A/N: This chapter contains graphic depictions of violence.
Shout out to my boyfriend who helped me channel my inner John Wick for this one.
AlphaBet love to BiscuitsForPotter and DisenchantedGlow
All Draco could hear as they made their way down the corridor was Granger's laboured breathing and the occasional shuffle of her shoes against the floor. He grimaced. This would be much easier without her. She was too loud; she would give away their position.
He had considered leaving her in their bedroom. Disillusioned and safe. But if they had an opportunity to escape the house without killing all six Death Eaters, he wanted to take it. And if he was killed, Granger needed to know immediately so that she could take action. Plus, he doubted that Granger would have been willing to sit on the sidelines. Stupid Gryffindors always needed to charge into battle.
Her grip on his arm was tight, and he hoped that she knew that he would need both of his arms as soon as the Death Eater was within sight. If he could just get close enough, he would be able to use his knife and not alert the other Death Eaters, but if not… well, it would have to be the Killing Curse. And once that happened, their position would be compromised.
The map had indicated that the Death Eater was in the last bedroom before the end of the corridor. As they approached, Draco slowed, his ears piqued for any sounds from within the room.
Normally, by this point, he could hear enough from his prey to locate roughly where in the room he should strike, but with Granger behind him, breathing loudly and shuffling her feet anxiously, he was practically going in blind.
A muffled clunk from within the room told Draco everything he needed to know. Something had been dropped on carpet, which likely meant that his target was near the bed on the area rug, rather than on the outskirts of the room where the floors were hardwood.
There was always a possibility that the Death Eater knew they were coming—that he had heard Granger's breathing and was trying to lure them into the room, actually lurking behind the door. Draco would prepare for that possibility.
He shrugged slightly, hoping that Granger would realise that he needed her to release him. She did, leaving him free to step closer to the door. He turned, silently signaling to Granger that she should wait just inside while he dispatched the Death Eater.
After a quick nod from Granger, Draco stepped into the room with his wand drawn. He pulled his knife out with his left hand. He'd learned in training how to wield a weapon with either hand. One could never be too well-armed.
The Death Eater was rummaging through a nightstand with his back to the door. Draco stalked forward, adjusting his knife in his grip. He barely heard Granger tiptoe in behind him, her footsteps mercifully light.
The figure by the bed picked up a book from the nightstand and took a moment to flip through its pages before tossing it onto the bed and returning to the drawer, this time pulling out a framed photo of a young couple and a baby boy. That too was tossed onto the bed. The Death Eater rocked back on one foot, like he was about to turn around, and that's when Draco struck.
Lunging forward, Draco used his wand hand to cover the man's mouth, wrapping around him from behind and pulling him close. With his other hand, he plunged the knife into the side of the man's neck and pushed it across to tear his jugular.
Blood spurted out across the wall. The man gurgled and sputtered, struggling briefly against Draco's grip before sinking to his knees. The wound gushed, blood pouring endlessly, dripping down the Death Eater's front and onto the rug.
It took only a few seconds before he fell limp in Draco's arms. Dead.
Draco slowly and silently lowered the man to the floor. He pulled off the man's bloodsoaked mask. It was Avery. Moving on to Avery's pockets, Draco withdrew a thin, cherry wood wand and a photograph. He lifted the photo to the light streaming in through the window and frowned.
It was Granger.
So the Death Eaters were here for her.
Draco glanced at Granger, who still stood rooted by the door. She looked… terrified. Her wide eyes were brimming with tears, her mouth slightly agape in obvious horror.
His heart twisted, but he pushed the feeling aside. There would be time to comfort her later. For now, there were five more Death Eaters to take care of.
Avery's blood was hot and sticky on his hands. He quickly wiped them and the knife off on the fallen Death Eater's robes. Draco stood and walked back over to Granger, pocketing Avery's wand and the photo as he went. He cast a quick muffling charm on her shoes and checked the map.
