A/N. Here are the teams that you guys talked about in the Blacklisted:

Team Chadam (Chelsea/Adam) – most of you seem to be rooting for them.

Team Adette (Adam/Yvette) – these shippers are catching up with Chadam.

Chorge (Chelsea and George) – I think there's like 2 of you! Haha!

And one person who suggested Mag/Chelsea! Which I thought was sweet and kinda cool! Melsea? Chag?

I GOT A BEAUTIFUL PIECE OF FANART VIA EMAIL YESTERDAY! The artist's name is Kylie and she drew "adult Mag", as seen in one of Chelsea's dreams in Blacklisted (chapter seventeen). I've encouraged Kylie to make a deviantart so she can post it and you all can see – but in case she doesn't, trust me when I say, it's exactly how I imagined Mag! Multi-colored hair, this wicked grin on her face, beautiful, striking blue eyes, and lots of piercings! And it had the quote from the dream sequence, "Mag was one of the most exotic witches Chelsea had ever met – one of the more modern ones."

…~oOo~…

Chapter Three: In Which He Follows Footsteps

"Warden Wilde, it's a pleasure to see you again."

"You too, my boy," the older man said, giving Draco a hearty handshake. "It's been too long. How is your father?"

"Well," Draco answered dryly.

"Tell him I say hello. If it weren't for his influence, and yours, old Thackeray wouldn't have been forced to retire and I wouldn't be sitting here as warden," Jeremiah Wilde said, sitting back down in his seat. He was a large man with a large moustache and a large mouth. Draco could barely stand him, but it needed to be done.

"So what brings you around Azkaban?" Wilde asked. "Can't imagine you'd be here just for the hell of it. Gloomy place, ain't it?"

"I'm afraid I'm here to ask for a favor," Draco said, taking off his gloves and sitting in the seat across from Warden Wilde's desk. "There's a transfer from Nurmengard that is supposed to be coming in next week, a transfer that Snow himself wanted, but there is a bit of dilemma concerning how the transfer will be made. You see, the warden of Nurmengard never sets foot on the prison property because it's become something of a self-sustaining force. There hasn't been need to check in for years and you understand the warden's trepidation. There's no knowing what he'd discover upon arrival. The inmates could very well be running the asylum. But since there has been no breakouts, the warden doesn't want to risk the balance – or rather, he doesn't want to be the one to tip the balance. He's a bit of a coward, sadly."

"That's no good," Warden Wilde said, shaking his big head, his jowls shaking. "Can't have a weakling running a prison. Inmates need discipline, order, strict rules. He's right – they've probably taken over the place. What do you want me to do?"

"It's quite simple," Draco said. "Pick up the prisoner yourself and personally ensure that he is bright to Azkaban."

Warden Wilde's eyes widened a bit. "Myself?"

"Yes. I can think of no man better for the job." Lying to the pillock is making me nauseous. If his third chin jiggles one more time, I may lose my lunch. I just want you away from Azkaban for twenty-four hours, is that so hard?

"Well, then," Warden Wilde said, still looking a bit stunned. "I'll, er, bring a few guards with me, then?"

"Of course. Take a Dementor or two for your own security."

"Nurmengard houses some tough ones, eh?"

"Some of the most dangerous criminals in this hemisphere," Draco confirmed. "But nothing you can't handle. Azkaban has been in your able hands for a while now. And the prisoners here are as Dark as they come. I have the utmost confidence in your abilities." Draco stood, ready to make his escape. It wasn't as if the man had the option to say no. One did not say no to the Minister's Undersecretary.

"Well, thank you, sir," Wilde said, his voice a tad shaky. He too stood and shook Draco's hand once more. "You know, my daughter has been asking after you. Are you truly courting the Greengrass girl?"

"Yes, I'm afraid," Draco said, slipping his gloves back on just for something to do to distract him from the man's off-putting appearance. "Tell Felicity that she is a lovely girl and if I ever again find myself in need of a dinner companion, she will be my first Floo."

"I'll be sure to let her know that," Wilde said with a big grin. "I'll see you out then." He clapped Draco hard on the back and led him to the Apparition Point.

…

"You won't get away with this, not again, you evil little bitch!"

