A/N: And we are at the end of another story. I always have mixed feelings. I'm glad it's done with, but I'll miss it as well. Until the next story, then.

Chapter 16: Defeat

Draco never went to the Great Hall.

He could never tell anyone how he did it but he ended up sitting on a low wall that looked out over the grounds. He could hear, faintly, the celebration that was going on. The noise became louder when someone opened the doors to the outside. It was inevitable that someone would find him.

Anyone could have been standing there. A friend. A stranger. Madam Pomfrey. Dumbledore. When Draco turned his head, his tears done with, he was looking at a girl he vaguely recognized, a friend of Ginny Weasley. She had a wistful smile as she fingered strands of her long dirty blond hair.

"You know, I remember watching my mother die."

They looked at each other for most of a minute. The smile on her face never wavered. She pointed at an odd looking horse at the edge of the forest.

"They're called thestrels."

Then she turned and went back inside.

Some time later, Madam Pomfrey appeared. She invited Draco to spend the night in the infirmary where he would not be disturbed. By then, he was too tired to object

Draco ate his breakfast because he was hungry. He had dressed already by the time his first visitor appeared. The headmaster.

"I owe you the strongest apology," Dumbledore told him. "Everyone thought you were aware of what had happened. Had I realized, I would have handled things differently."

"He confided in you." It was a statement. "Why did he do it?"

Dumbledore sighed. "The diary was a greater danger than you realize. But for your actions, Voldemort would have restored himself and he would have been in a position to wreak havoc on the school. Killing the basilisk took from him a powerful weapon, but his skills as a wizard combined with our ignorance of his presence would have led to who knows how many deaths. Alastor sacrificed himself because he saw in you a chance to stop the beast and, I'm sure he hoped, to delay the Dark Lord until help could arrive." He smiled kindly. "That you destroyed the diary, as well, made his death a small price to pay by comparison.

"Draco, Alastor always thought out every thing he did. It is to his credit, and yours, that he placed such faith in you."

"But . . ." Draco didn't have to ask his next question. He had already figured out the answer. He believed Moody when the man told him that he would be petrified, that he would only see the basilisk through his magic eye. Moody's eye enhanced his vision. The man knew, before they even entered the Chamber, what the end would be.

"Did everyone have a good time?" There was anger in his voice.

"At the feast? The exceptions were more noticeable. Quite a few of the teachers. Your friends. They knew you had been hurt by what happened. Not physically. But in your heart. I fear Madam Pomfrey was the only one to think to look outside for you, and not until after the feast was over. We did not want you to be alone."

"I wasn't," Draco said softly as he thought of the girl.

"You had company?"

A memory came unbidden. "Too much company."

"I don't understand?"

A laugh came from Draco's throat, although there was no humor in it. "That's a good thing. You know what would be best, Albus? If no one understood."

Draco couldn't describe it. The look Dumbledore gave him spoke more to him than a volume of words. He knew. He knew in his heart what Draco was feeling. And he knew that there was no more to be said. Draco had lost a good friend. He had grieved for him and wept unashamedly until there were no more tears. And he had come to terms with the fact that Alastor Moody would never be there for him again.

Next, they were sitting at a table, and the headmaster was pouring cups of tea, for the two of them and Madam Pomfrey, who had joined them. The talk was now about other matters.

Draco would remain at the school until the end of the term, even though he was not yet a student, again. He would even have his old bed in Gryffindor. Other visitors would be by shortly to see him. And he would have plenty of time to talk with them. As a gift, all school tests had been cancelled for the rest of the year, except for the N.E.W.T.'s and O.W.L.'s. As a result, few students would be spending their time in meaningful study.

The conversation touched on the incident with Ginny Weasley. Dumbledore said that Moody was correct. The girl had been the victim of the Imperious Curse, although there was no clue as to how it had happened. A fact that troubled him deeply. Madam Pomfrey admitted to Draco that she had advised him not to say anything in his interview, in hopes that those involved might make some mistake and show their hand. Not that it mattered in the end. They all agreed that Nott's appearance was planned but, again, nothing would ever be proved.

"He plays football rather well," Dumbledore said, to change the subject. Draco instantly smiled, and just as quickly became sullen again. He had no reason to be happy. "Moody insisted that I come see him play," Dumbledore added. "He never missed a single match." The smile, with great effort returned. Draco had been reminded that he still had his memories of the man to console him.