The other Death Eater was moving their way, but not in any apparent hurry. He watched the dot for a moment, trying to ascertain the man's motives and possible route. Perhaps a distraction in the opposite direction would enable Draco to sneak up behind him like he'd done with Avery. He decided that was his best move before waving his wand and vanishing the map.
He turned to Granger. "You need to breathe quieter," he hissed.
Her mouth snapped shut and she nodded, swallowing.
"We need a distraction. Something that will make noise in the other corridor."
Granger bit her lip for a moment before she reached into her pocket and withdrew her useless Portkey. She tapped it with her wand and transfigured it into a mouse. Another tap disillusioned it. She held the mouse tightly in her hands and jerked her head toward the door.
Draco moved back to the door, peering into the corridor before nodding to her.
Granger crouched down, murmuring to the mouse before releasing it from her hands. It scurried away, almost invisible against the hardwood floors. A moment later, there was a distant crash of broken glass.
"What the—?" a gruff voice mumbled. Footsteps retreated, and Draco moved quickly out into the dark corridors.
This Death Eater was larger, and his fat neck was harder to penetrate with the blade. But with just a moment of muffled struggling, Draco gave a mighty push, and the knife sank deep into the side of the man's neck. He groaned and coughed, blood spraying from his neck and mouth with each dire beat of his heart. When the Death Eater continued to put up a fight, Draco just pushed harder. He clenched his jaw and pushed the blade across, severing the Death Eater's windpipe with a sickening crunch. The man let out a horrible gurgling noise and then went limp in Draco's arms.
Draco struggled under the man's weight, and staggered to the side, barely catching himself before falling. But his boot hit the ground with a thud and Granger gasped slightly.
"What was that?" A harsh whispered voice drifted up the stairs.
"Go check it out."
Granger's eyes met his and they shared a moment of panic. With a wave of her wand, the corpse in Draco's arms became feather light. She motioned to an open door and hurried to carry the man's feet as they dragged the body inside and laid it down quietly.
There was a trail of dark, shiny blood on the floor leading to their location, and they didn't have time to vanish it before they heard footsteps at the top of the stairs. Draco pulled Granger quickly into the shadows behind the door and stood in front of her, blocking her with his body.
From the crack in the door, he could see the dark form of a Death Eater come into view. The figure slipped slightly on the blood and lit his wand. Draco backed up slightly so that the light wouldn't reach them.
"Oi!" The Death Eater called out to his comrades and Draco grimaced.
He had no other choice now. Alerts be damned, everyone knew now. Stepping from behind the door, he raised his wand. The Killing Curse coursed through him and out of his wand, enveloping the third Death Eater in a blaze of green before he crumpled to the ground.
Quickly, Draco summoned the fallen Death Eaters' wands before grabbing Granger's arm and pulling her out of the bedroom and further down the corridor to a different bedroom. He cracked the door behind them, peering out through the sliver to see two Death Eaters arrive at the top of the stairs.
Wands drawn, the two Death eaters observed their fallen friend before spreading out. One disappeared into the room Draco and Granger had just fled, and the other moved in their direction.
"Malfoy," the Death Eater taunted. "Come on out. We're just here for your little girlfriend."
Granger's fingers curled around his bicep.
"If you hand her over we might not even kill her. We can take her back to headquarters and let everyone have a little fun with your Mudblood whore."
Draco ground his teeth. They were trying to make him angry. To force him into making a foolish mistake that would get them both killed.
It wouldn't work. He was too well-trained to fall for such tactics.
Pushing his feelings down, he adjusted his wand in his hand. The Death Eater was almost close enough to be a sure target. The man peered into the bedroom across the corridor, and Draco struck. Swinging open the door, he hit the man with the Killing Curse and watched him fall.
He barely had time to shift his aim before the other Death Eater was emerging from the bedroom at the end of the corridor and training his wand on Draco.
Another Killing Curse took care of him quickly, and Draco slipped back into the bedroom where Granger was and cast his map spell once more.
The final Death Eater was moving quickly out of the downstairs office and up the stairs. The blue dot reached the top of the stairs and paused.
