Author's Note: I didn't think that I'd be updating again so soon, but it was this or math homework, and I really didn't feel like doing homework…

And on a completely unrelated and random note: for the past few days, I have not been able to stop listening to "Running Up That Hill" by Placebo, and "Undisclosed Desires" by Muse. If you haven't heard these songs, you should look them up! They're pretty much amazing.

Chapter 38

She falls to the floor, limp, eyes still frozen open in shock and terror. But the color of her irises slowly changes from brown to blue, and her other features begin to shift.

Thank Merlin I was right. There was simply no way they could have gotten to her. No one knows where my true home is. And though the duplicate charm was identical, down to her engraved initials, no one knew the way it was supposed to respond to my touch.

When the transformation is complete, I don't recognize the girl lying at my feet. A practiced look of surprise crosses my face, and I hear gasps as others notice her change in appearance as well.

"Unfortunately, I could not find the real Granger, so I had to make do with a substitute," Voldemort says from the head of the table. "Come, Draco."

I stow my wand away and return to my place behind my father.

Voldemort shakes his head at me. "I said, come."

Frowning, I take a few small steps toward him, and he beckons for me to move closer. What the fuck is he playing at? I pass by Aunt Bella's chair and move around the corner of the table. He motions for me to face the same direction as he is, and I realize that almost all eyes are on me.

I look around, resisting the urge to quail under their scrutiny. God, exactly how many people are in this room?

"One of the men who held a place at my table died a few weeks ago at Hogwarts, by the hands of the same Mudblood that escaped yesterday. Yaxley served me well. But now that he's gone, someone will have to take his place."

Oh.

He turns to face me. "I never doubted you."

That's fucking unlikely. Liar.

"Welcome to the Inner Circle, Draco," he says.

I immediately drop to one knee. I don't know why I thought to do it, I just did. "Thank you, My Lord. I live to serve you," I say.

Such generic phrases. It's a wonder that he never gets sick of hearing them. I could certainly go without saying them.

"Take your seat."

I get back to my feet and move around the table to Yaxley's empty chair. I feel a twinge of guilt as I realize that I killed the man who used to sit here. But he was an evil man. Not quite as bad as Macnair, but evil nonetheless. Killing him was doing the world a favor.

I look at the other members sitting at the table. I simply can't believe that I've taken one of these seats. All of these Death Eaters fought alongside Voldemort during the First War, before I was even born.

If Voldemort was telling the truth when he said all those things about handing things over to me if he died… then I suppose this makes sense. Better to ease into it than jump right in and tell them I'm temporarily taking over when he dies so that we can all look for his Horcruxes.

What will I do if he really does die?

If I let the Death Eaters disband and he eventually returns, I'll be at the top of his list of people to kill, after Potter—if he's still alive at that point. If I really do take over… I can't bear the thought of commanding the Death Eaters, becoming a new Dark Lord. I suppose I could do it temporarily, just until we've destroyed his remaining Horcruxes. But aside from the dagger, I have no other clues. And I don't have a way of knowing how many more he's created.

Bloody hell, I'm fucked.

"Malfoy, is it you?"

Granger's muffled voice travels out from my bedroom, and I enter the room to see her lying right where I left her. Seeing her in my bed reminds me of where my fingers were when I woke up this morning, and all the blood in my body immediately rushes south.

Fuck. I force myself to picture one of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts.

"Yeah, it's me."

"I can see that now," she says, rolling her eyes. "What took you so long?"

It's already late in the evening—my father had insisted on having dinner after the meeting with Lord Voldemort. Apparently, there have never been two members with the same last name at the table at once, and it's supposed to be a great honor. I didn't give a shit, but I pretended to be thrilled.

As for the issue with Blaise and Granger's escape, Voldemort transferred his anger onto the incompetent sentries and had all eight of them executed by strangulation, a few minutes after awarding me my seat. The men didn't even have to be moved from the chairs—chains snaked out from behind their heads and did the job swiftly. The memory of their faces as they cried and gasped for air disturbs me, and I try to block the images.

I shake my head. "Don't ask."

"How is everyone at Grimmauld Place?" she asks anxiously.

"I didn't see everyone. Just Blaise, Potter, and your dear weasel."

"Will you stop associating me with Ron?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, does it bother you?"

She looks at me, clearly exasperated. "Yes!"

I chuckle. "All right, I'll leave it alone."

"What did they say?" she asks me a moment later.

I shrug. "I don't remember. I didn't care much for whatever they said, anyway."

