A/N: Warning to readers: this chapter contains mentions of violence and child abuse.

/

It was the day of Slughorn's Christmas party, and Hermione was no closer to understanding exactly what Malfoy was up to in the Room of Requirement than she'd been the day of Gryffindor's Quidditch match.

Much to her relief, Harry hadn't figured out just why it seemed that Crabbe and Goyle were so often lingering in the same corridor, nor why Malfoy seemed to disappear from the Marauder's Map.

Ron, or 'Won-Won,' as Harry and Hermione often called him now— the nickname perhaps the only positive outcome of his and Lavender's relationship— couldn't seem to care less about Malfoy. Admittedly, Harry and Hermione themselves hadn't opened the Map more than a handful of times, consumed by their mounting coursework. Hermione's time was additionally consumed by Felix Felicis.

She and Theo had successfully managed to maintain the integrity of the potion in all three cauldrons for months now, handling each hiccup in stride, albeit a nervous stride, pushing the limits of their skill.

Thankfully, Slughorn had only checked in on them twice all term; it was clear he was much more interested in the product than the process.

But Hermione and Theo's greatest success had been managing not to kill one another in said process.

In fact, if they didn't know better, and perhaps if they were, for some reason, quite inebriated, they'd admit they'd even begun to form a sort of friendship, albeit a very odd and undeniably precarious one.

"I'll take good care of Felix over break, Granger," Theo announced in the humid store room, wiping his brow as he loomed over the steaming cauldrons.

Hermione wasn't sure exactly when they'd begun referring to the potion as if it were their own offspring.

"So will I," she replied simply. She hadn't bothered to tell him she wasn't leaving the castle for the holiday.

"You're staying?" Theo asked in surprise. "Don't tell me Potter and Weasley are staying, too? Joy to the world," Theo said sarcastically as he organized his potions kit, successfully masking his equal surprise and disappointment at the news.

"Just me, for your information," she said matter-of-factly, before she could stop herself.

Theo resisted the urge to look up in surprise.

Granger was not the type of student to remain in the castle over Christmas; she was the type of person who had a cozy home to return to, one with a warm fire in the hearth, the sitting room decorated with tinsel for the holiday… a home with loving parents. Theo knew her dedication to Felix matched his own, but he also knew even the chance for a taste of liquid luck was not enough for her to choose to spend the better part of her holiday in a boiling hot room bent over three volatile cauldrons… with him.

Why is she staying? He wondered.

To figure out what you and Draco are up to of course, his mind replied.

But no Potter and Weasley? The notion seemed outlandish. That must mean they don't know… which means Granger's been keeping secrets…

"Consider it your Christmas gift from me," Hermione said cheerfully, although she rather dreaded the thought of spending the holiday under the same roof as Malfoy and Nott, even one as large as the castle's.

Why hasn't Granger told them? Theo wondered.

"What—? The joy of your presence? Cocky much, Granger? Been hanging around McLaggen a bit too often, I think."

"Please don't mention that trolloping troll—" she groaned as she flipped open her Ancient Runes textbook to prepare for an exam scheduled later that day.

"Language, dear. Oh, I can't wait to see that git's face when you walk into Slughorn's party with Potter tonight… only reason I'm going, really."

Hermione grimaced at the thought of yet another confrontation, unable to focus on Runes. It was one thing to handle a conflict between Malfoy and Harry, that she was used to at least, but the idea of breaking up a fight between Harry and McLaggen, with Theo looking on in amusement, was downright abysmal.

"How do you even know I'm going with Harry?"

"Seriously? The whole school knows you two are going together… I'm not sure who's more pathetic though— Potter, or the herds of cows who still insist on stalking his every move."

Theo suddenly realized he actually felt a little sorry for Hermione.

If only those girls knew who they were up against… he thought, recalling the maniacal look in Granger's eyes when she'd questioned him under the influence of Veritaserum.

She would've worded it differently, but Hermione admitted Theo was right.