"One more," Draco murmured to Granger. Beside him, she let out a little sigh of relief. One seemed manageable—far more manageable than six at least.
But Draco was tired. His magic felt strained.
Shaking his head he forced the thoughts of fatigue aside. He could rest later.
For now, he had to do whatever it took to get Granger out of here safely. And that Death Eater stood between them and their only possible exits.
Draco hesitated. He couldn't make a move without exposing himself to the Death Eater, and if the Death Eater tried to get closer, Draco would have a clear shot at him. They were at a standstill.
Just as he was wondering how to lure the Death Eater closer, a jet of yellow light zipped through the crack in the door and into the room. Before Draco had the chance to react, it burst in a cloud of thick, grey smoke.
Draco coughed, shielding his mouth and nose from the onslaught of smoke.
"We have to move," he grit out, grabbing Granger's arm and dragging her through the open door.
He fired two Killing Curses toward the stairs to cover their escape as they darted into the bedroom across the corridor. A disarming spell clipped his shoulder, and his wand soared from his hand, landing in the darkness far down the corridor. Draco didn't hesitate though, he pushed Granger into the bedroom and drew one of the fallen Death Eater's wands from his pocket.
Waving the new wand, he closed the door to the bedroom they'd just come from to conceal the smoke within. Then he pushed Granger further into the room, hiding her in the shadows.
This Death Eater was crafty. Craftier than the others had been. Draco closed the door to prevent more smoke bombs from entering.
He conjured the map again.
The Death Eater had moved into the adjacent bedroom. Likely checking his fallen allies for wands. Perhaps if Draco was quick, he would be able to sneak over and kill him.
He turned to Granger. "Stay here."
"What? No! I'm not going to sit here like some damsel. We outnumber him. We can—"
"It's not your delicate female constitution I'm worrying about, Granger. Stay—"
"He's the last one, so we can just—"
"I don't have time to argue, Granger. Stay here." He practically growled at her. His tone was dark and dangerous.
Granger recoiled, nodding quickly.
On his way to the door, he paused, turning back and pushed the spare Death Eater's wand into her hand. "Remember what I told you before. Don't hesitate."
Draco left the bedroom, creeping down the corridor silently, wand held tight in his fist. The Death Eater had not emerged from the bedroom yet. It was possible that he was waiting for Draco, setting a trap.
Draco would be ready.
He paused at the entrance, just out of sight and listened. There was ragged breathing from just inside the door.
Stepping over the body of an earlier kill, Draco leapt into the room and cast the Killing Curse. But this wand wasn't as effective as his own, and the feeble curse was easily deflected.
The Death Eater's spell hit Draco square in the chest, blasting him back in a flash of white. He flew back—his wand flying across the room—and hit the bedroom wall hard, sliding down with a groan.
Disoriented, Draco glanced up to see the Death Eater turning away. He was going after Granger.
Draco pushed himself to his feet, pulling his knife from its sheath, and staggered toward his enemy.
Wandless, dazed, he launched himself at the Death Eater's back, missing his neck but striking his shoulder blade instead.
The Death Eater cried out in pain as they fell together.
A clatter of wood, and the Death Eater's wand skittered away, sliding across the floor and out of reach. Draco wrenched the knife from the man's back as they struggled, attempting to bring it down again, but a fist collided with his head, and he fell flat to the floor, the knife slipping from his grasp.
The Death Eater climbed over him, hands flying to Draco's throat and squeezing. Gasping for air, Draco thrashed to get free, his blood pumping through his veins, fighting to keep him alive. His fingers stretched, reaching for the knife. He could feel the hilt graze his fingertips and scrambled to pull it into his palm.
A burst of red, and the wall inches above the Death Eater's head exploded. For just an instant, the man's finger's loosened on Draco's neck as he flinched, looking around for the threat. Draco took the opportunity to find his grip on the hilt of his knife firmly.
With a burst of adrenaline, he shot his arm upwards, plunging the knife into the throat of the man pinning him down.
