idiots."
"Fooled me," Draco muttered.
"What I want you to say," Finnigan continued. "Is that you understand what loving Hermione means. What loving her unselfishly, unconditionally means."
"I'm not pretending to love her unselfishly," Draco retorted. "I'm being quite selfish, in fact."
Finnigan rolled his eyes. "Whatever term you want then. You don't love her in half spades. It's all or nothing with Hermione Granger."
"Le Fay," Draco corrected, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them.
Finnigan appraised him for a moment before a small smile appeared on his ghostlike features.
"Not to me."
"Then what are you saying?" Draco asked, twitching in his seat, grabbing at the firewhiskey reflexively. "What is this goddamn monologue about?"
Finnigan took another drink, before taking a deep breath and looking back at him.
It was as if the man had opened his soul in his eyes.
"You need to understand what it means to love Hermione the way she loves you," he replied, ignoring how Draco flinched. "The way Dean loved me. I think you're selfish and you don't comprehend unconditional love, but you've laid down everything for her, and you need to know that it doesn't mean shit unless you lay it all down."
And Draco understood.
"You want me…" Draco paused, taking a deep breath. "You want me to die for her tomorrow?"
"Nothing would make me happier," Finnigan muttered, before shaking his head. "No. I want you to understand that that's what it means to love someone fully. In this war. In this world that we've fucking inherited. And if you can't love Hermione like that, when we get her back, let her go."
"Seems a bit extreme to me," Draco said, his foot tapping on the ground. "You don't have to die every time you love someone. That's why marriages exist."
"It's that you would," Finnigan replied, leaning back in his chair. "It's that if it came down to it, you would give yourself up to save her. And to be quite frank, Malfoy, I don't think you have it in you to do it."
Draco had started shaking. "I may not understand your relationship with her, Finnigan," he hissed across the table. "But don't you dare presume to know what I would or would not give up for her. I gave up my entire life for her if you've already forgotten."
"No, you didn't," the other man shook his head. "You gave up your lifestyle."
Draco opened his mouth to argue but found nothing came out.
Finnigan lifted his glass to his lips and finished the rest. "I don't understand you," he said, standing up. "And I fucking hate you. And I won't ever forgive you. But if you love Hermione the way you act like you do, then show up for her tomorrow. And if you have to, then show up for her like it's the last thing you'll ever do."
He began to walk towards the kitchen door.
Draco gaped at this man, at the audacity of his statements.
"Like you'd just die for her, Finnigan."
The Gryffindor glanced back at the Slytherin, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips.
A past happiness.
"Don't presume to know me, Malfoy."
And he was gone. All he left in his wake was a shadow, a condemnation, and a commandment.
Draco walked into the kitchen the next morning after a restless sleep, filled with screaming and begging and blood splattered across the drawing room floor.
"You ready, mate?" Blaise asked, appearing seemingly from heaven and handing him a cup of coffee. He clutched it close to his chest.
"As ready as I'll ever be," he muttered, taking a sip and glancing around the room.
He seemed to be the last one in. Remus stood at the table, chatting quietly with his wife. Tonks clutched his hand, and he touched her stomach, looking down.
Draco raise an eyebrow, and Blaise whispered in his ear. "Tonks is pregnant. She's not coming on the mission."
Pregnant. There was no reason that this should surprise him, they were married, they were having kids. But at least for Draco, the idea that there was the possibility for life right now was astounding.
Behind Remus stood Mad-Eye and Kingsley, speaking in low voices. Draco could almost feel that magical eye staring at him through the back of Mad-Eye's head.
He looked away quickly, glancing at the group on the other side of the kitchen. There stood Longbottom, Potter, Weasley and Finnigan.
A quartet out of his own personal hell.
Finnigan was staunchly looking in the opposite direction. Longbottom didn't seem to have noticed him and Potter glanced at him quickly before turning away.
Draco ignored Weasley's eyes burning into his skin.
"Is this everyone?" Draco muttered at Blaise.
"Just about," answered another voice. Draco turned to see Fred walk in through the door and give him a slight nod. "Ginny and Luna are staying behind with Tonks, and George is over at Shell Cottage right now. That has everyone who is usually at Grimmauld. Anyway, us ten should be able to do it."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that Fred," said Lupin from the middle of the room, glancing at the new arrivals. "We need to talk."