"Oh, please," Hermione said, rolling her eyes at the wretched woman that was Rita Skeeter. "If you want to keep your little abilities secret, you'll have to live with it. If you went to the Aurors saying I kidnapped you and they asked how and you said it had to do with your Animagus ability, they'd surely address that first."

Looking around, Rita could tell they were in a crappy room at the Leaky Cauldron. The ceilings had cracks in them and the floorboards squeaked as Hermione Granger paced in front of her. Rita wondered if it was too much to wish she'd just fall through.

Rita wiggled and found her binds quite accomplished. When she moved, they tightened.

"Now will you listen to me already?" Hermione demanded, a hand on her hip. "I haven't got all day."

"You're blacklisted, darling," Rita sneered. "And now that I know you're in England, it won't matter if I'm an Animagus or not."

"That may be true," Hermione acknowledged calmly. "But I'm here for a business proposition. One that could prove to be mutually beneficial. For you, especially. You get to keep your abilities a secret and the story of a lifetime."

"That Girl Wonder of the Golden Trio is waltzing around England – and the Ministry – and everyone is yet to notice?" Rita said archly.

"Even better," Hermione said, looking Rita in the eyes. "But I won't tell you until you swear an Unbreakable Vow to do the task that I set for you."

"And if I refuse?"

"If you refuse, I Obliviate you," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Or kill you and be rid of you. I'd be doing the world a favor."

Rita looked Hermione up and down, at her cold eyes and the robes she'd obviously stolen to get inside the Ministry. There had probably been Polyjuice or a glamour involved. But overall, she seemed angry and hard, and it could have been an act for her captor, but even so…

"You have changed, Miss Granger," Rita said. "You've come far from seducing Quidditch stars and prodigies."

Hermione just narrowed her eyes further.

"What is the task?" Rita asked, her lips curled unpleasantly.

"On a day where the warden is absent, we'd like you to enter Azkaban in your beetle for, use the key that I'll attain for you, and release Kingsley Shacklebot."

The journalist's jaw dropped almost to her knees. "Are you insane?"

"I might be," Hermione said honestly. "But it's not all that hard. You don't even have to make sure he gets out. And all you have to do is fly out and you'll go completely undetected."

"And Shacklebot's escape?" she asked skeptically.

"Already taken care of and none of your concern."

"You are asking me to break an enemy of the Ministry out of prison," Rita hissed, her teeth clenched. "No story, no interview is worth the risk of getting caught."

Standing right in front of Rita, Hermione bent forward and met her eyes to drive the point. "Not even the return of the savior Harry Potter, complete with an exclusive interview?"

It wasn't easy to stun Rita Skeeter into silence. But there she was. Utterly, completely silent.

…~oOo~…

Draco would never admit that he almost didn't knock on her door. He'd never admit he was, perhaps, nervous to be in a room with her again, alone. He had no control over himself when she was near. He became sloppy and stupid and he couldn't afford that. But he did knock and he did enter when her voice advised him to.

Hermione was sitting at her desk grading papers. When she looked up and saw him, her expression was unreadable, but also overwhelmingly tired. Draco knew what she'd been going through. According to the twins – whom he spoke to on very specific occasions – she was seeing Teddy less and less and Andromeda was planning on moving again, but this time taking the three-year-old with her. She also took on five more Muggle-borns that year, making her class loads even larger. And to top that all of she was no organizing a prison break.

"Wilde will be gone from Azkaban Wednesday of next week," Draco said and slipped a little piece of metal out of his glove. "And here is a duplicate of his key." He walked forward and dropping it onto the desk. "I'll have Shacklebot's cell number before the weekend."

"You've done well," was what she said. She took the key and put it in a locked drawer. Finally, she looked up at Draco directly. "Did everything go smoothly?"

"It was a well thought-out plan," he said stiffly. "You really are clever."

"Cleverness," Hermione scoffed, leaning forward on her elbows. She forced her fingers back through her hair, dislodging her bun and throwing the pins she caught in her fingers to the ground. "Not clever enough."

"Skeeter didn't agree?" Draco said, brow furrowed.

"No, she did," Hermione said. "She made the Vow."

"What's wrong, then?"

"So many things," she groaned. "None of which you care about. I'm just whining. You can go now."

"Why won't you tell me? You used to."