Dumbledore also noted, as he was leaving, that Draco should expect to receive a reward. A citation as well as a large number of points awarded to his house. When Draco pointed out that he was not a student, Dumbledore amended his statement. His former house. There were precedents. After the headmaster left, Draco muttered to Madam Pomfrey that he wasn't the only former student involved.

A short time later, Hermione and Justin appeared. They were nervous about how he would react. As they approached, Hermione lowered her eyes and told him she felt bad about what happened. Draco couldn't help himself.

"I know. Dumbledore told me he cancelled the finals."

It was a small relief that Fred and George appeared shortly afterward. Draco would be retelling his adventures one less time. And it was difficult because Draco knew how the tale ended. But first, Hermione would tell what happened to her.

There was the initial shock, she explained, of what happened with Draco. No one would say anything. All of the Weasleys were too angry to talk. Except Ginny. She would turn away and look embarrassed or ashamed, as though it was her fault. The teachers told her it was not a subject for discussion. Madam Pomfrey told her, specifically, that Draco was not allowed visitors. And then came the announcement about the expulsion. Hermione added bitterly that many of the students applauded.

The worst part was when they discovered Colin Creevey. He was found trying to take a picture of whatever had attacked him. Fred and George nodded in agreement. They added that the attack coincided with an article from the Daily Prophet that Draco had escaped from a 'mental institution'. That was when they decided to arrest Hagrid. They claimed he was involved. Draco made a contribution at this point, letting them know how the giant was involved.

"All the while," Hermione said, "I refused to believe what happened. I told Ginny and her brothers that there had to be another explanation. All of this was so unlike you. And then, with Hagrid gone, I knew there was something wrong. Something I wasn't seeing. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure out why you heard a voice no one else did."

Draco nodded. "You let people know what you were doing, of course."

Hermione looked at Draco in surprise. "I should have realized. You let everyone know what you were doing and they stopped you. HE was controlling the basilisk."

"I was only in the wrong place at the wrong time," Justin commented.

"Yeah," Draco pointed out. "You were on your way to see us."

Justin nodded. "And met someone, something, going the same way."

Fred smirked, "I think we're all officially paranoid."

Draco should have smiled, but he had to frown. It was now his turn to share what had happened. Madam Pomfrey seemed to sense his mood and made them take a small break for some tea and biscuits. She made it a point to stay close by, as though she wanted to hear what happened, as well. But Draco knew her too well. She wanted to be close, just in case. Her young charge was recovering from a serious shock.

Draco told them easily enough about what happened early on. Hermione and Justin had both heard of Saint Brutus. Justin was particularly happy to hear what had happened. He had heard from his father too many stories. Fred and George were aghast that muggles would have such a place. When Hermione pointed out that Wizards had Azkaban Prison, they pointed out that it wasn't designed for children.

Moody's death was common knowledge by this time, and Draco was able to omit that part. What was hard was telling the good things that happened. Small memories kept surfacing. Moody talking about an incident during the war and stopping in mid sentence, turning to Draco and saying, "Make sure of everything. Don't take anything for granted. That one thing will trip you up every time." Then he went back to the original conversation. And the time Draco joined the football club. He came home to ask Moody, and Uncle Al handed him a pair of trainers, said he had already heard. While these and other thoughts swirled inside his head, he told of the events in the Chamber as thought they were happening to someone else. But he was unprepared for the reaction to his closing line.

"I believed Alastor when he told me he would only be petrified, right up to the moment when Billy Potter said he was sorry."

Madam Pomfrey stepped forward. "When did you talk to William Potter?"

"Not long before the celebration began. He said he was going to take a walk outside before it started." Draco had that feeling again. He felt it important to add, "He was the one who told me about Moody. He thought I knew. He got upset and ran out."

Madam Pomfrey nodded slowly.

"They haven't found him, yet?" Hermione asked.

"He's probably still asleep somewhere," Fred told her with little confidence. "It's only been what? Twelve hours? He'll show up when he gets hungry."

"I hope you're right," Hermione admitted.

"Naw," Draco said with authority. "He'll hide as long as he can. All he wants is attention. And he wasn't getting any by being around his folks. Not with PRECIOUS HARRY around to hog it all. That's why he wanted to take that walk in the first place."

Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared that Friday at breakfast. Draco had barely eaten anything. He knew why the man was there, and he was prepared. Hermione and Justin had asked, and been given permission, to join him. It was time to say goodbye.

A portkey took them to a back road in the country, where a Ministry car was waiting for them. It would not be that long a drive, but it would avoid suspicion among the muggles.

