"How mutable are our feelings, and how strange is that clinging love we have of life even in the excess of misery!"

—Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

ALL BUT DEATH

VI

THE EXCESS OF MISERY

The first thing Harry noticed was the color—or lack of it, really. The walls of Draco's bedroom were the dark color of storm clouds; the wood beneath Harry's feet was black yet somehow reminded him of ice. Curtains the color of ash were tied back from the large windows cut into the walls, offering views of the dusky grey horizon beyond the glass. Gas lamps extended from round brassy sconces every few feet, the yellow light within seeming soft and somehow reticent in a way that Harry had not ever known light could seem. There was a large silver candelabra holding flickering candles sitting atop a dark nightstand next to Malfoy's enormous bed, and Harry couldn't help but stare. It was without a doubt the largest bed Harry had ever seen—huge and imposing, fitted with pale grey sheets and constructed from black wood. The dark posts were thick and twisted, seeming to tower miles above Harry's head and looking to be almost scraping the vaulted ceiling. Ebony drapes hung near the head of the mattress, waiting to be pulled closed, ready to entrap the first unsuspecting person to wander past within the onyx embrace of their midnight-colored arms—just the sight made Harry feel claustrophobic. An enormous mirror hung adjacent to the bed, one that looked far too heavy to even be levitated, let alone lifted, and Harry had no idea how anybody had gotten it all the way up the stairs to be hung. The frame was huge and black, with ebony dragons carved all around the edges, ones that glared and glowered and snapped their fangs, appearing fierce and unfriendly. A colossal bone-white fireplace was crackling with flames against the opposite wall, looking ready to swallow up anyone or anything that was fool enough to step close to its marble-framed warmth. A large jade-black wardrobe stood beside a huge ebony desk; atop its surface was a neat stack of blank parchment next to an inkwell appearing to be made of pure gold. Several expensive-looking quills were perched delicately beside the inkwell, a monochromatic rainbow of various grey and black feathers. A towering bookcase stood beside the desk, and Harry could feel himself itching to go examine the titles, somehow managing to refrain from doing so.

"Draco," a deep voice said, and Harry turned his head in surprise; he had been so busy taking in the room that he had hardly even registered the other Slytherins lounging nearby. Zabini and Parkinson were seated in wine-colored armchairs near the fire, the two of them facing one another across a table the shade of burnt coffee and both focused intently on a marble chess set between them. From what Harry could see, it seemed that Parkinson was winning. Nott was sat on a black leather sofa nearby, watching the game with casual indifference, while Davis sat tucked away in a nearby nook beneath a large window, sitting on ruby-colored cushions as she flipped through a thick leather-bound book.

"What's going on?" Zabini spoke again, eyes flicking between Harry and Malfoy. "What is Potter doing here?"

Harry and Draco exchanged a glance. "How long have the four of you been up here?" Harry asked them, ignoring the questions.

"Since lunch," Parkinson answered, watching impassively as her bishop smashed Zabini's rook to pieces.

"And none of you have left since?" Harry pressed. "You've all been here the entire time together?"

All four Slytherins looked at him, eyes narrowed. "Yes," Nott said in a bored voice. "We're hardly going to go wandering around the house after what Tracey and I found in the cellar, are we? Not to mention the fact that everyone downstairs seems to want all our heads on a stake. Believe me, Potter, if any of us are going anywhere, it's not going to be alone."

"Draco's the only one of us who hasn't been here," Zabini added, frowning as he lost another piece to Parkinson, "but I'm assuming that that's because he's been with you."

"Did something happen?" Davis's soft voice spoke up behind him, and Harry turned to see that she had set down her book and was eyeing him blankly. "Who was it this time?"

Eight pairs of eyes snapped onto Harry, who took a deep breath and shook his head to clear the haunted cobwebs from his mind. "It was Terry Boot," he said in a heavy voice. The Slytherins said nothing, their faces hardly betraying any sort of reaction at all, but Harry noticed the way they had grown still, none of them even appearing to be drawing breath. "He went missing after lunch, so we split into two groups to search for him, and…"

"And what?" Nott demanded. "What does that mean that you just trailed off like that?"

"And we found him," Malfoy finished quietly. "We found him back in the room we had originally set out from."

Parkinson reached out to him in comfort, squeezing his arm once.

"Boot is dead?" Zabini asked, eyes sharp.

Harry nodded. "We don't know what happened or where he disappeared to though."

"What about his partner? Where had he been?" the dark-skinned man continued. "Surely he's the one you should be looking at the closest?"

