A/N: Thank you all for your feedback so far! I really do read everyone's comments even if I'm truly shit at replying to them. As always, the best way to get a response from me is to leave me an ask or message on Tumblr (graceful-lioness)
I hope you enjoy this one! I feel it wise to mention now that certain elements of this story were inspired by the TV show Homeland. Just small things, but if you're a fan of the show and something feels familiar, that's why! I'm giving credit where credit is due. Several of these events will unfold within the next three chapters.
As always, Alpha love to BiscuitsforPotter and beta love to DisenchatedGlow! This story wouldn't be what it is without their careful attention!
In the wake of Granger's realization, Draco fully expected to be taken off of her protection detail and moved to another safe house far from her. So it came as a great surprise the next morning when she greeted him at the kitchen table with a thin smile and sat across from him to eat her breakfast in peace.
Draco watched her as she bit into her toast and flipped through The Daily Prophet. How could she do that? Sit across from the man who had almost killed her with as much ease as sitting with a friend?
Setting down his coffee, he cleared his throat and her eyes lifted to his face. "Would you like me to talk to Potter about taking over your protection detail?" he offered, forcing his voice to remain steady and business-like.
Her brow furrowed and her eyes darted around his face, never quite meeting his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Surely you don't want me—"
"Oh," she interrupted. "No, there's no need for that. The protection detail can remain the same." She turned back to the paper dismissively.
"What?" Draco bit out incredulously.
"The protection detail can—"
"No, I heard you the first time," snapped Draco. "Why do you still want me on the team?"
She sighed and closed the paper, looking up at him once more. Glancing over her shoulder toward the common area, she pulled her wand and muttered a quick Muffliato before turning back to him. "Look, the way I see it, you would have killed me months ago if you had wanted to. Hell, you could have done it that day on the street, but you didn't. If you were sent here to murder me, I would be six feet under and cold already."
"Unless it was my mission to get information from you first," he pointed out.
Granger's head tilted to the side thoughtfully for a moment before she shook it. "I would imagine that obtaining information wasn't your responsibility within the Death Eaters. Didn't you say everyone has specific roles? Your job wasn't to get information. You're not a spy. You're an assassin." She paused briefly before adding, "Were an assassin."
She was right, of course. She always was.
"Plus, you passed Kingsley's tests and Veritaserum interrogation," she added before taking another bite of toast.
Draco sat dumbfounded as she finished chewing and swallowing the bite.
"You also told me you wouldn't kill me," she said with a smile.
Draco scoffed at her naivety. "And you believed me?"
Granger shrugged. "I did. I guess I… trust you." She grimaced like the thought was a bit ridiculous. "I don't know how it happened, Malfoy, but somehow you're about as scary to me as a Pygmy Puff. I know you're a dangerous man, but I really don't think you're here to hurt me."
Trust. She trusted him. Trusted him like he was a good person, like he was a decent man.
Like he wasn't a killer.
Draco wasn't sure why, but the idea that he had somehow earned her trust actually made him angry. Irrationally so, perhaps, but angry all the same.
He had done absolutely nothing to prove his trustworthiness to her. Years of living the kind of life he led had taught him that trust should only be reserved for one's closest confidants. To trust someone without really knowing them was completely ridiculous. And why would she trust him at all? Because she knew his secrets? If anything, each secret of his that she discovered should have been a good reason to never trust him.
He was a Death Eater. An assassin. A man who had very nearly murdered her.
Yet Granger somehow still claimed that she trusted him.
He was forced to come to only one conclusion: Contrary to popular belief, Hermione Granger was a very stupid witch.
Granger's protection that day was simple enough. She remained locked in her room for several hours, curious smells wafting from the doorway, accompanied by the sound of a bubbling cauldron. It was such a common occurrence that he hardly gave it any thought.
Draco passed his time reading and conversing with the other members of the household. Once, he asked Potter what Granger did all day and what kind of potions she was working on.
"I think it's just work stuff," Potter said dismissively. "Replenishing her personal supply of healing potions."
If that were true, why did she always lock the door so that not even her protective detail could enter? Draco had attempted to argue that it was unsafe for him to be barred from her quarters. What if there was an emergency and Death Eaters found a way into her room through the warded window? He would be unable to reach her in time.
