Chapter Six: Technicalities—Sixth Year

"Wait, so you're going on a fucking lunch date with Harry fucking Potter?" Draco's gray eyes were wide with incredulousness. It was the most life she'd seen in them in days.

"Harry James Potter, actually," Rachael replied breezily, adding, "And anyway, it's not exactly a date."

"I see. So only sort of?"

She gave him a look. "Don't be like that. We are, after all, discussing what we're going to do about you."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest. "Makes it sound like I'm a problem."

Rachael raised her eyebrows, smirking. "Aren't you?"

He stuck his tongue out at her. They were walking the circumference of the Black Lake. The sky was a kind of gloomy white-gray, the air slightly damp, but the forecasts of rain around now meant that almost no one was out, which served their purpose. And anyway, Draco was fond of such days. One of Rachael's fondest memories was the time he had told her that in the beginning of Fifth Year, to which she had snickered and replied, "Maudlin bugger." He'd laughed too, looking out at the sky, and said, "I'm not denying it."

"So what again is the aim of this little tête-à-tête?"

"We have to figure out where and how we're going to hide you."

Draco pursed his lips. "We could stage my death."

Rachael rolled her eyes. "You're so morbid!"

"I'm serious. It's a pretty good idea. If they think I'm dead, they won't come after me."

Rachael studied him, then mulled the suggestion over for a few minutes. "It would be difficult. The Dark Lord wouldn't fall for a simple parlor trick. And it has to be plausible."

"Sure. But won't Potter and the Apostles be able to work that out, if I give them some information?"

Rachael raised her eyebrows. "You do realize that what you're suggesting is exceedingly dangerous?"

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "Snape does it, doesn't he?"

"You're not Snape."

"No, but I have also been careful not to display any aptitude for magic or cruelty if I can help it. Voldemort has no reason to suspect me of being anything other than a proud, inept fool."

Rachael bit her lip. "You're sure that he hasn't seen through you?"

Draco nodded shortly. "If he had, I would be dead."

#

Rachael sat across from Potter at a small table in the corner of the Three Broomsticks. She'd ordered a butterbeer, as had he, but she mostly had it for the look of the thing. Rachael had never been able to see what Hogwarts students saw in the stuff; she had never gotten into it, as it were.

They sat in silence for a bit, and then Potter raised his wand, murmuring, "Muffliato."

"So did you talk to the Professor?" she asked quietly.

Potter adjusted his glasses before answering, "I assume you mean the Professor?"

"Yes, of course. What does he think we should do?"

"Well, he wants to bring you two to our headquarters to discuss with other members of the Order and from there to a safe house."

Rachael raised an eyebrow. "From which point we will—?"

"Hide indefinitely, most likely."

Rachael leaned back in her chair. "See, I thought as much. But the thing is, Potter—I don't really want to sit around doing bugger-all. I'm not in trouble. Voldemort and the Death Eaters don't know about me. Or if they do, they don't know much or don't feel threatened by me."

"And how would you be sure of that?"

The ghost of a grim smile slid across her face. "If they did, I'd be dead."

Potter shrugged, allowing for that.

"And really, it'd be a waste not to use me. Not to toot my own horn, but I'm a very apt witch."

Potter raised his eyebrows. "And what would you do?"

"Whatever's needed." She looked at him. "Don't look like that. I'm serious. Potter, this is war. There are not enough really good people in this world for you to snub me."

"Er—I wasn't—I mean—just, why?"

Rachael shrugged. "Does it matter? I have my reasons, I assure you."

Just then, his intense green gaze met hers, and for a moment she thought fleetingly that she could see how you could fall in love with that gaze, no matter the emotion it conveyed. "Enlighten me," he said, breaking the spell.

Rachael looked down at her slim fingers resting on the table. "Perhaps I just want Draco to see the light of day again. Or I might want to prove that Slytherin is not what everyone says it is. And maybe, just maybe, I actually support your cause, Potter." Her eyes flicked up towards him again for a second, darting quickly back down again. "Or, if it makes you feel better, you could believe I want to give the Coys an edge. If you win this war, it will get very bad for the purebloods of Britain."

They stayed like that for a while, a silent tableau amongst the noise and jollity of the Three Broomsticks. Then he said, "You're a very intriguing girl, Rachael. Very intriguing."

Amusement flashed briefly across her features. "Thank you." She looked up at him again. "So when does Dumbledore want to schedule our jaunt to Grimmauld Place?"

"Whenever. Soon."

Rachael frowned. "He didn't give you a time frame?"

Potter shrugged. "I mean, things are always uncertain these days. The best we can really go for is as soon as possible."

"So—is there any reason why next weekend wouldn't work?"

Potter frowned. "Don't think so. I'll ask if we can set it as a tentative date."

Rachael nodded. She thought a moment, then said, "So you're just planning to spirit him away?"

Potter shrugged. "We haven't worked out the specifics yet."

Rachael nodded again. "Draco suggested staging his death, which is a pretty good idea, morbid though it is. They wouldn't come after him if they thought he was dead. The only thing is that it would be really hard to do convincingly."

Potter looked at her for a minute. "He suggested staging his death? That's… interesting."

"You don't know the half of it, Potter." She paused, then added, "Just—he'd kill me for saying this, especially to you—he's kind of fragile right now." She laughed slightly, although mostly without humor, and continued, "The whole Death Eater thing—you can't know how it's affecting him. And that's all I'll say." She sighed. "So you'll talk to Dumbledore about this and about my possibly helping the Order?"

"Yeah." Rachael noted that his face was somewhat closed off, not in a hostile way, but still not giving her any clues as to what was really going on behind those green eyes.

"And you know where to find me if and when you want."

"Yeah. And of course you know where to find me." He smiled, but there was an ironic tinge to it that saved the statement from any narcissistic connotation.

She returned his smile. "Of course. Be seeing you, Harry Potter." She left in a brown study, and decided that she had done the right thing by forming this unlikely alliance.