"We are," Harry said uncomfortably. He did not like that everyone always seemed to be constantly looking to him for the answers to everything; he did not like having to explain that he was just as clueless as the rest of the world.

"Well, he's obviously the guilty one then," Nott drawled. "Unless someone else was the last one to see Boot or be seen with him, it's obviously got to be his partner."

"Cornfoot, wasn't it?" Parkinson wondered, finally dropping her hold on Malfoy's arm.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed, "yeah, it was Stephen."

"So what have you done with Cornfoot then?" Zabini spoke up, leveling Harry with a hard stare. "Tell me he's been locked up somewhere."

"No," Harry sighed heavily. "No, he hasn't been." At the shocked looks of outrage on the other Slytherins' faces, Harry hurried to continue. "He said that Terry vanished while waiting for Stephen to finish washing up. And there were too many of the others missing to be able to confirm beyond a doubt that he was the one responsible for Terry's death. Nearly everybody had wandered off somewhere at the time his disappearance had occurred."

"What about when his death had occurred?" Zabini asked, gaze razor-sharp. "You said that he disappeared but wasn't discovered until later, in the very room you had all left from. Surely it had to then have been one of the ones who were not present for the discovery of his body."

Harry and Draco exchanged another glance. "That's not necessarily true," Harry shrugged. "They could have moved him there right after we left and then joined up with one of the groups immediately after. They could have killed him in the lounge and then moved to another room. That wouldn't have been that difficult since the lounge has three exits. It connects to the entrance hall, the main hall, and the room next to it. Most of the rooms in the main hall are interconnected, so they could have moved quickly through the rooms to get ahead of us. In theory, they could even have had Terry in the very next room and moved him into the lounge immediately after we left it." He shook his head. "We don't have any clear answers."

"Well, surely you must have someone in mind," Parkinson argued, sounding nearly as frustrated as Harry felt. "Surely there must be at least one person that you think more responsible than the others."

"There is," Harry said slowly, unwilling to give them a name. He did not want to incite suspicion or spread panic any more than could be helped. "But I don't know enough at the moment to be able to offer you a name. But…yeah, there is someone."

"And how many of them think that we're the ones responsible?" Nott asked in a bored voice, sounding indifferent to the answer.

Malfoy snorted angrily. "Smith demanded someone seize my wand and restrain me the second I walked into the room," he told them.

"I still don't even know why we invited that sodding cunt," Zabini huffed.

"To prove that we could be inclusive," Parkinson answered, "even if the one we're including is someone we detest."

"More like someone everyone detests," Zabini muttered, and Parkinson slanted him a half-smile.

"Don't worry," Harry said, mustering as much confidence as he was able to, "Smith won't do anything. They can't blame Malfoy because he was with me the entire time. And your alibis are as valid as any of the others."

"Yes," Malfoy said slyly, a sudden gleam to his eye, "you should have seen Potter go all Chosen One on Smith when he started screaming for my head."

Parkinson hummed as she turned back to the chessboard. "Sounds hot."

Harry gaped at her while Zabini rolled his eyes, also directing his attention back to the board before him.

"So what happens now?" Davis wondered, drifting forward to sink down onto the sofa next to Nott.

"We're here to fetch you lot," Harry told them, glancing around. "We moved everybody to the parlor for right now, so we're all going to meet in there and decide what to do as a group."

"And do you think that wise?" Zabini asked distractedly, watching as Parkinson's knight moved to put his king in check. "At least one of the people down there is a murderer. Do you really think it a good move to allow the guilty a voice in the proceedings?"

Harry raised one eyebrow. "Who should be in charge of the decisions then, if not the group?"

Zabini smirked. "I would have thought that would be obvious, Potter." Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion; was Zabini saying that Harry should be in charge? The man continued speaking. "Other than Abbott, Brocklehurst, and Boot, whom we can all rule out as the killers for obvious reasons, the only other ones outside of ourselves that I would say are innocent are you and your two friends."

"What?" Harry stared. Zabini really didn't think there was any chance at all that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the ones behind any of the murders? That was…Harry wasn't really sure what it was.

"Don't get me wrong," Zabini continued, "I'm not saying that I trust any of you. But I do trust that none of you are the type to commit murder in cold blood. I mean," he smirked again, "you didn't even kill You-Know-Who, did you? You were face-to-face with the most dangerous wizard in the entire world, a second away from being killed yourself, and all you cast was a Disarming spell. We all know it's not you, Potter."

"Right," Harry said finally, unsure what to say. "Well…thanks."

Zabini rolled his eyes. "Whatever the rest of them say about us, we're not idiots."