"I trust your wards to keep me safe," she replied. "I can't let you into my room while I'm working. It's highly classified. Take it up with Kingsley if you have a problem."
Potter said it was just healer work. Granger said it was classified for the Order. Which was it? If it truly was Order work, as Draco suspected was the truth, what kind of potion could be so important that it would need to be kept secret?
Was this the priority that Shacklebolt had mentioned?
On Monday, Draco accompanied Granger to St. Mungo's. Shacklebolt had approved transport for them by Portkey to keep the commute safe. Granger was in a foul mood as Draco followed her from the lobby to the lifts and up to the fourth floor. When he insisted on searching the employee lounge thoroughly before she made her morning cuppa, she grumbled and rolled her eyes. Though he tried not to get in her way as she did her morning rounds, it was his job to keep her safe. Thus, he had to secure not only the lounge, but every room Granger entered, including each of her patient's rooms.
Draco stayed back, posing as a Healer in training while Granger was in patient rooms, to keep from raising alarm. Granger's supervisor was aware of her need for protection, but had advised them to be as discreet as possible to avoid causing a panic.
Watching Granger with her patients was fascinating. While she had been short-tempered and irritable with him since his protective duties had begun, she proved to have a rather remarkable bedside manner. He was particularly surprised to see how wonderful she was with children. Even the sickest children—the ones with severe spell damage and potion infusions in their arms—seemed to cheer up a bit when she entered their rooms. The way she explained diagnoses and treatments to these children and their families seemed to bring them comfort rather than distress.
Guarding the Gryffindor golden girl was not difficult work, but at the end of each day he crawled into bed exhausted from his constant vigilance. On Tuesday evening, Draco's shift ended and her protective detail was passed to Potter. The following morning, Draco was reassigned to the Westenberg house and for the first time since he joined the Order, he was not staying with Granger.
Although nearly everyone in the Order had grown used to his company, Draco still felt a bit out of place without Granger. She had been the only constant in his life since he had defected. Now that they were stationed at different houses everything just seemed a bit… quiet.
He passed his days off of Granger's protective duty by performing other tasks for the Order—reconnaissance missions mostly—and enjoying some precious solitude.
While the Order typically kept members at the same safe house for a full week, Granger's protective detail caused people to move around much more frequently. People were always coming and going from the houses these days, and Draco could hardly keep up with who was at the same house as him. By his next shift with Granger, at least ten Order members had rotated through the Westenberg house.
As the weeks dragged on, Draco fell into a comfortable—if a bit chaotic—routine. Three days guarding Granger followed by nine days off and performing other tasks for the Order. He moved around quite a bit. Mostly he alternated between the Westenberg house and the Longbottom house, but occasionally he would spend a few days at Shell Cottage or Headquarters. Granger stayed at the Longbottom house and was only permitted to leave to go to work and the weekly meetings. Her guards would cycle in and out of the house every three days, sometimes overlapping for a day or so.
With each shift, Draco and Granger grew more comfortable together. It was inevitable, he determined, that they would put their differences aside for the sake of a harmonious environment. After spending so much time with her, Draco no longer thought it was as entertaining to rile her up just for the sake of having a bit of fun. Not only had arguments with Granger lost their novel excitement, but he found that she was much more pleasant to be around when she wasn't snarling at him. They ate meals together and sometimes talked about trivial things over a drink late at night. He could tell when she was particularly bored, as she would look for people to talk to. Draco rarely slept, so he was often the only option for her late night conversations. Overall, he and Granger were very… domestic.
While Granger spent most of her days locked in her room, she also could be seen reading, chatting with other housemates in the common areas, or bundling up to sit outside while the others played Quidditch. Draco sat dutifully outside her door as she worked on her mystery potion, read books that Granger let him borrow, or played Quidditch while she watched or read nearby. Sadly, as winter approached and the days grew cold, flying was no longer an option, and the young Order members were forced inside. They played chess and Exploding Snap by a warm fire in the living room while they waited for missions or orders to come from Headquarters.
