A/N: Thank you all for leaving kudos and such lovely comments. I appreciate you all so much!

AlphaBet love of BiscuitsForPotter and DisenchantedGlow.

When everyone arrived at headquarters just before seven in the morning, Draco was sure he had never seen such fear. Though he had showered and scrubbed the blood from his face, hair, and body, he still felt as though he were coated in it. He could still smell and taste the coppery scent each time he inhaled. And as he made his way through the throng of sleepy, confused people on his way to the dining room, he felt sure they could smell it too.

A few people greeted him, asking him if he was alright, but he didn't reply. Even after half an hour of Occluding in the shower, his walls were still so weak that he feared the tiniest thing would send them crumbling to dust. He sat down in his typical chair in the dining room and waited for the meeting to begin. Most everyone was still in the living room, quietly discussing the possible reasons for the impromptu early-morning meeting. Draco closed his eyes, carefully adding layers to his mental walls and doing his best to bury Granger in a far corner of his mind.

"Are you alright?"

He opened his eyes. Ginny plopped into the chair next to him, her eyes wide with concern.

"Harry told me what happened," she murmured, turning to glance around the room. "I can't believe you were able to make it out alive."

Draco clenched his jaw and focused on a singular spot on the far wall. His walls were thin and precarious, trembling with the strain of withholding the waves of emotion within him. He couldn't allow Ginny to distract him.

"Is Hermione alright? I didn't see her in the living room."

"She's not hurt," Draco bit out, his chest constricting painfully. The walls within him shuddered, bowing under the pressure of his anguish.

"That's good. Poor Cho. It's so horrible what happened to her."

Draco blinked, his eyes snapping to Ginny as her words slipped through his walls, like an arrow darting through the cracks to pierce him in the heart. He'd hardly given any thought to Cho since they'd found her dead. He'd been so focused that he hadn't allowed himself to properly acknowledge her death. Something akin to guilt and grief crashed over him.

Cho was dead. She'd tried to alert them to the danger, but had been murdered before she could warn them. He wondered if her Portkey would have worked for her if she'd tried. If she'd left them behind and taken her emergency Portkey to safety, she would be alive. Perhaps she would have been able to get help to the Longbottom house in time. Instead of a slaughter, it could have been a battle.

He shook his head, forcing his grief for Cho down to the place where he kept Pansy and William and his father. While he was at it, he pushed Granger down as well. Not quite as deep as the others, but low enough that he wouldn't feel the sting of her loss so sharply. The last thing he needed was to lose control of his emotions during the meeting; to allow them to claw themselves to the surface and explode from him like a feral animal set loose from a cage.

He focused on his walls, trying his best to fill the cracks quickly. But he kept the arrow in his heart where it belonged. It was only fair to Cho.

Order members began to file in and take their seats, some clutching steaming cups of coffee or tea, some talking nervously with their neighbors, others sitting quietly as they stifled yawns and waited for their opportunity to go back to sleep.

Granger was one of the last ones to come in. She was freshly showered and wearing clean clothes that Draco could only guess she'd borrowed from Ginny, but her eyes were still sunken and her skin was ghostly pale. Her eyes remained downcast as she made her way to her normal seat at the table across from Draco.

He held his breath as the scent of her shampoo surrounded him, and he sat back in his chair. Reminding himself to continue Occluding. Forcing his thoughts away from her.

Shacklebolt started the meeting by telling everyone what had happened at the Longbottom house. He described it as a "brief struggle," in which Draco and Granger were fortunate enough to escape, but Cho was not so lucky. The people in the room were appropriately outraged and aggrieved to learn of Cho's passing. Draco let their fear and grief wash over him, feeling far away as if he were under water.

Everyone was sure to discover what he was now. They'd know he was a cold-blooded assassin. Potter would certainly figure it out, as well as everyone else who had gone to the Longbottom house an hour ago. They had yet to return, and Draco was sure that the clean-up process there would take the better part of the morning.

Shacklebolt continued his briefing, addressing the room with a calm severity in his voice. "In light of this attack, from now on, every Order member on site will be alerted when the first level of wards are breached. And Portkeys must be tested daily."

"The safe houses aren't going to be shut down?" Molly Weasley's tone was near hysterical, her eyes wild with fear.

The Minister shook his head. "Not at this time, no."

