I

May 1997

She had been missing all morning.

They hardly ever met up outside of their nightly encounters, but they shared a majority of their classes and the Great Hall during mealtimes. He should have seen her multiple times throughout the day, but when she didn't show up for their first class - NEWT Charms with Flitwick - he realised something was amiss, and it was more than just his gut instinct. It couldn't have been a fuckup on his end that caused her to spurn their nightly meetings, no, she was gone. Probably from the castle, if he were to guess. Draco immediately thought through several worst-case scenarios - death itself probably wasn't enough to stop Hermione-fucking-Granger from attending class.

It was one thing for her to skip their Restricted Section rendezvous - maybe she fell asleep, maybe she couldn't slip out, maybe maybe maybe - but a very different story for Hermione Granger to miss out on any sort of educational advancement. No, he thought with a sinking heart as he stared at the empty chair that normally seated his favourite person in the world, something was very, very wrong.

He cornered Potter on the trek to the greenhouses for Herbology after spelling Weasley's laces together, forcing the duo to pause in the middle of the hallway.

"Malfoy," Potter hissed as he came closer, whipping out his wand. Weasley, in the process of tying his shoes, struggled to keep his balance and draw his wand.

"Why are there only two of you?" Draco tried to keep up his smug façade, Occluding any worry he had for his witch. He crossed his arms as he leaned against the stone wall, wand loose in one hand but not pointed at either Gryffindor. His posture suggested he was at ease, completely unfazed by the two dunderheads, with the exception of the slight tightening of his jaw. Hermione would have noticed his eyes had become flintier, not from his company, but from Occluding something vital to him.

"Hermione's not here. Why? D'you have a few new insults to throw at her?" Potter took a bold step forward and Draco flicked his gaze down to the other boy's foot before looking back into their faces. Draco licked his lips to avoid baring his teeth in distaste. Sure, he was a fucking prat last year, but he had changed. She had seen it - she had caused it. But they didn't know that, so if their assumption was that he would insult her, would hurt her even though it was now going against his very nature, so be it. He could work with that.

"Something like that," he rolled his eyes and crossed one ankle over the other. "Where is she?" At that, Potter and Weasley exchanged a surreptitious glance, but they weren't as furtive as they hoped. With glittering eyes, he watched the confusion cross their faces.

"Do you know something?" Weasley straightened up, adjusting his robes as he glared at Draco. Feigning a yawn, Draco checked his watch, pretending to check the time.

"Of course not, that's why I'm here talking to you," he answered honestly but with enough of a sneer in his tone it seemed false. "Better run along now, though, class is starting soon. Thanks for this little chat." He stood taller and then walked past the two, flicking his hand in a half-wave behind him as they - undoubtedly - glared at his back.

"Get back here, Malfoy," Potter called out, and Draco paused, curious and hopeful enough that maybe they weren't telling him everything they knew.

It was a fool's hope. Those buffoons couldn't act to save their lives. And on any given day, they knew absolutely less than nothing, so the odds of them being more informed than Draco was laughable.

"What do you want, Potter? I don't feel like filling in for Granger as the brains of the trio." He didn't go back, not wanting to let the duo think he would listen to their commands. Instead, Draco turned over his shoulder, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow as a challenge.

"What's with the questions about Hermione?" Weaselbee asked gruffly, and Draco rolled his eyes at the direct question. Salazar knows the two would never have made it as Slytherins, always too head-on with their words and actions.

"I was curious what sort of end-of-the-world situation was important enough to require Miss I'd-rather-die-than-get-an-E to be in a different location than our lessons. She is rather… maniacal about her education, so she must have been dragged away kicking and screaming. Something I would have paid to see," he added as an afterthought.

"Sounds like you know a lot about Hermione," Potter said with a lofty air, and Draco smothered a snort at the attempt to be sly.

"Slytherin nature," Draco smirked, "to be observant so your enemies don't catch you unawares."