And they arrived. The limousine pulled up to the cemetery's chapel and the four stepped out. The driver went to find a place to park because of the large number of cars. Kingsley opened the door to the chapel and Draco led the way inside.

Mitchell was standing there with his parents. His mother patted Draco's shoulder and said something in consolation. His father offered to escort them to their seats. Ephram and his parents were also at the chapel. He gave Draco a sad smile as he passed. And others in the town were there. Quite a few from the football club. Most of the neighbours. In one corner, obscured by the crowd, stood Andrew Givens and his family. Givens smiled consolingly when he caught Draco's eye. Kingsley Shacklebolt was greeting someone, perhaps the representative the Ministry of Magic. They seemed unsurprised that Moody had requested a muggle funeral. But Draco understood. Uncle Al wanted to stay with his family.

A minister said a few words about a man he knew too little of. Insular in his habits until fortune forced a young lad into his care. Then he spoke of how Moody involved himself in everything that Draco did. Things that Draco didn't know about. When the minister saw the look in Draco's face, his sermon became directed at one boy.

Moody talked with his teacher on a weekly basis. He arranged for the Club to make room for Draco. (A glance at Ephram resulted in the other boy nodding in the direction of Mitchell's Mother.) And Moody made it a point to get to know the parents of Draco's friends. The minister called Alastor Moody a quiet man who opened up when he knew someone needed him, and refused to shut himself up again.

The pallbearers came forward and picked up the coffin. Kingsley Shacklebolt was one of them. The minister mentioned that he had presented himself and asked for the privilege. Draco recognized one of the others as the bartender of the pub that Moody had taken him to.

It was a short walk. The Moody family had a plot not far from the chapel. A few final words were said, and it was over. They would go to the wake and, in a few hours, Draco would close another chapter in his life.

Draco had spotted one person in the chapel that he truly did not expect. Dudley. And a well-dressed Dudley as well. When they had a chance to talk, Dudley's first words were, "You didn't deserve this. It shouldn't have happened."

And then he had to explain. Inspector Givens had agreed to be his legal guardian. It happened after the incident at Saint Brutus. Draco mentioned seeing him on the news. Dudley added that his parents agreed. This way they could visit him. "I haven't said a word to them about you," Dudley added, "and neither has Andy." He added in a whisper, "Lying works. They believed me when I said I was misunderstood."

"Don't be sorry about anything you do, he told me once." Ephram's mom was talking to Detective Givens. "He said I should be sorry about all the things I didn't do. That's the type of man he was. I only wish Drake had come into his life sooner than he did. And how did you know him? After all, police work and animals don't usually mix."

Ephram snorted as Draco rolled his eyes. Givens smiled. "He was helpful in giving information about a school that was hiding the fact that vermin were infesting the place. He told us what to look for."

As Ephram told his parents what Givens' relationship to Draco really was, Mac pulled the blond boy aside.

"I want you to know. Al was my best friend when we were growing up. I'll miss him a great deal. Almost as much as you will." He paused. "If you need someone to confide in, you know where to find me."

"You knew about Uncle Al?"

"And you, oh lad of many names. And you're the only person I ever told."

Draco smiled. The terrible loss became less so. Now, he had a link. Someone who truly did understand. And he returned the favour, in a fashion. When he had the chance, he made it a point to introduce Mac to Hermione and Justin. Mac was genuinely surprised to meet Justin. He knew of the Finch-Fletchleys. While they were not famous, they were well known in certain circles.

When it was finally over, Detective Givens and Dudley walked with them to their car. Dudley had to explain to Hermione and Justin about his new home. That Givens was inspired by his willingness to support Draco, despite what his family had done. As Dudley played the gentleman and held the door for Hermione, he asked her to keep an eye on Draco. He didn't want anything more to happen to his cousin.

The ride back was uneventful. Hermione wanted to know about Draco's friends. Ephram and Mitchell seemed to be decent people. Justin smirked, saying it must be a boring place if they were the worst people he could find for friends.

Snide remarks abounded in Draco's head, but in the end all he did was sigh. He told Justin he was right. Nothing ever happened. Every day was different only because it had a different date. There was never an excuse not to do his homework. He never had to explain why he was in the bad part of town, because the town was too small. The bad part of town was in the town next door. He even ended up playing football just to have something to do.

And he knew why Kingsley laughed, and couldn't fault him for it. The man shared the anecdote about how he explained football to Bartemius Crouch, the Minister for Magic.

It was Monday afternoon.