The last few weeks leading up to Slughorn's party had been plagued by gaggles of giggling girls lurking under mistletoe, waiting for Harry to walk by, or to scurry away when they spotted her nearing. She'd even overheard Romilda Vane plotting with about a half dozen other girls in the bathroom; they planned to slip Harry a bit of the love potions they'd sent for— disguised as perfumes and cough potions to slip by Filch— from Fred and George's shop.

"And that's only the half of it," Hermione mumbled.

Theo arched an eyebrow, "Care to enlighten me with the other half?"

"Let's just say I'd like to throttle Fred and George Weasley right about now."

"I knew you and Filch had a lot in common… you're meant for each other."

Hermione rolled her eyes, failing to hide her reluctant smile.

"Don't tell Madam Pince, I don't think she could handle the thought of competition… and I really don't fancy being banned from the library," she replied as she diverted her attention back to her Runes.

Theo laughed out loud. "Pince and Filch, eh? Talk about a match made in hell…"

Hermione grinned without looking up from her book.

"But Granger, you should have a little sympathy, no? Not every girl has the luxury of capturing the attention of not one, but— let's see… Krum, Potter, McLaggen…" Theo counted on his fingertips.

…and Draco, he thought, quickly erasing the idea from his mind. Even I don't have the mental acuity to unpack that mess.

"…three Quidditch players, all without the use of love potions— unless…"

"And you were doing so well complimenting me, Nott," Hermione interrupted without looking up from a particularly complex Rune sequence.

Theo watched her review of Runes with intense intrigue, and felt the familiar, sudden rush of adrenaline he experienced whenever a new plan struck him.

He and Malfoy had managed to successfully transport an apple through the Vanishing Cabinet, but all other attempts had been dismal failures, the little yellow bird worst of all. Theo hadn't let on to Draco yet, but his own research had also reached a standstill.

Theo recognized that the magic of the Vanishing Cabinet was old— ancient even, like Floo powder and Disapparition— so modern texts were not sufficient resources for mending the cabinets' connection. Immune to the castle's wards, Sprock had, at Theo's bequest, personally delivered any and all Ancient Runes texts contained in Greystoke's expansive library. But Theo's own skill had been stretched to its limit, many of the texts nothing more than incomprehensible scribble to him.

Theo was loathe to admit it, but he and Draco needed help.

"Suddenly not a fan of the truth, Granger?" Theo said.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm surprised Potter's okay with you staying in the castle over the holiday without him… speaking of which…"

Theo paused. Draco's definitely going to throw me in the cabinet next.

"…why are you staying? McLaggen hanging around, too? Fancy some alone time with him? Or perhaps you have some special mission in mind?"

Hermione looked up in alarm and they scrutinized one another in heavy silence.

Thanks to Draco's ring, Theo and Draco knew Hermione had been trying to get into the Room of Hidden Things during the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, and they knew she'd been back since then. They'd figured Potter and Weasley were in on it, as they always seemed to be, but the new information that Hermione was remaining in the castle over break without them told Theo otherwise.

Potter and Weasley don't know…

Theo knew it was possible Hermione was simply trying to get into the room for some other purpose, but that seemed too good to be true. Knowing Granger as he did now, he realized it was wholly more likely she knew he and Draco were in there.

He certainly had second (and third, and fourth) thoughts about letting Granger know he and Draco were onto her, and despite knowing Draco would surely murder him for letting on, Theo found he couldn't resist— it was no secret she excelled at Ancient Runes, her understanding far beyond even his own.

Theo saw that her knowledge could be the key to mending the cabinets.

It was a hunch (and an outlandish one at that), but Theo considered perhaps Granger could and would help them.

At any rate, he was bordering on desperation. Draco continued to refuse Snape's help, and they were running out of options, and time.

Does he know? Hermione wondered, remembering Malfoy's comment the night she'd orchestrated her bird barrage. It seemed Malfoy had somehow known she'd been waiting for them outside Room of Requirement during the match.

But how do they know? She asked herself again.

"Special mission? What do you mean?" She asked, doing her utmost to keep her voice even.

"You tell me."

He definitely knows, Hermione thought. "Looking for another opportunity to down some Veritaserum, Nott?"