The group circled the kitchen table.
"Why not, Lupin?" Fred asked, glancing at their de facto leader. "It seems like every time I blink we're able to break into a Malfoy estate." The twin turned to Draco. "Your family is terrible at security."
"We like to keep the trash out by radiating superiority," Draco muttered. "Worked great for years."
"Not this time, Fred," Lupin continued, adeptly ignoring the both of them. "We were able to get into the Malfoy Summer Home and the Manor last time because they wanted us to. Both of those missions were designed for the Death Eaters to get a shot at Hermione. For that, we had to get in. It's a bit different now that's she already there."
"They aren't giving up a Le Fay," Kingsley said, his low voice filling the room. "If the legends hold true, they wouldn't dare give away that level of power."
"What's Hermione's role in all this?" Potter asked, his glasses slightly askew. "I get that Ron and I weren't there for the last few missions and we don't get this whole Le Fay thing, but it's not exactly like Hermione is a passive actor in all this."
"Potter's right," Blaise chimed in, to an incredulous look from the Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die. "What? I can admit that."
Potter rolled his eyes.
"Anyways," Blaise continued. "Was Hermione not the one who was able to get all those prisoners out of the summer house by breaking through the anti-apparition wards? And she was wandless."
"Why hasn't she just apparated out?" Neville asked, glancing at Blaise like the question had only just occurred to him.
"Hermione still doesn't understand her power," Draco interrupted, as all eyes turned to him, some angry, some curious. "The prisoner situation was brought on by intense emotion. She wanted to save those people more than she wanted to breathe. And besides, the Dark Lord himself personally increased all the anti-apparition wards at Death Eater houses after that incident. Even Hermione can't break through those."
"How do you know that?" Weasley demanded, accusation ringing through the air.
Draco rolled his eyes. "I did get captured for a bit there. I'm sure you forgot because you were too busy camping while the grownups fought a war."
Weasel King glared at him. "Is it really being captured when it's your real side?"
Draco ignored him and turned back to Remus. They didn't have time for this when Hermione was on the line.
"I would bet Hermione can't get out of her own accord. She'd be back by now if that was the case."
"I agree, Mr. Malfoy," his old professor nodded. "But that doesn't mean we're going to rescue her from her ivory tower. She can help us."
"How?" Blaise asked, tilting his head. "Forgive me Remus, but isn't she there, and we're here…and that's the problem…"
"Zabini," Lupin responded in a tone that sent Draco into a third-year tailspin. "There are ways to get a message to her that work around, as you put it, the fact that she's there and we're here."
Blaise didn't even blink. "Then what's your master plan, Lupin? Could you share with the peasants if you don't mind?"
"We're playing a different game this time around," Lupin continued, ignoring Blaise and directing his answer to the whole group. "The wards are stronger, but I imagine we'll be able to break them." His gaze turned to Draco. "Blood wards again?"
"It might take a bit more blood," he answered, ignoring Finnigan's now piercing eyes. "But they haven't disowned me yet, so I should still be able to get in."
Lupin nodded. "Good. We should expect a larger force as well. Malfoy Manor is now acting as the Death Eater Headquarters and is probably going to be swarmed. We won't be able to just barge in and take it by force. They aren't giving up a Le Fay that easily."
"We need to be tactical," Mad-Eye barked, looking around at them all. "This is all about strategy."
"So, Mr. Malfoy," Lupin continued, turning back towards his once student. "This is your house. What do you think could work?"
All eyes turned to him again, but he stared back at Lupin, brain rushing into overdrive, cogs spinning like the clock tower at Hogwarts.
"What about the garden?" he asked after a few second, more to himself than the group.
"Oh shit, mate," Blaise turned towards him, nodding vigorously. "That's perfect."
"Care to fill us in?" Potter asked sardonically.
"The back of Malfoy Manor is basically a maze," Blaise explained, as Draco mapped it out in his mind. "A Narcissa passion project from years past. That woman loves to garden. It's just endless hedges, organized to hide all these little secret hideaways and alcoves."