Molly seemed caught between rage and despair, her mouth a thin line and her wide eyes glistening. "With all due respect, Minister, I think it is reckless to continue on as normal. This is the third attack on our properties. Two young women have died. We cannot continue to put our members in danger!"

"We are making adjustments as necessary, Molly." Shacklebolt's tone was stern, but there was a hint of exhaustion behind it. He seemed weary. "If you have specific safety concerns or suggestions, I would be happy to discuss those with you in private following the meeting." He leveled her with a stony look, clearly unwilling to discuss the matter further in front of everyone.

Molly Weasley's mouth snapped shut and she sat back in her chair. Her husband placed a gentle hand on her arm and they shared a brief look, communicating without words.

Draco blinked and looked away from the couple. Granger was staring at the table, her eyes dark and unfocused. At least she wasn't trembling any more.

The dining room doors opened and Potter entered with George, Seamus, Angelina, and Lee. They made their way through the chairs and took their seats. A murmuring of curious chatter began in the crowd. Some people asked questions to the team as they took their seats, others just whispered to their neighbors. Potter leaned over and whispered something in Granger's ear, but if she heard him, she didn't acknowledge it at all. In fact, she hadn't even looked up when they'd entered.

Potter shook her arm gently, speaking hushed words that Draco couldn't hear over the quiet chatter around him. At last, Granger lifted her head and turned to her friend. She gave a quick nod before letting her eyes drift away again.

For the briefest moment, her eyes slid over Draco's face and his heart leapt. But with a quiver of her lip, she turned away again.

Draco felt cold.

Potter and his team delivered their report.

All the while, Granger sat quietly, not reacting to anything that was said. Potter told about how they recovered all pertinent information from the Longbottom house as well as Cho's remains. The Death Eaters' bodies were searched and sent to the St. Mungo's morgue to await official identification. As he spoke, his eyes flickered to Draco several times, and Draco could tell that he, too, was disturbed by what he had seen at the safe house.

"Minister, I'd like to speak with you privately following the meeting," Potter concluded.

Shacklebolt nodded and addressed the entire Order. "We are taking these attacks very seriously. Rest assured that we are doing everything in our power to discover why they are happening and bring the guilty parties to justice."

The words did nothing to quell the tension and fear in the room. Several people glanced at their neighbors with concern or suspicion. Draco stared at Granger, his heart aching every second but finding that he was unable to look away.

"We would like for everyone to stay here for the day. We will dispatch teams to each of our remaining safe houses to determine how secure each location is and to set up new wards. Please bear with us as we make these alterations. In the meantime, please remain calm. Thank you."

Shacklebolt turned to Potter and nodded, and the two men stood and swept out of the room to meet privately. Order members stood and began to depart. Draco lingered, hoping that Granger would too. He would give anything to speak with her for just a few minutes.

But Granger stood and hurried from the room without so much as a glance in his direction. Ginny cast a worried look to Draco before she followed Granger out.

Draco made his way out of the dining room and through the crowd of concerned witches and wizards standing around in the living room. He spotted Granger standing with Ginny in the sitting room down the corridor. Granger had her arms crossed defensively around her middle as she spoke to Ginny in a low voice. Ginny reached out to gently place a hand on Granger's shoulder, her brow furrowed in concern.

Heart sinking, he made his way over to her. As he approached, Granger wiped her eyes.

"Can I talk to you?"

Granger blinked up at him, her eyes wide. Ginny shuffled her feet awkwardly for a moment before stepping away from them to talk to George.

Granger nodded.

Draco faltered, not knowing what to say to her. He knew she needed time, and he wanted to respect that. But with her distance came a crushing loneliness that was already seeping into his bones.

"I just want to make sure you're alright," he said finally, thrusting his hands into his pockets to avoid reaching out to touch her. "And if you want to talk… If you have any questions, I mean. Well, I'll answer honestly. I don't want you to think that I… that I kept things from you. I still—"

"Malfoy."

Draco grimaced and turned. Potter had poked his head out of the office and was staring at him with a frown.

Potter always getting in the fucking way.

"Can we speak with you for a moment?"

He turned back to Granger for a moment. Her lips were pressed tightly together. "We'll talk later," she assured him softly without meeting his eyes.

Regret bubbling in his stomach, Draco turned away from her with a stiff nod and followed Potter into the office.

Shacklebolt sat behind the desk. As Draco approached, he gestured toward one of the empty chairs before him. Draco sank into it, watching Potter lock and silence the door before joining them, settling in the chair next to Draco.