Nott sighed. She was as exasperating as Draco.

"Look. Let's not fuck around, Granger. I don't know how you know, and I'm not about to tell you how I know… but I'm sure you've been lurking around the seventh floor, one room in particular. And I'm sure that you know Draco and I have been inside that particular room."

Hermione bit her lip in silence.

She knows, all right, Theo mused. Well, now she definitely knows, you git— you just told her, a voice that sounded rather like Draco's answered.

Theo shook his head.

"So humor me for a minute. Let's take a stroll down memory lane. I want you to bring yourself back to last year. Umbridge— let's just call her the Bitch-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named— and the pathetic group of ne'er-do-wells that called themselves the Inquisitorial Squad— yes, I'm including my dear misguided friend, Draco—" Theo added, noting Hermione's look of surprise.

Hermione cringed at the memory. She preferred to forget about Umbridge and the Inquisitorial Squad.

"Well, they just caught you and Potter and the rest of your little fellowship up to no good in her office. The Bitch-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named has a thing for the Unforgivable curses, you see, and Potter's her favorite target."

Hermione suddenly found she could not meet Nott's eyes, the memory too painful.

"You and Potter and the rest are defenseless. You watch her raise her wand, ready to cast the perfect Cruciatus."

"What are you getting at, Nott?" Hermione breathed, her anger rising. Nott hadn't been there, she realized, he hadn't been in the Inquisitorial Squad— so she reasoned Malfoy must have recounted the incident in exquisite, no doubt gloating, detail.

"You knew you were in that position in the first place because ignorant, impulsive Potter just can't help himself… but even so, you would've done anything in that moment, anything to help him. I know it."

"So what?" She snapped, crossing her arms over her chest, doing her best to bury the now-resurfaced fear and desperation of that moment.

"I know because I'm living that moment now, too…" Theo sighed, knowing he was about to breach the point of no return.

"Draco's caught between a fool's errand and the receiving end of a wand poised to cast an Unforgiveable— and I don't think I need to say which Unforgiveable."

A tense silence stretched between them.

"Harry is a good person, with good intentions. Anyone with good intentions would want to help him. Why do you want to help Malfoy? He's—"

"An arse? I know… but he's not heartless. Sounds an awful lot like Potter to me."

"I don't believe you— when have Malfoy's intentions ever been good?"

"You talk about him like you know him… but you don't."

"And let me guess— you do?" She rolled her eyes. "You've only become friends this year…"

"That's not true. We've—"

He paused, wondering how much he should reveal. He was also deeply uncomfortable sharing details about his own life and upbringing.

It's the only way, his mind urged.

"Draco and I have been friends our whole lives."

Hermione listened, trying her best to keep her expression impassive to mask her piqued interest.

"Humor me again, Granger," Theo said as he began to unbutton his shirt.

"Nott—! What the—?" She turned away.

"Prude much? Or are you just scared you won't be able to resist me?" He couldn't help but grin at her obvious discomfort.

"I'm leaving!"

"Honestly, Granger? Just look… I'm not trying to seduce you, I'm showing you my scar."

She turned back to face him with extreme hesitation, and saw that Nott had indeed unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a light red scar stretching jaggedly down the center of his chest.

"Nott… what…?"

"Let's just say our little interview was hardly my first experience with Veritaserum. You've met Lucius Malfoy before, haven't you? Well, imagine him, but with serious anger issues and entirely less patient. That's my father."

"Your—"

"—yes, my father. The man has always had a rather unique parenting style."

Hermione's eyes widened in horror at the implication of his words.

"You're telling me your— your father did that?" Hermione's eyes flicked again to the scar on his chest.

Theo nodded.

"The worst of if happened when I was about eight. I'd only just realized our house-elves were not willing servants at all, but brainwashed slaves… and I wasted no time giving my clothing away."

"Freeing them," Hermione interjected with surprise, recalling how Harry had managed to free Dobby from Malfoy servitude with a sock.

"Right. It was months before my father even noticed our house-elves were disappearing, but when he did, well… he wasted no time interrogating me. You see, I was what Draco likes to refer to as a 'problem child.'"

