Draco stormed into Granger's kitchen, hot tears prickling in his eyes. He was not going to have a breakdown in the Mudblood's kitchen. That was not acceptable.

He had spent a greater part of the past year sneaking into the abandoned bathroom on the second floor of the school so he could cry like a little girl without anyone bothering him. Well—there was a rather obnoxious ghost living in there, and she kept giving him those doe-eyed smiles that Pansy gave him—but mostly she didn't bother him.

He hated himself so much when he was in there—and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. He was doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing. He had felt so alone then…no one understood. He laughed bitterly. He had been such an idiot then. It was now that he was truly alone.

He kept seeing the scene playing over and over again in front of his eyes. Pale, frozen hands, wide glassy eyes, the fluttering of the velvety blue cloak as it fell to the floor, and everything, motionless and still…forever.

He hadn't wanted to remember. He pushed it away, pushed it from his mind, hid it deep inside somewhere where it couldn't tear him apart like it was doing now.

He wiped his eyes, letting out a shuddering sigh in defeat. He really, really did suck at Occlumency, which wasn't fair—he was usually good at it.

"Malfoy…" said a soft voice from behind him. He stiffened, but did not turn around. "Malfoy…" the voice repeated. He hung his head, swallowing hard.

"What?" he managed, trying to sound cold.

"We need you in the living room," said Granger gently. He finally turned and met her eyes. They were large, over-bright, and full of sympathy. "I—I have an idea about the…"

He wordlessly walked towards the kitchen door, brushing past her as he attempted to pass through the doorway.

"Draco," she whispered. "I'm so sorry about what happened to—"

"Don't," he said sharply. He stopped in the doorway next to her, his voice tight. He stared at the ground ahead, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Don't what?" she asked sadly.

"Don't—don't look at me like that!" he whispered fiercely, his head snapping around. He locked gazes with her. "I don't need your pity, Granger. Sod off!" He pushed roughly past her and made his way back into the living room.

000

Malfoy threw himself down on the sofa, his arms crossed defensively. Hermione followed him into the living room and sat down next to Harry. She pulled the book out of Harry's hands and clasped it in her lap.

How must Malfoy feel right now? Things were so complicated. She wished they could be simpler—she wished she didn't feel sympathy for Malfoy, who had tortured her for her entire school career. She wished Narcissa Mafloy was still alive, even though the woman had looked at her like she was a heap of dragon dung the first and only time she had spoken to her.

She couldn't imagine watching her mother murdered, right before her eyes. She closed her eyes, shivering.

"Well?" asked Rom impatiently. She opened her eyes and looked at Harry.

"I have a theory," she said. Malfoy had seen something in the diary, she had evidence of that—so there must be something there.

She laid open the diary on the table at one of the blank pages. She grasped one of Malfoy's cold hands and pressed it to the page. She expected him to protest, but he merely frowned, his lips shut tightly.

Slowly, words began to curl onto the page, spreading out from his fingertips in an inky black script. Hermione smiled triumphantly. Harry and Ron leaned into read the words, amazed. Even Malfoy looked surprised.

It was a diary entry. There were several on the page, from varying dates. Hermione flipped through the pages, her heart rising her chest. She kept Malfoy's hand pressed tightly against the diary. The oddly enough, only about half of the diary was filled. She opened it to one of the earlier entries. Entranced by curiosity, all four of them leaned their heads in and began reading.

000

October 31, 1976

I've been avoiding Sirius all year, but every time he runs into me in the hall, he and his stupid Gryffindor friends try and hex me! Sirius is such a prat. I think he's mad because Mum favors me. Mum would probably favor him too, if he wasn't such a prat.

The Great Hall was attacked by a swarm of crazed bats and bunch of orange fireworks this morning. I suppose it was a Halloween prank. We can only guess who will claim responsibility in the future, but Professor McGonagall dragged Sirius and his friend

James Potter out of the Great Hall by their ears this morning while they laughed hysterically. I have a feeling they could cover their tracks if they wanted to, but they want the entire ruddy world to know how incredibly clever and immature they are.

He also hangs around with that Lupin kid who always looks sick and that fat kid, Pettigrew. I heard his friends call him 'Padfoot'. He seemed to like the name 'Padfoot,' but when I tried to call him Padfoot, he hexed me. Of course, what else would he do? Prat.