"He knows," Malfoy said with a quiet smile. "He's an honorary Slytherin now, the man adores us." Parkinson huffed a laugh, turning to raise her eyebrows at Malfoy. "I'm serious," the blond continued, smile widening, "you should have heard him earlier, asking so politely for my friendship." Zabini shook his head in amusement as Harry felt his ears turn red.

"Why do you all act like we have absolutely nothing in common?" Harry asked, wondering what Draco would do if Harry were to 'accidentally' elbow him.

All five of them chuckled as if Harry had made a joke. "A lovely thought, Chosen One," Zabini said, "but not a very realistic one, now, is it? I'd say on the grand scale of things, all five of us are the combined antithesis of the heroic Golden Gryffindor hero."

Harry glared. "I really hate those sorts of titles, you know."

Zabini shrugged. "Just the fact that you have titles such as that, however, shows how little you have in common with us. Our given titles are far less flattering."

Narrowing his eyes, Harry stared at the man with folded arms. "Are you all forgetting when the entire school thought I was the heir of Slytherin? And when Fudge spent a year trying to convince the entire world that I was mad? He tried his hardest to turn every single person in the country against me by making me out to be an attention-hungry lunatic. Don't tell me that I don't know what it's like to be hated and misjudged by everyone or to have unflattering things said about me."

"Point," Zabini allowed, gazing at Harry thoughtfully.

"How many death threats did you receive though?" Nott asked, sounding as though he didn't care one way or another what the answer was.

"Do you lot get death threats?" Harry asked in surprise. The five Slytherins all laughed.

"He is sweet, isn't he, Draco?" Parkinson grinned.

"Hey," Harry protested, "you seem to be forgetting that most of my life was one giant death threat."

"Another excellent point," Zabini said, mouth unmoving but eyes smiling. "I suppose you really are an honorary Slytherin after all, Potter, welcome to our little club."

"I was nearly sorted Slytherin, you know," he said without thinking, surprised when the entire room went quiet. "What?" he wondered, looking around in confusion.

"What did you say?" Malfoy whispered, sounding shocked.

"Oh, I…" Harry flushed, but he wasn't really sure why. "I was nearly sorted Slytherin. The Sorting Hat said I would have been great in Slytherin, but…" Harry trailed off, not wanting to tell them that he had specifically asked to be placed in another House, any other House.

"God, I can't even imagine you in Slytherin," Parkinson said, forehead scrunched. "That sounds…so fucking weird to think about."

Harry shrugged.

"Fuck, Potter," Malfoy said in quiet amusement, staring at him with a soft gleam in his eyes, "we could have been best friends so much earlier if that were the case."

"Best friends?" Harry grinned, wanting to nudge him but unwilling to do so with so large an audience around. "Sure, Malfoy, if you ask politely."

Blaise barked a sharp laugh. "You're actually all right, Potter."

"Well," Nott spoke up, once again sounding bored, and Harry wondered if he had any other emotion other than indifference, "I for one wish you would tell that secret piece of information to the rest of the world. It might make the Slytherin-stigma less of a hostile issue if everyone knew that the Saviour was nearly one of us himself. Why have you kept it so hidden, Potter, if it's the truth?"

Harry stared at him, unsure of how to answer. "Well, I dunno," he finally said, struggling to find words. "It's never really come up. And when I was younger…" he paused before saying, "I guess I really was ashamed to have almost been sorted Slytherin."

"Yes," Nott drawled, "because it's the devil's House and we're all demons for daring to have been placed there as children by outside forces beyond our control."

"Well," Harry began quietly, "all I really knew of Slytherin when I was first sorted was that that was the House that the man who had killed my parents had been in. And I didn't want to be connected to him in any way. I mean, I was already connected to him through my wand, you know? And that already felt like way too much, so…"

"What do you mean?" Davis asked, staring at him in rapt attention. "What did your wand have to do with him?"

"Er," Harry scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. "It's a bit complicated. But the cores of both of our wands were from the same phoenix. Dumbledore's phoenix, actually, if you can believe it."

"Holy fuck," said Zabini, staring at him in awe. "Are you serious?"

Shrugging in response, Harry turned to find Draco giving him a piercing look, and he worried for a moment that the blond was trying to perform Legilimency on him. "Well," he said awkwardly, "we should probably head down to meet up with the others, yeah?"

The Slytherins all seemed to shake themselves as one, as though throwing off a daze. "Do we really have to?" asked Parkinson uneasily. "I don't want to be around them, Potter. They all hate us. And it's obviously at least one of them who's responsible. I'm in favor of waiting everything out from the safety of Draco's room."