Hermione listened in awed, and horrified, silence.

"As usual, I tried to resist his Veritaserum the best I could… by then it was actually starting to take him longer and longer to get answers… I was getting better at resisting it, you see… but I failed eventually, obviously. No one can resist Veritaserum completely, especially not a scrawny eight year old. I think the effort must've nearly killed me— I didn't have a voice and I could barely get out of bed for three months afterward."

He paused, but Hermione discovered she could not speak.

"But now I have this lovely souvenir," Theo continued, gesturing to the scar on his chest. "You know, to remember the good times."

"Nott, I—"

Theo shook his head. He didn't want her sympathy. The memory of the incident still stung, not because of the pain he'd endured, but because of the pain he'd unwittingly inflicted.

"My punishment paled in comparison to the punishment dear old dad inflicted on the remaining house-elves who'd failed to mention the other elves had been freed."

Theo cringed at the horrifying memory, of Sprock's injuries; the elf still limped every time it rained.

"Nott…" Hermione whispered, still finding it difficult to find her own voice. "I…"

She knew Harry's childhood had been awful— raised by an abusive aunt and uncle who didn't want him, a cousin who took every opportunity to bully him— but she'd never imaged Nott, the sole heir of a wealthy, pureblood family, could have possibly endured much the same… or worse.

"What does this have to do with Malfoy?" She asked gently.

"Like I said, I could barely get out of bed for three months afterward. Apparently, Draco hadn't heard from me in a while, so he showed up at my front door. At the time, the new elves were too frightened to come near me and the house-elves that stayed were still too injured to climb the stairs or apparate… so my drunken governess let Draco in, against my father's instruction— how she managed to hang around so long baffles me… I think my father must've been fucking her, now that I think about it— anyway, Draco found me and I know I probably looked about as good as Weasley."

Hermione listened in stunned silence despite the dig at Ron.

"Draco kept sneaking back to try to help me, in the way an eight-year-old could, anyway. He brought me healing potions and salves— most of which I gave to the injured house-elves, by the way, but that's another story— he tried to cheer me up… even managed to petrify my governess a few times," Theo sighed heavily, the ghost of a smile on his lips at the memory.

"You see Granger, Draco did this all at great risk to his own personal safety. If my father had found out he'd been helping me… or if his father had discovered what he was getting up to…"

"Malfoy's father was abusive too?"

He had never heard anyone say it before, and even though there was no denying the truth of it, the sound of the words strung together gave Theo pause.

Father was abusive. I was abused.

He shook his head.

"'Suppose you might say so. Lucius is more the emotionally- and mentally- abusive type though."

Hermione felt equally touched and horrified at hearing this information, yet not entirely surprised, having witnessed Lucius' behavior firsthand. Admittedly, she was also touched by Theo's story, and wished she could've been the friend to Harry that Draco had been for Theo before their time at Hogwarts.

She shook her head, unconvinced. This is Malfoy he's talking about— Draco. Malfoy.

One act of common decency did not simply make a person good, nor did it prove that the person's intentions were good.

"So Malfoy isn't completely wretched. It's still not the same," she said firmly, now meeting Theo's hazel eyes. "It doesn't mean he has good intentions… it doesn't mean he cares about anyone but himself now…"

Hermione tried not to ponder the details of what Theo had just explained. Instead, she thought of the Dark Mark that was likely under Malfoy's sleeve, the one she had yet to actually see for herself.

"Malfoy chose—" she began.

"—the only thing Draco chose was to take the opportunity to try to save himself, and his mother—" Theo snapped sharply, remembering Draco's frenzy after seeing Narcissa's torture at the hands of Voldemort. "As any person with a soul would."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. So it's true.

At Hermione's expression, Theo knew he'd said too much. Desperation does funny things to a person, he considered humorlessly.

But Theo knew better; it wasn't so much his own desperation as it was loyalty that pushed him to ask for Granger's help. He knew he was certainly betraying Draco's confidence, but Theo felt his loyalty to his best friend's continued ability to keep his heart beating trumped all else.

