Author's Note: Yes, this is still a Dramione fic. I think someone mentioned in the reviews for the last chapter that they were beginning to doubt it, so I just wanted to clarify that. But seriously, what's a good story without some pain and conflict? xD

Anyway, reading for class was getting to be extremely tiresome, so I decided to take another break and edit the next chapter for you guys.

Chapter 63

"I don't think they like that Ron and I are back together."

I feel like my heart just stopped. Are my ears working right?

"I… don't understand," I say.

Misunderstanding me, she begins to repeat her request.

"I heard what you said the first time," I say. "What I don't understand is how you could… change your mind, just like that."

She looks at me with an almost confused expression. "I haven't changed all that much, have I?"

"I thought that we…" my voice fades.

I won't say it. I can be as self-doubting as I want in my head, but I'll never voice my insecurities. She looks at me for a long moment.

"You don't approve either, then," she finally says.

What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? Of course I don't approve!

Then she's speaking again, "Ron and I… we've had some trouble in the past, because I didn't know what I wanted. But we're past that. We're meant for each other. We belong together, Ron and I."

Pain lances through my chest at her words, but I won't feel it. I can numb this. I can turn this off. I can do it, just like I did in Russia. I can do it.

"What did you expect?" she asks me, sounding a little impatient now. "I wasn't going to fall in love with you instead of Ron just because you saved my life a few times."

I stare at her, and the look in her eyes tells me that she's being completely honest. More pain. I don't want to ask the question, but I can't seem to hold it back.

"Why did you kiss me?"

She looks perplexed for a moment before replying, "Well, why did you kiss me? You started it."

"You know my feelings," I reply through gritted teeth.

I hate talking about these things, hate feeling so exposed. But I have to know at least this.

She lowers her gaze, seemingly unable to meet my eyes. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, Draco. I just wanted to know how it felt."

Wanted to know how what felt? Wanted to know how it felt to plant a seed of false hope, leave it to grow, and then crush it back down?

Fuck!

Ain't fucking going to happen again.

Never again.

Fuck you, Hermione Granger. Fuck you.

Despite the raging storm in my head, I shrug nonchalantly. "It's no problem. Don't worry about it."

She smiles radiantly. "I'm glad you understand. But can you help me?"

I exhale through my nose. "I'm busy with things that are more important than you and your dear Ronald."

She doesn't protest when I use that particular phrase to refer to the weasel, and I'm—fuck me, fuck me, fuck me—crushed. How can she ask me for help with something so… trivial? She knows that I have more important things occupying my time.

"But… I'm almost positive that Blaise and Harry want to do something. It'd be great if you could talk to Blaise and find out for me. I can't help but feel like it's something that's going to—"

God, I have to stop her. "Granger, I'm sorry if I don't really care about your suspicions," I say, cutting her off. "There are bigger things on my mind."

"Draco—"

The fact that she still uses my first name somehow burns me. It'd be easier if she went right back to my surname.

"—please help me," she says.

She widens her eyes just slightly, looking at me imploringly.

How am I supposed to reject her?

I grit my teeth and turn away. She just shoved a stake into my chest. I refuse to be so weak.

But she steps around me and puts her hand on my cheek. I close my eyes to avoid looking into those lovely brown eyes, the ones that invariably make me lose whatever shaky control I have over myself.

"You'll help me, won't you?" she says softly. "You care about me, so you'll help me."

I steel myself and open my eyes to glare at her.

"No," I say. "Goodbye, Granger."

I take a step back, and as soon as I'm out of reach, I Disapparate.

I appear in my room at the Manor moments later and fall back onto my bed.

Fuck. Why did I let myself get talked so easily into letting people inside my home? I'll never be able to make them leave. I've lost my real home.

With a sigh, I get back to my feet and Apparate to my godfather's home at Spinner's End.

This place isn't secret, but at least no one will expect me to be here.

I don't want to think about her. I need to keep my mind away from her.

In the study, I collapse into the worn armchair in front of the fireplace, wondering how many times my godfather sat in this exact spot.

