Chapter 16

He's sitting at the rickety desk in his bedroom when he hears the wailings of Walburga Black float up the hallway. The werewolf hasn't left the house, so it must be somebody new. He tries to focus on the parchment in front of him. It's a letter to Mother, and though he hasn't completely worked up the courage to leave the Black house and send it, it does help to write the letter. To get the words on the page. To do something.

He doesn't turn around when he hears footsteps on the stairs, or in the hallway, but his heartbeat quickens and he needs to set down his quill. His fingers are shaking. It's not until the door to his bedroom creaks open that Draco finally allows his body to twist and look at the doorframe.

It's not her.

It's Granger.

Draco releases an angry huff of air. "What are you doing here?" he demands. "Get out."

She frowns at him. Her eyes are cold and she has that look on her face that she usually wears at school: a look of superiority and utter disdain. "Ginny told me about the two of you," she says haughtily and without preamble.

"Yeah, so I've heard. So you probably know there's no "two of us" anymore. You made sure of that, didn't you Granger?"

She seems taken aback by his anger. Draco stands up and walks towards her. He wants to blame her entirely for Ginny's last visit, but he knows Weasley wouldn't have said anything that she hadn't already been thinking. She must have been questioning her earlier actions in this bedroom, the kissing, the...rest of it. It must have all looked like one giant mistake once her mind cleared.

He can't blame Granger for helping Ginny sort out her feelings.

But he can hate her for it. "Why don't you just get out? You've already ruined this for me, so kindly fuck off."

Again, she seems taken aback by the force of his reply. "Look, Malfoy, I'm only here because I've been thinking about my talk with Ginny. I know you're bad for each other. You're just...you're a toxic human being. I think that much is obvious."

He scoffs. "Like I said: You can fuck right off, Granger."

"But she was so torn about the whole thing. I mean, in the beginning I think she was trying to actually defend your...relationship?" Her voice spikes at the end. She really does sound infuriating. "I guess maybe there's more to you than we thought." She looks uncomfortable. "The truth is, Malfoy, I would have never in a million years expected you to be here, with us, with the Order. I mean, it was always My Father this, and My Father that with you, wasn't it? You were always waiting for your Dark Lord to return, to put us Muggleborns in our place."

Draco looks away.

"But here you are, Malfoy. Here you are, hiding out in the Order's headquarters." She throws up her hands. "There's got to be something, then, that we got wrong about you."

Now he feels uncomfortable. Swipes a hand through his hair. "So what do you want, Granger? She's already made it clear that she wants to end it. She says she's damaged. Did you tell her that?"

"No!"

From downstairs, Potter's voice drifts upwards. "Hermione!"

"I'm coming!" She shouts back, but makes no move to leave.

"What do you want?" Draco asks again.

"You haven't called me Mudblood yet," she says, like she's working something out. When he doesn't answer, she continues. "I just want to know where you stand, Malfoy. Are you really on our side? Because you can't think Muggleborns are inferior and that the Weasleys are blood traitors and be on our side. It's just not possible. And I know, I know you've always believed vile things. You've always been a model Death Eater, haven't you, even when you were just a child? Everything you say, or used to say, was right up Voldemort's alley. So I just want to know, how can this same person, who's said all those things, stand in front of me now and profess to be on my side? How can that be?"

Draco can't meet her eyes. His face feels too hot, and he tries to put the walls up in his mind like his aunt had taught him. Granger is so callously giving voice to all the slippery thoughts that consumed him in those last months as he worked on the cabinet, as the doubt and fear grew bigger and heavier inside his chest.

"I won't say I never believed those things," he says quietly. He rolls up his sleeve and turns his arm towards her, the Dark Mark pulsing dully on his pale arm. Granger flinches away, her eyes wide. "I won't pretend that I didn't willingly receive this. That I wasn't proud to become the youngest Death Eater, to be honoured in this way."

"Hermione!" Potter again, but she ignores him. She's frowning, her eyes glued to the Mark, but she doesn't speak. Only stares.

"It's just...it's one thing to talk about something, and it's another thing to act on it, to see it, to live it." He looks up at her, and her eyes are wide and she's hanging on every word. "I thought I wanted the Dark Lord to rise to power. It's all I've ever wanted. It's what my father always talked about. But the truth is...the truth is the Dark Lord is a monster. And I don't..." he looks at her helplessly. "I know it's wrong. I knew it was wrong, even then, even before." He throws up his arms. "I mean, Granger, you beat me in every class we ever shared! And maybe it's all memorization and obsessive studying, and maybe you get a free ride because you're Potter's friend." He ignores her weak protests. "The fact is, there are only so many ways I can justify it to myself. I'm not blind. I can see that some things I've always been taught just don't line up with reality. But I could look past that, couldn't I? I could look past it all until the Dark Lord actually returned."

It's all coming out in a rush now, and vaguely Draco wishes he were talking to Weasley instead. She's the one who needs to hear this. "I don't want to hurt anybody, and I don't want to be in the line of spell-fire." He takes a breath. "I want to be on her side. I always thought I was on the right side of things, but it's plain to see that I wasn't. Not for me. I'm not a killer, Granger. Think of me whatever you like, but I don't get off on torturing people, on violence. I don't want that. I want..." He looks at her very closely. "I want to be on her side. Will you tell her that? Please?"

She nods dumbly.

"Good."