As December brought in a cold chill and the first flurries of snow, Draco found himself once again guarding Granger's locked bedroom door at the Longbottom house as the sounds of a bubbling potion drifted into the hallway where he sat. After over a month of watching her, he was still no closer to understanding her task. It must have been a terribly difficult problem to keep her perplexed and working for this long without much success that he was aware of.
"Fucking hell," Granger's frustrated groan came from beyond the wall. Draco looked up from his book in surprise. Granger only cursed like that when she was truly angry. A moment later, the door opened and she emerged, her hair twice its normal size. She pulled the door closed behind her and stared at him. "I've got to get out of here," she sighed desperately.
"Let's go play chess or something," Draco suggested.
"No," she groaned. "I mean out of this house. I'm going crazy, Malfoy. I've been cooped up here for months. I have to get outside and away from this place." Her eyes were pleading.
Was she really asking him to let her go somewhere outside of the Order's protective wards? It was strictly against protocol to let her go anywhere other than St. Mungo's without Shacklebolt's permission. "You know I can't let you do that, Granger," he warned.
She fell to her knees in front of his chair, her hands clutching his forearm. "Please," she begged. "You can come too. It will be fine! We can go somewhere unknown in Muggle London. I just have to get out of this house."
Draco stared at her in surprise, taking in her wide, pleading eyes. She didn't usually touch him so freely. He glanced at her hands on him and she withdrew them, her cheeks going red.
"Please, Malfoy… Draco," she breathed.
He thought for a moment, imagining how she must have felt. At least he had the opportunity to get out every now and then on Order missions when he was not guarding her. He was sure that he would be going just as crazy if he had been cooped up for the past six weeks. "Fine," he sighed.
Her eyes lit up and she bounced to her feet. "Really?"
Draco stood and pointed at her seriously. "But you do exactly as I say. And if I get even one whiff of trouble we'll leave right away. Understood?"
Granger nodded, grinning broadly. "Of course," she chirped. "Give me just a minute and I'll be ready to go." She disappeared back into her room and Draco went into his own chamber to dress in Muggle clothes for their outing. He chose a thick jumper and a knit hat to keep warm and cover his distinguishable hair. He grabbed his overcoat and pocketed his wand before returning to the corridor.
Granger waited for him in her own Muggle clothes with her hair pulled back.
"Do you know a place?" Draco asked as they descended the stairs together.
"Not really. But I know a little area that's busy enough for us to blend in, but out of the way so we shouldn't run into any other witches or wizards who might recognize us."
"Just as long as you do as I say while we're there," Draco told her as they exited the house and passed beyond the wards. "Lead the way," he said, holding out his arm for her.
She looped her hand around his bicep and apparated them to London.
They arrived in an alley and Granger maintained her grip on Draco's arm as they made their way onto the narrow street. It wasn't particularly busy, but a few Muggles nodded in their direction as they passed with their shopping bags.
The shops were all shimmering with Christmas decorations to lure shoppers inside to purchase gifts for loved ones. Granger's eyes lit up as she took it in. "Oh, Christmas!" she cried, as if she had forgotten the holiday existed.
How would they spend the holiday this year? He mentally counted the days between now and Christmas day. Today was his last day on protective duty, meaning that he would take over Granger's guard again on Christmas Eve. He would be spending the holiday with her.
Would the Order celebrate at all? Maybe they exchanged gifts and had a party with eggnog and elf-made wine. Or perhaps the day would pass as any other, with missions and meetings and sitting outside Granger's door as she worked on her potions.
"Fancy a drink?" she offered as they passed a small pub.
"I don't have any Muggle money," he told her, eyes scanning the street for suspicious people.
"I have some. Come on, it's cold out here." She guided him into the little restaurant and tried to sit down at a table by the window.
"No," he said gruffly, pulling her away from the sun soaked table towards the back of the pub. There was a small table for two tucked away near the kitchens. Draco was sure that there was likely a back entrance through the kitchen that they could use in the event of an emergency. "Sit here," he ordered, pointing to the seat which would leave her back to the rest of the pub. He sat across from her. From there he could see the entire dining area and the entrance. He still felt exposed, but he was confident that no one would find them unless they were looking.
A petite, blonde waitress made her way over to the table. "Anything to drink?" she chirped.