The man's eyes went wide, he choked and spluttered, blood gurgling and pouring from his neck and onto Draco, coating him in it. His hands fell away from Draco's throat, his eyes unfocused, and he slumped forward.
With a mighty push, Draco heaved the man off of him and sat up gasping. His face was hot and wet with blood. It was in his eyes and mouth. He spat, hoping to rid himself of the metallic taste.
He wrenched his knife from the Death Eater's throat and turned.
Granger stood at the end of the corridor, her wild hair bathed in pale light of early morning from the window behind her. Had she seen everything? Her eyes were wide and tear-filled as he pushed himself to his feet and made his way toward her. And though all the Death Eaters were dead, she gripped her wand tightly as if she were still in grave danger.
"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice trembling, almost fearful. Her eyes still hadn't left the body of the last Death Eater.
He nodded. "You?"
"Yes," she squeaked.
One look at Granger, and it was clear that she was anything but. She swayed where she stood, ghostly white and shaking. And then, without warning, she lurched violently, heaving as she doubled over. Her sick splattered the hardwood floor and Draco stumbled back in surprise.
Granger gasped and retched again. The smell of vomit mixed with the stench of blood and death in the air.
Draco raised his hand and summoned his wand from somewhere in the darkness. Granger staggered sideways, slumping against the wall, choking and sobbing. Vanishing her sick, Draco hurried to her, brushing her hair away from her sweaty forehead and cupping her face in his hands.
Tears streamed from her wide, panicked eyes.
"It's alright," he assured her. She was hyperventilating, clawing at her chest and his arms as if to get away. "Breathe, Granger. Just breathe."
She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head.
Draco grabbed hold of her hands and put them to his chest. "Feel me breathe. Breathe with me," he urged, pulling air deep into his lungs. He placed his hands on her chest, feeling her heart thundering beneath his touch.
Slowly, Granger's breathing evened out. It shuddered on the way in, but she was able to blow it out with control.
"Look at me," he directed once she had calmed slightly.
Her eyes opened, meeting his, pupils still blown wide by terror.
"We have to go." His tone was urgent again, but he did his best not to frighten her more. "They might send more. We have to tell the Order what's happened."
Granger's eyes shut again and she took two more deep breaths. Then she nodded and pushed herself upright, clenching her jaw in determination.
"Let's go," he ordered, grabbing hold of her arm and guiding her down the corridor.
Granger trembled as they stepped over the bodies on their way to the stairs. He could hear her laboured breath as they made their way to the ground level and toward the exit. It sounded restrained, like she was still trying to keep it quiet.
"We're safe, Granger," he assured her as they walked out the back door and into the garden. His voice still sounded foreign to him, like someone else was speaking.
As soon as they passed beyond the fence, Draco turned on the spot and disapparated, pulling Granger along with him.
The clock struck five as Draco and Hermione entered Headquarters through the front door. The house was dark and quiet, just the slightest hint of daylight beginning to pour in through the windows.
Granger attempted to cast a Patronus, murmuring something about waking Shacklebolt and Potter, but she didn't seem to be able to conjure it. Her hands were still shaking and tears were rolling down her cheeks freely now as she muttered the spell over and over again.
At last, a figure appeared at the top of the stairs. Shacklebolt was awake, staring at them in a deep purple dressing gown.
"Longbottom House was attacked." Draco hardly recognized the voice that came out of him. It sounded far away. A cold and distant announcement from someone else.
Shacklebolt waved his wand, illuminating every light that Draco could see, before sweeping down the stairs to stand before them. He stared at the couple—Granger, so obviously shaken, and Draco, covered in blood. "Cho?"
The sound of doors creaking upstairs alerted Draco that they would soon have a much larger audience. "She's dead."
Potter was coming down the stairs now, his eyes darting over Granger and widening. "Hermione, are you alright?"
She nodded quickly, like she was afraid to admit that she wasn't alright.
The Minister turned to Potter. "Assemble a team. We'll need to clear the Longbottom house. And call everyone in from the other safe houses. Emergency meeting in two hours."
