Dear Hermione,

Ron and I will be coming over tomorrow. Are you sure you're all right? Yes, I've been having a good time at the Burrow.

Ginny avoided me for the first day, but I think she got over it. Yesterday she gave me her favorite necklace. She made me promise to come back safely. She said…that she would wait for me, no matter what. I told her not to, but she just shook her head.

The necklace is a little golden heart she got from her Great Auntie Muriel when she started Hogwarts. I've been wearing it under my robes. I don't want to tell Ron, because he'll probably make fun of me. It's a pretty damn girly necklace. There's a picture of me and her in there. It's a fairly old picture. I asked her how long it's been in there, but she blushed and wouldn't answer.

Are you sure you're OK? You sounded a little worried in your last letter. And whatever it is, I promise I won't "overreact."

See you soon,

Harry

000

Draco sat huddled on the couch, a blanket swathed defensively around his shoulders. He occasionally threw aggravated looks over at the Golden Trio, who were clustered on the opposite side of the room. They were throwing disapproving glances at him in return with equal frequency.

They were probably whispering, but Draco couldn't tell. The moment the Trio had sat down, a mysterious buzzing in his ears had made him mostly deaf. He strongly suspected that his deafness could be blamed entirely on Potter. He wiggled his finger in his ear and threw another angry look across the room.

Potter sat quietly on the couch, looking deeply pensive. He was staring mostly at Draco, which did not raise Draco's comfort level. Next to him, the Weasel and Granger seemed to be having some sort of quickly escalating argument. Those two were always arguing.

He couldn't for the life of him figure out why someone as smart as Granger would waste her time arguing with Weasley, who had the approximate intelligence level of a flobberworm.

…

Did he really just think that?

000

"I can't believe you took him in," said Ron grumpily, his freckled face somewhat flustered.

"I told you," said Hermione, exasperated. "He was hurt, I brought him inside. What else was I supposed to do?" Ron's eyes bulged slightly, indicating that he had a quite a few suggestions as to what should have been done to Malfoy.

"I dunno," said Ron, in a mockingly thoughtful voice. "Maybe…leave him outside?"

"He would have died!" said Hermione. She could feel the color rising in her cheeks. Ron was her best friend, but he was so infuriatingly ignorant sometimes.

Particularly when it came to relationships. She had been so jealous when he was with Lavender, she thought she would burst, but when he held her at Dumbledore's funeral…she thought it was everything she wanted, but when she knew it was hers, finally, she wasn't even sure she wanted it anymore. Not the way she had. Something had grown within her, gotten older, more complicated…they were such good friends. She valued that more than anything, and she loved him and Harry both with all her heart. Should she jeopardize that? Was it even worth it?

"So?" said Ron, as if this was an extremely favorable option. "He's a Death Eater." Ron's scowl deepened. "He tried to—"

"I know what he's tried to do," said Hermione, cutting him off touchily. "I just…I mean, I couldn't…"

"For someone so smart, you're awfully stupid sometimes," said Ron harshly. "I can't believe—" Hermione flushed, furious.

"Well that's just fine, Ron!" she shouted angrily. "Let's just let people we don't like die! If we do that—I mean—then—what is it that separates us from the Death Eaters

anyway?" Ron quickly shut his mouth, his face now as red as hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Harry turned his head from looking out the window and broke the silence.

"Hermione's right, Ron," he said quietly. "We can't just abandon people who need help." Ron, who now looked even more flummoxed, still did not speak.

Something flickered deep within his Harry's emerald green eyes. He looked so… thoughtful. Wise. For a moment, Hermione was eerily reminded of Dumbledore. She looked into his eyes, surprised. She smiled inwardly. Harry had matured more than she thought.

"I don't trust him," said Ron finally, stubbornly crossing his arms and leaning back on his chair. "He's probably trying to trick us."

"I suppose that's a possibility," said Harry, casting a shrewd glance towards Draco. "Or a likelihood." He frowned. "Which does beg the question… just what the hell do we do with him?"

"We could chuck him off a cliff!" said Ron brightly.

Harry turned to Hermione, smoothly ignoring Ron. "You said he had information…?"

"He does know something—that's why he ran, and that's why they attacked him, so it ought to be something important." Hermione shook her head and sighed. "I can't get anything out of him, though. They modified his memory."

"So we ought to torture him then?" asked Ron eagerly, pulling out his wand.

"No torture, Ronald!" said Hermione scoldingly.

"We can't torture him, we can't kill him," said Ron, his voice somewhat playful. "Geez, Hermione, what can we do?"