He now has a lovely nickname for me, which I won't write down because it's stupid. And now he won't use my real name, just that bloody nickname. Sirius and his friends all have stupid nicknames for each other. I mentioned this to Snape yesterday, and he looked like he was going to explode, and said that Lupin should be put down like a rabid dog. I asked him what the hell he was talking about, but he just stalked off into his dormitory.

Later,

R. A. B.

There were more. The diary was slightly erratic in its entries, but seemed to be chronological. Some were extremely short, some were longer.

June 27, 1980

I joined them today. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Wilkes has been bugging Mum about it for ages. She seemed quite proud. Wilkes is an old friend of the family of course, and Bella…well, she seems quite pleased about it as well.

He kept mentioning the time I spent studying with Nicolas Flamel last summer. Is that why he wanted me in the first place?

R. A. B.

"Look at this one," said Potter, his eyes widening.

February 15, 1981

I've hidden that last Horcrux. Now I know why he needed someone with experience in alchemy. I also noticed the reason the Dark Lord could not enter the tomb himself. There is some ancient magic alive in that place.

The tomb didn't react too kindly when I replaced the artifact. I felt like I was desecrating something very old, and very powerful.

That seems to be happening a lot lately.

R. A. B.

Tomb? What tomb? Whatever the memory charm had erased, Draco had the feeling he was getting it back right now.

September 29, 1981

This is the end for me. I can't…do this anymore. There are terrible things happening here.

I'm going to end it. He'll kill me if I do. It's worth it though.

I wish Sirius would answer my letters. I could use his help.

R. A. B.

There were a few more entries, but they were equally as vague. That was why the Dark Lord had tried to kill him? It wasn't even that much information! Bastard…

"So—he—" Granger gasped, looking wildly between her two friends. "He was the one who—that must be how he managed to get the locket without setting off the traps…"

"I thought Sirius said Regulus was an evil git," said Weasley, frowning. Oh no, his tiny brain was having difficult processing nuance! Draco dearly hoped his head would explode from the strain of thinking too hard.

Potter shrugged. "I suppose…he could have been mistaken…" he said slowly. "It sounds like they were out of touch…"

Granger looked at Draco again, her face thoughtful.

"I'll be right back," she said, racing up the stairs.

Potter looked at the page. "What are those?" he asked, staring at the tiny runes at the page corner. It figures. What a moron.

"Those are Arithmancy runes," said Draco, breaking his silence. The two idiots stared at him in confusion. "They're numbers, Scarhead," he sneered, as if it were obvious.

"Oh, right," said Weasley. "Knew that."

"Only…" Draco turned the pages slowly, frowning. "They're out of order."

"Why?" asked Weasley.

"How should I know?" snapped Draco. Granger reappeared in the living room, holding an eraser triumphantly aloft. She plopped down next to Draco and opened the book to the very back page, which was still blank.

"If I'm right…" she murmured. Draco was quickly learning that Granger was almost always right, which annoyed him greatly. She began rubbing it with the eraser. Words appeared.

The Secrets Within Shall be Hidden from All,

Except the for the Eldest Son of the House of Black,

Pure of Blood, Eyes of Grey.

"Regulus put a Concealment Charm on it," she explained breathlessly. "So only certain people could read it." She surveyed Draco critically.

"Oh, I've seen that before," said Weasley, as if that were remotely of any consequence whatsoever. He moved on to tell some ridiculous story about his brother Percy's diary, which Draco found unbearably dull. Much to his surprise, Potter and Granger actually seemed interested.

"…and so he was trying to get it to lock out anyone who wasn't a Prefect, but Charlie came home for the summer and swiped it for Fred and George so they could write 'great pompous git' in it, and then he was even more angry at the fact that he could still read it…"

The Trio laughed good-naturedly. Draco made a face at them which they all ignored. The laughter faded quickly, and they once again looked serious. Granger looked at him, then she turned to Potter.

"You know, Harry…" she said slowly, placing her hand on the Concealing Charm message. "Regulus—he must have had someone specific in mind when he left this behind. Do you think…"

"Sirius," said Potter heavily. "He wanted Sirius to find it."

"Oh…" said Weasley softly, looking at the diary. Draco was getting awfully tired of holding his hand on the stupid thing. He tapped his foot impatiently, only to be ignored once again. "But…Sirius is dead…."