"We're talking, again?" Severus Snape was watching his young friend carefully. It had been a long time since the two had last sat together in the dungeon office.

"Can only be sad for so long," Draco admitted. "Fred and George helped out. They decided to have a singing contest."

The Potions Professor was smiling. "Anyone who knows you also knows that you like attention. How did it go?"

"They talked me into going first. In the common room. In front of everyone. Then they told me I was the only contestant."

"The pirate song?"

Draco laughed at the memory from a year ago. "Naw. It was about little people. Like me."

"I'll make a deal with you, young man. Sing the song for me, and I will tell you something that isn't to be common knowledge . . . yet. And I guarantee it will make you happy."

"You'll tell me anyway." Draco laughed again when the Professor nodded his head. Then he sang.

They laugh at me, these fellows, just because I am small

They laugh because I'm not a hundred feet tall

I tell them there's a lot to learn here on the ground

The world is big but little people turn it around

A worm can roll a stone, a bee can sting a bear

A fly can fly around Versailles 'cos flies don't care

A sparrow in a hat can build a happy home

A flea can bite the bottom of the pope in Rome

Draco sang the entire song, complete with gestures, exactly as he did in the common room. And exactly how it was performed in front of him for the first time. Even to the point of wagging his finger at the Professor when he sang the lines:

Never kick a dog because he just a pup

You better run for cover when the pup grows up

Severus Snape applauded politely. As Draco sat down, he poured out the tea. "I would like to know where you learned that song."

Draco was running. He rarely came to the fancy parts of London. And now he had to make sure he lost his pursuers. He skipped into an alley and found a place to hide. Being small and wire for a nine-year-old, this was an easy thing to do. When it was safe, he began walking through the alley to the far end.

"And who are you?" someone called out. A boy his age, but taller. He was standing outside a door with some adults, all of them where dress in clothes from another time. Two or three were smoking cigarettes. The boy was dressed as well as Draco, but only if Draco had lived a hundred years ago, maybe longer.

"Name's Draco. Who are you?"

"'ow do you do. Me name's Gavroche."

"Yer French. Don't sound it."

"Naw. It ain't me real name. Is it Javert?"

A serious looking man snorted. "That is Inspector Javert." He eyed Draco with amusement. "You're not in trouble with the law, are you?"

Draco hesitated. "Ain't done nuthin'. Jus' 'avin' a ball is all."

"A ball?" Javert looked confused, but he was looking at the other adults. One of the others said, "Ball of Chalk. Going for a walk." Javert nodded, and turned back to Draco. "A walk? In an alley? And your parents?"

"Ain't got none."

"And you're free to roam."

"Gotta be back 'fore dark is all."

"Hold on," one of the others said, as he stepped forward to confront Draco. "Look, mate, I want you to say something. High society."

"'igh 'socie'y"

"And humble piety"

"An' 'umble pie'y"

"He's a natural," Gavroche laughed.

"Perhaps too natural," Javert replied with a chuckle.

"Wha' choo talkin' 'bout?" Draco demanded.

"Don't you know where you are?" Javert was surprised. "This is the Royal Theatre." When Draco merely stared, he added, "We're actors. In a play. Like television, but live."

Draco had heard of plays. He had even been in one at school. He played a giant bean. The teacher's nephew played Jack.

The door opened and someone said, "fifteen minutes."

"Let's bring him in to see the matinee," Gavroche suggested.

And they did. Draco sat backstage and watched the actors perform. He was enthralled. Gavroche's mother showed up after the play was over and was introduced to him. Someone suggested food, and Draco was dragged, with little resistance, to the fanciest restaurant he had ever been in. Which could have made it any restaurant in London, but that was beside the point. Gavroche used his acting voice the entire time; He claimed it was so that Draco could understand him. And, to the smaller boy's delight, taught him the words to the two songs he sang in the show. Everyone applauded Draco's singing.

One of the adults, at the end of the meal, gave Draco a card and suggested his guardian give a call. Draco thanked him politely and put the card in his pocket. On the way back to the home, Draco threw the card away. The last thing he needed to do was explain to Miss Carmichael what he was doing in that part of London. Especially since he was still in trouble from that incident at Harrod's the week before.

"I have no idea," Draco admitted. "Some fancy people, actors, I think, taught it to me over dinner. They liked the way I talked."

The Professor eyed Draco carefully. "Did you know that Professor Pettigrew left the school, this morning. It seems that your guardian, Sirius Black, sent word that he would be arriving . . ." He looked at his watch. ". . . sometime about now. Do you know why he was coming?"