She sighs.

"They did protest when they heard that I was going to keep you with me."

She looks at me hopefully. "Will you bring me back, then?"

I hate that she's so eager to leave. I feel like my insides are twisting and untwisting painfully. Fuck.

"No," I say stubbornly.

The more she wants to leave, the more adamant I become in my decision to make her stay, even if it's just to spite her. But of course I have selfish reasons too. I can see her more if she stays.

She sighs again, and that sounds seems to hurt me too.

I just can't win with her, can I?

"They did ask to visit," I say without thinking.

Then I wish I could take it back—a smile lights up her face, and I begin to consider using a Memory Charm on her so she won't remember me saying that.

"Can they, Malfoy?" she asks.

That damned hopeful look is on her face again. It's so fucking hard to resist!

"No," I manage to choke out.

"Please? I feel like I haven't seen them in ages."

When it looks like I won't budge, her expression hardens.

"You owe it to me, Malfoy," she says coldly. "You tortured me."

Fuck. I want to rip my heart out of my chest just so I won't have to feel anymore. It hurts too fucking much to hear those words coming out of her mouth in that tone of voice. And after seeing the light fade from her eyes just a few hours ago, I feel like I owe her, even if it wasn't really her life that I took.

"If I bring them here, you can't use that on me anymore," I say.

For the third time, hope shines in her eyes as she smiles at me. "So you'll do it?"

Bloody hell, that conniving witch!

"You did that on purpose."

"Will you?" she asks, ignoring my accusation.

I glare at her. "Fine."

Even as I give my assent, I scream in my head to stop, slow down. Whatever happened to never sharing this place with anyone? This is my home.

But I already broke that rule, as soon as I took Granger here.

Granger doesn't count.

Of course she counts.

Fuck! I can't do this anymore.

"Malfoy, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm about to let a weasel come into my home. I'm bloody fantastic."

She laughs at me, which only makes me angrier.

"Shut up, Granger."

I Disapparate from the room and appear on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place.

There's still time to back out…

No, there isn't. I already told Granger that I'd bring them. And for the same reason that got me into all this madness in the first place, I can't bring myself to disappoint her. I heave a sigh and knock on the door.

Potter appears in the doorway.

"I'm not coming in. Get Blaise and Weasley. Granger wants to see you."

"Still, you should—"

"Otter. There, you happy?"

Potter frowns at my tone of voice but doesn't comment. Instead, he disappears into the house and returns a moment later with Blaise and the weasel.

"I'll take you there by Side-Along Apparition," I say.

"Or you could just tell us where she is. We all know how to Apparate," Potter says.

"I'm not stupid. Of course you know how to Apparate," I snap. "It's under the Fidelius Charm, and I'm never going to speak the location aloud."

Blaise's eyes widen. "You—"

"Yes. It was the only safe place. Now are you all coming with me or not?"

"What's got you in such a pissy mood?" Blaise asks.

I glare at him before turning my back. I feel their hands grabbing onto my arms, and a moment later, we're in my living room.

"Of course it'd be green," Potter comments.

"Where's Hermione?" Weasley asks.

I walk over to my bedroom and push the door open. Potter's the first one to go through the doorway, followed by Weasley. I hear her voice from inside.

"Harry! Ron!"

She sounds so fucking happy to see them. I want to blow my brains out.

"You've really got it bad, haven't you, mate?"

I look up to see Blaise still standing by the coffee table, looking at me.

"Aren't you here to visit her?" I say. "Get in there. I'm not letting you all stay here forever."

Blaise sighs and walks over to me. "I—"

"Get going," I interrupt him.

He shakes his head and goes into the room.

I pull the door closed behind them and wander into the kitchen to find myself a bottle of Firewhiskey. A minute later, I sit down on the couch in the living room and pop open the bottle.

Then I remember that Granger had said something about having a talk when I returned. I have a feeling she was going to ask about the charm—I said something stupid about Stunning her. How could I have let that slip? I don't know what I'll tell her.

Those protective charms… she's going to know they were from me. No dealer would spend that much time making jewelry that could defend the wearer from almost any spell or object that could possibly cause injury. Bloody hell, no sane person would do that. I'm clearly a madman.

I suppose bringing those three over wasn't a complete loss. At least she's distracted. Maybe she'll forget about the whole thing. Maybe she won't ask me anything.

I take a big swig of Firewhiskey and wince as the liquid burns its way down my throat.

Not fucking likely.