"And Hermione's your enemy." Potter frowned like he was taking personal offence. Draco was just waiting for the day when he could prove to those idiots that Granger was actually going to be the future Mrs. Malfoy - assuming she said yes (and took his name), and then they wouldn't think she was his opponent. Except for test scores - those were fair game, and he was looking forward to having higher grades than her for the first time.

She disagreed. And come to think of it, she wasn't the one who missed a shit ton of classes throughout this year. She had been the one to force him down to study with a wand at his throat. But the joke was on her - he had full access to her notes. He could have to do that professor/student thing she wanted if she beat his scores or he could defile her against one of the shelves - either way, he wins.

Focus, Draco, he chided himself. He can imagine that later.

"Are you upset you're not my mortal enemy?" Draco's smirk was feral as he started down the hall again, silently laughing to himself at the sputtering Chosen One behind him.

The dynamic duet was of no use, which meant he had one more student before he found a professor.

It was just his luck that he spotted the Weaselette on the staircases, heading up a floor. He charged up the steps, taking them two at a time regardless of onlookers until he was beside her. Letting his steps match hers through two hallways, so curious bystanders who just watched him run up two flights of stairs would lose interest, he opened his mouth to speak when she beat him to it.

"What are you walking next to me for?" Without answering, he spotted an empty alcove and pushed her into it, glancing around before entering behind her, keeping a hand around her arm to stop her from running off. She struggled for a moment, shoving him away and standing as far back as she could in the small space.

She huffed out a breath, effectively blowing away the red hair that was falling over her face.

"I'd really rather not get down and dirty with you in an alcove, Malfoy, so why don't you just run along now before I Bat-Bogey Hex you. I'll give you to the count of three; I need the practice, you know, so I might skip a number or three." She inspected her fingernails with the same aloof disposition he had when talking to two-thirds of the Golden Trio, but he recognized the slight tension in her stance and how one hand was slowly removing her wand from her pocket.

"You don't need to hex me, Weaselette, I was looking to see if you knew where Granger was." He adopted the same tone and blasé energy as her, letting his shoulders rest against his end of the alcove. "The other two were useless, not that I'm surprised, but you might know a little more than they did. Honestly, knowing anything is more than they know." He scowled, trailing off as he thought up new and fun insults to use against Potty and his sidekick. Too late, he realised he didn't keep his antagonistic nature, that the female Weasley was seeing him like how Hermione saw him. He glanced at the redhead to see her eyeing him suspiciously, and he sneered at her in retaliation.

"Why do you need to know where Hermione is?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "That's none of your concern. Do you know where she is or not?"

She was silent for a moment more and the bells went off, signalling the start of class. "Look, Ginevra, you better tell me quickly because I have places to be," he threatened.

"You mean wherever you go when you don't go to class?" She nodded at his surprise, and he cursed under his breath for slipping up again. Granger's disappearing act was doing a number on his Slytherin tendencies. "Harry and the others notice you're skipping more often than not, so if you have places to be that clearly aren't your classes, where do you go?"

Fuck. He wasn't hiding that he was skiving off, or how he'd lost a lot of weight at the beginning of the year and was hardly sleeping. Hermione brought it up almost every other day, chiding him for not eating or sleeping enough and bringing him her notes without being asked.

Gods, he didn't deserve her.

"That's none of your concern either. Do you know where Granger is?" He heard some of his hidden unease bleed through and stiffened, hoping she didn't notice. He wasn't going to say anything to anyone about his relationship with Granger, not without clearing it with her first. Plus, he felt like she'd much rather tell Weaselette herself if they were going to tell people. Which wasn't likely, he thought hurriedly, it's too dangerous to tell anyone and it was better for her to keep them hidden. He wasn't the one who would be cast out by people who mattered.

The female Weasley gave him a long, hard look, eyes narrowing at him. She looked ready to bite his head off or storm away, but then she bit her lip. "She- The boys are dumb, and they don't notice, but I know that she's not getting very much sleep, either, and despite that, she's always the first to go to bed, or doesn't even come to bed some nights. I haven't - and won't - interfere with her privacy or personal matters unless she chooses to tell me, but- but she's been happy, much happier than normal. It's not a bad thing, I love seeing her happy, so- so I won't criticise or look down on her for how she finds that happiness."