"Seconded," Nott said flatly, staring into the crackling fire.

Harry shook his head. "I think we all need to decide things as a group. You lot need to have a voice too in the decision-making since you're still going to be affected by it, even if you do end up coming back up here. We need everyone to work together. I don't want everything descending into panic, and I think splitting ourselves into factions right now is the beginning of that sort of chaos. If you hide up here and never show your faces, they're going to really start believing that you're all the guilty ones, and that could get very dangerous very fast for every one of us."

"Fuck," Zabini sighed, climbing to his feet. "All right, Potter, you win. Come on, you lot, let's go."

Davis and Nott exchanged a weighted glance before also rising and silently gesturing for Harry to lead the way. Zabini stepped around the table to stand next to Parkinson, slipping his hand into hers and holding tight, and the soft way she looked at him in response made Harry feel lonely and uncomfortable, like he was intruding on something private. He glanced at Draco out of the corner of his eye, startled to find the man already staring at him.

"Come on then," Harry muttered, falling into step beside Malfoy as the blond led them from the room into the cold darkened corridor. The trip downstairs was made in silence.

oOo

"What are they doing here?" Zacharias sneered the moment the Slytherins entered the parlor.

"Having just as much fun as everyone else, Smith," Zabini drawled sarcastically, glaring at the Hufflepuff. "What the fuck does it look like?"

"So which one of you did it?" the blond demanded. "Which one of you killed him?"

"Bit hard to do," Nott responded, sounding bored, "since none of us were even on the same floor as him."

"So you say," Smith spat. "Why the hell do you think we would we ever just trust the word of a Slytherin?"

"And is this what everyone thinks?" Zabini asked coolly, turning to eye the others. "Are you all allowing Smith to be the voice of the silent majority?"

"What did you do to him?" a quiet voice asked, and everyone's attention turned to Anthony Goldstein, who was rising to his feet with a hard look in his eyes. "What did you do to Terry?"

"I already told you," said Zabini in an even colder voice, "it wasn't us. I'm sorry for the loss of your friend, but it wasn't our doing."

"LIAR!" Goldstein screamed, taking a threatening step forward, and several people startled in surprise. "ONE OF YOU DID IT, ONE OF YOU KILLED HIM! TELL ME! WHO WAS IT?!"

"It wasn't us!" Parkinson snapped. "We've all been together the entire time!"

"THEN IT WAS ALL OF YOU!" Anthony shouted, red eyes wild and puffy, neck veins bulging.

"Tony," Padma said quietly, trying to pull Goldstein back down onto the sofa next to her, but he shook her off.

"No, Padma!" he said angrily, still glaring at the Slytherins. "Someone killed him. It was someone in this room! And they're the only ones capable of something like that!"

"Is this what you brought us down here for, Potter?" Nott turned to him, accusation slicing his every word into a sharp sound. "To be hanged, drawn, and quartered without any sort of due process?"

"FUCK YOUR DUE PROCESS!" Goldstein yelled, wand clenched in one hand. "YOU LOT DON'T FUCKING DESERVE DUE PROCESS! YOU'RE GUILTY AND WE ALL KNOW IT!"

"Anthony," Harry said warningly, "calm down. Now."

Glaring, Anthony turned and strode to the nearest wall, surprising everyone when he smashed his fist through the wood. "My best friend was just killed," he said in a low voice, slowly pulling out his hand and ignoring the blood running free from his bruised and scraped knuckles; Harry wondered if he had broken anything. "I just lost one of my best friends. He was killed, he was murdered. And you want me to calm down?" Turning back to the Slytherins, his glare deepened. "Which one of you did it?" he asked in a dangerous voice, and Harry tightened his grip on his wand.

"Anthony," Neville said quietly, hands held up in a placating manner. "Just give us all a chance to talk this through, all right?"

"Sure," said Goldstein through gritted teeth, "after they've all been locked up! Once we get their wands, we can talk about whatever the fuck you idiots want to talk about!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Parkinson move closer to Zabini, who took a protective step in front of her to shield her with his body.

"Anthony," Harry said sharply. "You need to back off, now. Just sit down and take a deep breath, okay?"

"I don't FUCKING need to sit down!" Anthony shouted. "I need to find out which of them did it so I can make them pay!"

Over against the wall, Harry could see Zacharias watching the proceedings smugly, almost gleefully, and it made Harry want to hex both men.

"Anthony!" Harry barked. "I've already told you, back off. We don't have enough evidence to point a finger at anybody yet! You're just as much a suspect as they are!"

