A/N: This one is definitely shorter than normal, but this is simply plot buildup since the climax starts. Soon.

Completely unbetaed, please let me know of any mistakes you see.

xoxo, carm


The seventh of April was drawing closer.

He'd never dreaded a holiday as much as this one. It was the end of March, and that meant he had roughly a week left to figure out how he was going to manage his way around this. There was really no way out, not even if – by some miracle – the Order had figured out a way to save him.

So he would proceed as planned, but with an abundant amount of caution.

That began with him using Occlumency more, with him slowly pulling away from Granger. He didn't like it, and he knew that she would notice, but he had no other game plan at this point.

A small part of him had a nagging suspicion that the Order would wind up abandoning him, or leaving him to fend for himself, and that was a possibility that he couldn't cope with.

How was he even supposed to get her to the Manor? Fake a family emergency? Say he wanted to introduce her to his parents? No, none of that would go over well. She was too smart – she would immediately see right through it, especially with how odd he'd been acting lately in an attempt to distance himself.

Voldemort had clearly not thought this through. Yes, Draco was smart, but he didn't think he would have had this in him. He had realized mid-mission that he'd never hated Granger. Just resented her because he had to. Because he was raised to.

But he never did. Not really. That much was obvious to anyone conscious with eyes.

There was really no way around it. He was going to either have to Imperio her or drag her, but lying to her was clearly not an option.

Fuck. He was so fucked. He was going to lose, and he was going to lose everything. Thoughts started flying around in his mind at an unprecedented rate. His mother, Hermione, his own bloody life... and that was about where the list ended. He would have to make sure to leave some gold to Theo and Blaise so that they could leave the country. He would leave some for Granger too, but he knew she wouldn't flee.

And now he was thinking about his will. This was so fucked. He wanted to drink, but he didn't think there was any Firewhisky in the castle.

Before he could let himself slip back into a panic, he started the grounding technique that Blaise had taught him. After a while, he realized that it was Hogwarts. And he'd heard it been said that help would always be given to those who asked for it.

But he wondered if that would extend to a lonely Slytherin who had made all the wrong choices as much as it did to the Golden Trio?


The last few days for Hermione had been spent in frantic correspondence with Shacklebolt, Moody, and Remus. There was something about involving Dumbledore (more than the adults already have) that she didn't fully agree with. It was nearing the Easter holidays, and Hermione knew that Draco would most likely be called home, and from what she had gathered, 'home' was a fairly loose term when it came to describing Malfoy Manor.

So, she'd been trying to make hasty arrangements in order to either keep him at Hogwarts, or bring him to one of their safehouses. It was difficult, since no one had actually been able to speak directly to Draco. There hadn't yet been an opportunity to question him under Veritaserum or look through some of his memories in a Pensieve.

Truth be told, it was a struggle. More than she'd expected. And while she had never been one to shy away from a challenge, it was getting to be a bit disheartening.

In order to draw her mind away from the chaotic mess it had become, she found him after class and insisted they have dinner together. It felt to her like they hadn't really seen each other lately, and while she blamed it on the extra amount of homework they'd received as of late, she couldn't help but feel like there was something else there.

No, now she was overthinking it. Everything was fine.

The half hour they spent eating together was the driest thirty minutes she'd ever experienced. Since Theo and Blaise were otherwise occupied, it was just the two of them for dinner that night. He would barely speak to her unless she pressed – hard – for an answer. His complexion almost looked grey, and he most definitely wasn't eating enough. And it was almost enough to chalk it up to stress, but there was that niggling again – something more was at play.

Now, she thought, it was okay to be more worried.

When she left dinner, she went straight to the Owlery and sent off three owls, all with the same exact letter, but addressed differently. She needed answers, and quickly.

Hermione knew this was all a massive security risk and that they needed to make arrangements, but for Godric's sake, couldn't they do it a little bit faster?

She'd done all she could to convince them, even gotten Harry and Ron on her side. But she knew that since they were adults and they were 'children,' that they would need to put more effort into validating their claims.

Hermione was supposedly the Brightest Witch of Her Age – but she hadn't won a war. Not yet.

And until she watched Harry beat Voldemort at his own game, she knew that she had no real value to the rest of the Order.

It was infuriating, quite frankly. But it was also true.

Yes, Harry and Ron definitely would have died or been stranded in their first year, yes they wouldn't have put two and two together in second year if it weren't for her note, but in most people's eyes, it was Harry that had done all that. Hermione had just been along for the ride.

As disheartening as it was, she'd grown used to it. And when they did win, she was going to grab the Wizarding World by the throat and take what was rightfully hers – respect. Acknowledgement. Her own name.