"Am I in trouble?" Draco asked, hoping to cut to the chase.

"It seems that the Minister was already aware of your… past profession. I was not," said Potter, leveling his piercing green eyes on Draco.

"I was extremely upfront with the Minister when I joined last year, as he may well recall." Draco shot a pointed look in Shacklebolt's direction.

Shacklebolt nodded, leaning forward to clasp his hands on the desktop. "Yes, you were."

"It's not necessary for me to know everything. Shacklebolt cleared you to join, and that's good enough for me. The issue, I believe, is that we may not have been aware of the… extent of your abilities. And while we're glad that you and Hermione were able to make it out safely, we want to impress upon you the importance of capturing Death Eaters alive when possible."

Both the Minister and Potter were staring at him intently, and Draco felt a shiver run through his bones. A sudden realisation washed over him.

They knew.

When the Death Eater's safe house had been attacked, no one had thought it possible for that much damage to be done by only one person.

But now… Now they knew that he was capable of much worse.

"Yes, sir." Draco shifted uncomfortably and wiped his palms on the knees of his trousers. There was blood pounding in his ears and he felt his chest constrict with dread. They knew what he had done. He was going to be arrested. He would spend the rest of his life in Azkaban for his sins.

He fought to keep his face neutral, to Occlude enough to maintain his composure, but his defenses were still feeble.

"We understand that circumstances tonight did not allow for that kind of action to be taken. We would just like to make sure you realise that, in the future, the use of deadly force should be used only when absolutely necessary."

Shacklebolt's tone was grave, his demeanor stern, but Draco understood.

He was looking the other way. Choosing not to arrest Draco for his actions taken at the safe house all those weeks ago. Once again, he could scarcely believe his luck.

Draco cleared his throat. "Understood."

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy. You may go." Shacklebolt stood, dismissing Draco with a stiff nod.

"Thank you," Draco mumbled, trying to keep the tremor of relief out of his voice.

He made his way back to the door.

"Malfoy."

He paused, hand on the knob, and turned back. Potter approached him, leaning quite close and speaking in a low tone. "I saw everything there. At Longbottom House. Everything you did. I'm an Auror, so I understand. The necessity of it. That kind of thing… it doesn't bother me much. But Hermione isn't like us. She saves lives, she doesn't take them. Give her the space she needs to process it all."

Draco clenched his jaw, wondering how many fatherly lectures he would get about Granger in his lifetime. With a wave of dread, he realised that if Granger couldn't look past what had happened, probably very few.

He offered Potter a stiff nod and then left the office.

The next day, the Order held a funeral for Cho. Draco attended this one, refusing to dishonor her the way he'd dishonored Pansy. He stood in his black cloak, alone within the crowd of mourners. The weather was appropriately abysmal, pelting them with rain as Shacklebolt spoke with solemnity about Cho's great qualities. Her bravery, her loyalty, all the things that made her an admirable asset to the Order.

But he didn't mention her temper. Her skill on the Quidditch field. How she'd been quick to look past Draco's history and accept him as a fellow Order member. Her general dislike for Weasley that Draco had come to find so amusing.

Draco's throat tightened and he looked down at his shoes. They were muddy.

There had been a time when he would have thrown a fit to see his fine, dragonhide boots so sullied, but he wasn't the same spoiled child he'd been at Hogwarts.

That boy was dead.

He felt as though he had died several deaths now. The child. The victim. The assassin. What was he now? A soldier? A lover?

No, not a lover anymore…

He felt trapped somewhere between all of these roles. Perhaps none of them had truly died, just been pushed aside when a more pressing role needed to take over. The assassin still lived within him, as evidenced by the massacre he had carried out at the Longbottom house. And it hadn't been the assassin that had gone back as he'd left the Manor for the old stuffed dragon toy that still was tucked into the bottom of his rucksack, but the child.

With a wave of his wand, Shacklebolt gently lowered Cho's coffin into her grave beside Pansy's. Draco's chest felt heavy, like his heart couldn't pump enough blood to the rest of his body. His hand tingled, and it took a moment for him to realise that someone had taken hold of it.

He looked up sharply. Granger was next to him, her tear-filled eyes staring straight ahead toward the grave. But she was holding his hand.

Hope bloomed in his heart. He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back.

