A/N: I've been having computer issues for the last week. Luckily, nothing that's caused me to lose any files, but my battery was shot, and I had to take it in to get it fixed. It's going to be another week until I get it back, sadly. In the meantime, I saved this chapter to my flashdrive, and I borrowed a laptop so I could post it!

"You did it," said a voice, and Draco startled. Cygna stood a few paces away, watching him with vague amusement. Draco sighed, and rested his head back on his arms again, looking up at the sky.

It had been one day since he and the troublesome Gryffindors had emerged from the Chamber, sweaty, dirty, and very much ready for a shower. As he'd requested, the Weasleys and Longbottom had made no mention of him when they told their tale to the Headmaster, although Draco had noticed Dumbledore looking at him contemplatively that morning at breakfast and wondered if he knew, anyway.

He couldn't regret making sure his name had stayed out of the official story, however. Draco hadn't seen him arrive, but he'd spotted his father as he left, kicking their poor house elf down the hall in front of him. If that was how furious his father had been that Dumbledore was reinstated, he didn't want to think about how he'd react if he learned that Draco had been involved.

But his father's temper wasn't the reason he was down by the Black Lake, staring up at the clouds for answers.

Before they'd left the third floor girl's bathroom, the youngest Weasley had run back and given him a quick hug.

"Thanks, Draco," she'd said, smiling at him, and then skipping back to her brother.

They'd planned to leave the bathroom separately, anyway, but Draco stood by himself a minute longer, feeling… well, he hadn't been sure.

"What's wrong?" Cygna asked, sitting cross-legged beside him.

"Nothing," Draco said quickly, but he made the mistake of meeting her eyes. Her green orbs seemed to draw up all his secrets and make him want to tell her all of them. He wondered if she knew Legilimency and could read his mind. She knew a lot of magic, clearly. The last time he'd seen her, she'd apparated away in front of him.

"How old are you, anyway?" Draco asked her, glancing away.

"Twelve," she said, serenely. "Same as you."

"Why aren't you in school? And how are you so good at magic?"

Cygna shrugged. "The centaurs thought it was better if I didn't. And I think they're much better at teaching magic than your professors, anyway."

"I'll say," Draco snorted. "Our Defense professor, at least, was rubbish this year. But I bet Snape is better than any Potions centaur you learned from."

Cygna hummed, in agreement or not, he couldn't tell. It was quiet for a minute, and the mild breeze sending small waves to lap the stones at the edge of the lake was the only noise to be heard.

"What's really bothering you?" She asked, some time later.

"Have you ever… done the right thing for the wrong reason?" Draco asked, keeping his eyes fixed on a cloud that looked like a bird.

"Yes," she said, quietly, and paused for a moment before adding, "Why?"

"The Weasley girl," Draco said. "She thanked me, and – and hugged me, and it was nice, to be thanked, but I didn't do it for her, she's a blood traitor. I had to get rid of the book because if – if You-Know-Who had come back he'd know my father hadn't been loyal."

Cygna was frowning down at the ground.

"And that's why," Draco finished, lamely.

"Are you sure?" she asked him.

"I – yes?" He furrowed his brows, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Cygna sighed, "that you seem to be trying very hard to convince yourself that you didn't care about this Weasley girl."

"I didn't!" Draco protested, a bit weakly, even to his own ears.

"And you didn't care about any of the people that were attacked, either?" She looked down at him, her gaze blazing as intensely as fire.

"No," Draco forced himself to say. "I hate mudbloods. And blood traitors."

"Is that really what you think?" she asked him, more softly this time.

Draco couldn't bring himself to say anything at all. The invisible line between her eyes and his seemed to rage and crash until it was almost tangible. He shook his head silently, and Cygna huffed her breath (rather like a horse, Draco thought), and the moment dissipated.

She looked back out over the lake, and Draco returned his attention to the clouds, thoughts more lost and disorganized than when he'd first come out here.

He didn't know what he thought. He knew what his father thought: that mudbloods were abominations and shouldn't be allowed to mingle with proper, pure-blooded wizards; and blood-traitors, who freely mingled with that lot, were barely better.

Muggles could hardly even be thought of as human.

Perhaps Draco would have gone on blindly believing that - and he had, before he'd come to Hogwarts. He'd been changing his views ever since he'd arrived here, he realized, uncertain whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. (But definitely not a thing that his father would be hearing about.)

The greatest evidence was Granger. Despite her bushy hair, bossiness, and muggle parents, she was easily as smart as he was. He hated her, of course - but more because she made being top in class extremely difficult than because she was a mudblood.

And just yesterday, he thought, hadn't he fought off Tom Riddle with a bunch of blood traitors? They'd been… well, they'd been annoying, but without Longbottom, he probably would have died in the Chamber by himself.

Maybe… maybe they weren't so bad.

He shook his head a little, feeling overwhelmed, and pushed himself up on his elbows.

"Want to skip rocks with me?" he asked Cygna, who turned and looked at him blankly.

"Skip rocks?"

"You – you don't know how to skip rocks?" he exclaimed, shocked. "Whatever have the centaurs been teaching you?"

"Um, archery?" Cygna said, uncertainly.

"Well, come on then," Draco said, standing and holding out his hand to her. "I will do my best to amend this serious oversight in your education."

She laughed, and grabbed his hand, and they ran down to the water's edge together.

From the treeline, some twenty meters away, two centaurs, one light, and one dark, stood watching the two children as they tossed rocks into the water.

"I am still not convinced that this friendship should be encouraged," rumbled the darker one.

"Trust me, Bane," the lighter one said calmly. "He is instrumental, and she can sway him."

"You were always one for crazy ideas, Firenze," Bane insisted. "This one is too much."

"If you do not believe me, you need only look at the stars to know the truth."

Bane grumbled. "I suppose, at the very least, no harm will come of it," he said begrudgingly, and then he stamped his feet and turned to go back into the forest.

Firenze watched on as his charge successfully skipped a rock, and hugged her very surprised companion in delight, and he smiled.

"Yes, it will be very good."

Oh, yeah, you know Firenze ships that ;)