I'm back! Don't you just love a good cliffhanger? Peru was awesome - I chased a llama round a lake, climbed some mountains, ate a few alpacas, danced on a bar in Cusco, got lost in several Incan ruins, ate a piece of one of the floating islands on Lake Titicaca, crawled through a 'cursed' Incan tunnel, slid down several sand dunes and was assaulted by two women and a lamb - and that's not even half the stuff I did. SO GOOD. Special thanks to resina, kvance, ChloeTeller2k11, LovelyAshes, InsaniumArtisan, bluebook1496, Leah227, ashyat and snapplexo for the reviews - as always, they are totally appreciated. Please don't feel shy to share your opinions and I hope you enjoy the chapter :)
Draco stood by the beech tree and waited. The hot sun glared overhead like an angry eye; he could already feel the back of his neck beginning to burn. He glanced at his watch and tried his best to ignore it.
Where was Hermione?
Their last exam had finished almost an hour ago now. She'd never kept him waiting this long before – she seemed to regard lateness as a personal insult and usually did her best to avoid it, or at least send her excuses. But he'd seen nothing of her, and heard nothing from her, and a crawling fear was starting to creep into the pit of his stomach.
This wasn't like her at all.
He looked around the grounds as casually as he could. They were completely deserted – even Hagrid was inside the castle, acting as invigilator for the fifth-years' first OWL. All he could see were a few pale faces at the castle windows, a lone tentacle of the Giant Squid floating lazily on top of the water, and something spitting out sparks next to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Draco blinked.
It was a wand, made of thin, pale wood. It had been snapped completely in half, so badly that the blackened strands of dragon heartstring were frayed at the edges. The tip, however, was still spitting out red and gold sparks every few seconds, and the leaves on which it rested were already beginning to smoulder.
Draco crossed over to the forest and scooped it up.
He knew this wand.
At once, pain raced along his left arm like wildfire. For a few seconds his vision faded and a bloody arm and Hermione's frightened face flashed before his eyes. He crashed to the floor, the ground grinding into his knees, and the edge of the forest returned to his sight again.
He hauled himself to his shaking feet and ran straight to Professor McGonagall's office, still clutching the broken wand.
Professor McGonagall sat behind her desk and fixed Draco with a look like a steel pin. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the broken wand on her desk. Draco had explained everything to her in a garbled mess of words, ignoring the pain stabbing in his arm as he spoke and forcing the Death Eater's images out of his head. He'd been so distracted that she'd barely believed him – in the end, it had only been the Headmistress's testing of the wand that had convinced her. The second she had verified that it was Hermione's wand, she had thrown a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and called the Auror office.
There was a flash of green in the fireplace and Draco's stomach turned over. All his least favourite people were climbing out of the fireplace: half of the old Gryffindor Quidditch team, a man called Habernathy who'd overseen the prosecution case against his father, Potter and three members of the Weasley family were all brushing ash off their robes and glaring at him suspiciously. Right at the back was Ron Weasley, and as Professor McGonagall explained the situation, his face slowly began to turn the colour of off milk. Habernathy, however, was a different matter. His hands curled into fists as the Headmistress spoke and by the time she had finished, a vein was throbbing in his scarlet temple. The rest of the Aurors were silent, but Potter's green eyes kept darting to the bandages wound around Draco's left arm.
"So Hermione was kidnapped from the school grounds and we have no idea where she could be?" he said, his expression serious.
Professor McGonagall nodded. "From what Mr Malfoy tells me, the visions Greyback has been…er…sending him have not been substantial enough to get a clear location."
Habernathy snarled from his position in front of the fireplace. "So what you're saying," he growled, "is that rogue Death Eaters have had a secret communication channel inside this school and that you have done nothing about it?"
There was complete silence.
Draco got to his feet and faced the Aurors. Their wands were drawn before he could blink – all of them pointed squarely at his chest – but he stared each one of them in the eyes without flinching.