Perhaps they weren't as broken as he'd feared. He had promised to give her space, and he intended to keep that promise, but just to have her next to him meant everything. Whether she was comforting him or seeking comfort from him, he couldn't tell. Perhaps both. But as a tear escaped her eye and trailed down her cheek, he couldn't stop himself from pulling her close and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

She leaned into him, burying her face in his chest as Potter moved forward to say a few words.

He held her tightly, letting her cry into his jumper.

When the ceremony concluded and the crowd began to disperse, she lifted her head and rested her chin on his chest, meeting his eyes for the first time since yesterday.

"Thank you," she warbled, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

He lifted his hands and brushed her tears away gently, sweeping her hair out of her face lovingly. "Any time, Granger."

After the funeral, the Order members filed back into the house and ate a comforting stew that Molly Weasley had prepared for the occasion. It was warm and smelled delicious, but Draco felt too ill to eat. He wandered the house, watching as people sat together to cry or to share stories about Cho or to toast to her memory. Feeling like an outsider, Draco didn't join them, but continued up to his room to be alone.

That evening, he ventured back down the stairs and found Granger in the sitting room reading a book. He approached her cautiously.

"I need to talk to you." Draco spoke softly, not wanting to startle her.

She looked up warily, biting her lip before she closed her book and set it on the coffee table.

Draco sank into the adjacent chair and leaned forward onto his elbows, clasping his hands together to keep them from shaking. His heart was beating erratically in his chest, and he took a shuddering breath.

"I know you need time. I promise to give it to you. But I just didn't want you to come to terms with everything that's happened only to be shocked again if you found out more later on." He cleared his throat, casting a glance over his shoulder to be sure that they weren't being overheard.

Granger drew her wand and murmured, "Muffliato." He felt the muffling spell trickle over them, encasing them in a bubble of privacy. "Go on," she urged gently, pocketing her wand.

Draco's stomach twisted. He didn't want to tell her all the things he was about to say, but he didn't have a choice. She deserved to know everything.

"There's something that no one knows. And it could get me into a lot of trouble." He leaned forward, letting his head fall into his hands to avoid looking her in the eye. "But more than that, the guilt has been eating me alive."

Granger sat quietly, not pressing him to spit it out or to confess. He could feel her eyes watching him perceptively, analysing him.

"Pansy…" he trailed off. "Her death is my fault."

"No," Granger breathed, leaning forward to place her hand gently on his knee. "You weren't entirely recovered at that time. And the Death Eaters attacked so quickly—"

"Granger—" Draco cut her off, lifting his head sharply to catch her eye. "I tampered with her wand."

Granger's mouth fell open slightly and her brow furrowed. Confused. She pulled her hand from his knee. "What do you mean?"

"I… I didn't trust her. I thought she was there to kill you. All of my instincts were telling me that she was a spy for Dolohov. Theo told me that Dolohov had been training my replacement. She told me she'd been travelling, recruiting. But the places she said she'd been were the same ones Weasley mentioned had been sites of targeted assassinations. Something wasn't adding up." He paused his runaway rant to take a deep breath. "So, I warded her wand. Made it so she wouldn't be able to use it in any of the safe houses or headquarters."

"If you had shared your suspicions with someone—"

"I tried. Potter assured me that she passed the interrogation just as I did, but…"

Granger stared at him, her eyes wide and tear-filled.

"But I didn't tell Shacklebolt everything when I joined. I answered his questions honestly, but I… withheld certain facts. I didn't tell him that I'd nearly killed you, for example. I knew he'd never let me join if he learned that. And if I could keep things from him, I knew Pansy could have as well."

He dragged his fingers through his hair and released a shuddering breath. "It was a mistake… one I can't fix. So, you see, when I said I was responsible for her death, I meant it."

"Even if you suspected her of being a spy, why tamper with her wand?"

"I had to keep you safe."

Granger's eyes dropped away from him, her lip quivering.

"I've been in love with you for longer than I realised… maybe since you saved my life…" His throat was tight, and he cleared it to keep his voice from breaking.

"She might have died even with a working wand," Granger pointed out. "Witches and wizards die in duels all the time."

"I know that. But I took away any hope of her having a fighting chance. And if I'd been up to my usual level of skill, I don't doubt that I could have handled both of the Death Eaters that attacked, but I wasn't. And she's dead because of my stupidity and failures."