Draco hesitated. He had never been in a Muggle pub before. Did they have fire whiskey? Surely elf-made wine was out of the question.
Granger didn't miss a beat. "Whiskey, Draco?"
He nodded, and Granger turned back to the waitress. "He'll have the eighteen year Macallan, neat. And for me," she glanced at the menu. "The house Merlot will do fine."
"Great," the waitress returned with a smile. "I'll be right back with those." She floated away and Granger turned back to Draco.
"I hope you like what I ordered for you. It's what my dad used to drink on special occasions," she told him. A subtle kind of sadness passed behind her eyes as she mentioned her father. Had he died?
"Is it a special occasion?" Draco queried, raising an eyebrow.
Granger smiled. "Aside from the fact that I'm out of the house for the first time in months, no. I just assumed that you would only like top shelf liquor."
Draco chuckled. "Why? Because I'm rich?"
Granger's cheeks burned. "Well… yes, I suppose. Am I wrong?"
Draco shrugged. "Most likely not. To be honest, I've never actually had any cheap alcohol."
Granger laughed—a high, free sound that left him blinking. He had never made her laugh before. It left him with an odd feeling in his stomach.
"Eighteen-year Macallan," the waitress announced, setting a glass in front of Draco. "And the Merlot."
"Thank you," Granger replied with a smile.
As the waitress left, Draco took a sip of his whiskey. It was smooth and warmed him, but in a different way than firewhiskey.
"What do you think?" Granger asked.
Draco shrugged. "Well, it's not Ogden's Finest, but it's not bad."
She smiled and took a sip of her wine.
"How's your wine?" he asked politely.
"It's good," she chirped. "Although, I'll admit that my palate isn't particularly refined. I can't really taste much difference between cheap wine and an expensive one. I just like what I like."
"Wine tasting isn't a common pastime for the Order?" Draco teased.
"Not at all. We're lucky we even have anything to drink at the safe houses," Granger chuckled. "Kingsley threatened to ban it not long after the Battle of Hogwarts. Too many people were coping with the war by getting pissed all the time. In the end though, he just decided to limit it and have a few serious discussions about responsibility and vigilance with everyone."
Draco understood Shacklebolt's concern. In the wake of The Dark Lord's death, he had also turned to drink to ease the blow of everything that was happening in the world. But once his training began, he hated how vulnerable he always felt while drunk. He would still have a drink now and again, but he couldn't remember the last time he had been properly pissed.
But they were getting into dangerously serious conversation. Draco quickly steered them away from talking about the war and back to lighter subjects. "Your way of drinking is probably more enjoyable than the one I was raised on anyway," he remarked before taking another sip of the amber liquid.
Granger smiled. "Cheaper too." She tipped her glass in his direction as if in a toast before bringing it to her lips.
"I would imagine that you probably make pretty decent money as a Healer," he mused.
"I'm comfortable," she replied. "But I prefer to save as much money as I can. When the war is over I would like to be able to afford a small house of my own. It's not too hard to save while living with the Order. Day to day expenses are virtually nonexistent."
Good thing, too. Draco hadn't been able to bring much money with him when he left the Manor, and going to Gringotts was far too risky these days for Order members. He tried not to think about all of the Malfoy riches and assets that had been at the Manor when he had been forced to abandon it. Surely the Death Eaters had cleaned it out when they left. If not, the Ministry had almost certainly seized everything as evidence.
"How have your other missions been going?" Granger asked conversationally. Her voice was low to avoid being overheard, but Draco could tell that she was just asking to have something to talk about.
"Nothing too dangerous or exciting," Draco said offhandedly. "I retrieved a couple of stolen artifacts last week. Simple job, really."
"Were you involved in the battle last month?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with the hope of some details of the outside world.
Draco shook his head. "No. I think only the people stationed at Headquarters were sent to that one. I was at Shell Cottage that week."
"Oh, how was it?" Granger sighed wistfully. "I haven't been in so long."
"Fine," Draco said shortly. He could tell by the look on her face that she wanted more from him, so he humoured her with a few more details. "Fleur seemed a bit stressed. She's trying to convince Shacklebolt to reduce the number of members stationed there so that she can get a room ready for the baby."
