Chapter Eight

The only mansion that was bigger than the Malfoy's was the Zabini's, and to rival the Malfoy's was Nott's. It was barely a mansion, but it was too big for an ordinary house of medium standards. The lounge was bigger than his own, and two staircases flanked him, a balcony above. It wasn't the first time he thought it was beautiful than his mansion. It was more colorful as well. It was not in his taste, the windows and sunshine and all, and it wasn't Theo's either.

Theo, a scrawny and sandy-haired man languidly made his way down the right staircase, his bored expression changing into one of supreme interests as it landed on Draco. "What's the matter, mate?"

Draco walked beside him, out to the garden where they sat on a low wall made by Houselves hands. It would have infuriated Hermione to know they had done such hard labor for no pay. He could almost smile at that, but it was exactly why he was there. She was why he was sitting on the same wall him and Theo had once traded Chocolate Frog cards and converse of Quidditch matches; in the same garden where they played as children.

"Hermione," Draco answered him.

Theo was the only friend of Draco's. Goyle and Crabbe were lackeys - and terrible ones at that. Theo was the single wizard he trusted. Thus, Theo knew everything about her.

"Is this because she's dead?" He was referring to Draco using her given name, but he couldn't get past the callousness that Draco so appreciated. How perfect of a fit he was with Luna. If only people knew they had made a go of it. Unfortunately, everyone (him, Luna and Theo) kept that a secret. A hard thing to do around Slytherin's, but they managed to make it work, even when it didn't work between him and Luna. Draco never knew the reason it didn't last, nor did he ask.

"She's not exactly dead..."

"Scabior confirmed it, no?"

"She came back."

Theo stood and placed himself in front of him, taking a good look into his eyes. "You don't look crazy."

"A ghost."

Theo nodded, a small smile tugging at his thin lips, not a bit phased. "That's not like Granger."

"It is," he argued. "Her mission is to make everyone miserable."

"Still in love with her then."

"You may be my best mate, but I will hex you, Theo."

His smile widened into a grin and Draco told him everything he knew. At the end, there was a low whistle through his loose lips. Just like Theo, he put very little effort into anything, even being surprised.

"Let me get this right. You rescued a bunch of Potter and his allies and a ghost right under a bunch of Death Eater's noses?"

"Right."

"That's brave. Be careful, you may be a Gryffindor after all."

"I'll curse you," he threatened emptily, although it felt very real. He felt that in that moment, in weakness and terror he could do his best friend harm.

"I hear ya, Draco. This is funny."

"This is not funny."

"Of course it is. And considering you had my girlfriend -"

"Your ex," he reminded him.

He waved his hand as if that mattered not, "you had her locked up in your cellar without telling me."

Correction: Draco told Theo almost everything. He had good reason to keep it from Theo as he didn't want his best friend to be mad at him. He didn't need another enemy. "You know I had to keep her there. It was safer for her in my cellar than out with Snatchers picking up everyone for a sickle."

"You better have cared for her."

"The works." He kicked the ground, tufting up the grass, remembering when he once his legs weren't long enough to reach to the ground. It was long ago, when things like burning Dumbledore's Chocolate Frogs were a highlight and conversations only went as deep as scores. When fights only consisted on who let the snitch loose.

"I need your help in a spell," he told him.

"What spell?"

"A spell for ghosts to stay or to get my hands on a Time-Turner - something!"

The laughter was gone and Theo turned serious. "Drake, there's no such thing -"

"Anything, Theo!"

He sighed, sinking lower. "Draco, listen to me. The trio and their bandits smashed all the Time-Turner's ages ago."

His cheeks heated and he jumped to his feet. "Then give me a spell!"

"Who do you think I am? Granger? I don't know of a spell. I didn't make as good as marks as you even. But I do know that nothing can bring back the dead."

Draco stood, kicking at the stone wall, scuffing his black leather shoes. "Death wants a token. He sees no faces, we are all just numbers. I can take Hermione's place if it comes down to that."

"You've lost it, mate."

His face heated. "Because you have not lived under a microscope of your dad does not mean we all have the privilege of choosing what we want to be!" Pulling his sleeve up roughly he showed the tattoo that Theo had seen many times, not only on Draco but on his own dad. "This, this is why she should hate me. This is why I have to do better." He pushed his hands against the stones as he thought about pushing the whole wall over.

Maybe he was losing it.

"Don't play games with me, Theo. You've read more on the books of the dead than anyone I know. If you know something I demand you tell me."

"You are the one playing a dangerous game."

"Will you help me or not?"

Theo inspected a pebble as if he was in consideration, he rolled in between his fingers, the sun glinting a speck of gold in it, a perfect match to his hair in the sun. "She's dead. There's nothing to be done."

"You're useless."

"Sorry, Drake." It was monotone and flat, but Theo meant it. It was years of experience that told him when Theo was being genuine, and that was all the time. Unless to adults. Theo lied to adults for fun.

A jagged piece of rock cut into Draco's hip as he leaned against it. The way he felt was as though eighty years was pressing against his shoulders. A defeated man. "I don't need your pity."

Theo was unaffected, and he knew that was Draco's way to end the conversation, that he wasn't able to knock sense into him. He walked away, leaving Draco helpless and hopeless.