"Don't you think the Malfoys deserve—"

"Who are you to decide who deserves what fate, Granger? You sounded an awful lot like my father, just then, casting judgement and punishment. Don't make me question your intelligence, you're better than that. I know Potter and Weasley consider themselves and their whole cult of do-gooders as innocents, that they can do no wrong, but you and I know that no one is innocent."

Hermione crossed her arms firmly over her chest. "I'll admit right and wrong isn't black and white, but Malfoy— after everything he's said to me and Harry and Ron, after everything he's done?"

He knew Hermione was right, in part. He recognized Draco had been cruel; Theo could not deny his friend's past.

But people change.

"He's no saint, but neither are you, if I'm not mistaken. I have two words for you, Marietta— Edgecombe—"

"But—"

"Here's three more— Cormac fucking McLaggen—"

"They deserved it!"

"There you go again, Granger, deciding what people deserve. So you're saying Draco deserves to die for his mistakes?"

"No— I—"

"I didn't think so."

They stared at one another in heated silence.

"I don't believe you," Hermione said quietly. "Malfoy's after glory. He only cares about himself," her voice betrayed her uncertainty.

She couldn't shake the memory of Narcissa Malfoy's gentle hand on Draco's shoulder, nor the obvious discomfort he'd shown for the dying bird… she couldn't ignore the complexity she'd now observed time after time in Draco's gray eyes… as gray as the path that laid before her now… as gray as how she felt about him…

"And here we are again, Granger. But if you think I'm letting any more Veritaserum near me…" He buttoned up his shirt.

"Why should I believe you?" She interrupted.

The question caught him off guard, but he did not falter.

"Because lives hang in the balance, Granger, and I know you can help us…"

"Get someone else's help."

"Look, I'm not happy to say this, but you're the only one. I know it. I—we— need your help."

"I'm willing to bet Malfoy doesn't even know you're asking me for help, does he? He'd never want my help…"

"Malfoy doesn't know what's good for him."

"And you do?"

"Well… yes," Theo answered simply, as if it were obvious. "Like you know what's best for Potter."

"Why are you telling me all this? I should go to Dumbledore—"

"Don't you think I considered that you'd run off to the Headmaster— although, is he even Headmaster anymore? He's never here— but don't you think I considered that you'd tell McGonagall, or Potter, or the Order? Of course I did. But you haven't told Potter and Weasley that you know Draco and I are in the Room of Requirement, or Hidden things, or whatever the fuck it's called, have you?"

Her silence was answer enough.

"Speaking of bets… I'm willing to bet you haven't even told them about Felix."

She swallowed. Infuriating. How does he always seem to know?

Even if she could think of a lie, there was no point in it; she knew he'd see right through her.

"I haven't told Draco about Felix, either," Theo continued plainly. "He thinks we're brewing some other potion."

"I don't care."

"I think you do care. Quite a bit, too. You and Draco seem to share that little problem."

Hermione furiously shoved her book into her bag and motioned to leave, but Theo blocked her path. She stared angrily into his chest.

"Move."

"Look, Granger— I have a way of reading people… and being right about them. Don't let me be wrong about you."

/

/

"You're dead."

Theo jumped out of the way just in time; Draco's nonverbal spell rebounded off the stone wall where he'd just stood.

"Protego!" Theo gasped, managing to deflect yet another of Draco's offensive spells.

"I knew I never should've told you—"

"Stop!" Theo shouted, but his protestations were futile as ropes burst forth from Draco's wand, only to ensnare themselves around him. Theo collapsed to the floor, struggled against the binds.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't murder you right now."

"Oh, Malfoy," Theo tried to reply cooly as he continued to struggle. "We both know you're no killer—"

"Shut the fuck up, Nott!" Draco exclaimed in anger as he pointed his wand between Theo's eyes.

"Struck a nerve, didn't I? Interesting…"

"I told you to shut the hell up—"

"But you told me to give you a good reason not to kill me. Which is it, Draco? You're sending mixed signals. You and Granger really are made for each other."

"You know what? I'll just wipe your memory. Less mess. It's been easy enough with Crabbe and Goyle, so your mind shouldn't be any more difficult… it'll be easier probably."

