After fetching her Healing supply kit from upstairs, Hermione went about divesting Draco of his blood-soaked garments at a furious pace. She first pulled off his thick winter cloak, then the long swaths of black fabric that made up his robes. When she came to his white shirt, so damp with sweat and blood that it was nearly translucent, she bit back her horror—it clung tightly to his form, and she could see the many bruises and gashes that lay scattered across his skin underneath. He winced in his sleep as she began to peel it away from his wounds, and with some difficulty she finally maneuvered it over his arms and head.

The number of injuries he had was daunting, but she started with his broken leg and quickly moved on to healing the deep wound in his side once she realized that it was still bleeding. She was just lifting her wand to close up the skin around the wound when Harry burst through the front door, panting and out of breath.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed in relief, his eyes still glinting with determination. "Oh, thank Merlin—" He cut off, stiffening as his gaze wandered to the figure lying on the floor.

"He's unconscious," Hermione said quickly, but before she could finish, Harry had already trained his wand on Draco and shouted, "Incarcerous!"

Ropes instantly shot out of his wand and began to wrap around their target. "What's he doing here?"

"I don't know. He disturbed the wards, so I came downstairs and—and he was just there, passed out on the doorstep."

"But how—" Harry gave his head a small shake, as if to clear it of the many questions that plagued him. He turned to look at her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. How did you—"

"The wards."

"The wards? They alert you, too?"

"I wanted to know if you were ever in any danger." Harry kneeled by her side and took her into a firm embrace. "Thank Merlin you're all right, Hermione. I was so worried, I can't even—" He looked back at Draco, whose weakened form was now bound tightly by thick ropes, and fell silent.

"Do you think it's a trap?" he finally asked.

"I think he's alone. He's badly injured; I was trying to heal him when you got here."

Harry paused for a moment before rising to his feet. Pointing his wand downward, he whispered an incantation under his breath and blasted a stream of ice cold water directly onto Draco's face.

Draco gave a loud, heaving gasp, as though his lungs were gulping down all the air they could. His eyes snapped open and then narrowed as they focused on Harry.

"Are you awake, Malfoy?"

"What does it look like?" Draco rasped out, and Hermione was chilled by the pained weakness in his voice. She watched as he tried to move, instead discovering his restraints and beginning to struggle vainly against them.

"Why are you here?"

Draco gave a pitiful moan and closed his eyes again.

"Why are you here?" Harry repeated.

"Should have known you'd be here, Potter. Always were a relentless thorn in my side."

"Who did you expect to see?" asked Harry, his expression hardening.

"Maybe we should finish healing him first," whispered Hermione, and Draco's eyes flew open again at the sound of a new voice.

"No," said Harry brusquely. "He'll answer my questions first. How'd you find this place?"

"I stumbled onto it."

"I know for a fact that's impossible, Malfoy. So why don't we try this again—how did you find this place?"

"I stumbled onto it by accident," Draco repeated slowly, glaring up at Harry as though he were not tied up half-naked, near-fatally wounded, and completely vulnerable on the floor of someone else's hallway.

"Liar!" shouted Harry, betraying for the first time the extent of his rage. "You can't find this house unless you know exactly where it is, so cut the horse-shit and tell me how you got here. Or I swear, Malfoy, I'll make you wish you'd died from those wounds already—"

"I didn't know where it was," Draco said through gritted teeth, still staring defiantly up at Harry. "I didn't even know this house existed."

"That's it," said Harry, clearly having lost all patience. "I'm done asking nicely." He reached down to grab Malfoy by the neck, and Hermione rushed forward to stop him. "I'm going to take him to headquarters. Where's his wand?"

"Harry, don't. He's far too injured to be moved anywhere, and I need to heal his wounds before—"

"I think that's the least of our concerns right now. You need to pack anything important or particularly valuable and come with me. Your location's been compromised."

"It hasn't," Draco interjected softly.