"I know," said Granger, glancing quickly at Harry. What? Did she expect him to burst into tears all over the place? Women. "It was specific. The eldest son of the Black Family—all his cousins were girls—and most of them were Death Eaters, so…and the person had to be a pureblood, and just to seal the deal, they had to have…" She looked at Draco. "Gray eyes…"

"Are you saying…" said Potter, his voice shaking with obvious frustration and anger. "That we need Draco Malfoy to read this thing?" He pointed an accusatory finger at Draco.

"Yes…" said Granger apologetically. "He's the only one who fits the criteria…"

So they needed him. He was still holding some cards at least—and they weren't going to chuck him out on his arse at any point in the near future.

The three of them turned and stared at Draco in what looked almost like horror. As he gleefully surveyed the absolutely stricken looks on their faces, he realized his day had just gotten considerably brighter.

There was a long silence.

"There are Arithmancy runes numbering the pages," blurted out Weasley importantly, as if he had discovered this all by himself. Draco scowled. Granger immediately began flipping through them. "Only they're—"

"Out of order," she said, furrowing her brow. She continued to look at them. Weasley looked crestfallen. Hah. Granger continued to look at the runes, her frustration deepening, then suddenly, her eyes lit up. "Oh!" she said excitedly. "It's a code!"

She eagerly pulled a quill and paper from the drawer next to her and began copying down the numbers. Potter and Weasley watched her silently. She looked like a child who had just stepped into Honeyduke's for the first time. Draco shook his head. Codes were not exciting. Granger was a freak of nature.

"It corresponds to dates, and then letters on the page…" she muttered, more to herself than anyone else in the room. She absently yanked Draco's hand roughly towards her so she could get a better view of the pages. Draco grunted in protest, but leaned forward. Finally, she smiled in satisfaction and put down the paper she had been writing on. She flipped the book open to the first blank page and set it down on the table. There were three small blank boxes in the center of the page.

"I think—" she said excitedly. "That the rest of the book will reveal itself if we give it the proper password."

"What does the code say?" asked Potter. He was apparently too useless to try to figure it out himself.

Granger pushed the paper towards him. It read "Padfoot and ?"

"Whatever the last word is, it's probably something that Sirius and Regulus shared exclusively…if anything…" said Potter.

"Exactly," said Granger, pushing the "October 31, 1976" entry towards him. She tapped her finger on it.

"Some sort of rude nickname, then?" said Weasley, craning his head towards the page. "Sounds brotherly to me." Weasley had actually contributed something useful? Draco thought he might drop dead from shock.

"Right," she said. "That means we need to find someone trustworthy, who knew them both at school."

"Hermione," Potter said slowly. "When was the last full moon?"

000

Hermione's mum had nearly had a heart attack when she materialized in the middle of the large office the Granger's shared. She had come to say goodbye—which she did. Her parents gave her a tight hug and made her promise to come home safely. She did, blinking back tears, and disappeared. It was all very simple, understanding, and kind. She loved that so much about her parents, and she sincerely hoped she could fulfill her promise.

Hermione trudged through the dense forest, following closely behind Ron and Harry, snapping twigs and rustling dead leaves as she went. She was dragging Malfoy by the arm like a misbehaving toddler. He had ceased the loud and obnoxious complaining he was famous for, and was now simply grumbling mutinously under his breath.

She didn't know why she had to drag him along. She was not too pleased about being appointed his unofficial babysitter, but she supposed it couldn't be helped. She had given Harry Malfoy's wand for safekeeping, and he had stowed it in the pocket of his robes, far away from Malfoy himself.

"Where are we going?" demanded Malfoy.

"We're going to visit an old friend," said Hermione flatly. She hoped Malfoy could make it through this encounter without forcing her to bind his jaw shut. Wait a minute—what was she thinking? She would love to curse Draco Malfoy's jaw shut. It would probably brighten her day considerably. She smiled.

"What's so damn funny?" asked Malfoy, glaring at her.

"Nothing," she said rather quickly. "Oh look! We're here!"

The house was rather tiny and simple. They approached the door, unconsciously moving into a V-shaped formation as they went, with Harry in the front and his companions flanking him on either side. He reached forward and knocked on the door. Hermione dearly hoped he was home, and they hadn't come out all this way in vain.

A smile curled onto her lips as the door opened and she found herself staring into the eyes of her former Professor. Remus Lupin stared back at them from the doorway. His clothes were as shabby as ever, and his face was pallid, but he looked happier than she had ever seen him. He looked pleased to see them, but also somewhat concerned.