Potter checked his watch and then hurried back upstairs.
"What happened?" Shacklebolt clipped, ushering them into the office. "Do you need a Healer?" His eyes swept over Draco's face again.
"I don't think so." Draco shook his head. "It isn't my blood."
The Minister sank into a chair and gestured for them to sit as well. "Start at the beginning."
Draco told Shacklebolt what had happened. From the broken Portkeys, to Granger's inability to send a Patronus for help. He shared how he killed each Death Eater.
The words left his mouth clinically, mechanically. Granger shivered next to him when he described how he'd needed to use knives to avoid the other Death Eaters being alerted.
"And Hermione," Shacklebolt said as Draco completed his story, "What did you do?"
"I—" Her voice was small, tremulous. "I transfigured my broken Portkey into a mouse to help distract one of the Death Eaters. I helped Draco… helped him move one of the bodies…" She pulled her hand from Draco's and wiped a tear away, leaving behind a smear of blood.
With a ragged breath, she wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand to try to get the blood off, but her hands were too bloody. Shaking, she leaned forward and placed her elbows on her knees, clasping her hands together to stop their trembling. "When I heard Draco struggling with the last one, I went out to help. I tried to stun him, but they were too close together. The Death Eater was dead before I could get a clear shot."
She had seen everything. Everything. Every drop of blood and every flash of green. The glint off his blade as it sank into flesh. The moment when each of the Death Eaters had gone limp at his hand.
"You didn't kill any of the Death Eaters?" Shacklebolt confirmed, his eyebrows raised.
Granger shook her head. "No."
Shacklebolt's eyes narrowed and shifted to Draco. "You mean to tell me, Mr. Malfoy, that you singlehandedly dispatched six highly trained Death Eaters by yourself?"
Draco nodded. "Yes, sir."
Draco could practically see the thoughts brewing in the Minister's mind, and he shifted under his gaze. The blood on his face was cold now, thick and sticky. He longed for a shower, to be able to wash away the events of the past few hours. He wanted to take Granger into a bedroom and hold her until he forgot how close he'd come to losing her yet again.
There was a quick knock on the door, and they all turned to see Potter enter with George and Seamus. "Minister," Potter said. "Should we go to the Longbottom house?"
Shacklebolt stood. "We'll need a larger team to be sure that more Death Eaters don't show up. Set up wards as soon as you arrive and keep a lookout. All six Death Eaters that attacked the safe house are dead. Dolohov may send more men to retrieve the bodies. Please gather all personal effects and pertinent Order materials and return here as quickly as possible. And we'll need to recover Ms. Chang's remains."
Potter clenched his jaw and nodded. He and Shacklebolt exchanged a few more words, but Draco had stopped listening. His eyes were trained on Seamus.
Seamus had been at the Longbottom house yesterday. He'd claimed to be called away and then the safe house had been attacked mere hours later. No one had witnessed the message from Headquarters, nor did they have any proof that he'd returned here immediately after leaving the Longbottom house. It seemed too… convenient, that he would just happen to be called away before the attack.
In a flash, Draco was on his feet, crossing the room and grabbing Seamus by the front of his robes.
Ignoring the protests of the others in the room, Draco slammed Finnegan against the wall, pressing his wand under his chin menacingly.
"Malfoy!"
"Draco, what are you doing?"
"Mr. Malfoy, release him immediately."
Draco paid them no mind. He didn't care that he had at least three wands trained on him.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Seamus protested, pushing against Draco with all his might. But Draco was much larger than he was.
"It was you, wasn't it?" Draco growled, leaning his forearm heavily on Seamus' chest. "You gave our location to the Death Eaters."
"Are you mental?"
Draco seethed, pushing his wand harder against Seamus' neck. "You fucking rat. You fucking traitor."
"Traitor? I have no idea what you're talking about!"
"So it's just a fucking coincidence that you happened to leave the Longbottom house just hours before we were attacked? You knew the attack was coming. You orchestrated the whole thing."