"It ends at the woods behind the estate," Draco continued. "If we enter through the back, through the woods, and Hermione meets us in the garden…"
"It gives perfect cover," Blaise offered. "This maze is so complex, we used to play in it as kids. The number of times that we got lost and had to shout until someone came…"
"I don't have a great track record with mazes," Potter said, his face a bit paler. "Not after the Triwizard Tournament…"
"This maze doesn't have secret riddles or a portkey bringing you to Tom Riddle's grave," Blaise supplied. He turned back to Lupin. "I really think it's our best bet. Lord knows we'll get squashed in open plain combat. We can't just go running up from the gates. We need some cover."
"It's not as if we all know this maze by heart," Longbottom said, frowning.
"True," Draco conceded. "But I do. And the Death Eaters don't."
"What are you suggesting?" Kingsley asked as Draco realized the gravity of his plan.
He felt Finnigan's eyes on him again.
"I'm suggesting that I go in first," Draco said, standing up a bit taller. "We give Hermione a meeting point. You all flank me as backup. I can get to the meeting spot in one shot."
"What meeting spot do you have in mind?" Lupin asked, eyebrows raised.
"The fountain," Blaise and Draco answered at the same time.
"Are you two fucking married?" Weasley spit out, his face red.
Blaise sighed. "In my dreams."
Draco had to physically hold himself back from clocking his oldest friend.
"There's a fountain smack in the middle of the maze," Blaise continued, chuckling slightly. "We used it as our checkpoint as kids. Draco, me, Pans, Daphne, Theo…"
He trailed off for a moment, eyes getting further away.
"I can get to it," Draco continued, watching Blaise out of the corner of his eye until he snapped back into reality.
"That's all grand, Mr. Malfoy," Mad-Eye barked, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "But how will Hermione get there?"
"It's a maze," Draco breathed, wondering how they all didn't see what he did. "A maze is just a logic problem. It's Hermione."
Draco saw Potter turn to Ron and whisper quietly.
Snape's potions riddle. Quirrell.
Whatever that meant, Potter turned back to him and nodded.
"If she knows this fountain is at the centre of the maze, she'll be able to find it."
"The question is how she'll know to be there," Lupin said, before turning to Draco and nodding.
"Well done."
It took Draco a few seconds to realize that Lupin was complimenting him. He wasn't sure exactly what emotion it arose in him.
It felt like forward motion.
"Can't we just send her a Patronus or something?" Potter asked, once again demonstrating why he was not top of the class. "Am I missing something on that?"
Kingsley shook his head. "The Death Eaters have advanced messaging wards around their various locations as well. No messages come in or out unless they qualify under the ward's guidelines. No owls, no floos, no Patronuses."
"Snape pushed us through the floo to get back to Grimmauld Place," Weasley pipped up.
"To get you out," Kingsley explained. "Not to get in. And you're both part of the Fidelius charm here, so that was not an issue."
There was a pause as the group considered the options.
"What are the guidelines for the wards?" Fred asked suddenly, turning towards Draco. "I feel like that's something you should know?"
Draco nodded. "It's membership based, like the Death Eaters. You have to have the mark to send messages through them and be a pureblood."
Fred blinked twice. "Are you a fucking idiot?"
"Excuse me?" Draco retorted, not expecting the outburst and feeling slightly offended that he was being cussed out by a man who once turned the fifth-floor corridor into a swamp.
"Has the Dark Mark and pure blood," Fred continued, as if explaining this to a child. "Does that not describe at least one person in this room?"
"Me?" Draco asked. "But… my father cut up my mark when he branded me. I don't qualify anymore."
"The mark is still on your arm," Lupin said, suddenly very pale, a slight tremor running through his body. "You can't get rid of the Dark Mark, it's always there. It doesn't matter if there are slashes in it."
Draco glanced down at his forearm, blocked by his jacket. "I guess that's true."
"Brilliant," Lupin breathed. "Then you can send her a Patronus message."
"A Patronus?" Draco asked, his voice cracking against his will. "I've… I've never cast one."
Draco heard several scoffs around the room from his old classmates, but he kept his eyes trained on Lupin.
For a split second, he thought he saw pity in the other man's eyes.
"The concept is simple," Lupin said, his professor voice overtaking the voice of a resistance group leader. "The charm is 'Expecto Patronum'. In order to cast it, you need to remember the happiest memory you can."