They both turned to stare at him. "What?" asked Harry.

"It hasn't been compromised."

"Then how come you found it?"

"I told you. It was an accident. I didn't tell them where I was going."

Harry turned back to Hermione. "Pack your things. I'll take him to headquarters so we can interrogate him properly. Where'd you put his wand?"

"You can't," Hermione protested. "He was unconscious when I found him, and you should have seen his robes; they were completely soaked in—Harry, he's lost a lot of blood, and I need to at least finish healing him before he can travel anywhere."

"Hermione, Death Eaters could be here any moment now. This is no time for your bleeding heart compassion nonse—"

"They don't know where I am," Draco said quietly.

Harry's expression turned from frustration to disbelief. "And why should we believe you?"

"Trust me, Potter. They have no idea."

"Trust you?" Harry walked over to Draco so that he was standing directly over him. "We've already made that mistake once, Malfoy. I don't plan on making it again."

Draco winced as he adjusted his position to look up at Harry. "I never left the Order."

Harry laughed, though his eyes were furious. "Oh, really? So I take it the Death Eaters found out about your little betrayal?"

"They didn't. Though, now that I've disappeared, they've most likely figured out that I've defected."

"Then who did this to you?"

"It wasn't the Death Eaters, if that's what you're thinking."

"So why the sudden change of heart?"

Draco looked away. "I thought I was dying."

"Did the Order—"

"It wasn't the Order. I stumbled upon a jinxed object that exploded. No one did this to me." He took a deep breath and swallowed his pride. "I wanted to come back."

For a moment, Harry seemed to be searching Draco's face for something he did not find. He finally stepped back and faced Hermione. "You should pack. We don't know whether he's lying or not. And where's his wand?"

Hermione's lips parted in surprise, but she did not speak.

"You did Disarm him?" he asked, suddenly horrified.

"I—I didn't think of that," she said weakly, looking stunned at her own mistake.

"I'll do it now. They have Veritaserum at headquarters, so once you've gotten your things—"

"Wait, Harry, I have some Veritaserum upstairs. Why don't you just use that and keep him here until he's well enough to travel?"

Harry looked annoyed, but he gave a reluctant nod. Hermione ran towards the stairs, while Harry turned back towards the intruder lying on the floor.

"Hermione's a lot more forgiving than I am," he said quietly. "But I want to know how you found this house, Malfoy. And I plan to find out."

"I already told you, Potter—"

"Don't insult me," interrupted Harry, in the same soft, menacing tone. "Hermione may be above using force to get answers, but she's not here right now. And personally, I think you deserve a lot worse."

He began to walk slowly and threateningly in Draco's direction. "No one knows about this house except for three people: me, Hermione, and Ron. And it's protected from anyone who doesn't specifically know where it is, so you can't just stumble across it while strolling through the woods."

Draco swallowed hard. "I had a Portkey."

"A Portkey?" Harry's eyes widened in shock. "Where did you—"

"I found it in an abandoned house I was searching. I didn't know what it did or where it would take me."

"Where was the house?"

"I don't remember."

"That makes no sense, Malfoy."

"I know it doesn't make sense, but it's the truth." He paused. "When I was hurt, I thought of the Order and I felt a sudden impulse to use it. I can't explain it any better than that."

"When did you find it?"

"A while ago."

"Let me see it."

Draco hesitated. "I don't know if—"

"I want to see that Portkey." The warning in his voice was unmistakable.

"Untie me."

After Disarming him, Harry loosened Draco's binds and gestured for him to retrieve the Portkey. As Harry kept his wand pointed straight at him, Draco reached into his cloak pocket and pulled out a tiny lacquered box.

Harry took it from him and examined it carefully. The box was painted jet black and exquisitely ornate, decorated with beautiful ribbons of gold leaf that intertwined to form an intricate pattern. When he opened it, he found inside a small white orb that shone so brightly he had to squint to look at it.