They can hear the old staircase creak with pounding footsteps, and Potter barges in around them. "What's going on?" he demands. He eyes Draco warily. They haven't said a word to each other in all this time, not since Potter vouched for him in McGonagall's study. His eyes fall on Draco's rolled-up sleeve, and he stares at the Dark Mark just as Granger did. "What's going on?" he says again, his tone dangerously soft.

"Nothing," Draco sneers, yanking his sleeve back down. "We're done here." Let Potter think what he will.

"I'll tell her," Granger says as she turns out of the room.

He can hear Potter's voice floating down the stairway: "Tell who?"

Draco feels too worked up to sit back down at the desk. He's laid everything out for Granger, and it's all true. He doesn't regret turning away from the Dark Lord. At the same time, he can't abandon his family. He can't stay here forever, rotting away. That's not what he signed up for. He's already got a plan. If she comes back to him, he'll tell her, and if she doesn't...he'll send her an owl after he's gone. An owl from the outside. And if they find him, and if they kill him, she'll at least know that he didn't betray her. At least not completely.

He turns to the window and something catches his eye. A flicker of movement. Suddenly he is looking at McNair and Dolohov standing on the front lawn opposite, next to the ornamental bush. They peer directly at the house, their heads bent together. Draco sucks in a breath, but when they don't move, he knows they can't see it. They begin to walk down the road, past the Muggle automobiles, heading east. Then, they double-back and head west, passing the house.

"Shit," Draco whispers.

He bursts out of his bedroom and runs down the stairs, taking two at a time. Potter, Granger, and Weasley are all sitting on a sagging velvet sofa in the living room. He runs past them and crashes through the kitchen doors.

Draco skids to a halt, his words dying on his lips.

Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks spring apart as if they'd been shocked. Draco blinks, the image of the werewolf snogging his cousin implanted on his eyelids.

Lupin looks mortified, but the young metamorphmagus strides up to him as if nothing of note had occurred. "Wotcher, young Malfoy. Don't think I've had the chance to properly introduce myself. Glad to see our batty family line lose another wizard to the Light, yeah?" She nudges him and grins.

"Right," he stutters. "Nymphadora-"

"Call me Tonks," she interrupts.

There's a blare of a car horn outside, and Draco's urgency rekindles. "Death Eaters," he says frantically. "Just outside the house. I saw them through my window upstairs, and I don't think it's the first time they've been here."

Lupin frowns, embarrassment fading. Behind them, the kitchen door bursts open and Potter and his cronies burst inside. "What's going on, Malfoy?" Potter demands.

Lupin rushes to the window and peers out. "You know them? That one's McNair if I'm not mistaken."

"Yeah, and that's Dolohov."

"They can't see the house."

"No," Draco confirms.

"Bloody hell," says Weasley, trying to squeeze between Lupin, his cousin, and Potter to get a closer look at the window. Granger is the only one hanging back, looking fidgety.

"It doesn't make sense," she huffs. "Why wouldn't Snape be with them? He's a Secondary Secret Keeper now. He'd be able to show them where the house is."

Nobody has an answer, so they peer anxiously at the two Death Eaters for several more minutes. Eventually, the two men vanish with an audible crack. The street is silent and deserted once more.


Seeing Dolohov and McNair so close shook Draco's resolve, and he put his letter to his mother away for another day. It's no good though. He tosses and turns in his bed, thinking of his mother writhing on the floor. The Dark Lord has never used Crucio on her in Draco's presence, has never paid her much mind at all, but all that could have changed since his desertion. It changed quickly enough for his father, and for himself.

Draco closes his eyes and tries to sleep, but in his mind, he is at the Manor.

Summer. He was in the drawing room. It was the first time he'd seen the Dark Lord properly, up close. His skin was grey, and his face was not a human face. There was no way to convey the disgust and the horror Draco had felt upon seeing the face of this man who was meant to be the greatest Dark Wizard of all time.

And then his aunt had been called up from the ranks. They were greatly reduced in number, with his father and others in Azkaban after the debacle at the Department of Mysteries.

He praised her first, for not getting caught, for killing Sirius Black. His aunt had always been eccentric, and all those years in Azkaban had really hollowed her out, driven her to closer to madness. But she never looked madder than when stood in front of the Dark Lord. Her expression was exalted at his praise. When the Dark Lord drew out his wand, it might have been to reward her, but instead he'd hissed "Crucio!"

And she'd writhed on the floor. Beside him, his mother's hand gripped his shoulder. He could feel her long fingernails digging into his skin. When he'd looked up at her face, he'd seen sheer terror in her eyes.

It only lasted a moment, and afterwards his aunt's face was no less exalted. She'd sat up on her haunches, breathing heavily. "I deserved that," she whispered. "We could have done better, My Lord."

"I am glad you see things my way, dear Bellatrix," he'd said. His voice was cold and slippery.

Draco opens his eyes. It wasn't a dream. That nightmarish summer lives in his mind at all times. And his mother is still there, at the Manor, with the Dark Lord. And his father? If he's free, then he'd only spent a sliver of the time in Azkaban that his aunt had. But there is no way to know if he would have that same desperate, mad air about him now. There is no way to know if they are safe.

He lies in bed, in the darkness, listening to the old house creak around him. He's terrified of leaving this place. It's a safe haven, and as soon as he Apparates away, he'll be a target. But he needs to do something. He needs to be brave for his mother.


A/N Thanks for sticking with me, everyone! I know I'm not consistent with my updating, but I'm hoping to start wrapping things up soon. As always, I appreciate your comments and follows.