A/N: Draco Malfoy's up for sale! Yep, he is. Only, I could never afford him :( Gah. J K Rowling still owns him, though, as far as I know.

Thanks to the amazing SilverRiv for Beta'ing this! You're awesome :P

Chapter 6:

Draco was in paradise.

He'd just slept with Hermione Granger, and it had been fucking amazing. However, the high he was riding was unfortunately soured by the guilt he felt over the circumstances behind it.

He'd gone in expecting it to be emotionless and mechanical-just a chore to be done, just another item ticked off the to-do list.

But she'd amazed him. No, more than that-she'd fucking blown his mind.

And – although he'd never admit it – it wasn't just the sex, either. It was her. All of her. Her drive and willpower. She knew what she wanted, and she went after it with complete determination. Almost like Voldemort.

But unlike the Dark Lord, she also possessed kindness, compassion, and selflessness. Gentleness. Loyalty. Bravery. Qualities he'd once scoffed upon.

He wished he could save her, take away her pain and give her everything under the sun. He wished he could be even half as brave as she was. Maybe then he would've helped her escape. If it had been Potter or Weasley in his place, they would have fought to get her out of there, not taken her innocence like the coWardly wretch that he was.

And as much as Draco hated himself, he just admired Granger more. He'd underestimated her, he knew now. He hadn't realized just how deep her selflessness ran. She'd accepted her possible looming execution with a shrug and moved on to how she could minimize the overall damage.

The detachment in her tone had done it for him, the way she'd taken everything life threw at her, and still had the power to pick her battles. She made each fight count, and did not waste her time and energy crying over lost causes. He had wanted to worship her, to give himself over to her in every way possible, show her his support in the only way he could.

For the first time in a long time, he'd thought of someone other than himself; and it had felt fucking liberating.

Slipping back to his wing of the Manor was child's play, despite the heavy Death Eater patrols. He'd grown up exploring these halls, and knew of more secret passageways than both his parents put together.

However, as he approached his bedroom, it became clear that someone was waiting for him inside. The door was slightly ajar, with candle light spilling through the gap. He was certain he'd closed the door and blown out the candle before he left the room.

Draco instinctively reached for his wand uncertainly. Who could be in his room at this time of night?

The others couldn't have known what he'd done, could they? Surely, he would've been killed by now if that was true. But what excuse could he provide for being out of bed at such a late hour?

Draco carefully swung the door open the rest of the way, wand drawn, and an Obliviate on the tip of his tongue. His wand dropped, however, as he recognized the profile of the woman sitting on the armchair in the corner of the room.

'Mother?'

Narcissa Malfoy glanced up quickly, her face an expressionless mask. 'Draco,' she said, inclining her head towards him. 'Come in.'

'What are you doing here, Mother? It's late.' His mind was buzzing in panic, but he'd been raised to obey his parents without question, and he knew his mother well enough to believe that he ranked higher on her priorities than the Death Eaters, at least.

So he mimicked her expressionless mask with one of his own, entering the room and closing the door behind him.

The moment the door was shut, Narcissa locked and warded the room against eavesdropping and magical methods of spying. Draco leaned against the closed door and eyed her nervously. Could she have possibly found out what he had done? Was he in trouble?

He was dead. He was so, so dead.

'Draco,' Narcissa smirked winningly, holding up an ancient tome. 'I've found a way to prevent the Dark Lord's return.'

Wait, what? Draco tried not to sound too relieved as he replied. 'That's great, Mother,' Draco grinned, a little too widely. She was so excited that she hadn't even bothered enquiring about his midnight wanderings. 'Do tell.'

'I found the recipe for the Renascentia Potion -' Narcissa held up Moste Potente Potions, sounding almost like Professor McGonangall for a moment. Not that he would say that to her face of course. It was surprisingly amusing how much the two women despised each other.

'- and it states that the binding for all the ingredients is the magical core of the marked followers,' his mother continued excitedly, oblivious to his dangerous train of thought.

'Marked?' Draco pulled back his left sleeve, revealing the ugly Dark Mark across his skin, looking at her questioningly. 'Like this?'

'Exactly.' Narcissa replied grimly. 'So the Potion will have no effect if there are no Dark Marks.'

'But how do we get rid of all the Dark Marks, Mother?' Draco scoffed. 'It's not like we can remove them from everyone's arms one by one while they're asleep. Is there even a spell for that?'

'I've found two spells in our Library,' his mother revealed. 'But the first one can only be used to remove one's own Mark.' She lifted her sleeve, revealing reddish, but otherwise unblemished skin where her Mark had once been.

'And the other?' Draco asked, impressed.

'It'll get rid of every single Mark,' his mother replied evenly, but he could sense a condition coming up. 'But it's extremely painful, and the spell can only be cast by someone who has never worked in the Dark Lord's name, or for his cause.' She deflated visibly. 'But I don't know how we can reach someone like that. We have no way to contact the Order, and my every move is closely watched, as is yours.'

Draco smiled tentatively. 'I think I know just the person.'

Draco lay on his back in bed after his mother left, staring at the ceiling above him and blinking back tears.

After the enlightening conversation, Draco felt like hitting his head against the wall. Repeatedly. Until it bled.

Because there had been another way, after all – another way to stop Voldemort's return. If he'd just waited a little longer, or turned her down, if he'd bothered to meet his mother before he went down to see her, if, if, if…

If she didn't hate him before, she'd certainly hate him now. Because it had been pointless – her sacrifice had literally been pointless. But, the selfish creature that he was, he couldn't bring himself to regret what they'd done.

Not one damn bit.

So he pulled himself up and carefully made his way out of the Manor, disapparating back to the Forbidden Forest. Sneaking around was becoming something of a habit these days, he realized as he crept up to his dorm room, unnoticed by his sleeping housemates.

Zabini was already back and asleep, as were Goyle and Nott. Which meant there were no eyes on him, if only for a couple more hours.

Carefully Disillusioning himself, he grabbed a Quill and a sheaf of parchment from his desk before heading up to the Owlery. He needed allies, and there was only one person he could think of to approach for help.

Time to bring Potter in on the plan.

A/N: So, what do you think happens now? And what do you think of Narcissa's timing? :P Let me know!

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~craaazyaboutMalfoy