"Mr Habernathy," he said, dragging up all the dignity he could muster as he rolled up his sleeve, "the Death Eaters may have had a channel of communication, but I have not been using it."
The Aurors' eyes fell on the bandages. Ron Weasley's ears went pink, but none of them lowered their wands. Draco ignored them and turned back to Professor McGonagall.
"As far as location goes, Professor, I might be of some help."
Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. Draco tried his best not to let the embarrassment burning up his neck show on his face.
"While it's true that I haven't seen an exact location in the visions, I am a little more familiar with Greyback's methods than the rest of you. I'm willing to bet that he's still in the Forbidden Forest."
Everyone in the room stared at him. Habernathy's knuckles whitened on the handle of his wand, Potter swore under his breath and Professor McGonagall's eyebrows had disappeared underneath the brim of her hat.
"And what makes you say that?"
Draco cleared his throat. "Greyback never learned how to use magic. He's never been a part of any wizarding community, and he was never marked with the Dark Mark. He'll be restricted to non-magical means of transportation. It'd be highly unlikely for him to use Muggle transportation and – seeing as he's a werewolf – I don't think any creature would stay around long enough to carry him. No, he'll be travelling on foot – and as the forest goes on for miles, he'll probably still be inside it."
Potter glared at him. "Fine. But how do we find him?"
Draco glared right back. "It'd be no use if any of you went in there looking for him. If Hermione's still –"
Ron's eyes widened. Too late, Draco realised his mistake.
"– if Miss Granger is still with him, he could do serious damage to her at the sight of a group of Aurors. He'll see if you fly overhead on brooms, there's nowhere in the forest you could Floo too, and everyone knows you can't Apparate or Disapparate inside the Hogwarts grounds."
Harry and Ron exchanged glances.
"Shut up, Malfoy," Habernathy snarled, a muscle underneath his eye twitching, "we Aurors have magic you could only dream of. Our disguises would be –"
"Useless," Draco interrupted, smiling coldly, "because Greyback could smell you coming."
Habernathy snarled.
"You need a man on the inside," said Draco, ignoring the Auror's twisting mouth, "someone who Greyback won't attack when he sees them coming. Someone who could go to and from the forest without Greyback getting suspicious, and someone who could tell you his exact location and allow you to plan a surprise attack."
The Aurors exchanged glances. They all looked sceptical, and suddenly Draco felt a stab of anger flare up inside him. After everything he'd said, after everything he'd done, they still didn't believe him…
"Look," he snapped, his temper rising, "I'm going in there whether it's part of your plan or not. You can either choose to take advantage of my information or ignore it. But I'm going after Hermione Granger, and I'm going to bring her back."
"Why?"
It was Weasley who had spoken. His mouth was set into a hard line and his blue eyes were flashing steel. Draco looked at him and faltered. There'd been more rumours in the Prophet again. After they'd been seen together in Hogsmeade on Valentines' Day, people were convinced that Ron and Hermione were dating again. Draco wasn't surprised. He could only picture Hermione dating someone like Weasley – a war hero, an Auror, someone who'd never had a black mark scrawled across his skin. Someone whole and untarnished, not someone like him, not someone whose back was crawling with guilt…
But, as he stared around the silent, expectant room and felt every pair of eyes boring into him, the realisation hit him.
He was far beyond the point where any of that mattered.
He didn't care who she was dating, or who made her heart race, or who was being poked and prodded for the gory details by Rita Skeeter's insistent pen. It would never be him, he knew, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that she was safe and happy. He didn't want anything in return – it would be unfair to ask her that, not when she thought so little of him – but just knowing that she was all right would be enough. And right now – when she was so far from being all right – he knew with absolute certainty that he would do everything in his power to make sure she was safe again.
And that would be enough.
Draco swallowed drily. Everyone was still looking at him, and both Potter and Weasley had disconcertingly shrewd expressions on their faces. He could feel the heat crawling up his neck and tried not to look at Professor McGonagall's raised eyebrows.
"Well," he said, his voice quiet, "she's my tutor."
Harry and Ron exchanged glances.