Hello!

This one's going to be a tad bit short, but honestly I've been swamped due to studying for AP tests. So the next update won't be up for two weeks.

Thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing!

-Interlude: Sixth Year-

Blaise strolled into his dormitory, whistling idly as he dropped his bag on the couch in front of him. It was the first day after Christmas break, and he figured his other housemates would be back in the dorm soon for the welcome feast.

"Close the door," he heard Draco say, and he rolled his eyes as he obliged. He walked around the trunk to sit on his bed, and he startled as he saw him.

Draco had his shirt off, his back completely exposed to Blaise. He couldn't see where the burn originated, but it trailed up his back and to his neck, all red and raw and obviously had been bleeding. "Shit," Blaise said.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Draco snapped. "It won't heal itself."

"Those are second degree burns, Draco."

"I don't give a fuck what kind of burns they are. Just heal them."

Blaise swallowed and pulled out his wand. He'd had lots of practice healing injuries, especially when Draco came back to school. "If you'd just let me take you to Madame Pomfrey…"

"No Healers," he said flatly.

"I've never healed second degree burns before."

"It's fine. I'm sure you won't screw up too badly."

"Mate…"

"No one else can see this," Draco interrupted. "It's visible from the neck. This can't be found out."

"Damn it," Blaise muttered. "I told you to spend Christmas with my family. I told you not to go back there, and you did, you stupid prat."

"I've had worse," he replied, his voice oddly dead. "And my father wouldn't have allowed it."

"Who gives a fuck what your father would have allowed?" Blaise demanded. "After everything that's happened to you-"

"I just want you to heal the burns. Alright?" he asked, scowling.

Blaise decided to let it go, considering arguing with Draco was like arguing with a brick wall. He murmured the necessary incantations and waved his arm across his back. "This could take an hour."

"It doesn't matter."

"Just don't touch it. Don't lie on your back. Let it heal."

"Right." He paused, pulling his shirt back over his head. "And, Blaise?"

"Yeah, mate?"

"Thanks," he said, and Blaise knew how hard it was for Draco to offer any sort of gratitude.

"Yes, well," he replied awkwardly. "Don't even think about ditching the feast again. You know how Snape gets when you 'opt out'."

Draco dismissed the issue with a wave of his hand. "Whatever, mate. It'll be fine."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "And don't try to speed up the process by coming up with some ridiculous healing spell. Trying to heal yourself always backfires."

"Just get out," Draco replied, exasperated.

"You're welcome, by the way." Blaise said sardonically, shaking his head. He was always cleaning up after Draco, and if he didn't know the whole story, he would have given up on him a long time ago.

Without thinking, I followed him.

I apparated after him, refusing to allow him to leave me wanting more. He wasn't going to run away. I was sick of denying this, sick of pretending I couldn't feel anything for him. Because I did. In the span of less than two weeks, I'd only become more and more attracted to him.

I burst into the manor without thinking. He was in front of the fireplace, looking contemplatively into the fire, like it held all of life's secrets.

He looked shocked to see me, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but all I could focus on were his lips. And without preamble, I pressed my mouth to his, wrapping my arms around him like I couldn't get enough. We ended up on the floor soon enough, the sound of our breathing filling the air around us.

When I broke away, he rested his forehead against mine. It was almost a wordless mutual decision to stop and talk, to remember, to be together as if we had something more than a tentative attraction between two former rivals.

His shirt had become unbuttoned, and I eased it off, resting my head on his chest. I picked up his arm, fixating on the dark, swirling lines of the Mark, wondering about how much pain he'd suffered through to have it.

At some point, he must have wanted it. Maybe not the day he'd gotten it, but he had to have wanted it before then for his father to arrange for it. His father must have known he would want the Mark.

And I couldn't stop staring at it, couldn't help but wonder about all the things he must have done with that Mark branded on his arm, a silver mask on his face; a long, dark robe swirling after him.

His parents would have glorified the violence. They would have told him that purebloods should rule, that muggleborns were lowly creatures that didn't deserve to live. He would have believed it. I was saving a woman that would always consider me beneath her, and I was searching for the killer of a man who wouldn't have given it a second thought if my parents had been slaughtered by his leader.

But I believed Draco had changed.

The question remained, however, how much he had changed.

I couldn't fall asleep in his arms. His breathing had evened out after we'd spent so long in front of the fire talking about anything except the war, except school, all with an undercurrent of uneasiness, of distrust. And I couldn't sleep. I went back to my own flat and thought about all the times he'd called me mudblood, the time I'd slapped him, the times he'd baited me and ridiculed me. I remembered all the reasons why I'd hated him for so long.

This had to be the last time. This was a recipe for disaster. The Mark on his arm was proof enough.

It had to end.

