I have some fun updates for you all!
Firstly, I've finally gotten onto DHR twitter. Go follow me there! It's been a blast. Username: starkidsftw
Secondly, I've decided to transfer my stories to Ao3. I'll still post on FF, but I'm planning on doing both. I'm not going to post all of my older stories on Ao3, but the newer ones are in the process of being uploaded, and after I'm done TSP, moving forward, I'll be posting on both. My name over there is also starkidsftw.
That's it for updates! I was originally going to have this chapter be about 15,000 words long, but figured it made more sense to split it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
"Greengrass, you have to admit that's the stupidest plan ever, right?"
"Potter, you have to admit that you don't have Granger this time around to save you. No swords out of hats, no power of love. We're all you got."
The Chosen One gaped wordlessly at her in response, shaking his head slowly. His expression clearly demonstrated his absolute disbelief at the idea put forward by the Slytherin group.
It was the next morning. The group had reconvened after the late-night prior for a strategy meeting. And as if she had reached the epiphany in her sleep, Daphne had laid out her unbelievable plan meticulously. Every outcome considered; every thread tied. Draco would have been impressed, from a war room point of view, if it weren't so insane.
Potter looked flabbergasted.
"Come on, Potter," Theo said, lounging across the bed as if he had no cares in the entire world. "You've got to admit, it's no crazier than fighting a Basilisk at age twelve."
"That…that was different! I was…"
"Much stupider than we are now, yes we know," Theo continued, waving his hand dismissively. "We were there, Potter. We remember the adventures of you and your crew."
"Just mad that we're getting some of the action now, aren't ya?" Blaise chortled, exchanging mischievous glances with Theo.
Potter shook his head again, getting paler by the second. He turned to look at Draco. "Malfoy, you must admit that this is batshit insane."
Draco winced, the mere thought of agreeing with Potter over his friends hurting him physically. Before he could respond, Daphne sent him a pout, silencing him as if they were fifteen again.
"Come on," she said, her charm on full effect. "You told us that we have to steal an important cup from the Lestrange vault at Gringotts. I told you a way that we can accomplish that."
"And mind you," Blaise continued, glancing at Potter, Weasley, and Draco. "You didn't tell us why we need to get the cup. Just that it is a matter of ending this war or living in hell forever. Crazy stakes require crazy responses."
"This isn't just crazy, Zabini," Weasley muttered, running a hand through his hair. "It won't work. You can't tell me that this… this scheme you've pulled out of thin air will somehow bypass the most heavily guarded magical location in Britain."
"Oh, but it will work, dear Weasley," Blaise responded. "I know it's not exactly your Gryffindor style, raging in and fighting dragons down to the bottom level, but perhaps you could consider a defter touch."
"Deception," Daphne said, her voice smooth, sending a wink Draco's way. "A task made for the Slytherins among us."
"Deception," Potter scoffed, rolling his eyes. "This isn't deception, this is playing dress-up and hoping the goblins don't notice!"
"It's not dress-up if it's been your entire life," Daphne replied coolly. "I know you don't understand our world, and frankly, you don't need to. But we have bathed in this culture since we were children. We know how to put it on for an afternoon. No one but Rudolphus or Bellatrix Lestrange are getting into that vault. I'm suggesting we use that to our advantage."
"No one's going to believe that you and Nott are the Lestranges!" Potter burst out; frustration etched across his face. "No matter how good your glamours are."
Daphne cocked an eyebrow, a stillness taking over her expression that sent shivers down Draco's back.
"You need our help," she replied, voice low. Almost threatening. "And this is not a task that suits your Gryffindor sensibilities. Remember the song? Those cunning folks use any means to achieve their ends."
"And you think this means will achieve the end of Hufflepuff's cup?" Potter replied.
"Absolutely," Daphne responded. "I think that you're lucky, frankly, Mr. Potter, that four people who grew up in the depths of this society have fallen into your lap. We know what to say. We know how to walk, how to act. You're telling me you could find a better actor on this planet than Theodore Nott to play Rudolphus Lestrange?"
"And you, Greengrass?" Potter retorted. "You've got the chops to play a convincing Bellatrix?"