Granger was quiet for several minutes. "Thank you for telling me," she breathed. "Is there any more?"

Draco looked up at her, his emotions bubbling up his throat at the thought of William. "Yes."

Something crossed Granger's face that he couldn't quite place, but she slumped slightly, as if the weight of his confessions was pushing her down.

"What is it?" she breathed softly, her eyes fearful.

"William." Draco's voice was strained with heavy grief.

Granger's eyes softened. "Who's William?"

Draco ran his hand over his face heavily. "Just a kid, really. Graduated from Durmstrang a year after the Battle of Hogwarts. Took the mark from Dolohov because his father expected him to. He was a good kid. Kind."

He stared at the floor in front of his feet, unable to bear the sight of Granger's mournful gaze upon him.

"After Pansy died and I… I attacked the Death Eater's safe house…" He cleared his throat, willing the bile roiling in his stomach to settle as he confessed to his worst sin yet. "William was there. He was there, but I didn't realise it until after… after I—"

"After you'd killed him," Granger concluded, her voice trembling.

A shuddering breath escaped Draco as his emotions tumbled out of him without restraint. He hung his head in his hands.

Granger was quiet for a moment as he cried. But then her voice cut across the silence between them, soft and piteous. "It was an accident, Draco. You didn't mean to kill him."

"But I did," Draco hissed bitterly, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "I went to that safe house to kill them all. I didn't care who they were, I just wanted them dead. I wouldn't have regretted it at all if I hadn't noticed William afterwards. And what kind of monster does that make me, Granger? I don't care that I killed Mulciber, or Rowle, or Avery, but William… he was…"

Granger sniffled, and her hand reached out to gently stroke his head. "I don't know what to say."

Draco didn't know what he wanted her to say. He wanted her to fix it all, to absolve him of his sins even though he knew she didn't have the power to do either of those things.

He pushed down the deepest desire within him. The desire for her to tell him that it was okay. That despite the horrible things he'd done, he was still worthy of her love. That she would stand by him even knowing the worst of him.

She didn't say anything of the sort, and Draco's heart crumbled with each passing minute.

"Is there more?" Her voice was hardened now. Cold. It shivered through Draco like a wintery breeze.

Draco looked up and shook his head. "That's it."

She pulled her hand back from his head and placed it in her lap. "Thank you for telling me everything."

Draco waited for her to continue. Perhaps she would tell him that she couldn't look past everything he'd done, that he was beyond reproach and deserved to suffer a miserable life of solitude. It would hurt, but at least he would have his answer.

"I still need… time," she mumbled.

Heart plummeting, Draco nodded.

"I'm sorry. I know what you did the other night was necessary. You saved my life, and I'll forever be grateful for that. But every time I close my eyes, I see—"

She trailed off, but Draco didn't need to guess at what she saw. She saw him. Covered in blood, sinking his knife into men's throats, speaking to her harshly with dead eyes, taking life silently with the wave of his wand.

Who could stand by someone after that? Who could love someone after that?

He nodded to signal to her that she needn't continue. It was clear that she'd seen the demon he was with her own eyes.

She rose abruptly and shuffled past him toward the exit. Pausing next to his chair, she spoke in a quiet but firm tone. "I still don't think you're a monster." She left.

And though it hadn't been much, his heart swelled in his chest with hope.

Draco hardly saw Granger over the next few days, keeping his distance from her as promised. Whenever he passed her in the corridors, he kept his eyes down, ignoring the tightening in his chest and the burning in his throat.

However, there were times when they had to be in the same room. In one such instance, Shacklebolt called a meeting with just the people who were privy to the information on the imposter within the Order.

Their plan would go into motion immediately after the next Order meeting. There were now two master lists. One real, that Shacklebolt kept on his person at all times, and one fake, which would be kept in the office as usual.

Everyone in the small group had access to the real list, but they were required to prove their identity each time they met.

Every time Granger spoke in these meetings was like a knife twisting in Draco's heart. He sat far away from her, trying to avoid seeing the little movements she made that he'd grown so accustomed to noticing, or smelling her shampoo or perfume. Potter was all business in the meetings, but Draco often noticed him sharing sympathetic looks with Granger or looking at Draco with a forlorn expression.

If not for the imminent operation rapidly approaching, Draco would have had nothing to focus on. So he threw himself into the work, hoping to drown his sorrows in hundreds of details about Polyjuice potion, schedules, and plans of action.