"No one knows about this place," said Harry, seeming to speak to himself. "How could that be possible?"

"Don't touch it," Draco said quickly. "I don't know what it'll do."

Harry looked back at him suspiciously. "You said it was a Portkey."

"So I assumed. But I didn't know it would bring me here, and I don't know what it'll do next."

After a second of thought, Harry whipped out his wand and bound Draco again. Moving quickly towards him, he grasped Draco's arm and Disapparated with a loud crack.

seventh year

It was Hermione who finally persuaded Harry to stay at Hogwarts for their final year. She convinced him that rushing out alone to search blindly for Horcruxes, without knowing the first thing about them, was not the best strategy; he would find it much easier to research them if he remained at Hogwarts. Then, once he had learned enough and come closer to guessing where they might be hidden, he could venture out to find them well-prepared and in far less danger. The fate of the wizarding world rested on him, Hermione insisted, and recklessly endangering his life would be unforgivably irresponsible. What would happen to the fight against Voldemort, were he to die? She urged him to think of the consequences. And if he happened to finish his schooling in the process—well, that was simply a bonus.

Professor McGonagall took over as Headmistress; and aside from the first few days back, when they felt most acutely Dumbledore's absence, things were much the same at school. In fact, by the third week, Hermione felt as though not much had changed—though Harry, she noticed, had a great deal more trouble adjusting to Dumbledore's absence. She could tell that he itched to get out of there and do something—to destroy the Horcruxes, take revenge on Carrow, anything—and it was killing him to remain cooped up inside, going about the dreary monotony of classes and schoolwork. But for Hermione, it helped to be back at school; school was where she thrived.

As for Malfoy, they did not see much of him. They were required, for safety reasons, not to change their behavior towards him—which was not difficult, considering that their feelings about him had not changed in the slightest. If anything, the new knowledge that he was a Death Eater who had contributed to Dumbledore's demise fueled their hatred: they hated him more than ever before.

They all still glared at one another in the hallways; he and Harry still could not resist bickering in class. Even the teachers seemed wary of him, having no difficulty treating him as though he were the furthest thing from a spy for the Order. Hermione knew that they, too, blamed him for Dumbledore's death.

Malfoy did seem more reserved and morose than he had in the past, but that was not entirely new: Hermione remembered Harry pointing out that Malfoy's spirits had seemed somewhat dampened the previous year, that the circles under his eyes were growing darker and increasingly pronounced as sixth year went on. The one thing that had changed since summer was that he no longer appeared to be spending as much time with his friends as before. Instead, he kept somberly to himself, with Crabbe and Goyle now skulking around mostly by themselves, and he acted distant even from Blaise Zabini, in whom he had been known to confide.

Then, one day, Hermione was summoned to Professor McGonagall's office and was surprised to find that Malfoy was already there when she arrived.

"Hello, Miss Granger. Have a seat. I was just telling Mr. Malfoy that the Order has an assignment for the two of you."

Hermione's eyes darted to Malfoy as she sat down, but he was not looking at her.

"As you might imagine, the Order was most disturbed to hear that an object in the Hogwarts castle, of all places, was used to infiltrate this school last year."

Malfoy flinched. Professor McGonagall appeared to take no notice as she cleared her throat and went on.

"It led us to wonder what other obscure magical artefacts the Death Eaters could possibly use against us. Mr. Malfoy has already informed us of the Dark objects and weapons he knows the Death Eaters have in their possession, but there may be more that we do not know about, and as we have so unfortunately learned, the objects need not necessarily be Dark in nature to do harm."

It was evident from her tone that she had not forgiven Malfoy for teaching the Order this particular lesson.