Ginevra took a deep breath and looked him square in the eye, an act that made him completely freeze up. "This morning, before we went down to breakfast, she received an owl from Dumbledore. It was a clipping from today's Prophet, about how a Muggleborn's family mysteriously vanished. She looked ready to cry and told me she would meet me in the Great Hall, but she never showed." Draco nodded to himself, letting his gaze drift away from the redhead and to the stone wall behind her. He hadn't seen Hermione at breakfast, and though she occasionally missed it, something had felt off this morning.

"But she didn't say she was going anywhere? Meeting anyone?" He pressed, returning his attention to the one Gryffindor that was helping him solve this mystery.

"No. I'm assuming she went to speak with Dumbledore, though, since he's the one who owled her."

"Alright." Draco stuck his hands in the pockets of his trousers, trying to guess the meaning behind the clipping or why she needed to talk with Dumbledore. "Thanks, Weaselette."

Ginny Weasley looked him over once more and then nodded, more to herself than anything. "Don't mention it, Ferret."

He scowled at the nickname but quickly left the alcove, letting his feet take him somewhere while he tried to formulate an idea of what to do next.

II

October 1996

"Back again," she said without looking up from her notes, because this was the fifth time this week alone he'd run into her here - and quite a few times in the weeks before, which was suspicious but he still hadn't had a full night of sleep and was hanging by threads so he'd let it go all this time - and he responded with his standard-issue grunt, plopping himself in an undignified manner onto the seat beside her with his arms full of the books he was still trying to get through. It was like his head was stuffed with cotton every time he tried to understand the complex theory behind some of these spells, which could have been useful had he had the mental strength to process the information he was reading. Then again, the other day he read four pages' worth of background information, theories, tests, and footnotes all for it to explain the foundation for the Furnunculus Curse.

Sometimes, Draco wished these old textbooks would be affected by the jinxes and hexes they explained - in detail - on their pages. Or, at the very least, list what the chapter is about. He refused to admit, even to himself, that he stubbornly refused to read the table of contents because the last book he read, Granger commented, "The longer you spend poring over that table of contents - which only lists five chapters, by the way, I counted ten minutes ago - the more convinced I am that you can't actually read." Sure, it wasn't a very good insult - his were always top-tier; short, and to the point - but it was the principle of the matter that counted. And sure, it took him an extra day and a half to read it useless chapter by useless chapter, but he would not let Granger win. Especially not after when he first picked up the tome he was reading now and she pulled out that infernal pocket watch with a villainous and evil smirk.

At least with this new and much worse method, she didn't get the satisfaction of teasing him about it again. He just knew she still carried that pocketwatch around.

Just as he was prepared to open the first one where he'd left off last time - page 423 and still nothing that was useful - something with claws and a face that would haunt his nightmares - if he ever slept again - had jumped onto his book.

He did not scream, thank you very much, just let loose a high-pitched and manly shout that had Granger snorting from her table.

"What the fuck is this?" He threw the monstrosity away from him - towards Granger, hoping maybe she could deal with it or be eaten, giving him plenty of time to run - and had his wand out, aiming straight between the creature's ugly bug eyes.

"Don't you dare touch him, Malfoy," Granger spat with more venom than she had used for him all year, which almost shocked him more than the clawed mutation that had jumped him. He hesitated from her tone, his wand wavering before he saw the hatred in the creature's eyes and recovered with firmer resolve.

"Touch who? I'm aiming for the eyesore you're hovering in front of. Careful, I wouldn't mind if I hit you too," he sneered. She had the furry mess in her arms, clutching it protectively to her chest, and he was torn. Half of him was ready to blow the both of them to smithereens, and the other half was telling him to get Granger out of the way first, for reasons he couldn't understand.

"You've never seen Crookshanks around the castle? It's been three years, Malfoy, I thought you were supposed to be observant." She didn't even pretend to look frightened at his threat, and he grit his teeth. So what if they'd had a decent silence when they'd studied after hours, he needed the practice if he was going to murder an old man. Might as well start with a girl and the demon she held.