After the next Order meeting, which delivered nothing but news of failed intel missions, Kingsley doled out the safe house assignments to each person individually. The next morning, Draco was sent to a newly set up safe house with Ginny, Charlie, and Angelina.

The Master schedule kept in Shacklebolt's office—the fake one—indicated that Charlie was meant to be at Shell Cottage for the week, and that Seamus would be at the newly set up Stewart house.

Only the names of Order members known to have been impersonated—Dean, Seamus, and Charlie, were listed as stationed at a different house than their real physical locations. Otherwise, the lists were indistinguishable.

It was a brilliant plan, really. If the imposter followed their suspected routine, they'd look at the fake list and show up at the incorrect house. The Order would know right away and would be able to take swift action, hopefully taking the imposter by surprise.

The first day at the Stewart house was very quiet. They played Quidditch, and if there had been any doubt about Charlie's identity when they left Headquarters, there was none after watching him play. Draco had seen Charlie on a broom enough over the past year to know his flying style. Even though he was rusty, he had a natural ease on a broom that Draco was fairly confident couldn't be imitated by just anyone.

Draco hadn't been apart from Granger since the night she'd nearly died in the Westenberg house fire. Though he longed to be near her to keep her safe, he couldn't deny that being away from her was helpful to his current heartbreak. He wasn't sure how much more he could have handled. Skirting around her in corridors and at meal times, catching her eye from across the table only to have to look away at the pained look on her face. It was driving him mad. A few days away from her didn't help him heal, but it was definitely easier to breathe.

The following day, the four occupants of the Stewart house were gathered for lunch in the kitchen. Draco was chatting with Charlie about their hopes for Puddlemere's chances in next year's Quidditch championships.

Though he still drank too much and would occasionally become quite melancholy, Draco noticed that Charlie seemed to be slowly coming back to himself since Pansy's death. It sparked a bit of hope in Draco's chest to see that, even in the darkest of circumstances, people could still heal.

"You're crazy if you think Puddlemere's got a chance against the Harpies!" Ginny piped up.

"Yeah," Angelina agreed, setting down her fork to debate with full focus. "Their new seeker, McDaniel is the quickest thing I've ever seen on a broomstick. She's only five feet tall and thin as a whip. Puddlemere's seeker, Andrews doesn't stand a chance. He's too broad. It's a simple matter of aerodynamics."

"She's too young," Charlie argued. "She doesn't have the experience needed to go up against someone like Andrews."

"You're mental!" Ginny threw her arms in the air. "In a race, McDaniel is nearly twice as fast as Andrews."

"Seeking isn't just about speed. It's about skill on a broom. Plus, you have to see the Snitch first," Draco pointed out, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Exactly!" Charlie jabbed his fork in Draco's direction.

"Oh, let's just say what this is really about, shall we?" Ginny argued, rising to her feet to loom over her seated brother. "You don't think she can be as good as Andrews because she's a woman."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "This has nothing to do with sex! Andrews is just a better player."

"Men always try to pretend that they aren't chauvinists by citing physical ability. Seeking is about skill, not brute strength. A woman can be just as good if not better than a man!"

"Oh, so now I'm a chauvinist?" Charlie argued.

"I just—" Ginny trailed off, her eyes going wide as she stared at the kitchen door.

Draco turned to see Charlie standing in the doorway, wearing a black jumper.

But Charlie was already sitting next to him. In a red t-shirt.

The Charlie in the doorway went pale as a ghost. He stumbled backwards and began to turn and run.

Draco's stomach swooped, but he didn't hesitate. Whipping out his wand, Draco quickly stunned the retreating Charlie. The man in the black jumper crumpled to the floor. Draco turned to his seated friend, who looked a bit shocked at seeing himself in the doorway. His blue eyes met Draco's and he nodded. With an apologetic smile, Draco stunned him too, and Charlie slumped back in his chair.

"What the—?" Ginny gaped at the two men, her face white.

"We have to take them both to Headquarters as quickly as we can," Draco directed, binding the two men with a quick, "Incarcerous."

"What's going on?" Angelina asked, rising to her feet.

"One of them is an imposter," Draco replied, fetching the wands from each man's pocket. "It's how our safe houses have been compromised."

"Well, which one is Charlie?" Ginny's voice was trembling as her eyes flitted between the two identical men.