"That was before…" She bit off the end of her sentence. "Never mind."

"One thing," Draco said. "One thing that is weighing on you."

Hermione seemed to consider this. She did that thing where she bit her lip and made Draco want to sooth it with his own mouth.

"I don't trust Rita Skeeter," she said finally. "I never have."

"For good reason," Draco said. "But this was your plan. She's made the Vow. She talks, she dies. She betrays us, she dies. She's in a corner."

"I know that, logically," Hermione said, "but I can't help but remember that summer when even Mrs. Weasley believed all of her lies. She said terrible things about me."

"I remember," Draco said. "According to her, you were quite the busy little slag."

Hermione glared.

"I never believed it, personally," Draco said. "You were too busy with your nose buried deep in your books to have time to seduce not two, but three boys at once."

"You're a liar," she said, her nose crinkling. "You believed it like the rest of them."

"I wanted to, trust me. But I knew it wasn't. I may have treated you like scum, but I never believed Skeeter's lies to be true."

"Well, you were the only one," she said quietly. Shaking her head, she said, "I'm just being melancholy. Thinking about our school days. It never leaves me in a sunny mood. And I have no clue why I'm telling you any of this." She sat back with a deep breath and pushed herself up out of the chair. "I doubt you're really interested."

"I wouldn't have asked if I weren't," Draco said lowly.

Hermione stopped and looked at Draco for a moment. "What are you trying to do?" she asked. She was annoyed instantly. "Why are you being so nice?"

Draco sighed, his jaw reflexively clenching. "I don't want one stupid mistake to ruin the awkward, off-kilter, but not altogether unpleasant friendship we had."

"A year," Hermione snapped. "A whole year and I've seen you a grand total of four times. That isn't a friendship, not anymore. We are colleagues and fellow members of the cause. The end, Malfoy. So stop pretending."

Just when Draco was about to say something – something about her being the one who was pretending – in walked Harry Potter, who halted when he saw Draco there. "Oh, Malfoy," he said, eyebrows risen. "Sorry, didn't realize you were around. What brings you to Moony's?"

"If that were your business we'd have invited you to this little meeting," Draco said tightly.

"He's just reporting on how his visit with the warden of Azkaban went, which was successful," Hermione said, shooting Draco a look. It reminded him of the looks his mother gave him when he was rude when company was over. It just made him want to sulk.

"Brilliant," Harry said, grinning.

"Did you need anything, Harry?" Hermione said, smiling back.

Oh, so he walks in and she's suddenly all smiles and sunshine? If ever there was a moment where Draco Malfoy could murder the Savior, it was then. But he fisted his hands in his pockets so tightly his nails left marks in his palm.

"Just was wondering if I could coax you away from your grading for a cup of tea with your best friend?"

"Oh, is Luna around?" Hermione teased.

Harry rolled his eyes, but chuckled. "Well, aren't you the funny one?"

"I'd love a cuppa," Hermione said, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. She was still smiling.

"How about you, Malfoy? Care to join us?" Harry asked.

"Malfoy was just leaving, I think," Hermione answered for him. Malfoy scowled, but nodded and only gave them each a tip of his head as a farewell.

But he was only a few steps away from the room when he heard her giggle again. It yanked at his black heart and he couldn't help but back up a few more steps and peek inside.

Harry was leaning against her desk, telling a story with his hands and she was laughing, perching herself right next to him and resting a hand on his shoulder. She was smiling, he was smiling… Draco's gaze was drawn to the contact between her fingers and his skin, though. Draco had only had the privilege of her touch twice. Once when she brushed the snowflakes out of his eyes and again in the attic after she'd miraculously saved Potter's life.

But Harry Potter got to not only have her touch, but her embraces, her attention, and her adoration. It burned a hole through Draco's chest. He wondered if it could actually kill him.

And his thoughts immediately went to his godfather. His godfather's memories, the ones Potter showed him. During Snape's last moments with Harry, he gifted the boy with his memories and understanding. When Draco had his last moments, he'd been cursed with all of Snape's earthly burdens.