At that, Anthony's eyes bulged. "Just as much a suspect as they are?" he repeated in a whisper. "Terry was my best friend you STUPID FUCKING—" he seemed to struggle with words for several moments, face purpling from the effort to find a good enough insult. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!" he finally screamed, brandishing his wand in the same blood-soaked hand he had put through the wall. "I'LL HEX YOU TOO IF I HAVE TO!"

"Tony," a soft voice said, and suddenly, Padma was standing before Anthony, both hands on the sides of his face as she gazed at him with teary eyes. "Tony," she repeated, and Harry could see Anthony's lower lip tremble as he looked down at her.

"Padma," he said in a shaky voice, "move."

"No," she shook her head, still cradling his face in her hands.

"Padma," he whispered, sounding anguished. "Please. Get out of my way."

"No, Tony," she whispered back, tears streaming down her cheeks. "No, I won't. I know you don't want to do this. Please. I know you won't do this."

"Padma! Goddamn it! Just fucking—" he reached out to clutch at her, swaying forward on his feet, and for a moment Harry was worried that he meant to shove her away, but with a wild gasp he collapsed against her, sobbing bitterly into her shoulder.

"It's okay, Tony," she murmured, stroking his back with one hand and burying the fingers of the other in his hair. "It's okay." Her voice caught before she began crying just as hard, and Harry watched as the two sank to their knees, still clinging to one another as though their embrace was the only thing holding each of them together.

Several feet away, Zacharias sat back with a cross expression, obviously disappointed by the lack of violence and bloodshed he had been expecting; Harry felt a surge of disgust for the man course through him.

"Harry," a quiet voice said behind him, and Harry turned to see Hermione's face in the doorway of the next room over, eyes burning with sympathy as she gazed down at Anthony and Padma sobbing against one another. She gestured for Harry to come into the room she was in, making him hesitate as he considered the Slytherins.

"Come with me," he finally decided, speaking in a low murmur to the five of them and trying to lead them as surreptitiously from the room as he could.

"Where are they going?" Smith demanded, and Harry ground his teeth in frustration as he turned to face the infuriating man.

"You lot go in there and wait for me," he told them, waiting until they had swept into the other room before turning to Smith. "Hermione needs to speak to them," he lied, wanting to avoid another fight and another round of accusations. "She's spoken to everybody else about where they were and now she needs to talk to them. That all right with you, Smith?" he ended a bit more aggressively than he had meant to.

Mouth tight, Zacharias looked away.

"Good then," Harry said coldly, sparing one last sad look for Padma and Anthony before following the Slytherins into the other room.

"So," Zabini started once the door had been shut and silenced behind the brunet, "what did you bring us in here for?"

Harry sighed. "To keep you away from the others. Frankly, I don't trust them not to do anything rash right now."

"That's comforting," Parkinson said quietly, and Harry looked at her closely, noting that her face was pale and her fingers trembling.

"It'll be okay," he said, hearing how empty those words sounded even to his own ears.

"Just how much of a chance is there of us being attacked by them?" Nott demanded, settling his weight on his back foot as he glared at the room they had just come from. "First opportunity they get, they're going to tear us apart."

"That's not going to happen," Harry shook his head. "Anthony will calm down."

"Or he'll get angrier," Nott disagreed. "Everybody blames us, you know they do. And Boot had a lot of friends. We're not safe and you know it."

Glancing around the five of them, Harry could not deny those words. "Nothing will happen to you," he vowed in a low voice, staring directly at Malfoy as he spoke.

"Harry's right," Hermione said, stepping forward. "We're not going to let anything happen to anyone. We still don't have any answers, and nothing will be accomplished by giving into savagery. All we can do is continue trying to keep the peace as best we can."

"And do you think you can?" Zabini asked curiously, eyes narrowed as he gazed at Hermione. "Are you not also afraid for yourself, Granger, if you insist on standing between us and a crazed mob?"

Hermione met his gaze calmly, back straight as she responded. "That doesn't mean we're simply going to step aside. I've never allowed fear to dictate where I stand, Zabini."

At her words, Zabini cracked an unexpected smile. "You know," he told her, relaxing his stance, "I had always thought the Hat had made a mistake with you. I was always so sure you should have gone to Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor, but you really are every bit as Gryffindor as the rest of the Golden Trio, aren't you?"

Snorting, Hermione shook her head. "We really hate that name," she said dryly, and Harry heard Malfoy chuckle quietly.

"And yet it's so catchy," Zabini grinned.

"Do you really think we're safe?" Parkinson cut in, and Zabini wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against his side, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Nothing will touch you," he murmured, pressing a final kiss to her dark hair.