And yet his wand was already lowered and he was back in his seat scowling at the beast that was wrapped in her arms and hissing at him.

"What the fuck is Crookshanks? Some demon spawn?"

"He's a half-kneazle, if you must know and can't tell," she sniffed, cooing at the thing that was too large and ugly to be even distantly related to the kneazle family, "did the mean boy scare you, Crooks?"

Draco scoffed loudly, carefully inspecting his clothing to be sure it hadn't been ripped at all. He was certainly displeased when he saw the orange cat hair already littered all over his trousers, and he levelled another glare at the vermin that caused it.

"I don't care if it's full kneazle, Granger, get rid of it." He snapped, and Granger rolled her eyes at him.

"I'd rather get rid of you." This was his cue to storm out, and he honestly should have, but he really needed to find the answer for the hinges, because every time he tried to put the door back onto them, they melted, reforming once the door had fallen and splintered into several pieces, fucking old rotten wood that Draco should-

Crookshanks hissed at him, swiping a paw complete with several - very sharp - claws in his direction, missing only because of the tight hold its owner had and the distance between him and Granger.

"I swear it just hissed my name, Granger," Draco said warily and Granger laughed at him, the bloody shrew.

"Stop being so dramatic, I don't want a repeat of the Hippogriff incident, and I should warn you I'm not able to control animals like Hagrid. Now shut up and either do your work or fuck off."

"Touchy, touchy," he muttered to himself but did as she bid because she had that threatening look to her again and was currently struggling with the possessed cat that was out to get him.

It was nearing three in the morning, the only sound when her animal would threateningly hiss from its perch on her lap, and he was almost ready to give up and maybe - hopefully - get more than two hours of sleep when Granger broke the near-quiet. Its distrustful stare certainly hadn't helped Draco's reading, and he decided he'd have to leave the next time the beast appeared, so he wasn't wasting time.

Her annoying voice felt loud to him, and he scowled down at page 462, his concentration dipping even further. She was mindlessly talking to her cat, and just when he had raised his head to snap at her, she shifted her conversation to him.

"I was glancing through a few of the outside readings for Transfiguration and I was wondering what you thought about what Professor McGonagall was talking about in class the other day, especially when correlating with Danto's ideas in Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration."

Draco didn't know how to react to Granger. He was still confused why she bothered sitting with him - and for that matter, why he had yet to move tables when it was after hours in the Restricted Section and no one else was awake - and had yet to hex him. Honestly, she hardly spoke more than two full sentences most nights, so he was suddenly treading in new waters now that she started a conversation.

"What?" He tried, pretending he hadn't heard so maybe she could go back to talking to the devil cat.

She rolled her eyes with a huff. "You heard me, I want your thoughts on Danto's ideas in Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration."

"I can't say I've read it, Granger," he said absentmindedly, hardly paying attention as he - finally - flipped to the next page.

"Funny you say that since that's the book you're currently holding." His blood ran cold for a brief moment as he fought to not check the cover, don't check the cover-

He checked the cover.

"I don't think I looked at the title, but I'm surprised you read it." The lie was obvious and they both knew it as it was obvious Granger would have read something like the tome he currently held. It applied to schoolwork and was meant to increase one's knowledge of a subject - she'd probably read it before their third year.

That said, he was getting an uncomfortable, almost itchy feeling as he tried to find her angle.

"I'm only partly surprised you're reading it," she said dryly, and he forced out a weak snort, hoping the conversation was over.

It was not.

She seemed amused, and the itchy feeling grew more intense. "Aren't you going to ask why I'm only partly surprised?"

"I'm not sure I want an answer, Granger," he said honestly.

Granger leaned forward, closer to him, her riotous curls spilling over the table, strands landing in front of her "half-Kneazle", the creature pawing the hair as if it were a dangling string. "I've never seen anyone study non-class material as hard as you have. And that made me curious why you would when it hadn't seemed like you put an effort into anything this year."

Draco swallowed. "I'm failing Transfiguration," he said without hesitation even as his foot was bouncing up and down under the table.