I didn't respond to his firecalls, or his owls. I didn't respond to anything at all. I worked on finding the countercurse to Narcissa's curse alone the next morning. Eventually, he stopped trying. Luckily, he didn't come to my flat. He must have known this couldn't last.

I looked into everything. I was more than convinced it had been Isabella Hanover, but I had no means to prove it. At this point, it had to be on instinct more than anything.

I considered giving up. After all, what could Draco Malfoy be to me? He was paying me to cure his mother, and that was what I'd been doing. I had no obligation to Narcissa other than the million galleons. I had saved my best friend; most of all, I tried to help Narcissa. But I was at a dead end. At this point, it was better to just tell him that his mother had no hope. It was over. Let him enjoy a few more days with her before her time withered away.

Yes, that was what I was going to do. I was going to ease up on the search, and let him get used to the idea that his mother likely wasn't going to make it.

And for once, I was going to sleep.

I had to accept that I couldn't save everyone.

The next morning, I received an owl from Katie Bell, inviting me to dine with her and Pansy. I readily agreed. Katie was an extraordinarily interesting person to be around, and while I was trying to avoid Draco, I had to find someone to distract me.

When I appeared on Katie's front porch, I was dressed in a knee-length black dress and a pair of my favorite earrings. Katie nonchalantly shouted for me to come in, and I let myself through the door. The scent of Italian food wafted in front of my nose, and I inhaled deeply.

"I'm making spaghetti, is that alright?" she asked loudly, washing her hands at the sink.

"It sounds delicious," I replied agreeably. "Where's Pansy?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry. She had to work late; it'll only be us tonight, I'm afraid."

I shrugged. It was probably for the best; Pansy was likely harboring some resentment against me after I'd accused her of being a murderer. "That's great."

"The spaghetti will be ready in a moment. Why don't you grab a seat?"

I sat at her kitchen counter. "I haven't eaten anything all day; if you hadn't owled me, I probably would have ordered takeout."

"Well, then I'm delighted I could give you some decent food," she said lightly. Within minutes, she had the plate of spaghetti in front of me. "Enjoy."

I dug in immediately, probably looking like a Neanderthal next to her as she was daintily sipping from her glass of wine. "So," she asked, smiling pleasantly. "How's the search going?"

Shit. "I'm not sure I'm getting anywhere," I admitted.

"Really?" she queried, her eyebrows pulling together. "I'm so sorry to hear that. So you've got no leads?"

I shook my head. "Can we talk about something else?" I almost begged. This was the reason I'd come here in the first place: to escape this kind of subject.

She held her hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry, love. Shouldn't have mentioned it. So," she continued, smiling deviously. "I noticed there's something between you and Draco, yeah?"

"There's nothing between me and Draco," I said, too quickly.

"Have you shagged him?"

I nearly spit out my drink. "What? Of course not! Why would you ask something like that?"

She shrugged. "Sorry, but I was curious. He is rather good-looking."

I rolled my eyes. "I can't deny he is marginally attractive."

"Marginally attractive? That man is gorgeous, and you know it."

"Okay, he's gorgeous. But I can't start anything with him."

"It's the fact that he's a Death Eater, isn't he?"

Former, I almost defended him, but I bit my lip. At some level, she was right. "Well… yes."

She shrugged. "I can't say I blame you."

I didn't comment; instead, I placed my fork on the table in front of me. "Do you have a napkin?"

"Oh, they're in the pantry. First door on the left down the hallway."

I nodded, following her advice. But I was immediately distracted by the decoration on the walls of the hallway. There was picture after picture of her and Pansy, arms wrapped around each other, smiling lovingly. There were a few of old relatives who were obviously not as pleasant as she, glaring at the camera in distaste.

And at the end of the wall, there was a framed artifact. The necklace hung inside the black frame. It sent a jolt of déjà vu through my mind. I'd seen this necklace before, but it must have been only a glimpse, because I just couldn't remember where it was from.

"It's a pretty necklace, isn't it?" she asked, and I jumped.

"Yes," I said, a little embarrassed I'd been caught staring at her pictures. "Is it a family heirloom?"

"I'm not sure," she replied contemplatively. "Definitely not from my family."

Her comment only made me more confused.

"It's the necklace that Draco Malfoy cursed me with in sixth year," she said calmly. "I like to keep it here to remember."

I was starting to feel a little uneasy, so I stepped back the tiniest bit. "Well, that's… interesting."

"You know, I thought you would have figured it out by now, but I suppose you aren't half as clever as everyone thinks," she sighed.

She had her wand pointed at me, a few inches away from my forehead. "Terribly sorry for lying to get you here, darling. But I needed a little bait for our lovely blonde coward."

And as she said the spell, firmly, I felt my body go limp as I fell to the ground, my eyes closing as I felt the world around me slip away.