"He's right," Harry said, staring at Malfoy, "nothing will touch any of you."

"I need to speak to you, Harry," Hermione interrupted quietly.

"Right," Harry sighed, swinging his arms. "You lot stay right here."

"You can definitely trust us not to wander off," Zabini said sardonically.

"Ron," Harry said to the redhead standing just behind Hermione, "will you go over and help Neville? Just make sure they're not fighting or anything, yeah?"

With a sigh, Ron nodded, striding from the room and shutting the door behind himself.

Wandering over to Hermione, he followed her to the far wall to speak to her in a quiet voice. "What did you find, Hermione?" he asked, glancing back at the room Ron had just gone into.

She shook her head, appearing frustrated. "Nothing solid," she admitted, and Harry felt his stomach sink. "Padma, Parvati, Lisa, and Susan had all been in the lounge at the time of Terry's disappearance. Ron and I were in the foyer, and you and Draco had gone for a walk around the ground floor, yes?" He nodded and she continued, "Seamus and Dean say they had found a snooker table in one of the rooms and had been there the entire time. They both said that you and Draco would be able to confirm that."

"I can confirm that we found them in there," Harry shrugged. "I can't confirm how long they had been there though."

"Yes, I know," she sighed. "We found Michael and Anthony in the library, and both of them said they had been there since lunch, but again, no one else can confirm it."

"What about Smith and Entwhistle?" Harry wondered. Knowing Smith, he hardly seemed the type to go wandering around when his life was in danger.

"We didn't find them until we were nearly back to the lounge," Hermione frowned. "I don't know how we could have missed them initially, but we found them near the staircase."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "You mean the staircase right next to the lounge?"

Hermione sighed again. "Yes, Harry, that staircase. They said they had been wandering around and were trying to find the rest of us, although why they didn't go into the lounge to look is a mystery to me."

"Right," Harry repeated quietly, "a mystery."

"Neville told me the exact same story you did," she continued, gazing at the far wall. "He said that he and Justin went to the conservatory and that Justin left for a bit to find a bathroom. Once he got back, they separated to try to find a way out through the walls of the conservatory, and that was when you found him."

"What did he tell you about Justin?"

"That he couldn't find him," she said flatly, and Harry wondered what she was thinking. "He said that Justin was meant to have been in the other room but hadn't been. And Justin told me the same thing he had said out in the hall, that he had been in the room Neville had left him in before moving up to the second level of the main room of the conservatory and that he hadn't known any of you had gone in there or that Neville had left until he went to find him."

"And do you believe him?"

Hermione sighed. "Honestly, Harry? I don't know what to believe. I would never have thought Justin would be capable of something like this, but I can say the same thing of every single person here."

"Yeah," Harry agreed lifelessly. God, the whole situation was making his head spin; he had no idea what to think anymore.

"What about the Slytherins?" she asked, slanting them a glance, and Harry half-turned his head to see the five of them huddled near the wall, speaking quietly; Harry wondered what they were saying and had to fight the sudden urge to walk over and find out.

Ignoring it, he turned back to Hermione. "They were all in Draco's room. Together. They all looked pretty settled in when we got there."

"Yes," Hermione mused thoughtfully, glancing back at them. "I can't imagine that any of them could be involved in this without the others being at least aware, if not just as equally involved themselves."

"You're not saying you think they're the ones responsible, are you?" Harry hissed, wondering why he was so upset at the implication.

Hermione gave him a knowing look, one that Harry had to turn away from. "No, Harry, I'm not." He released a breath, nodding. "I'm saying that because of the number and closeness of the group, I don't believe they're the guilty ones."

Harry paused to consider her words. "What does that mean?"

"Well," she shrugged, "there are five of them. That just seems to be too large a number to be working together in something as dangerous as this. That would take quite a lot of trust to be able to pull something like this off without one of them cracking, or at least one of them fearing the others would crack."

"And cracking first as a result of that suspicion," Harry finished. "And there's no way that only one or two of them could be involved without the others becoming aware, because of how tight-knit they all are."

"Exactly," she agreed. "And I doubt that the ones who didn't know would take kindly to the guilty one putting all of their lives at risk in that way. All of them are far too self-preserving for a plan such as this."

"Yeah," Harry nodded, eyeing Malfoy.

"Do you trust him?" Hermione's voice startled the brunet, and he glanced back in surprise.

"Trust who?" he asked stupidly, earning a raised eyebrow.

"Malfoy."

"Oh," he said quietly, turning back to look at the blond, who was gazing right at him, and Harry felt his face redden as he turned away. "I mean, I chose him as my partner, didn't I?"