Her daring smile disappeared. "That's what I thought at first, and then I realised Professor McGonagall wouldn't have you read that as supplemental work. Try again."

He had lost, but he didn't even know what the battle was for. "I was looking for Charms books - I'm also failing Charms - and this one looked interesting." Half of that was true, he was failing Charms, but he specifically omitted the part that he was looking for the Charms books to fix the cabinet to let Death Eaters into the castle to then kill Dumbledore.

She shook her head. "Not likely - the spine is half falling apart and it screams when you pick it up until you knock on its spine three times. You wouldn't have known that unless you were specifically looking for it, and you did it almost immediately two weeks ago when you first picked it up. Last chance."

He bit his tongue until he tasted iron because she was getting on his last fucking nerve and maybe her face would be funny if he burst out with the truth.

"It sounds like you've been watching me for a while to notice when I started reading this book - how long ago did you say it was? - two weeks ago. Have anything you'd like to confess?" He ran his tongue over his teeth nervously.

"I like to do my research thoroughly and collect all evidence available, no matter how long it takes. Try. Again."

"I don't know, and I don't care." He'd most likely reveal more than she knew if he was honest or tried to lie again, so he settled for a half-truth. It felt like he was starting to break out into hives, something that had only occurred once before when he had eaten a bowl of black elderberries as a child.

"Here's what I think. I think you're trying to fix something - something dangerous - and you can't talk to a Professor about it because they aren't supposed to know, and you can't go to a student for help because there are only a few who are smart enough to figure out your problem and maybe, just maybe, it's unethical and evil and no one would agree to help you."

Draco choked on a laugh because that was the only reaction that could hide the full-body shiver that was suddenly running through him. "I'm not sure what you're insinuating but it would certainly fit in the evil and - unethical, was it? - box you've put me in."

"You put yourself in it, Malfoy, the second you received that brand." His left arm jerked immediately, and he could hardly breathe until she kept talking, hoping she hadn't noticed the gesture. "I'm just calling you out on it."

"Sounds like you're boarding the Death Eater train, did Potter finally annoy you into caving?"

Granger snorted, still staring intently at him, one hand stroking her pet as if they were having a normal conversation and she hadn't just outed him as a Death Eater. "You knew I didn't agree with him, but I can't ignore the facts, either. You were up to something, and I figured it out. Really, it sounds like it's almost your fault if Harry guessed it."

"Potter is always looking for the worst in me," he grumbled. Though she had a point, Potter wasn't the most observant of the bunch - and that was being very generous - and he still was spot-on.

"I wasn't, though." He hated that she looked straight through him with that disappointed expression. Honestly, what was she disappointed about anyway? That was the look mothers used on their misbehaving children, not when you found out your nemesis was eviler than you first believed.

Maybe she was just pissed Potter beat her to the correct answer.

And what did she mean? She hadn't been looking for the worst in him? Who the fuck was this girl? She should still be holding a grudge against him - the rumours of Hermione Granger's exploits against those who crossed her were legendary. Granger should have been spending the past month plotting how to charm his hair permanently Weasley-red or shrink all his clothes each night until he woke up and the hems of his trousers were wrapped around his calves.

"You're the Brightest-Witch-of-our-age," this time, his sneer was ready and he was able to use all the sarcasm he possessed, "you would figure it out within a few months of close proximity."

He should have known better than allow her to be close enough to figure it out, stupid, stupid, stupid-

She tilted her head, the disappointment becoming pity and his lip curled the moment he saw the change in expression.

"Then I was right," she said instead of asked, raising one eyebrow gracefully.

"You were not right, you know nothing. Next topic: should devil creatures disguised as cats be exterminated on sight? I say yes."

He leaned closer to what she called her pet, careful to stay out of immediate range but close enough that both man and beast knew he was taunting the ball of fur. He could have sworn he saw a glimmer of hatred in the bug eyes. Granger slammed a palm down onto the table, making the two in her presence jump.