"Oh, Potter," Theo chuckled. "You've never seen a scarier lady."
"I second that," Blaise chimed in.
Potter turned to Draco. "Malfoy, help me out here. This is nuts."
Draco pursed his lips thoughtfully, running over Daphne's plan in his head once more.
"I mean, Potter, it's no crazier than some shit you pulled at Hogwarts."
"Personally," Blaise started, not allowing the Chosen One to interject. "I think you're just mad that you have to stay on the sidelines for this one."
"Excuse me?" Potter spluttered. "That's not what this is about…"
"Harry," Weasley spoke up suddenly, as if an idea had just occurred to him. A rarity, in and of itself. "They've got a point."
"A point? Where have you found a point in this nonsense?"
"If we're really as close to the end as Hermione says," Weasley started, glancing around nervously, something close to acceptance in his eyes "We need you, mate… for the final battle. To unite the Hallows and defeat the Dark Lord and fulfill your destiny. Honest, Harry… you're just too important to risk on a mission this close to the finish line."
"Absolutely, Potter," Blaise said solemnly. "We don't want you to come because we think you're so important."
"Piss off, Zabini."
"You don't have a hope in hell of getting into that vault without us, Potter," Theo interrupted, glancing at Daphne and Blaise.
"Nott, you don't know half the shit I've done…"
"And I couldn't care less," Theo replied promptly. "You know as well as we do that force and bravery only go so far in this war. Flashes, bangs, and shanking a Basilisk may work sometimes, but other times you need a society witch who knows how to stare down a goblin. This is a snake's game, Potter. And lucky for you, you've got a basket of serpents on your side."
A long silence followed Theo's words. Draco watched the Chosen One as he pondered, and a Gryffindor like no other, Draco could see the emotions play out on his face as he went from denial, anger, and finally, begrudging acceptance.
"You better be bloody confident in yourselves," Potter muttered, glaring angrily at the group of Slytherins.
"Oh Potter," Theo smirked, hazel eyes twinkling. "Have you met us?"
"Hey, Draco? You in there?"
Draco glanced up from the The Three Brothers at the door of his room. It was later in the afternoon. Potter and Weasley had crumbled beneath the Greengrass wrath, as should have been expected, and were currently discussing with the eldest Weasley brother some of the security features of the bank.
The bank they were going to break into within a few weeks.
So now, Draco was left again to what he was sure to be a sleepless night. Without Hermione at his side, with the memory so close in his mind… how could he ever fall asleep, when if he were awake, at least there was the possibility she would walk through the door.
Had it only been two days since she had left?
"Draco?"
The voice shattered him from his reverie once again. He blinked a couple time, pulling himself out of the corners of his mind and looking over to the doorway, where Blaise Zabini was currently standing.
"Blaise?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. "What do you want?"
"Came to check on you," his friend continued, sauntering into the room and taking a seat across from him. "You were quiet for the whole strategy meeting."
"Breaking into Gringotts isn't exactly my strategic strong suit," he muttered, glancing down at the book once again.
Blaise pursed his lips. "Thinking about Hermione, again?"
"Do you honestly expect me to not?"
"No," Blaise shrugged. "I mean, she's only been gone a couple days. No updates yet, right?"
Draco shook his head tersely.
"Are you making out okay?" Blaise asked, his voice slow, as if testing for the reaction he would receive. As if Draco could explode at any moment.
As if anything could set him off.
He felt jittery under the other man's gaze. "No better, no worse," he murmured. "I mean… at least this time I know she's not captured, right?"
"Agency is a hell of a drug."
"But she's still not here," he whispered, trying to close off his emotions, threatening to burst forward whenever he thought about Hermione's absence for too long. "She… after everything… she just walked out."
Blaise chortled. "She didn't walk out, mate. She went to go end a war."
"She still left me."
"Short term sacrifice for long-term happiness."
"Long-term?" Draco scoffed, finally closing the book and looking up to face Blaise's watchful eyes. "Is that even part of this place's vocabulary?"
"It's becoming more of a reality."
"Because of Hermione," Draco replied. "Because of Potter and Weasley and the fact that we're breaking into Gringotts. The war's ending soon, I have no fucking doubt."