"Yes," Hermione said in a patient voice, and Harry hated that she was so smart and could see through his deflections so easily. "But I also know that more than one person in that other room thinks that you only did so to keep a closer eye on him because you suspect him of being guilty."

"It's not him," Harry said sharply, glancing back to find all five Slytherins staring at him curiously. Flushing, he pulled Hermione closer to the wall. "I was sure of that before I asked him if he wanted to be paired with me, and I'm even more sure of that now."

Hermione said nothing, gaze flicking between Harry and Draco with quiet curiosity, and Harry wondered what sort of deductions she was making.

"Well," she finally sighed, "I'm afraid that that still doesn't give us the answers we're looking for."

"We need to find something, Hermione," he said in a low voice, "the others are one attack away from losing it completely. Anthony was ready to hex every single one of the Slytherins just now, along with anyone who got in his way."

"I know," she frowned. "I realize the effects that fear and grief have on a person. The panic is only going to grow the longer we remain here."

"How long do you think it will take the Ministry to realize where we are?"

Sighing, she shook her head. "I have no idea. The real problem is that today is only Saturday, so we most likely have until Monday at the earliest before anyone will even begin to suspect that something is wrong. And I'm not sure how swiftly they'll take action once they begin to suspect, especially in regard to any of the others. I hate to say it, but I really do think that the three of us and Neville are everyone's best bet for getting out of here. We're the ones who will be noticed first when we don't arrive to work on Monday. Especially you, Harry."

"But how long will it then take them to trace us here?" Harry wondered. "I mean, nobody in the Ministry outside of you and Ron is tuned in to my wards, and the Aurors will need some sort of warrant for justifiable cause to break through them into my flat. And they need at least forty-eight hours before they can even file for one in the case of a missing person."

"I know," she sighed heavily. "All we can really do is hope that they can somehow bend the rules and speed up the process when they realize that all four of us are missing. And hopefully, by then, some of the others here will have been reported missing as well, so maybe they'll be able to do something about it more quickly than usual."

"And in the meantime, we're stuck waiting," Harry mused. Any way one looked at it, the situation was not good.

"It's all we can do for now," she reminded him. "At least the house has plenty of food, and space and bedding certainly aren't issues."

"What about tonight?" Harry asked. "What are we going to do tonight? Do you think it better to stay as a group or split into smaller groups? Maybe we should let the others choose who they trust enough to spend the night with."

"I've been wondering that myself," she said grimly. "But honestly, I think it's better to remain as a group. That way, at least we know where everybody is. We'll have at least two of us keeping watch at all times, and we can rotate through sleeping shifts. I doubt that anyone here is going to get very much sleep, regardless."

"What about the Slytherins?" Harry lowered his voice. "Do you think they'll be safe sleeping near the others?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't know. But I do know that the others will only continue to grow more suspicious of them if they continue to lock themselves away. Separating themselves completely from everybody else could prove to be more dangerous than beneficial for them."

"I'll look over them tonight then," Harry said, turning back to gaze at Malfoy. "I'll convince them all to spend the night with everybody else, but I want to stay up and watch over them. Right now, I trust them more than the others not to do anything rash."

"Okay," Hermione said softly. "Ron, Neville, and I will figure out a schedule to keep watch over the rest of them then. But you're going to need to get some sleep at some point tonight, Harry. You can't sit up the whole night, you know."

"Maybe…" Harry trailed off thoughtfully. "Draco!" he called without warning, startling all five Slytherins.

"Yes?" Malfoy asked, one eyebrow raised.

Walking closer, Harry's gaze flicked between all five of them. "You said you had a potions lab, didn't you?"

Frowning, Malfoy nodded.

"Excellent," Harry said, eyes darting to Hermione before looking back at Malfoy. "Do you think you could brew something for me? Or allow Hermione to brew it?"

"It's my lab, Potter," Malfoy huffed, "I'll be the one brewing. Now, what potion are you talking about?"

"Something to keep me awake all night," said Harry, ignoring Nott's huffed laughter.

"Draco hardly needs to give you a potion to do that now, does he?" the man muttered, and Harry felt himself turn red. God, why was every single Slytherin always making some sort of innuendo every time they opened their mouths?

"And why do you want to be kept awake all night?" Malfoy asked, ignoring Nott as well, but Harry noticed that Draco's cheeks were pink.

"Because," said Harry, sounding much more confident than he felt—he had no reason to think that any of the Slytherins were about to go along with his suggestion. "Because I'm going to stay up and help keep watch over everyone tonight."