Seamus' brows furrowed, his eyes flashing in terror. "What the fuck are you talking about? I wasn't at the Longbottom house! I've been here all week!"
"You expect me to believe—"
"Malfoy," Potter's voice cut Draco off, sharp and firm. "He's telling the truth. Seamus has been stationed here all week. Let him go."
Draco hesitated, but ultimately had no choice but to step back, letting Seamus slide to the floor gasping.
"You fucking psycho!" Seamus spat at him.
Draco turned to Shacklebolt, jabbing his wand in Finnegan's direction. "He's been acting strangely for months. Always in a foul mood and coming and going at odd hours. And now he supposedly can be in two places at once. You tell me what I'm supposed to believe."
Shacklebolt closed the door, locked it with a click. "Seamus has been dealing with family troubles for several months. His strange patterns have been caused by his need to go to the hospital."
"Hospital?" Draco frowned.
"Yeah, to visit my sick mum, you nutter."
Shacklebolt paced across the room to stand behind his desk. "As for being in two places at once… You might be onto something, Mr. Malfoy. We all know that isn't possible. I think we've finally figured out how our safe houses are being compromised."
There was a pause as the Minister's words sank in.
"We've been infiltrated," Potter concluded, his eyes wide with shock.
Everyone in the room looked around with narrowed eyes. It suddenly felt like anyone of them could be the spy. Like no one could be trusted.
"But how?" George asked, his eyes fearful.
"Polyjuice," Granger piped up, speaking for the first time in several minutes. "Most likely."
Shacklebolt nodded. "That would be my assessment as well."
"Wait." Potter held up a hand. His jaw clenched for a moment as his eyes flickered to each person in turn. "If this is true, then any of us could be an imposter. We should be sure before we discuss this further."
"How can we be sure?" George asked.
"Simple questions. Something an imposter wouldn't know. We'll have to be careful though. We don't know how long they've been among us. Best to ask things that happened before the Battle of Hogwarts." Potter turned to Granger. "Hermione, when we were on the run together, I tried to cheer you up. How?"
Granger looked at her friend, her lips twitching upward slightly. "You danced with me."
"Malfoy, on the Astronomy Tower, the night Dumbledore died. What were the last words he spoke to you before the other Death Eaters arrived?"
Draco frowned, not at all happy to relive one of the worst nights of his young life. "He said, 'Let me help you.'"
Potter nodded and turned to George. "How did you get the money to start up Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?"
"You gave it to me. It was your entire Triwizard winnings."
"Good." Potter turned to Seamus. "In our first year, you exploded a goblet at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. What were you trying to do?"
Seamus grimaced. "Turn it to rum."
Potter turned to Shacklebolt last. "Minister, when the Ministry tried to arrest Dumbledore a few years ago, how did he escape custody?"
"His phoenix helped him."
Potter glanced around at everyone in the room. "Then we are all who we say we are."
"Am I the only one who's been polyjuiced?" Seamus asked.
"Unlikely." George paced back and forth, as though irritated. "It would have been rather obvious if you were always in two places. I think someone would have noticed before now. Right? I mean, this is our third safehouse attack in three months."
"So, someone has been posing as multiple people in the organization," Potter agreed, tapping his wand against his palm thoughtfully. "I wonder how the imposter knew where everyone was stationed. They never ran into the person they were posing as. How did they manage it?"
"They must have gotten hold of the master list." Shacklebolt gestured to the desk before him. "Which means that they have knowledge of how to break into wards."
Draco frowned. "No offense, Minister, but the wards on your offices are woefully easy to breach. How do you think I managed to get into your office at the Ministry last year?"
Shacklebolt scowled at him.
"That sounded like an admission of guilt," Seamus grumbled. "He's the only one who claims I was at the Longbottom house. He's the former Death Eater. He knows how to break past wards. Maybe no one's been posing as me. Maybe he's been the spy all along."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Draco growled, turning his blood soaked face in Seamus' direction. "Why would I tell Death Eaters how to get into buildings where I was? They've tried to kill me more times than I can count, including tonight. I'd have to have a death wish to tell them where I was."