"Baby?" Granger balked, eyes flying wide. "Fleur's pregnant?"
Had she really not known? Gossip seemed to spread so quickly through the Order it was amazing that anyone had any secrets at all. And after all, Bill was one of her guards. Why hadn't he told her? "Erm… yes. About four months along, I think," he replied.
"Four months," Granger breathed. She sat back in her chair, looking a bit stunned. "I can't believe Bill didn't tell me! Or Ginny—she was around last week."
"I'm surprised too. I guess everyone may have assumed you already knew," Draco said with a shrug.
After a moment of thought, Granger smiled. "How wonderful for her," she sighed dreamily. Then the smile slipped from her face. "Can you imagine bringing a child into this world?"
Draco had never given much thought at all to having children. Before the war he had simply known that it was his duty as a Malfoy to produce a pureblood heir, but he had never really considered if he actually wanted children. It was simply expected that he would have at least one. Now, however, it couldn't be less of a priority for him. He could imagine how the war would be a deterrent for many people, as it seemed to be for Granger. "Honestly, I can't really imagine having children at all," he said stiffly.
"Never?" Granger blinked.
Draco shrugged. "I don't know. I'm nineteen. I don't really see myself as particularly paternal. Maybe one day… once all of this is over."
Granger nodded, swirling her wine glass a bit, staring into the red liquid.
"I suppose you want a whole Quidditch team's worth of Weasley brats to call your own one day?" Draco mused with a bit too much venom.
Granger's eyes shot to his, red spreading across her cheeks. "I—I…" she stammered before shutting her mouth quickly. She shook her head stiffly and took a big gulp of her wine, grimacing as she swallowed. "No," she finished firmly, her eyes darting away from him. She placed her glass on the table, still holding the stem firmly between her fingers as her other arm crossed her chest defensively.
Clearly he had touched some kind of nerve. Draco chose to change the subject rather than try to decipher her cryptic reply. "How's your potions work going?"
She glanced at him again. "You know I can't discuss it."
"I didn't ask for details," he pointed out. "I'm just making conversation. You've been working on it for months, surely you've had some success with whatever it is."
Granger frowned. "I don't think I've had any success at all, actually. Unfortunately it's a lot of guesswork, so I may never know if I'm on the right track."
Draco finished his drink, letting the smooth liquid warm him from the inside out. "You know, I'm pretty good with potions. I know it's classified, but if Shacklebolt will allow it, I might be able to help."
Tilting her head for a moment, Granger seemed to consider his offer. "I'll talk it over with Kingsley and see what he thinks," she promised.
Draco was momentarily surprised that she had even entertained the idea. Oh, yeah. Trust. What an odd feeling, to be trusted by her. Would he ever get used to it?
"Would you like another round?" the waitress offered, having made her way back over to them. She eyed their empty glasses pointedly.
Granger looked at him hopefully, but he shook his head. One drink. That's all he could allow without risking having their defences lowered. "No, we should go," he said gruffly. The waitress looked a bit taken aback by his tone until he added, "Thank you."
The waitress rifled through a few tickets in her pocket for a moment before placing one on the table between them. "Thank you for coming in today," she said with a smile.
Granger picked up the cheque before pulling a few Muggle pounds from her bag. She handed the money and the cheque back to the waitress. "Thanks," she spoke before rising to her feet. Draco followed suit and the two made their way out of the little pub and back onto the cold street.
"Do you mind if we walk for a little bit?" she asked hopefully, eyeing the glittering store fronts.
"We should really get back," Draco replied warily. He didn't like being out in the open. They were too vulnerable here. For all he knew they had been spotted in the pub and were being followed. Or worse, a sniper wizard could be targeting them from any one of a hundred vantage points at this very moment.
"You worry too much. No one knows we left. We're surrounded by all these people. We blend right in," she assured him.
Draco glanced around at the smiling Muggles doing their holiday shopping. What were the odds of any Death Eaters spotting them in the middle of this scene? Pretty slim, he wagered.
"Fine," he sighed.
With a grin, she looped her arm through his. When she caught his confused look she laughed. "We'll attract less attention this way. Just a young couple doing some Christmas shopping."