"You can shut up," suggested Hermione sweetly. Ron was kidding, of course. You know. Probably. There were other methods she had read about that might help revive his memory, but she didn't feel comfortable trying them without her friends there.

"It was a diary," said Malfoy suddenly, his temporary deafness causing his voice to be much louder than necessary. They turned to look at him. "I just remembered when I was asleep."

"A diary?" said Harry in bewilderment.

"WHAT?" asked Malfoy loudly, squinting at him. Rolling his eyes, Harry flicked his wand and released the spell on Malfoy's hearing.

They crossed the room and huddled around him again. Hermione frowned. Oh, sure, he remembers now that Harry and Ron are here to threaten him. She thought that she had been quite intimidating, thank you very much.

"What diary?" demanded Harry.

"That's the part I can't remember," he admitted. Malfoy now looked distinctly uncomfortable, which made Hermione felt a little bit satisfied. And only slightly guilty.

"What do you remember?" said Hermione impatiently. "You said you remembered more just now," she added, trying not to sound bitter.

"Whatever was in the diary—that's the part I lost...but…" He furrowed his brow. Ron rolled his eyes theatrically.

"How did you get the diary?" asked Harry. Hermione could tell it was taking a great deal of his newfound self control not to reach out and slap Malfoy right across his pale face.

"A house elf…" said Malfoy disdainfully. "Nasty little ugly thing it was too. My mother was always saying they should get to killing them when they get that old, hardly useful… anymore…" He trailed off when he saw the livid expression on Hermione's face. Killing them? That little brat! How would he like it if he was forced to do manual labor for his entire natural born life without—

000

Granger looked like she was ready to explode when he started talking about house elves. What the hell was wrong with her anyway? Who cares about those little pests? Crazy long-molared Mudblood…

The Trio looked about ready to chuck him out the door on his arse, which was definitely not a good sign. He had to throw something else out—anything…what else did he remember?

"The elf told me its name!" he blurted out, trying not to sound desperate. They turned, staring at him expectantly. "It was uh…"

Something stupid. Treeture? Teecher? Catcher? Beecher? Keycher? That sounded about right.

"I think it started with a K…" he said slowly. "Er…it sounded kind of like…Keycher?"

Potter and Weasley looked puzzled. As usual, thought Draco ruefully. Idiots. He had no idea how they had survived this long. Probably because of Granger. He looked at her. Her lips were drawn tightly together, and she was looking straight ahead.

She turned to him, her face paler than usual.

"Kreacher," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Was it Kreacher?"

"Yeah," replied Draco, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "That sounds about right." The trio shared a significant, shocked look. Good. Things were definitely looking up—that is, until Potter grabbed him roughly by the shirt collar.

"Whose diary was it?" he said sharply.

"Oy!" protested Draco. "Hands off, you git!" Draco had half-expected him to yell, but his voice was almost deadly calm. This was not a very welcome change, because the tone was making him feel slightly frightened—though he would never admit that to the Scarhead.

"Shut your gob, Malfoy," snarled Weasley.

"Let him go, Harry," said Granger. Harry pushed him roughly backwards, scowling. Great. The Mudblood was saving him again. Not that he was in any danger. Potter was not scary. No matter how "Chosen" he was. Hmph.

"I didn't get a name," said Draco, straightening his robes. They were hopelessly wrinkled from four days of paraplegia on the couch. "Just initials."

"Well that's something at least," said Hermione, sighing. "What were they?"

Draco paused for a moment. Their eyes bored into him. Hmm…making them wait was sort of amusing.

"I think…wait…oh right." He smirked.

"R. A. B."

Draco had hoped to be rewarded for this information, or at least thanked politely, or even ignored. He had not, however, expected to be slammed roughly against the couch again by an angry Potter. This time, even Granger did not protest.

"If you're lying to me—" he said, his voice dangerous.

"I'm not!" snapped Draco. Oh, if he had his wand, Potter would be on the ground begging him for mercy…

Potter dropped him and began pacing the room wildly. The color had drained from his face.

000

Hermione, meanwhile, was silent, her agile mind working furiously. She had been trying to look up R.A.B. for weeks, with very little success. It had to be someone important, or powerful, or at least clever, to do what he had done. He had defied Voldemort, which wasn't something many people tended to attempt. He had stolen a Horcrux and theoretically destroyed it.

If the diary said "R.A.B.," whatever was inside the diary was probably very dangerous to Voldemort. If Draco had read it, it stood to reason that Voldemort would not be pleased. So they tried to kill Draco, and he ran.