Draco was confused. "I told him about the letter his friend wrote to that Doctor. He told me he would look into it. To prove I was a liar?"

Snape gave his favorite student his best smile. "He kept his word. Dumbledore mentioned to the staff this morning that Sirius Black would be coming by. That man may not be very bright, but he is honest to a fault when it comes to his duties. I fear you are not the one he proved a liar. As it is, a certain teacher concluded it was about making contact with the muggle world. As I said, Black isn't very bright. I am assuming that he told his friend what you had said."

"Cor. Pettigrew fled?"

"Exactly." Snape told him. Draco could see that Uncle Severus was enjoying himself. "The headmaster was planning to dismiss him because he deliberately defied the school's rules on ethics after Black told Dumbledore that he had Pettigrew's letter. And it seems that Peter was honest about one thing. The coward fled rather than have to answer to his friend."

"Will he go to jail?" Draco asked hopefully.

"No. Not for that. But he did start people thinking along certain lines. I know Dumbledore told you. About the Weasley girl."

"That someone used the Imperious Curse on her. Dumbledore said he had no idea who . . ." Draco understood what those certain lines were. There was now a suspect. But he had a question or two.

"How did you know all this?"

If possible, Snape's smile grew. "Dumbledore asked me to keep an eye on our Defense Professor until he could be confronted with the facts. I . . . may have been . . . too obvious."

"And when they catch him?" Draco asked hopefully.

"A truth serum, knowing Bartemius Crouch. Why waste time. And, if the man is innocent, he wouldn't object."

Severus Snape was right. The news did make Draco happy.

It was the farewell feast. Draco tried to put on a cheerful face. It would be expected of him. But he was nervous as well. Crabbe and Goyle had confronted him earlier. They were smiling. "You did it again. Three times you faced him down," they told him. They thumped him on the back to show they were proud to be his friends.

And now he was back by the wall where he had sat on that night not too long ago. The amusing thing was that Hagrid was with him. Draco remembered seeing him when the giant returned, the haunted look on the man's face. And Hagrid, looking at him, forgetting his own problems when he saw that Draco had the same look.

"It will be goodby again," Draco said sadly.

"Yeah. And in two months yer comin' back to tell me all about yer holiday."

Draco snorted. "Two months with Sirius Black. I can get him to get rid of me in two weeks, tops." He looked up at Hagrid. "If I do it, can I stay with you until school starts."

Hagrid was beaming at those words. "Any time you want. But ye better learn a song about big people, like ye promised." Both their eyes danced at the memory of the first tea with the entire group. Hermione told them about the song. Justin said he had heard something about it. Draco mentioned that he sang it for Snape. And the giant insisted on hearing it.

Someone cleared her throat behind them.

"Is it time, Hermione?"

A laugh. "Draco, you sound like you're going to an execution. They only want to give you an award. And maybe a few hundred house points. You'll survive."

Hagrid patted Draco's shoulder. "And ye'll win the House Cup fer Gryffindor again."

"And you'll have done it honestly," Hermione concluded.

Draco shrugged his indifference but stood up anyway. He let himself be led to the Great Hall where it was obvious the feast was about to begin. To help his mood, when he first glanced at the Gryffindor table, he saw Longbottom without his usual sidekick.

"Hermione?" Draco dared to ask.

She followed his eyes, then turned back and shook her head. There had been no word yet about Harry Potter's brother. The boy had disappeared two weeks ago without a trace. And Potter was already home, with parents more anxious and worried than they had ever been before. Draco almost felt sorry for him. As he sat down between Hermione and Dean Thomas, he muttered, "This is going to be fun."

"Look behind you," said Ron Weasley, who was sitting across from them. "We're about to have company."

"Is that . . ." Hermione began to ask when she turned her head.

"MYRTLE!" Draco was surprised and, he had to admit, delighted as she hovered near him. "You Came!"

"I'm supposed to be here," she told him. "Madam Pomfrey told me what is going to happen." She leaned into him and whispered into his ear, "You'll like it, even though you won't win." She blew him a kiss as she floated away to rejoin the Grey Lady.

Draco blushed lightly at the gesture and turned back to his own table. He had the misfortune of seeing Fred and George, who immediately began making kissy faces at him, to the delight of everyone around them.

Dumbledore began to speak, and Draco's thought's turned back to his own problems. He was about to receive his moment of glory. A moment he no longer wanted. Dumbledore was talking about another school year ending, one that was more exciting than most.