Now Draco knew, at least, why his last word had been "Lily". Lily Potter. Once Lily Evans and once Snape's one love. Or maybe obsession. And she was stolen from him by bloody James Potter, who then spawned a son possibly even more despicable…

Draco saw it all so clearly. It was history happening right before his eyes, repeating itself. Once upon a time, he thought Weasley would be Hermione's champion, but now he saw the reality of it all. It was Potter, it was always Potter, and it would always be Potter.

Always Potter.

Filled with the sudden ire, Draco decided he had some things to discuss with his godfather's portrait.

…

The only reason Draco had any idea where his father had stashed the portraits from the Headmaster's Office was because he was the bleeding Undersecretary to the man who made it his business to know everything. And when one was the right hand for the man that knew everything, one became privy to some very interesting information.

Including inventory of all of Hogwarts magical items and where they are held in the castle. The inventory was the length of a novel, but Draco had to go through each page and approve each item after the governors did. It was a process they went through each school year. It went along with regulating where in the castle were children permitted and where they were not – not that that stopped some of the little prats.

Draco marched through the corridors of Hogwarts, his blood boiling more and more with every step, all fueled by that damned hand resting on Harry Fucking Potter's shoulder. It was so small, so insignificant, but it was enough to make Draco's blood sing. And the way they were smiling at one another, that was almost enough to make Draco go postal.

Why did it hurt so much? Why now and why was it hitting him so hard? Why did he want to go on a murder spree at the same time he wanted to just hold her so hard?

Maybe it was misguided, but he had someone to blame. He blew into the storage room hidden behind a portrait of King Arthur's jester and went straight up to the one hanging on the wall beside Dumbledore. Every portrait sleeping was wide awake to watch the scene.

"You," Draco sneered, smacking his hands down on the wall on either side of Severus Snape's portrait. "You did this to me."

With an equally disgusted sneer, Snape intoned, "I'm sure I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

"I picked up the torch – that was my choice – but I never knew it meant choosing a fucking beacon like you told me and having to sit around to watch a Potter take it from me!"

"Good God," Snape said, arching a dark, sharp eyebrow and gazing down his nose at his godson. "You've fallen in love. The Weasley girl?"

"Don't be daft," Draco said, pushing himself away from the canvas to look his old potions professor more equally in the eye. "Not all of us have an obsession with obnoxious redheads."

Snape's lips pressed into a thin line. "Miss Granger, then."

"Don't speak her name," Draco said lowly. "You don't get to speak her name."

"Does she know?"

Draco thought about this. "No. She thinks I'm cruel and worthless."

"Good."

"Good? GOOD? I WANT TO FUCKING RIP POTTER'S THROAT OUT WITH MY BARE HANDS AND YOU'RE SAYING THAT EVERYTHING'S JUST FINE?"

Snape watched his protégée pace in front of him, looking at a complete loss. His blonde hair was in disarray, he'd unbuttoned half of his shirt, and his knuckles were white.

"Move on, boy," Snape snapped. "She won't have you. She's too smart for you and too smart for your charm and mind games. If she wants Potter, she will have him, that is how it goes. Now, stop being such a pathetic excuse for a man and go do your job."

Draco was breathing heavily from his pacing, from his anger, from his wanting to just sob and scream. He said, "You're wrong. You have to be. I can fix that. I won't live as you did, I won't do it. I'll follow your footsteps anywhere else, but not away from her."

"You're obsessed, just as I was," Snape snarled. "Wake up. There are bigger things to worry about."

"Things bigger than my soul?"

"Yes. It was my mindset and now it is yours. The cause is always first."

Draco was shaking his head. "You're lying. Lily was always first for you."

"And that's exactly why she died," Snape growled. "I got distracted, sloppy. If you want to keep Miss Granger alive, you will have to dismiss any notion of ever being with her." He paused. "Rumor has it that you are courting the younger Miss Greengrass. And while I rarely put any stock in rumors, Albus said he heard it from your father himself. Do yourself a favor, Draco, and marry Miss Greengrass."

"Why?" Draco asked, finally starting to crash.

"Because you'll never be in danger of loving her," Snape said, "and she'll be a suitable barrier between you and your deepest desires."

"Maybe you're right," Draco said, mostly to himself. "We had our…one moment. And it ended."

Snape nodded sagely. "Move on," he said once more.

As he left, Draco couldn't help but think, I don't think I can.

…~oOo~…

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~