Zabini snorted. "Well good luck with that, Potter. You'll be spending the night with a bunch of nutters."

Harry gave him a flat stare. "I mean for the five of you to be there as well, obviously."

Their reactions were almost comical. Every single one of the Slytherins' mouths tightened, arms folding as they all stared Harry down as though he was the world's biggest idiot.

"Not a fucking chance," Zabini shook his head. "Did you not see what happened back there?" He gestured to the parlor. "Do you really think any of them will be okay with us spending the fucking night near them? They'll tear us apart in our fucking sleep!"

"Hence," Harry said calmly, speaking before any of the others had a chance, "the reason I will be staying awake. When I said I'd keep watch over everyone, I meant the five of you."

They all stared at him.

"No," Parkinson finally said, shaking her head. "I would feel much safer sleeping in Draco's room again."

"I agree," Zabini nodded. "Last time that lot," he jerked his chin toward the parlor door, "all spent the night together, one of them died. None of us did. Draco's room is obviously the safer choice for us."

"Look," Harry said in a low voice, stepping closer, "Hermione and I are trying to keep everyone together and keep things from spiraling out of control. People are already starting to panic. If we split ourselves off, things are going to get worse. Don't give them any more reason to suspect you."

"At the cost of our lives?" Nott drawled, shooting Harry an unimpressed look.

"I already told you," Harry's nostrils flared, "I will be awake the entire night. You lot can stay up with me all night as well if it will make you feel better. But I really do think that you need to spend the night with everyone else. Divisions are only going to lead to mistrust and panic. And panic is dangerous."

They all traded a look. "And you're sure?" Davis asked softly. "You're sure that you can keep us safe?"

"And not just from whoever the psycho behind all the murder is," Nott added, sounding bored. "If you turn your back on us for even a second, Potter, the others will tear us to shreds. And if we're all spending the night together in one room, they'll recognize it as the perfect opportunity to get rid of us all in one go."

"Why do you think I brought you in here with me?" Harry asked in a similar tone. "I wouldn't just leave you on your own, Nott, I know how everybody in there sees you right now."

"So you're asking us to trust you then?" the other man raised an eyebrow skeptically. "With our lives?"

"Yes," Harry said simply, gaze lingering on Malfoy. The blond was staring at him so intensely, in a way that made Harry long to know everything he was thinking.

Zabini sighed. "Draco?"

They all turned as one to look at Malfoy, who appeared unsettled at the sudden attention. "You're sure, Potter?" he asked softly. "You're certain that nothing will harm any of us if we agree to this?"

"I promise," he vowed, wondering at the slight shiver that tingled through him. Malfoy nodded, and the others grudgingly nodded as well.

"So where will we be spending the night, then?" Zabini spoke up, wrapping one arm protectively around Parkinson's shoulders.

"I wanted to ask you about that, actually, Malfoy." Hermione's voice sounded behind Harry, and he turned to look at her as she stepped next to him. "I noticed when I was in the library earlier that it only has one entrance, correct?"

"Yes," he nodded. "It's in the very corner of the east wing and only has the entrance connecting it to the main hall."

She nodded. "Then I would like to set up there if we can. It's certainly large enough to accommodate us all, and a room is far easier to ward with only one possible entrance."

"I suppose," Malfoy allowed. "As long as everyone promises not to damage anything in there. The library is my favorite room in the house, Granger, and I will not hesitate to throw anybody out into the corridor to fend for themselves if they destroy a single thing."

"Noted," she said in amusement. "But do you really think I would stand for something as crass as the needless destruction of books?"

Malfoy snorted. "Point, I suppose."

She offered them all a smile, but Harry could see the way her expression continued to remain tight and steely. "All right, then. I think we should all move to the library now and set everything up. Then we can start preparing dinner and turn in early. Parvati suggested a memorial service be held for Hannah, Mandy, and Terry, and I think that's something we should do after dinner. Draco," she turned to address the blond, "you show Harry to the potions lab and start on an Invigoration Draught. If you could make a larger batch for several of us that would be appreciated. That way, we won't have to switch out guard shifts."

"We're going with Draco and Potter," Parkinson said instantly.

"Fine by me," Hermione allowed. "Although that will put you on clean-up duty after dinner."

They stared at her in stony silence.

"All right then," she shrugged. "Malfoy, you lead them there. I'll inform the others of the plan."

"Send me a Patronus straight away if there's any trouble," Harry told her in a low voice, and she nodded before striding into the parlor next door.

"Well, Malfoy," Harry turned to the blond, gesturing with one arm toward the other door along the adjacent wall, "lead the way."

TBC