"Harry?" asked Lupin in bewilderment. "Ron? Hermione? What are you doing here? Are you all right?" His eyes fell on Malfoy, who scowled at him.

"We're fine Remus," said Harry reassuringly. "We just wanted to talk."

"Oh," said Lupin, relaxing slightly. "Well then, please come in." He stepped sideways and extended a welcoming hand. "We were just—"

There was a loud crashing sound from the back of the house as something that was apparently very fragile met a noisy and untimely demise. It was immediately accompanied by an apologetic female voice.

"I'm sorry! I'll fix that one too!" she yelled.

"—cleaning," finished Lupin, wincing.

000

They shuffled out of the foyer and into the kitchen. The Trio looked perfectly at home. Draco on the other hand, probably would have taken off for the door if it hadn't been for Granger's vice-like grip on his arm.

"Are you thirsty?" asked the werewolf. He walked over to one of the cabinets. "I'm sorry, I haven't been…here…very much lately, but I do have some—"

Human blood? supplied Draco silently.

"—tea." He pulled a box out of the cabinet.

"Tea would be lovely," said Granger warmly. How could they interact with him like this? Being around the werewolf made him uneasy. He had not enjoyed interacting with Greyback over the past few months. He sort of expected Lupin to leap forward and tear his throat out at any moment—but Lupin merely smiled pleasantly and conjured some water.

The half-breed's house was definitely not what he expected. Then again, he hadn't expected a house at all—more of a small cave littered with decaying human bones—but there it was. It was small, and extremely plain. It didn't have nearly as many stupid knickknacks as the Granger's house did. He liked Granger's house better. Stupid half-breed.

…

Stupid Granger.

In a few moments, there were five steaming cups of chamomile tea sitting on the table before him. Draco eyed Lupin suspiciously, deciding that he was definitely not thirsty.

Lupin cast a few fleeting glances at him, then looked at Potter.

"Harry—" he began.

"It's all right, Remus," said Potter. "He's with us—not that any of us are pleased with that arrangement—but it can't really be helped."

Draco angrily opened his mouth to fill them all in on just exactly how pleased he was to have gone from visiting the Mudblood's tasteless hovel to a half-breed wastrel's tasteless hovel, but Granger flicked her wand and his jaw suddenly snapped shut.

"He's not allowed to talk," she said, smiling cheerfully. At that moment, a pink haired girl in a pair of torn jeans bounded into the kitchen. She was clutching what looked like an excessively lacy bit of lingerie in her hand.

"Remus, I swear I had a purple one of these yesterday, and I think I left it in your—"

The girl stopped dead when she saw them, her eyes wide. She squeaked and violently hurled the undergarment over her shoulder into the living room behind her as casually as possible. The five of them gawked at her. Weasley choked impressively on his tea, while everyone else merely blushed.

"Remus…" she said squeakily. "You didn't tell me we had guests…"

Draco stared at her through narrowed eyes. He was pretty sure he recalled her as a disowned cousin or something. Merlin and Agrippa. The thought of the bloodline those two freaks would produce if they decided to procreate was beyond horrifying.

000

"Would you like something to drink, Nymphadora?" offered Lupin, who sounded absolutely calm despite his obviously flushed cheeks.

"Sure," she said, talking a seat next to Lupin. "And don't call me, Nymphadora," she added stubbornly, though she said it in an almost endearing tone. Hermione sighed fondly. She had hoped Remus and Tonks would work through whatever it was they needed to work through. He did deserve a little happiness, after all. He was a good man, and a very good teacher. She had missed him fiercely in DADA for the past few years. If there was one thing she absolutely hated, it was incompetent teachers.

Lupin conjured a tea cup and poured some hot water into it.

"Well," said Lupin bracingly, with a small smile. "Other than shattering what remains of my dignity, what all did you want to talk about?"

"Regulus Black," said Ron.

"Do you remember anything about him?" asked Harry.

"Regulus?" said Lupin, leaning back thoughtfully in his chair. "Well, he was about two years behind Sirius, and in Slytherin. I never really talked to him. Sirius hated him though. I suppose it was a sibling thing. Hexed him whenever he got the chance."

"What was he like?" asked Hermione.