"As you can see," the headmaster exclaimed, "we have not yet put up the banners to show this year's winner. The totals, so far, are Hufflepuff with 402 points, Gryffindor with 438 points, Ravenclaw with 456 point and Slytherin with 476 points. And, it should be obvious, because of recent events, that we have more points to present." A pause. Dumbledore made it clear who he was looking at.

"Draco Malfoy was expelled from this school, unfairly, and has yet to be reinstated although that will happen in time for him to join us again as a student in the new school year. Because of services he has rendered to this school under extraordinary circumstances, we award his 'former' house, Gryffindor, two hundred points."

The table cheered, except for one blond boy. And the cheers died quickly enough when Dumbledore held his hands up to show that he was not done. Everyone understood why Dumbledore stopped their celebration. Gryffindor would not win the house cup.

"Mister Malfoy did not act alone." Dumbledore's eyes were fixed on Moaning Myrtle. "Myrtle Mulberry, even though she had been a ghost for fifty years, chose to help her friend knowing what she would face, and not knowing with any certainty if she would remain unharmed by it. In a difficult moment, she chose a wise path and remained true to her friend. For this, we award her former house, Ravenclaw, two hundred points."

Now, it was Ravenclaw's turn to applaud. They had been so close, and now they had a clear lead over Slytherin. And Draco let out a cheer. Never had he seen Myrtle so happy. The Ravenclaws were standing now, and applauding her. Their applause, too, died down, after a while, as the headmaster let it be known that he had more to say.

"Before I put up the banners, I need to remind everyone that a third person was with them. A former auror who was well liked by his peers and admired for his skills. He came out of retirement specifically to solve the mystery of the Chamber. In the end, he willingly sacrificed his own life so that others would live and that a great evil could be defeated." With a wave of his hand, glasses of wine appeared in front of everyone, teachers and students alike. Dumbledore held up a glass of his own. "I would ask everyone to drink with me, one final toast. To Alastor Moody."

Draco took his glass. Instinctively, he sniffed at it and smiled. His wine was mostly water. He raised his glass, with everyone else, and they called out: "TO ALASTOR MOODY". His own glass was downed in one gulp, and he set it back on the table. And he did feel better. The toast was a fitting goodbye. And a friend worse off than he had won her house the cup. He looked over to where Myrtle was, and she smiled at him. And pointed eagerly toward Dumbledore.

"It is only appropriate," Dumbledore was saying, "that such sacrifice should count for more in any award to his former house. As all of the Heads of House have agreed, we therefore award three hundred points . . . to Hufflepuff."

"They should have let you win," Draco said. They were with a small group, outside again, enjoying the night air.

"No." Myrtle's voice had a wistfulness to it. "Then everyone would want me to be there. And, I'm used to being alone whenever I want." She smiled at Draco. "You'll come visit me, won't you?"

"Not often enough," Draco admitted, sheepishly.

She came close to him, but Draco didn't mind that they were being watched. This time, he kept his eyes open. They did a passable imitation of a goodbye kiss. And Myrtle faded away to go back to her bathroom.

To their credit, no one laughed. Neither Hermione, Justin nor the twins. Not until Lee Jordan asked if it was true that he once spent eight hours alone with her. There was a noise, and they turned to see the one person in the school smaller than Draco.

"I wanted to thank you," Colin told him. "For what you did for me. For all of us."

"You're not scared of me?"

Colin smiled. "Every time I ran into trouble, you WEREN'T there."

"Not as much trouble as I've had."

Hermione put her hand on his arm. "It's okay."

"No. It isn't," Draco snarled. "Look what I've been through? Accused of a terrible crime. Locked up. Poisoned. Forced to hide. I finally found someone I could trust, only to have him killed, and then I got poisoned again." Someone, Draco did not know who, started to say something. "And that's not all." His voice became harsh. "Do you know what I have to look forward to? Voldemort is going to keep trying to come back. And when he does, guess who's on his list of people he doesn't want around? Someone in this school is still trying to kill me. Longbottom is hinting that I had something to do with the fact that Potter's brother's gone missing. And I know I haven't heard all the rumours yet about how Evil Malfoy beat out the competition, again. And to add icing to the cake, Sirius Black, who probably hates me more than I hate him, is my legal guardian. I get to spend the next two months with him."

"That last part sounds horrible," Justin admitted.

A smile forced its way to Draco's lips. "Yeah. Sucks to be me, don't it?"