"Maybe you get a sick thrill out of it."
"Fuck you."
"Fuck you!"
"Enough!" Shacklebolt shouted. "Hermione, was Seamus at Longbottom House yesterday?"
"Yes, he was. Left with us from here early on Sunday morning with Cho. He claimed he got a message from you yesterday after dinner and then left."
"The day Westernberg House was attacked," Potter prompted, "Did anything similar happen? Was someone there who left early?"
Granger closed her eyes and thought for a moment. "Charlie was there."
"Charlie was here that week," Draco said, recalling the odd conversation he'd shared with Charlie, George, and Lee. "But remember, he was acting strange. Said he didn't remember something you said to him a few days earlier." He pointed at George, who nodded.
"Go get Charlie," Shacklebolt ordered George.
With a nod, George swept out of the room.
With a chill, Draco recalled the day Pansy died. "Charlie was at the Farley house too. He said he had to leave early for a meeting with you, Minister."
Shacklebolt's brow furrowed. "I did call him away for a meeting that day."
Potter frowned, pausing his pacing. "And no one else was at the Farley house that day?"
"No." Draco closed his eyes, thinking hard about the day that Pansy had died. He'd spent so long trying to forget the fine details, it pained him to recall them now, especially with his soul already so fragile.
"No, I'm certain it was only the three of us that day."
"Perhaps they got to the Farley house another way," Granger piped up, speaking for the first time in several minutes.
Potter shook his head, beginning to pace the room. "One security leak is already remarkable, but two seems almost impossible."
"We thought a breach like this was impossible. We can't rule out any possibilities," Shacklebolt insisted.
"Wait…" Draco held up his hand. "I was wrong… Dean was with us. Came late the night before the attack and left before lunch the day of."
He couldn't believe he'd forgotten. Draco and Dean had talked a lot that day—more than he had ever talked to Dean before or since. It hadn't seemed so strange at the time. But looking back, it seemed a bit odd that Dean would carry on such a casual and comfortable conversation with him.
Because it hadn't been Dean at all.
Shacklebolt flipped through the master list, eyes skimming over the assignments. "Dean Thomas was stationed at the Longbottom house that week."
George re-entered the room with Charlie, who blinked around the office blearily. "What's this all about?" he grumbled.
Potter closed the door and sealed it magically. "Have you checked him?" he asked George.
George nodded. "It's really him."
"Well, Charlie," Shacklebolt began, leaning forward to rest his palms on the desk, "We have an imposter in our midst, and you and Seamus have been targeted."
Charlie straightened up, panicked eyes flickering around the room as if expecting to find someone masquerading as himself standing nearby. "How?"
Potter rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "Polyjuice, most likely. Though we don't know how they got access."
"Well, what do we do?"
"Everyone who knows is in this room," Shacklebolt said, his eyes moving to each person in turn. "And it is imperative that it stays that way. Our knowledge is our advantage now, and if that advantage is lost, then it may turn the tides of the war against us."
Granger stood from her chair, her pale face set with determination that didn't quite reach her vacant eyes. "I have a plan."
When the meeting had concluded and the plan was in place, Draco lingered in the office doorway, hoping to have a moment alone with Granger.
She moved to leave with Potter and the others and he grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her to the side as Shacklebolt locked the office and departed. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.
Her head moved up and down quickly, but she wouldn't meet his eyes, and her feet shuffled backward like she was trying to get away from him.
After hours of being on high alert, pushing his emotions down and hardening his heart, he began to wake up again. And it was agony.
"You know I did what I had to do, right?" He reached up to place his hand on the side of her cheek, but she flinched away from his touch. Recoiling.
His heart unfroze, only to fracture.
"I know that," she breathed, backing away from him further. "It's just… You were like… Like a different person."
Draco clenched his jaw. How long had he wanted her to see him for what he was? How long had he tried to push her away? To make her realise that he was dangerous? She'd always been so accepting of it all, but now she had seen it with her own eyes, and it was more than she could bear.