"The job is a sedentary but time-consuming task that requires ready access to a large library and other resources that one can find easily at Hogwarts, and so it seemed most appropriate for a trustworthy student to undertake it. Miss Granger, you've always excelled at research—and with your intelligence and extensive knowledge, the Order thought you would be the perfect candidate. Mr. Malfoy, since you have particular insight into the Death Eaters' thought processes and perspective, we believe you will be able to provide assistance to Miss Granger. In addition, perhaps the one area of knowledge in which Miss Granger is sorely lacking is in the Dark Arts, and you can certainly prove helpful in that regard.

"I must ask you both to be discreet and to hide this project from the other students as best you can. Remember that it would look strange for the two of you to suddenly develop a burgeoning friendship, and we do not want to attract attention. It is important that you take great care in meeting in secret and coming up with appropriate excuses for your friends regarding your occasional absence."

Malfoy looked fairly frozen in his seat. Were his mouth not clamped tightly shut, it might have seemed as though he were gaping at Professor McGonagall.

"But Professor," Hermione said slowly, fighting the sinking feeling in her stomach, "there are so many magical objects out there, and I assume there is no comprehensive catalogue. How do we know where to start?"

For the first time, Malfoy looked over at her, and she saw a faint trace of surprise in his eyes—perhaps because she was not objecting to the assignment. But how could she possibly object when the Order needed her? She tried not to think too much about the fact that, of all the students in Hogwarts, they had decided to force her to work with him.

"The fact that there is no comprehensive catalogue is precisely the problem, Miss Granger. Were we so lucky, we would not need to entrust this job to you." Professor McGonagall gave a thin smile. "Hogwarts is one of the most magical places in the world and has an almost unrivalled history of being home to the most brilliant witches and wizards. And in light of our previous experiences"—and here she pursed her lips—"I think it would be wise to start in this very castle."

Harry and Draco Apparated into a small, windowless room with grey walls and very little light. Draco immediately began coughing and sputtering, but Harry ignored him as he opened the small black box in his hand.

"I—already told you—I don't know—what—it'll do this time," Draco managed between coughs.

"This is an interrogation room, Malfoy. If the Portkey doesn't work, we'll be staying here."

Harry pressed a finger gently against the brilliant orb inside, but while it glowed a fiery red, nothing else happened. He took the tiny sphere out of the box and experimentally wrapped his fingers around it.

Suddenly, the orb began to spark. It burned red and emanated a warm, pleasant heat, and Harry felt compelled to hold tightly onto it. At the last second, some clarity of thought washed over him and he reached out to grab Draco's arm just before he vanished from the room.

They arrived exactly where they'd left.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he tucked the orb back inside its box and set it down on a small table nearby. Draco, meanwhile, had not endured the travel well and was now groaning in pain. When he began to cough up tiny flecks of blood, Harry released the ropes that bound him.

"That was a weird Portkey," said Harry thoughtfully. "I've never—"

At precisely that moment, Hermione came rushing down the stairs, clutching a small bottle. "Here." She glanced over at Draco and then gasped. "Harry—what did you do to him? Why is he worse?"

"He said he used a Portkey to get here, so I tested it."

Hermione looked at Harry strangely for a second. "And it worked?"

"Yeah, we just got back."

She was silent as Harry took the Veritaserum from her fingers and proceeded to carefully pour three drops into Draco's willing mouth. Draco grimaced as he swallowed, then said raspily, "Get on with it, Potter."

"I'll bring him some water," said Hermione, looking concerned, but Harry took her arm to stop her.

"Let's make sure he's telling the truth first." He turned back towards Draco. "Were you lying before? Did you really find the Portkey in an abandoned house?"

"I wasn't lying," Draco said with some difficulty. "I found it in an abandoned house and didn't know what it was."

"How did you find this house?"

"I used the box. I didn't know this house existed—I didn't know it would bring me here."

"Does anyone else know where you are?"

"No."

"Were you found out as a spy by the Death Eaters?"

"No."

"Are you here on a mission for the Death Eaters?"

"No."

"Have your allegiances changed?"

"No. I want to return to the Order for good."