"I know I'm right Malfoy and I'll have you admit to it if I have to roll up your left sleeve for you!" She shrieked, adding, "And stop mistreating my cat, he'll come back to bite you in the arse later," as a second thought. Really, she thought now was the proper time to bring up his behaviour towards her pet?

He settled back into his chair, crossing his arms and assuming the air of nonchalance, though his feet were planted under the table in case he needed to bolt - thank Merlin he always sat in the chair closest to the exit while she would have to go around the table - and he was slowly reaching for his wand with the hand furthest from her. "And? What, will you send the firing squad after me? Drag me off to a professor with nothing but a fistful of assumptions?"

The anger seemed to bleed from her and she slouched in her seat, both arms cradling Crookshanks as her gaze darted towards the wooden grains of the table.

"If you were Harry or Ron I'd have carted you off to Dumbledore by now, but-"

"But what?" He didn't know if he should have been relieved or angry that she wouldn't turn him in, and that made him feel even worse. If she turned him in, he'd face vengeance from both sides, and he'd rather have just the one against him, thank you very much. There was no need for the extra guilt.

She took a deep breath and then met his eyes once more. "I think this should be your choice."

"It sounds like you're saying that through gritted teeth, Granger. Hate to give up control?" He taunted, knowing he shouldn't poke the bear - or tickle a sleeping dragon - but unable to help himself.

The mad fire in her eyes made her look, well, mad, and he wondered if she was about to hit him. "You need to stop treating this like a game. This is real life, and you need to wake up and see it. You can't hide behind snippy comments and lies. What you do, what you choose, matters to a whole lot of people. Grow the fuck up."

This time, he was the one gritting his teeth.

"I've had about enough of this," he said wildly, "facing so many fucking accusations from you and perfect Potter and Weaselbee, and now this? I don't have to take this." He practically jumped to his feet, his chair tipping and about ready to fall over had he not grabbed it at the last moment. Just as he turned to leave, ready to sprint away from the table and the bloody witch who couldn't leave things alone- there was a light pressure on his elbow and he flinched away from her, gaping. She was standing, too, and leaning across the table, her arm still outstretched as she met his eyes almost pleadingly. He almost didn't notice when she flicked her wand, and he glanced over his shoulder to see a shimmer of magic blocking his exit.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. "Let me out, Granger," he said in a dangerously quiet voice. She shook her head, curls flying around her face as she glared imploringly at him.

"I need you to understand there's more to this war than you want to believe. It's not like House Cup points or Quidditch matches-"

He snorted, "Don't you think I know that?" There was a hint - more than a hint - of satisfaction that coursed through him when he waved his left arm and she winced, pulling back and away from him. He ignored the thoughts in the back of his mind wondering why his elbow had tingled slightly when she touched him.

"No. I don't think you do," she said sadly. What did she know? Of course he knew it was real, he had the Mark on his arm, didn't he? He had the Dark Lord living in his home, for fuck's sake, threatening his family with every breath he took. His only options were to either die and drag his parents along with him, or complete his task and - hopefully - not be killed. She may have conned the professors into making her the top student in all her classes, but Draco was always close behind. That didn't make him stupid.

"Listen, sweetheart, I'm sure Potter appreciates you going this far just to help him win-"

"It's more than just friendship!" They both seemed shocked at her sudden outburst, but she sobered quickly, her voice lowering. "Malfoy - Draco - I need you to admit to yourself this war is a lot bigger than schoolyard rivalries or friendships. Remember Katie Bell? You hurt her, and thank the gods she's alright, or else I really would have stepped in."

He flinched.

"Look, she wasn't supposed to touch the damn thing-" he started, but she slammed her hand onto the table again.

"That doesn't matter! This is turning into a war, and people - innocents - get hurt whether you want them to or not. This is life or death. What do you think will happen to Mudblood Granger and her Mudblood friends if Voldemort wins?"

Well, fuck him. And her. And the Dark Lord. And Potter and Weasley, too, while he was naming things to be pissed at.

He knew there would be severe consequences to people - hell, he'd already seen more death than someone his age should. But-

Call him a vile, loathsome, evil little cockroach any day and he'd take that over the startling realisation he had tried so hard not to think about.