He released her arm, backing away from her slightly and shoving his hands into his pockets. "It's the training, Granger."
"You can perform the Killing Curse non-verbally." Granger's hands shook as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Not even Voldemort…" She trailed off, her eyes lifting to his quickly.
And in her eyes he finally saw what he always thought he should have when she looked at him. Fear. Unrelenting terror at the sight of a killer. An assassin. A monster. Him.
She had seen it all. Every flash of the blade sinking into flesh, every Killing Curse cast with the ease of summoning a quill.
Not even Voldemort…
Draco's stomach twisted. So that's what he looked like to her now. A far more foul and dangerous beast than even the Dark Lord himself had been. He cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from hers, instead focusing on a point on the wall beyond her. He couldn't bear the way she was looking at him.
"I did try to warn you about what I am," he pointed out, his voice sounding hollow and far away.
"I'm sorry," she breathed. "I didn't mean to say that about Voldemort."
"But you were right." A bitterness was seeping into his fractured soul—a bitterness caused by her words.
No, not her words. By himself. By his own actions. Not just what he'd done tonight, but opening up to her in the first place. Opening himself up to her rejection. He felt far more broken by her than by anything he'd ever witnessed. Anything he'd ever done.
He'd let himself forget what he was. Her love for him had made him feel like he was better than he truly was. But without it, there was no hiding from the monster within him anymore.
"I think I need some time," she mumbled. "Time to process all of this."
Absently, he nodded, still staring at the spot beyond her head.
Granger turned and left quickly, as if running away from a dangerous snake.
A moment later, when his body began to function again, he left too. He ignored the distant chatter of people eating breakfast in the kitchen and dragged his feet up the stairs. The lavatory was empty, and he closed himself inside and silenced the room.
He stood at the sink and washed his hands, watching the water run red with the blood that still covered him. He scrubbed hard, trying to rid himself the blood that had seeped under his fingernails and dried there. When he was done, he gripped the basin and leaned against it, forcing himself to take deep, even breaths.
His eyes drifted up to the mirror, and he blinked.
His face was still coated in the last Death Eater's blood, and the eyes that stared back at him were nearly black. Cold. Dead.
The eyes of a murderer.
He clenched his jaw, watching as a tear escaped his right eye and trailed down his cheek, leaving behind a white streak in the blood in its wake. He sucked air into his lungs, willing himself to let go and just cry. Sob, like he had at Pansy's grave or after he'd killed William. But he couldn't. Save for that one tear, it seemed he had nothing left within him.
Empty.
Granger was right about him. She'd been wrong before, but she now saw him for what he was. He was nothing. Nothing but a trained killer. Good for nothing but taking life.
He pulled his fist back before launching it forward at the mirror, striking the reflection of his bloody face with all his might. The glass shattered, raining shards down on his hand and fracturing his reflection into tiny segments staring up at him from the sink basin.
Pulling his bleeding hand back, he drew in breath and let himself scream into the silenced room.
"FUCK!"
It bounced off the tiles, and he kept screaming until his voice was raw.
At last he was spent, and he gripped the sink hard, the ache in his cut hand nothing compared to the pain in his chest.
He mentally counted how many lives had ended at his hands now. Twelve for the Death Eaters. Five when he'd gone after Mulciber. And six tonight. Twenty-three.
Twenty-three lives gone because of him.
Fathers, husbands, brothers, sons. Gone. Gone at the hands of a monster.
He could have lived with Granger's rejection of him a month ago. He had hoped for it.
But he'd opened himself up to her. He'd let himself be drawn in by her acceptance and love for him. He'd allowed himself to believe that she was right, that he was someone worthy of her. Someone worthy of love.
But he wasn't. He never could be. Dolohov had seen to that, and Voldemort before him. They'd stripped him of his humanity. Of everything that had once made him decent and innocent.
And now Granger had seen the truth.
And now he was all alone.
A/N: Updates every Monday.
Next chapter posts August 10th
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