"You sure?" Blaise asked, eyebrows jolting up at Draco's confidence. "I mean, I know you trust Hermione, and know more about the mystery quest than I do… but how can you be so certain?"
"Call it intuition," Draco replied. "I'm not going to say you don't understand this war, Blaise…"
"Because that would be a hell of an asshole thing to say…"
"But you weren't in it like the rest of us were," Draco continued. "You were neutral until what… three months ago? I lived it. I breathed this fight with every breath. Felt it fall into stasis, into the monotony of our reality. Two steps forward, three steps back. For both sides. For years."
He took a deep breath, clutching at the book in his while he looked over at his best friend.
"Something has shifted in the air. Everyone knows it. The Death Eaters… the Dark Lord, ever since Hermione's lineage was revealed. You said it to me yourself, Blaise. She's our only chance of winning this war. And of course, there's more going on behind the scenes, but everything changed when she woke up with that damn willow tree on her wrist."
Draco frowned, tension filling his chest.
"Call her a catalyst."
"You wouldn't be here without her," Blaise said, arms crossed.
"No shit, Blaise."
"Not even the mission though," Blaise continued, leaning forward. "Just her. One of the best and worst things about you, Draco Malfoy, is that you only know how to operate in extremes. Extreme hatred… obsessive love. Your gravitational centre shifted around that woman."
"Merlin, I know," he murmured in response. "And it bloody fucking hurts, Blaise."
"I'm surprised you're not more distraught, to be honest," the other man replied. "I thought we'd lost you for a minute there, especially when you attacked Theo."
Draco didn't even bother feeling embarrassed. "I think it's because I know that if there's any chance of an us, of a Hermione and I, after this war, she needed to go. I feel… gods, Blaise I don't even know."
He struggled for a moment, shifting through his mind to find words, to find letters in combination to summarize the pressure in his ribcage at the thought of an after with Hermione.
"We've been on high alert," he said slowly, shifting course. "Not just the war, but us. One of us could be taken at any moment, a new secret can shatter any trust we've built. And I love her. Fucking goddammit, I love her. But I love her on high alert. When the world's always ending and I could lose her at any second."
Draco took a deep breath. "I want to love her… on low alert. I want to walk down the street with her without being scared of a raid. I want to… I don't know… have dinner alone? Cook? Maybe a bottle of wine. I know how to hold Hermione when the sky's falling on top of us, but gods I want to hold her under a sunset. Prove that I can, you know? That it's not just the war, not just the magic. It's the unbelievable way we fit together."
A silence followed his statement, as Blaise watched him. Draco fidgeted nervously under his friend's gaze.
"Merlin, mate," Blaise breathed. "When did you become such a pansy?"
Pansy. The word shook him like tectonic plates. His neck snapped up to look at Blaise.
"Mate," he started, unsure even what to say. "Did you… did you know about Pansy? Did you know she… she died?"
Blaise gave him a startled look. "You didn't?"
He shook his head. "Daphne told me when she was giving me shit yesterday. I didn't know. Fuck, Blaise. She was one of my best friends and I didn't even know she died?"
Blaise pursed his lips, the gears turning behind his eyes as he tried to decide what to say.
"You don't need to make me feel better," Draco muttered. "I know I fucked up him with her. Gods, I don't even know where she's buried."
"I do," Blaise said quietly. "And I'm sure Daphne gave you an earful, so I won't pile on."
"Appreciate it," he said quietly, glancing at his hands.
Hands that had held Pansy, once.
"Tell you what, mate," Blaise said. "If we make it through this alive, I'll take you to her. So that you can say goodbye."
"I'll never be able to say goodbye."
"No," Blaise conceded. "But you can at least try. You really fucked up with all of us, Draco. You've got lots of making up to do. But we can save that for this mythical after you were talking about. With Hermione and wine and sunsets. Make it up to us… say goodbye to Pansy when we get there."
"You really think we're all going to make it?" Draco whispered, asking Blaise the question he could barely ask himself.
Blaise watched him, thinking over his response carefully before offering it.
And though Draco recognized the lie when it came, he let himself live in it.
Just for a moment.
"I do. And I think we'll meet each other there."
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