There was a cold shiver running down his spine as if someone had stuffed ice cubes down the back of his silk shirt or he had just walked through a ghost. Gods, he hated her, because how was he supposed to follow through with his death sentence now while knowing his actions would only be the spark for a side that shouldn't even be allowed to exist.

Why couldn't she just turn him in - that way his conscience is slightly clearer than it would be if he did kill Dumbledore (not likely) and maybe he wouldn't be considered evil per se, just morally challenged (less likely).

Because sure, he hated Granger, despised her and her mop of hair and frumpy clothes and gorgeously inquisitive eyes, but that didn't mean she deserved to die. Maybe it wouldn't be under his wand, he tried to convince himself, but even that excuse didn't stick. While it wouldn't be his wand, it would certainly - unfortunately - be his conscience.

"I can't just drop everything and switch sides. That's not how that works. There's a madman living in my fucking home. With my family," he said, knowing he was giving up too much but not even caring because he had already spilled too much and the words and anger were flowing out of him and he was feeling slightly satisfied at the way her throat bobbed with her gasp, "I'd love to tell Him I'm out, maybe give him a good kick where his nose used to be, but this is bigger than you or me."

"Exactly!" She interrupted, "This whole thing is bigger than the both of us. That's why you have to get help-"

"I can't just get help, Granger, didn't you listen to me? I just said-"

"You said it yourself - this is bigger than you. You can't do it alone, so if you go talk to Dumbledore-" he fought the reflexive tremor at the name, "-then he can help you. You could talk to him now, I'm sure he's awake-"

Draco, feeling that she was like a dog with a bone and wouldn't quit until he acceded, threw up his hands in exasperation, sparks accidentally emitting from the wand he still had clutched in his left hand.

"I'll think about it," he acquiesced solely to get her to lay off, and at her unconvinced look, added, "and maybe… maybe I'll reach out to my mother to gauge where she's leaning."

Hermione pursed her lips, and the shield dropped behind him, though neither made any move to leave. "I would… I would talk to Snape."

"Snape? I wouldn't trust him with my cauldron," Draco snorted, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"It sounds like he desperately wants to talk to you, based on how often Harry sees him corner you. It's just a thought, but maybe you could hear him out." She hesitated, as if there was more to say, and then stopped herself, raising an eyebrow that silently told him it was his turn to speak.

He shrugged, face impassive. Snape had been crowding him all year, and it was only October. If he asked to speak with the professor, it would only give him room to keep harassing Draco about his task. And no matter what Granger said, there was no way Death Eater extremist Severus Snape would be able to help him with this - hell no, the overgrown bat would run straight to the Dark Lord, and all of this would have been for naught.

"Get off my back about talking to someone," he grumbled. "Right now, the risks are too high with not enough reward." She gave him a look that suggested he could take any reward he wanted and shove it up his arse.

"Think about it, Draco," she said, her voice soft and pleading and completely unlike the Hermione Granger that dealt with him and his antics, "think about the lives you'd save - or condemn - with your choice."

"Maybe it's not my choice, Granger," he said bitterly, so bone-tired his Occlumency shields fell without a fight or a blink, "maybe I never had one."

She had let him get most of the way out of the library, trailing after him like a ghost with her pet meowing loudly around her ankles before she spoke. He should have known she wouldn't let him get the last word.

"Maybe this is your choice."

He let himself pause briefly - long enough to entertain the idea, to pretend like he did have a choice that wouldn't bring about the end of the Malfoy line and that maybe he could be friends with Granger and the tagalongs (no, just Granger, the other two were idiots) - but then his foot hit the ground and he kept walking. There was no choice for him, and there never had been. Not since birth, not after the first War, and not now.

Damn her for giving him that little taste of hope. Damn her for stopping him from running away and ignoring the reasons why he shouldn't be following the crazed megalomaniac.

And damn him for wanting to give up and listen to her.

a/n: My chapter lengths are HIGHLY inconsistent lol

Next update: 5/29

- Meg