"That hurts," Theo replied dryly, still wriggling on the floor as Draco lorded over him.

"Hold still," Draco said as he aimed his wand again.

"Wait—!" Theo exclaimed. "Just— just wait a bleeding second—"

"Times up, Theo. You blew it the second you decided to open your fat mouth to Granger—"

"—memory charm. It's a great idea— it just might work…"

"What the hell are you—" Draco fumed.

"Listen to me," Theo said evenly. He was making it up as he went along, but he knew it was the only way.

Theo knew Draco would never accept Snape's help, and there was no way they'd be able to figure out how to mend the cabinet in time without help. Granger was the only way… and he had to convince Draco to agree.

"We can wipe her memory. We use her to fix the cabinet, but the second it's done, we use a memory charm."

"We won't get the opportunity to wipe her memory. She's not daft like Potter and Weasley— the second she sees the cabinet she'll remember the one from Borgin's, and she'll know I'm trying to—"

Draco stared at Theo in silence. He still hadn't told Theo exactly what he planned to do once the cabinets were fixed, and he wasn't about to.

"Trying to what, Draco? Contrary to popular belief, I'm no fool either. I have a strong feeling I know exactly what you plan to do once the cabinets' connection is repaired—"

"Well, it doesn't change the fact that the second she sees it she'll run to Potter, or Dumbledore, or the fucking Order," retorted Draco.

"I told you, Granger hasn't told anyone that we've been in the Room of Hidden Things. She hasn't even told Potter and Weasley about our potion for Slughorn. And if she hasn't told them by now… she's not going to."

"She hasn't told anyone about that scar on her collarbone either…" Draco murmured, more to himself than to Theo.

"Scar?" Theo questioned, his eyes widening in surprise. It was the first he'd heard of Granger's scar. There was obviously a lot more at play between Draco and Granger than he'd suspected. "Not from the necklace—?"

Theo took Draco's silence as confirmation of his suspicions, and as a moment of opportunity.

"I told you, our research is going nowhere. It's worth the risk if she can help us fix the cabinet… she's still wearing he necklace, even after it— burned her, or whatever. And you said she hasn't told anyone about it? She hasn't told anyone a damn thing about anything. Merlin knows why… but it doesn't change the fact that she's been silent. And how would it look if she decided to tell now that's she's kept so many secrets all this time?"

Theo took a deep breath. "She's not going to tell."

He of course could not be certain of this, but he had his inklings. And his inklings were usually right.

"I don't believe you," Draco said truthfully.

It was risky, Draco knew, and it seemed more trouble than it was worth, but Voldemort's threat loomed over him— his mother's life, and his own, hanging in the balance. And time was marching on, relentless.

"Yet another item to add to the list of things you and Granger have in common," said Theo.

Draco sighed heavily and released Theo's binds with a lazy wave of his wand. "I know I'm going to regret this."

"What difference does it make, honestly? You already regret everything…"

"Truer words have never been spoken."

"…well, everything except Granger's little necklace, of course," Theo continued as if Draco hadn't said anything at all.

Draco pivoted, and, with lightning agility, promptly punched Theo in the eye.

Theo staggered backwards, cursing.

"—FUCK— Malfoy!— What the hell was that for—?"

"For being an utter twat… don't try to pretend you didn't deserve it." Draco rubbed his knuckles and winced at the pain in his forearm. His Mark looked as bad as ever.

Theo sighed, idly thinking he might've been better off without friends… he certainly wouldn't have had to deal with quite so much pain, and annoyance, this term.

When he regained his balance and the ability to see somewhat straight, he pointed his own wand at his eye to heal himself. He rubbed his face as the pain gradually dissipated.

"C'mon," Draco announced coldly. "We're going to be late."

Draco patted the small bottle concealed in his dress robes without Theo's notice.

"I want nothing more than to get this over with," he added grimly, suddenly remembering Granger and Potter were also attending Slughorn's party… together.

/

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! A special thanks to reviewers; your thoughts and kind words keep me excited to write and post :)