Draco shrugged, but did not pull his arm from hers. Her touch didn't make his stomach turn as it once had. Besides, she was warm next to him.
They walked for several minutes, stopping occasionally so that Granger could window shop a bit. Each time Draco caught a glimpse of their reflection in a window, he was struck by how convincing they were as a couple. She was smiling and seemed perfectly at ease on his arm and for just a moment, he thought about what she might be like on a real date.
He let himself imagine what his life would be like if the war had ended—or rather, if the war had never happened. Perhaps he would be here on a proper date—not with Granger, obviously, but with some beautiful, eligible witch. Maybe he would shop in Diagon Alley with his date and then take her back to the Manor for tea with his parents. His heart twisted painfully at the thought of such an idyllic life that he would never have.
Though he had been reluctant to leave the safety of the house earlier, Draco found himself enjoying the outing. Perhaps he had needed an escape as well.
A sudden scream up ahead brought reality rushing back to him. As the smile slipped from Granger's lips, Draco's heart began to race. The world around them in slow motion, Draco turned his head to look in the direction of the disturbance. Nothing seemed amiss at first glance. In fact, he even wondered if he had imagined the scream.
But then the world around them exploded in a whirlwind of chaos. A huge gust of wind and snow swirled around them before rushing forward toward the shops just ahead of them.
It didn't stop. The wind barreled ahead, colliding with the front windows. At once, shattered glass and broken baubles showered passersby. Yells and screams rent the air as visible panic rose in the crowd. In the pandemonium, Muggles began to flee, their terror and hysteria so high that Draco wouldn't have been surprised if someone got trampled.
Though the world around him had dissolved into chaos, Draco kept his head. He grabbed Granger and pulled her into the shadows. They had to get out. Now. There could only be one group responsible for this horror.
Beside him, Granger gasped in terror. Glancing over at her, he saw her hand, shaking, pointing up to the sky. Draco followed the direction of her hand and felt his stomach churn.
The sky had turned a familiar, eerie shade of green.
In the next moment, the Dark Mark appeared in the sky, Dolohov's menacing eyes staring down at them.
Holding tight to Granger's arm, Draco pulled her toward an alley to apparate away, but she was already drawing her wand.
"What are you doing?" he hissed, his fingers digging into her forearm.
"We have to go help," she insisted, trying to wrench her arm from his.
He just gripped her tighter. "We're not even supposed to be here, Granger. We have to get back to the safe house immediately."
"No," she insisted, twisting her arm out of his grasp. She ran toward the fray with determined strides, but Draco was too quick for her. He caught her around the middle and dragged her into an alley.
She kicked and struggled against his hold, but her distress drew no attention over the chaos down the street. Draco squeezed her firmly against him as he apparated them back to the safe house.
He pulled her into the wards as she screamed obscenities at him.
"What are you doing?" she shouted as he finally released her.
"My job, Granger," he returned coolly.
"We could have helped. We could have saved lives," she argued, her face purpling with rage.
"You could have been killed," he spat. "And it's my job to make sure that doesn't happen. The rest of the Order will see to the Muggles."
"They'll be minutes behind. We were there."
"We shouldn't have been. Shacklebolt will have my head if he finds out I took you out of the safe house. We never should have left."
"Doesn't it bother you that innocent Muggles have probably died because you refused to let me fight?"
"This is war, Granger. People die every day."
"They didn't have to. We could have protected them."
"It's not my job to protect them. It's my job to protect you," he reminded her.
She scowled at him, prodding him in the chest with one of her fingers. "I don't need protection. From you or anyone else!"
"Take it up with Shacklebolt," Draco grumbled, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the house to prevent her from Apparating back to London.
Granger's fire diminished a bit, but burned no less hot. It seemed she was done shouting at him, but was far from finished being angry. "Don't you have a heart at all?" she seethed as they entered the quiet home. "Or did Dolohov see to that when he turned you into what you are?"
It was as if the floor had fallen out from beneath him, sending him into freefall. So much for their budding civility. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as if demanding to be defended. Though her words stung, he quickly pushed down any fleeting desire to show her that he did, in fact, have a heart. In that moment he was far more inclined to get as far away from her as possible.