"Probably the one we've been talking to, judging by the other's reaction. But we'll know for sure once we get back to Headquarters and can question them both."

Angelina pulled out her wand and levitated both men. "Has the house already been compromised?"

Draco shook his head. "I have no idea. We should assume that it has been. Gather any important information as quickly as you can, but we can come back with a proper team for everything else."

The two witches nodded and moved together into the office next door. Less than a minute later, they returned, a small rucksack slung over Ginny's shoulder. "Let's go," she clipped, eyes darting between the two identical forms of her brother hovering bound in the kitchen.

Draco levitated them to the kitchen door and out into the garden. His eyes darted around looking for any signs of Death Eaters approaching the wards. The grassy field that surrounded the Stewart house was still and peaceful.

Angelina stepped beyond the wards first, grabbed hold of one of the stunned men and Disapparated with a crack.

"I'll get the other one," Draco told Ginny as they both crossed the invisible boundary. She nodded at him and disappeared. Draco held the unconscious man tightly by the arm and followed too, arriving on the front steps of Headquarters an instant later.

Together, the five of them made their way into the spacious townhome and quickly moved to the office.

Shacklebolt sat behind his desk, eyes flying over documents.

"Minister," Draco interrupted firmly.

As soon as Shacklebolt looked up, his eyes grew wide, the exhilaration of their plan working evident on his face. He waved his wand, two identical silver lynxes darting away before he ushered them all inside and closed them in.

Draco levitated the two bound men into chairs and bound them there. "Do we have any Polyjuice antidote?" he asked.

"Hermione brewed some as soon as we realised what was happening," Shacklebolt replied.

Draco's stomach dropped, and he had only a few seconds to prepare himself for seeing her before there was a knock at the door.

Potter entered the office, wand in hand, prepared for anything. Granger trailed after him, a phial of swirling blue liquid clenched in her fist. Her eyes fell upon Draco and she paused before dropping her gaze and sliding past him.

"Which one?" Granger asked, eyes dancing between the two identical men.

"We think the one in the black jumper," Ginny replied. "But we can't be certain."

"Do you have enough antidote to test both?" Shacklebolt asked.

Granger nodded and uncorked her phial. She approached the men and tipped the potion into their slack mouths, being sure that the first one swallowed it before moving on to the second.

"It should only take a few seconds," she announced, stepping back and placing the phial in her pocket.

Both Charlies were stirring. They lifted their heads with a groan and blinked blearily around the room. The Charlie in the black jumper looked shocked, his eyes going wide for a moment before he struggled against his bonds. He glanced at his freckled hands and then to the man bound in the next chair.

"There's no use struggling," Potter said. With a wave of his wand, both men were gagged.

They waited for several minutes, two identical Charlies blinking up at them from their chairs.

"Are you sure you brewed the antidote correctly?" Draco asked Granger.

"Yes," she huffed indignantly. "Maybe he isn't using Polyjuice. Or maybe it's a stronger dose than the typical brew."

Shacklebolt paced around the room, hands in his pockets. After a moment, he crossed to a locked cabinet and opened it to expose a small stash of potions. He withdrew a small phial containing only a few drops of clear liquid.

"I only have enough Veritaserum for one of them. We have to be sure."

Granger nodded, narrowed eyes trained on the Charlie in the black jumper who was staring daggers back at her. "Give the Polyjuice antidote a few more minutes. I'm sure I brewed it properly."

Sure enough, after only a moment longer, the man before them began to change. His skin bubbled and darkened to an olive tone. His hair shortened, shrinking back into his scalp and changing to a mousy brown. Charlie's broad shoulders narrowed, leaving a far more gangly man in the chair. His face shifted, the gag falling from the man's lips as his head narrowed. His eyes darkened, becoming more sunken, Charlie's blue irises fading to nearly black as familiar eyes blinked up at Draco.

Blood pounded in Draco's ears as he stared at the man who had infiltrated the Order. Who had set up coordinated attacks on safe houses. Who had nearly gotten Granger killed. Who was truly responsible for Pansy and Cho's deaths.

"Hello, Draco," he purred, his lips curling back in a vicious sneer.

Draco swallowed, his throat tightening painfully at the sight of the man who had once been such a dear friend. At the man who had saved his life. The last man he'd ever expected to be sitting in that chair.

"Hello, Theo."

A/N: Updates every Monday

Next chapter posts: August 17th

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