"He was fairly quiet," said Lupin. "But he was very intelligent. He was particularly interested in Alchemy—I believe that's what he wanted to study when he left school. He even used his family's connections to study with Nicolas Flamel over the summer sixth year. Sirius complained about that for weeks."

"And—he joined—"

"Yes, he was almost definitely a Death Eater. Sirius was sure of it, at least."

They all looked quickly at Malfoy. Malfoy, whose jaw was fused shut, said nothing. He scowled.

"Remus," said Hermione. "This—might sound like a bit of an odd question, but—was there any kind of nickname that Sirius had for Regulus?"

"A nickname?" Lupin furrowed his brow thoughtfully. "I believe…he called him 'Peaches.' Or a variety of girl's names."

"Peaches?"

"Not the most clever or mature of nicknames, but Sirius seemed pleased with it. He was a bit of an idiot at that age," added Lupin fondly.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other. Hermione was smiling broadly. Harry looked quietly pleased. Ron was staring at the doorway to the room where Tonks had tossed her lacy magenta bra as though mesmerized. Harry stood up first.

"Thank you, Remus," he said sincerely. "And thanks for the tea, but we really must be on our way."

"Of course," said Lupin. They all stood up and moved towards the door. "I hope I've been of some help, though I really haven't any idea what you're doing…" They looked at each other nervously. Harry opened his mouth, but Lupin held up his hand for silence. "Harry—whatever your task is—its fulfillment has been designated specifically to you by—" Lupin swallowed. "Dumbledore. And that task should remain yours alone."

Harry nodded blankly. Hermione could see the pain in Lupin's eyes when he mentioned Dumbledore's name. The Headmaster had given a great deal to many people—Lupin being one of the greatest benefactors. Without Dumbledore, she realized in alarm, he wouldn't even be educated…how could the world be so cruel and ignorant about so many things?

"Where to now?" asked Ron, as they trudged away from Lupin's house. Lupin and Tonks waved goodbye cheerfully from the doorway behind them. Hermione was still pulling Malfoy along by the arm.

"Unfortunately…" said Harry wincing. "We have to go to the Dursley's…"

"Bloody hell," grumbled Ron. "Do we really have to?"

"I gave Dumbledore my word…" said Harry, shrugging apologetically. "I suppose…I have promises to keep..." He sighed, striding ahead of the group.

And miles to go before I sleep…finished Hermione's brain automatically, though she wasn't quite sure why.

000

Draco traipsed along beside Granger, not entirely pleased with the way his life was currently going. However, he was at least pleased that his jaw had regained its full range of motion.

"Who are the Dursleys?" he asked, frowning at Granger.

"The horrid Muggle relatives that Harry lives with," said Granger shortly, still looking straight ahead as she made her way through the woods.

"Muggles?" blurted out Draco in disgust. First the Mudblood's house, then the half-breed freak's house, and now he had to go to some filthy Muggle hole? Why bother? Why didn't he just throw himself into a pile of dragon dung, roll around a bit, and call it a day?

Granger gave him an icy stare. In retrospect, he decided that Granger's icy glare served as a much better instrument for getting him to shut the hell up than any curse could ever do.

000

AN: Yes, Lupin and Tonks won the race. I hope my characterization of them wasn't too off, lol. I'm a huge L/T shipper, I'm not ashamed to admit it. Fred and George came in second, so I think we might pay a visit to Diagon Alley next chapter…mwa ha ha…

Aislynn Crowdaughter: The diary is not a Horcrux, but awesome guess! Just to clarify for everybody, Regulus is definitely dead.

xOxOkIsSmYaSsXoXo: Yes, I know, it was mean to kill off Narcissa. I'm sorry. What can I say? I thrive on angst.

Portia Malfoy: I made up the memory retrieval spell, because I'm weird like that. If you read "Legacy," you'll notice that I have a strange obsession with Pensieves, lol. I make up spells by looking up random words like "Mind" or "Close" on an online English to Latin dictionary. Hehehe, it seems to work well.

My sister pointed out to me that I seem to employ a constant oscillation between angst and humor in my stories. I think I inherited that from watching too much Buffy. Mmm….Flangst. I see the D/H ship as a similar to the Spike/Buffy ship. Hehe. If you hate Buffy, don't worry—this just means that I will be putting Draco in leather pants.

Thanks for reviewing! Keep 'em coming. If anyone posts questions, I'll do my best to answer them.