Stepping closer to her, he hissed with as much venom as a wounded snake could muster. "This conversation is over. Go work on your fucking potion or whatever you do all day. I don't give a shite what you do, but nothing you say will convince me to let you leave this house on my watch again."
Shaking with rage, Granger turned on her heel and marched up the stairs, slamming her door with a bang.
Draco sank into a chair in the living room, rubbing his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his room for the rest of the evening, but he wouldn't put it past Granger to try to sneak out and he wanted to be ready if she did.
No heart. So that's what Granger truly thought of him. So much for trust.
It occurred to him that by banishing her to her room and refusing to refute the insult, he hadn't given her any reason to doubt her claim.
She had a point, he supposed. Dolohov's training had been thorough. The High Minister had dug through Draco's mind, discarding emotions that he deemed useless. Fear, compassion, guilt, love, misery—Dolohov has made it his goal to dispose of them all.
Nothing was truly gone though. They were all just suppressed—buried beneath the crushing weight of the foundation of Dolohov's training. Every now and then one would drag itself out of the dust beneath the structure and attempt to climb to the top. But his training had taught him exactly how to push them back down.
So be it. If Granger wanted to paint him as a heartless monster then that's exactly what he would be.
Draco did not see Granger for the rest of the evening. The following morning, Potter arrived before breakfast to begin his shift on guard duty. He brought news of yesterday's attack. Three Muggles had been killed and the Order failed to arrest any Death Eaters. Draco groaned, knowing that the news would only spur Granger's rage.
"Anything I should know before I take over?" Potter asked as Draco shoved a final book into his rucksack at the kitchen table.
"Yeah, Granger hates me," Draco droned.
"More than usual?" Potter teased with a smirk.
"Probably. We had it out yesterday. Haven't seen her since."
Potter shook his head, probably dreading having to calm the irate witch. "Well, enjoy your time off. I'm sure you'll have both cooled down before your next watch," he reassured Draco kindly. Potter gave Draco a Portkey with a terse smile.
"Thanks," Draco grumbled. "See ya." He hoisted his bag over his shoulder and walked through the back door to the garden before unwrapping the Portkey and letting it fall into his hand.
The Westenberg house was full of people and loud, boisterous conversations that day, but it was fortunately Granger-free and a knot in Draco's stomach relaxed as soon as he arrived.
On his second day off, he spent the afternoon playing chess with Ginny. She was far better than he was and Draco had to watch his King fall time and time again.
"You're terrible at this!" Ginny teased after her third consecutive win.
Draco laughed. "Well, I haven't played much since fifth year. I suppose I'm a bit rusty."
"You hadn't played Quidditch since fifth year either, but you're not bad at that," she remarked as she waved her wand to reset the pieces.
"Well, maybe I was always terrible at chess."
Suddenly a silver lynx shimmered next to them, speaking in Shacklebolt's authoritative voice. "Come at once," it ordered. "Death Eater attack in Essex." The Patronus morphed, showing them the image of a row of shops that they could focus on for apparation.
"Another one?" Ginny said breathlessly, rising to her feet and drawing her wand. "They're getting bolder."
Draco didn't respond, but led her out of the house and beyond the wards before he held out his arm for her to take. Once her hand was gripping his elbow firmly, he focused on the row of shops and disapparated.
The instant they arrived on the street their wands twisted from their hands and flew through the air into the waiting fingers of a Death Eater.
"Stupefy," hissed a voice, and Ginny went limp beside him.
Draco looked around. Had this all been a trap? No, Shacklebolt and the other Order members were fighting Death Eaters just down the street. This one must have just been waiting for reinforcements to arrive to incapacitate them one by one.
"Well, well, look who we have here," the Death Eater sneered, sauntering closer to Draco.
Draco's pulse quickened. Cornered. Wandless. His eyes darted around the street in hopes of some escape. The other Order members were all far too busy with the battle to notice his distress.
"Let's take a little trip. Shall we, traitor?"
The Death Eater raised his wand, muttered a Stunning spell, and Draco descended into darkness.
A/N: Updates every Monday. Next Chapter: April 27th
Follow me on Tumblr: graceful-lioness