Despite herself, Hermione was actually impressed. She vividly recalled facing down a roomful of Death Eaters last year, and it was not an experience she relished repeating. And Malfoy had escaped with his life—unless it was a trap, which was possible. He could have been a plant. For some reason, she doubted it. She wasn't one to rely on instinct—logic was far more dependable—but for some inexplicable reason she felt that Draco was telling the truth. Or at least, she suspected there was more to the story that he wasn't telling them.

Kreacher's presence opened up a vast new realm of possibilities—very interesting possibilities. The diary had probably come from the Black house. Kreacher had salvaged it for one reason or another—he probably saw an opportunity when Dumbledore died. The diary had belonged to someone at Grimmauld Place—she could have slapped herself. R. A. B.— B for Black.

So someone in the Black household had actually tried to defy "The Dark Lord," as most of them so lovingly referred to him. Well…Sirius hadn't followed Voldemort…he had fought him…she supposed it wasn't impossible…

"Hermione!" said Ron loudly. He waved his hand in front of her face. "Hello? Is anybody home?" She looked away from the patch of carpet she had been staring fixedly at several moments.

"Oh…" she murmured, shaking her head. "You don't think…"

Hermione locked eyes with Harry, who immediately stopped pacing and stared back at her with equal intensity.

"R.A.B." Her eyes were as wide as Harry's.

"What?" said Ron, eager for an explanation.

She licked her lips nervously.

"Regalus Alphard Black."

000

Granger was holding his chin with her disgusting Mudblood hands, and staring through his eyes so intensely Draco wondered if she was trying to see his brain. She frowned, her face thoughtful, and pulled out her wand.

"I have an idea," she said.

"I don't think I'm going to like this idea," said Draco, eyeing her wand apprehensively. Hermione smoothly ignored him, talking instead to Potter and Weasley.

"There's a spell that will allow me to go into his memories, and maybe break through the memory charm," she explained.

"Does it involve torture?" asked Weasley eagerly, brandishing his wand. Draco leaned away from the deranged Weasel and his wand.

"No, Ron, it does not involve torture," she said, irritated. Draco felt relieved. Granger wouldn't really let Weasleby the Poor torture him, would she? Then again…she didn't have much of a reason not to…

"It's not like a Pensive," said Granger, now launching into some long-winded explanation of something complicated and boring. Stupid know-it-all. "The memories are more volatile in the mind. Less orderly, and harder to deal with. This is going to be difficult, and the incantation is rather complex."

"Hermione," said Potter. "I can…" Oh he was such a little hero, wasn't he. Gryffindors. Draco rolled his eyes..

"Don't worry, Harry," said Granger, smiling knowingly. "I can handle it."

I can handle it, dearest Harry, don't worry your tiny, disfigured head over me. Yay! Friendship! Oh, they made him so nauseous…

Granger's wand was now pointed directly between his eyes.

"Librum Memoria!" she cried.

000

It felt like—and looked like—rushing down a very dark tunnel, with long streaks and flashes of multicolored light flashing on the sides of the tunnel.

Hermione looked to her left. Malfoy was rushing along beside her, his face a mixture of anger and confusion.

"What the hell is this?" he yelled, though the tunnel was relatively silent.

"I told you," said Hermione impatiently. "We're going into your memories."

"Oh," muttered Malfoy, annoyed. "Of course."

"Try to remember what you can about the diary," she instructed him, as if she were talking to a small child. Muttering mutinously, Malfoy closed his eyes and obeyed.

000

Draco snapped the journal shut and cast a terrified look at the door to the throne room. His hands were shaking.

Next to Hermione, Malfoy squinted and surveyed himself critically.

"This is—" he said slowly.

"Your memory," she finished. Hermione stood next to Malfoy, and they both watched the memory play out. It was sort of odd seeing two Malfoys. And certainly not something Hermione would have wished for. One was quite enough unpleasantness.

The door clicked open, a figure walked out…The scene suddenly flickered and began to fade into darkness, obscured by fog.

"What happened?" asked Malfoy, frowning.

"You have to concentrate," said Hermione. "Try to remember."

With a flick of his wand, Draco levitated the journal in front of him and made it disappear.

"You vanished it," said Hermione, watching his wand movements and imitating them carefully. "We should be able to call it back then, at least it wasn't destroyed…"

He walked into the throne room, cackles of barely muted laughter echoed around the cavernous stone walls around him. He faced the Dark Lord again, his face pale face tinged with embarrassment, but also hard with resolve. The Dark Lord smirked at him.

"Draco, after much—deliberation—I have decided—"

His face contorted suddenly, his red eyes hardened in suspicion. "What do you…?" He stared hard into Draco's eyes.

"Occlumency?" asked Hermione knowingly. Malfoy ignored her. It really wasn't a question anyway.

