Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd, alerted and a special, special thanks to everyone who reviewed - though, seriously, guys. Is Draco all you care about? :D If I ever write a story about Draco, my views are probably going to explode...

"Focus, boy!" Bellatrix snapped furiously. "You're making it far too easy."

"I'm trying!" Draco bit back, just as angry.

For the past hour, Bellatrix had tried to teach him Occlumency – but until now, he hadn't accomplished anything. She broke into his mind time and time again with little to no resistance.

"Legilimens!" she shrieked.

Draco gritted his teeth but soon, his face went blank and Bellatrix lowered her wand. "You're a liar, Draco. You're not even trying."

"It's pointless, okay? I can't do it!"

I sighed, putting my book away for good now. They probably knew I was watching, anyway.

"'Course you can."

"How would you now?" the boy sneered.

"Anyone can do it. Do you have a technique?"

"I-"

"I told him to focus, on building up the wall," Bellatrix snapped.

"Right. But with what does he build? See, what I do, is I choose a memory. Something solely positive. And I pull it to the surface, concentrate on that one thing."

"I can't stop in a battle to just remember any happy little thought," Draco said. "That's bullshit."

"Language," I scolded. "I'm aware that it's not practical in battle. But as you improve, as you learn, this technique becomes an automatism. You won't have to concentrate on it."

Bellatrix was glaring at me but I raised my hands defensively.

"I'm just trying to help," I told her. "You do what you want."

She huffed and turned to her nephew again. "Try it."

"It appears the Malfoy boy has finally mastered the art of Occlumency."

I did not bother to turn and look at Tom; every word he uttered about the boy rang as mockery in my ears.

"Quite a nice little trick he uses. One of yours?"

"The least I can do is optimizing his chances, however slim they may be."

"Maybe he'll surprise us," Tom mused. "Maybe he'll live."

"But you don't want that," I said. "And Merlin knows, you always get what you want."

"That I do," he said coldly. "Won't you look at me?"

"What will I see?" I asked lightly. "The man I used to love is gone."

"Oh, don't be bitter," he sneered. "You've met me. You know how I am. I've always been this way."

I scoffed, finally facing him. "I wouldn't love you if you'd always been that way."

"You're pathetic," he said, the tone of his voice freezing.

"No, I'm not," I said swiftly.

Red eyes narrowed at me, but I held my head high. I was sick and tired of being pushed around. No more.

"If you'll excuse me..."

"Where are you going?" he demanded as I walked towards the door.

I smiled at myself at the instinctive idea that shot through my head at his words. "I'm going home."

My grandmother's house still stood, isolated and decrepit, but otherwise the same it had always been. It had been fifteen years since I had last been here. Tom had occupied this house more than I had, and it used to be populated by the whispering, chattering and the occasional cursing of his Death Eaters.

Nevertheless, this was my home; my own place. They had not sold it off and I was more than glad about it. Why had it taken me so long to think of this place?

I pushed open the rotten gate and stepped onto my property. I took a deep breath and felt the grin spread on my face. Safe and sound, that's how I felt here. I reached out and opened the front door. It creaked loudly and I winced, hurrying to look around. But no one was around. I stepped inside the dark, dusty place and looked around.

Nothing had changed. Everything was in exactly the place it had been all those years ago when they had come to get me. I waved my wand, dusting off a few shelves. If I remained silent, inconspicuous, I could stay here for a while. I could be free for a while.

Scrambled eggs were sizzling in the pan and the warm smell of coffee filled the room. I was humming to myself, searching around for the plates. An act that had once been so natural now proved to be rather difficult. Where were the damn things?

"Second door to the right."

I whirled around, my heart stopping for a hot second. My eyes widened as I took in the old, calm man sitting on my kitchen stool. Albus Dumbledore seemed perfectly content being where he was, right there, in my house.

"What-?"

"The second to the right. The plates, that's what you were searching for, wasn't it?"

I took a deep, steadying breath and turned around to open the storage he had indicated. It contained the plates, all right and I reached up to grab two.

"I figure you're inviting yourself to breakfast."

"Oh, I wouldn't say no," Dumbledore said merrily. "Very nice of you to ask."

"I haven't," I said placing the plate before him. "You know, I was enjoying my peace and quiet."

"We are not in a peaceful time," Dumbledore mused as I turned to grab the pan. "We are at war."

"People keep telling me that," I said, pushing half of the eggs onto his plate. "And I keep wondering why that should concern me. Because, frankly, it doesn't."

"It concerns all of us, it appears," Dumbledore said calmly. "You, especially, because of your very special bond to Lord Voldemort."

"I have no relations to Lord Voldemort whatsoever," I told him. "And as you can see, even me and Tom are not at a good place right now."

"You realize he won't let you leave for good?"

"You realize that if he thought I'd left him for good, we wouldn't be having this conversation?" I retorted.

Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully, deep blue eyes sparkling. "He still shows a rather curious amount of protectiveness for you. It's very uncharacteristic."

I did not bother to answer and instead turned to pour myself a cup of coffee.

"I've come to ask you a favour," Dumbledore said.

"I was wondering when you'd get to the point," I said, facing him again. "What is it?"

"I need a memory."

"Any little one? I would like to get rid of some."

"Ah, I was hoping for a rather specific one," he said, leaning forward. "A memory concerning Tom."

"What?" I said, sitting down at the other side of the table. "Are you writing a biography?"

"Not exactly. I was wondering if he ever mentioned Horcruxes to you."

I gulped, forcing my face to remain plain. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"It is important. I seek to confirm my theory, you see-?"

"I have absolutely nothing to contribute," I said forcefully. "And now I must ask you to leave my house."

"You know," he said calmly. "You know what he did to his soul. And you know that he has to be stopped. You're a good person, Lorraine."

"Which is why I would never betray the man I love. Out," I snapped.

He got up, nodding at me. "Well, I am disappointed," he said. "But I understand."

"The disappointment is mutual," I assured him.

"Lorraine, I beg you to understand that it was never my wish to harm you," he said gravely.

"Harm didn't stay away nevertheless," I said. "Have you ever been incarcerated in Azkaban? I can't recommend it."

"I am deeply sorry," he said.

He was honest, I could tell. Of course he was. This was Albus Dumbledore. It did not make my task of forgiving any easier.

"You were about to leave," I reminded him. "I beg you to do it."

He offered me a smile that dripped off wisdom and gentleness. "Take care, Miss Riley."

"And you," I muttered.

He nodded lightly and strode out the door. I watched out of the window as he walked calmly down the front yard as if he did not have a care in the world. He passed the crooked gate; he turned his head slightly towards the house, smiling as if he knew that I was watching him. Then, he was gone.