But that was a problem for another time. Right now, she needed to go figure out why her boyfriend was acting so odd. Despite herself, she smiled a little. It was nice to pretend that she was normal, even for a second.

She stormed down to where she knew the common room entrance to be, sending a Patronus inside to summon him out to her. Her hair was sparking with frustration, and she knew it outwardly seemed that she really was on the warpath.

"Bloody hell, Granger, what's the issue?" Draco asked as he half-stormed out the door.

Oh, he did not just go there. "The issue?" she nearly shrieked. "The issue is that you've barely said more than three words to me in almost a week! That is the issue!"

He scoffed, not meeting her eye, and that was answer enough.

"What, Malfoy, cat got your tongue? Not even a snide remark? What has gotten into you?" she asked, perplexed. The fact that he couldn't even spare her a comment had her seriously concerned.

Something really was wrong. Her heart sped up, her throat suddenly became like the Sahara, and she fought hard to keep from spiraling.

"I'm just going through a lot right now, Granger, and not all of it concerns you," he bit back harshly. "Can't a man have his own secrets for once?"

Hermione's voice dropped low with anger, and she stepped in to crowd him. "Not when your secrets involve what they do," she said, keeping it vague in case someone happened to be listening in. "Because no, you can't."

Draco shook his head, appalled. "I am not having this conversation with you, Granger. At least not right now." And with that, he spun on his heel and disappeared back into the common room.

Her mouth was hanging open and she was gaping like a fish. What had just happened? Had he really walked away from her?

Maybe now she understood what he'd meant all those months ago when he would bitch and moan and gripe about how her constantly walking away from him pissed him off.


Draco knew that he'd done plenty of fucked up things in his life.

And what's more, he knew that he more than likely deserved whatever waited for him after he kicked the bucket and succumbed to that abyss. But he didn't really plan on it happening anytime soon.

It had been an extraordinary long few days, and the fact that he didn't have Granger's perfect cunt to distract him was not helping. He groaned internally, banging his head against the wall of the staircase he was sulking in.

He longed for a bottle of Firewhisky, but there was no way he was going all the way to Hogsmeade in this weather. There was still snow on the ground and it was brutally cold.

But the longer he sat, the more he stewed, going in pointless, endless circles.

Draco thought until he felt sure that his brain would combust. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars on his lids. Without a second thought, he was on his feet and heading to Snape's office.

He was a man on a mission. He was lucky it was late and no one tried to bother him. Drawing his wand and casting a spell to push the door open (dramatically, as it were), he burst his way into the room.

Snape didn't even look up – of course he didn't. "Yes?" he drawled in his low monotone.

"I won't do it." His voice was firm, but his heart was thudding in his chest. "I refuse."

"Of course you do. Mr. Malfoy, since it seems that you lack any true backbone, I did see this coming," Snape said, completely unsurprised, flicking his wand to close the door.

"What?" Draco said, completely caught off guard.

Snape rose from his chair, moving across the room as Draco sat in the chair across from his desk. Did Snape purposely make the opposing chair uncomfortable so they didn't want to stay? Knowing him, he even went so far as to place a charm on it to make it that way.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to follow through with the plan from the moment I laid it out for you." He paused for dramatics, sorting through some bottles. Draco flinched slightly as they clinked against each other. "The moment I said that the Granger girl was your target, I knew that you would lose. Either you would actually fall for the vile girl, or you would fail miserably." He paused again. "And so it would seem that I was right. On both counts."

Draco's jaw was agape. Snape was poised, waiting for a response. After what felt like a lifetime, his answer came, low and raw. He clenched his jaw and looked away, digging his nails into the arm of the chair. "I love her," he ground out. "I don't regret it for a second, and I wouldn't change anything about it."

"That's a bold statement," came his reply. "Tell us how you really feel."

Rolling his eyes, Draco bit back a choice remark or seven, instead opting for, "I could, but I suspect that's not what you want to hear."

"You would be right, Mr. Malfoy. I couldn't care less what you are... feeling." He spit the word out like it poisoned him. "This is about business. When you fail, a whole part of his plan will be severely lacking."

He couldn't help himself. "And don't you think that the fact that the Dark Lord's plan hinges entirely on me is probably slightly concerning for someone so hell bent on world domination?"

"As I said all those months ago, it is not wise to question his wishes, and I will remind you to mind your tone."

"No!" Draco shouted, rising from his chair. "I won't condemn her to this. I may be an executioner, but I refuse to be the one that leads her up to the gallows." His chest was heaving, cheeks flushed as he watched Snape sit back down calmly in his chair.

"Very well," he said. "Lucky for you, some of us happen to have a contingency plan." He flicked his wand, and a gust of air pushed a flustered Draco towards the door before he could ask any questions that he wouldn't get answers to regardless. "You're dismissed."