The Dark Lord did not speak for a moment, but his expression was darkening. He raised his wand.

"Change of plans, Master Malfoy," he hissed. Eyes wide, Draco pulled out his own wand. A hush fell over the room for a moment, and then suddenly, there was chaos.

"Obliviate!" snarled the Dark Lord.

"Prote—AHH!" Draco attempted to defend himself, but a curse from his left side send blood splattering from his arm. He flew sideways from the force of the curse, the memory charm hitting him at an odd angle. The room erupted, curses flying towards Draco. He flung himself out of the way, and returned the favor ardently, but far too many curses hit their mark accurately.

Though she was impressed at his survival ability, Hermione cringed in horror as she watched Malfoy's blood spilling freely onto the floor. No one deserved that, no matter how much of a git they were. He stood beside her, not saying a word.

"Misfacio!" he screamed. He screamed again as another curse raked across his chest. The Dark Lord stood, his face livid with rage, and raised his wand.

Hermione looked at Malfoy. He was shaking like a leaf, the color completely drained from his face. This was quite a feat, considering he was usually about as tan as a snowdrift.

"Malfoy," she whispered, but he didn't seem to hear her. He stared straight ahead, shaking his head, watching the scene in horror. "Draco," she said a little louder. She tentatively touched his hand. "We have what we need, you can stop now…Draco…"

His entire body was trembling. "No…" he choked.

"NO!" screamed Narcissa, tearing herself free of Bellatrix's grip.

"Cissy!" said Bellatrix impatiently from the back of the room, completely unperturbed by the chaos.

Narcissa hurtled forward towards her son, he head swiveling wildly around. "STOP! STOP! STOP!" she screeched. "This is—"

A jet of green light slammed into her chest. She fell backwards, frozen, her blue eyes wide with fear.

"NO!" screamed both Draco's simultaneously.

Draco raced forward to his mother's side. The room immediately hushed. Draco clutched his mother's hand, unable to tear himself away from her body though he was quickly being surrounded. Someone grabbed his bleeding arm and pulled him roughly to his feet. He snapped suddenly back to reality and howled like a wounded animal. He pushed the person holding him away with a swift kick to the stomach and wrenched his arm free. He lifted his wand and Apparated away with a resounding crack.

"Draco, stop!" she said, her voice shrill. "That's enough." Hermione seized Malfoy's arm and raised her wand.

"Occludo Mentis!"

The hurtled backwards through the dark tunnel for only a moment, and then they were back in the living room.

000

"Well?" said Ron impatiently. "Did you find it?"

Hermione looked at Malfoy. He was sitting on the couch, silent, white-faced, and trembling.

"Y—yes," she said. She looked back at Ron, her stomach writhing with guilt. She swished her wand, left, right, left, up—

"Envanesco."

The diary appeared and dropped into Harry's lap. He flipped it open and began thumbing through the pages. Hermione caught sight of the first page.

"Journal…R.A.B."

"Hey," said Harry, his brow furrowing. "What the hell? It's all…" He flipped the pages rapidly beneath his thumb. "Blank." He glared at Malfoy, who was still shaking. Harry didn't seem to notice.

"What gives, Malfoy?" he snarled. "If you're playing us, I'll—"

"I'm not," he said fiercely, his voice tight. He stood up and walked quickly into the kitchen, his hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Hermione realized she had forgotten to bind his legs, but she suddenly wasn't very concerned about that anymore.

"Do you think he's going to take off?" asked Ron suspiciously.

"No," said Hermione, softly.

"Well—why not?" asked Ron in disbelief.

"Because…" Visions of a cavernous stone room, full of darkness danced before her eyes. She stared at the kitchen door, pity welling deep within her.

"He has no where else to go."

000

AN: OK, I'll get to the Flamel thing eventually. I'm sorry, I get overzealous sometimes. Also, it is my goal to have Draco come around slowly. He's pompous and racist and ignorant. It's gonna take some time. But when it does…it's gonna be awesome.

Professional Widow: Hehe, yes thank you for your observations about the Leg-Locker Curse. The first time Hermione came down the stairs, she had him in a Full Body Bind, and then the rest of the time she just paralyzed his legs. (So he could talk and watch TV, etc.) You are really observant. I'm flattered. Thanks for reviewing!

Just out of curiosity, I was considering having another character make a brief but awesome cameo that fits into the plotline! Who would you like to see?

Lupin

Lupin and Tonks

Professor McGonagall

Fred and George

PS: There will be no Tonks without Lupin. Lupin is awesome. So there.

PPS: Review! Or I'll explode.