"Like Draco Malfoy has ever been really happy," Weasley muttered. "Maybe bullying some first years."
"Can it, Ron," Lupin snapped, his anger overflowing. "This is our only goddamn chance to get Hermione back after you morons left her."
Draco couldn't help but smirk as the Weasel King paled.
Lupin turned back to Draco. "Just give it a shot." He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a familiar looking wand before handing it to Draco.
He felt the hawthorn come to life under his fingertips.
Trying desperately to ignore the preening eyes of the others in the room, Draco raised his wand. He thought back, trying to find a memory that would fulfill the task.
With his childhood home at the forefront of his mind, Draco thought about those days with Blaise and Theo in their youth. Running around the background, getting lost in the maze, taking turns trying to hide behind hedges and jump out to scare the others. Falling into the grass and laughing until their stomachs hurt.
He raised his wand and with as much force as possible shouted "Expecto Patronum!"
Out of the tip of his wand burst a few wisps of white smoke.
Draco heard sniggers around the room as he lowered his wand, trying to ignore the burning on the tips of his ears.
"Guys, stop," he heard a voice snap. Turning, he caught Longbottom's eye.
"It took me a few times too," his once classmate said, nodding encouragingly. "Finding a memory was tough."
"What were you thinking about?" Lupin asked.
"I was thinking about when Theo and Blaise would come over to the Manor while we were kids," Draco muttered, glancing at the ground. "And we would dick around and scare each other."
He heard Blaise chuckle. "Would you like to add something?" he asked, turning.
His best friend glanced at all the others for a second before leaning in close to Draco's ear.
"I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm honoured, my man. But didn't you have sex with your magically fated partner who you have finally admitted you're in love with less than a month ago?"
He couldn't help but gape as Blaise smirked.
The other man stood up straight before gesturing to the group once again.
"I believe in you, mate."
Draco frowned for a moment, focusing in on his wand. He glanced at Lupin, who gave him a small nod, a twinkle of his professor looking back at him.
He closed his eyes and let the memory engulf him.
That's what it felt like, didn't it? Being engulfed. Being able to breathe while you're drowning.
He saw her in his mind, lying back on the bed, staring up at him like he was a wonder. Like he was every dream she had ever had. Whispering nothings in his ear, running her hands across his skin, over his scars like they weren't there – no, like they were there, and she adored them.
A part of him that she loved, worshiped, revered.
His lips on her skin, she tasted like legends. Like the centuries trapped into one singular moment where there was only him, her, and the entire universe and stars.
A closeness between them that no language could ever describe.
He opened his eyes, centering all of his energy on his wand.
"Expecto Patronum!"
From the tip of his wand burst a cloud of white mist, sending him stumbling back. It swirled around the floor for a moment, before corporealizing at his feet, wide eyes staring up at him.
"Holy shit," he heard Potter mutter.
Blaise glanced over his shoulder. "Is that a fucking ferret? That's just cruel."
Draco smiled, staring down at the small creature.
"That's no ferret, Blaise."
"No," Potter added in, eyes wide behind his glasses.
"That's an otter."
The little creature at his feet flicked its tail and went up on its hind legs, as if recognizing itself in his words.
"Find Hermione," he told it. "Tell her that we're coming for her. Meet me where the water flows between the puzzle pieces when the sun's just disappearing. I'll find her there."
He closed his eyes again.
"I'll find you there."
The otter jumped from the floor and began swimming through the air towards the window. With a flash, it disappeared from the room.
Draco looked after it for a moment.
"Why the code, Drake?" Blaise whispered quietly.
"Just in case," he answered, still staring after his Patronus. "But she'll know."
"Lupin," Potter said suddenly. "The otter… that's Hermione's Patronus."
His once professor turned towards Draco. After a moment, the older man's eyes danced over his face, looking for something.
He smiled.
"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco felt himself unable to respond and looked away for a moment, eyes accidentally landing on Finnigan.
"You haven't proved yourself yet," the Gryffindor said, eyes narrowed, unconvinced.
Draco stared back, facing the storm head on.
"I will."
Review :) The next chapter is a big one, my friends. Everything is about to change...