I owe him so much. When I couldn't go through with what the Dark Lord demanded of me, he stepped in. If he hadn't, I'm sure the Dark Lord would have killed me, as well as both of my parents. I know now that he'd made the Unbreakable Vow with Mother, but the fact that he would agree to make that vow is, in itself, enough to earn my gratitude.

Snape was a cold man, to almost everyone with whom he interacted. But I remember almost every one of his rare smiles directed toward me—small, hardly noticeable smiles of encouragement back in Potions class, a faint smile of approval when he learned that I'd stood up to Father on Mother's behalf…

Sometime later, I summon from the bathroom a basin identical to the one that's in my cottage—it's one of the very few things that I brought into this house when I inherited it.

My godfather gave the set of identical basins to me for my fourteenth birthday. I hadn't really appreciated them at the time because I hadn't had the skills to use them. But now, I'm so grateful to him for giving them to me.

I place the basin on my lap and fill it to about halfway with water.

For some reason, I have to see her. I should respect her decision, but I just… I can't believe that she would really change her mind so quickly. I don't know what watching her will prove, but I just want to see her.

When the image appears on the water, I'm too… I can't even react.

She and Weasley are sitting on her bed, lips locked together in what looks like a heated snog.

Anger and hurt rises in my chest, and I know that I can't just let this go. I'm not that noble, not that selfless. I can't just give her up.

I shake my head at myself. No, I have to get this under control. I can't be so impulsive.

Besides, as soon as she finds out all that I've done… she'll never want me.

Then I hear muffled banging coming from the front door.

Bloody hell. How could I not have noticed someone crossing the wards?

Setting the stone basin to the side, I get to my feet and move silently through the house, cautiously approaching the door. The bangs are spaced out, and from the way the door is creaking in protest, they're increasing in strength.

Realizing at the last second what's about to happen, I leap to the side just as the intruder kicks the door in.

"Incarcerous!" I bark, ropes twisting from the end of my wand.

The intruder, wielding a knife, slashes through the ropes with near-inhuman speed.

Stupefy!

The jet of red light hits him square in the chest, and he staggers back a step. How the hell is he still standing? I hit him with another Stunning Spell, and he collapses.

With a wave of my wand, the front door rights itself and fills the doorframe, good as new.

I check the wards and find that they're still intact—I must have been too distracted to notice the intruder.

I lean down in an attempt to get a closer look at his face and gasp. His cheeks are sunken, and the dark patches below his eyes are indicative of scant sleep. I didn't recognize him at first, so significant was the transformation.

Remus Lupin.

But this could easily be a fake.

I tie him up and stand guard over him, thinking about the ways in which someone else would be able to assume his likeness. I attempt a spell to Untransfigure him, but none of my attempts have any effect on him.

Well, it could also be Polyjuice Potion.

Then I notice his eyes moving beneath his eyelids and take a small step back into the shadows, so that my face won't be visible to him.

"Where…" he murmurs in a hoarse voice. He pauses as he sees my feet and the lower half of my body. "Who are you?"

"What are you doing here?" I counter.

"I… I escaped. I escaped," he says. Then he repeats his query, "Who are you?"

"You can't have escaped," I say, frowning. "Explain to me how you escaped."

"The guard was bringing food. I attacked him… killed him…" his voice fades, and his face blanches. "I bit Alicia," he says suddenly.

I blink. "Pardon?"

"I escaped," he says.

I look at the man pitifully. The former professor had never dressed well in the past, but he's clothed in rags now, exposing some of the marks of the torture that he's suffered—lash marks, burns, and scars mark his bare arms and the bit of his torso that I can see. It can't have been much more than two weeks since he was captured, yet it looks like he's been held captive for months.

And the time seems to have taken a toll on his sanity. I wonder if Aunt Bella had anything to do with this.

"I have to be sure that you're you before I do anything," I tell him.

"Please… water," he croaks. "I need some water. And who are you?"

I levitate a glass and float it to him, filling it with water. I flick my wand to lift it to his lips and tilt it to let him drink. When he finishes, he smiles gratefully in my direction, and I Vanish the glass.

"Who are you?" he repeats yet again.

"I can't tell you. We'll stay here quietly for a few hours."

"Why?"

"I don't trust you," I say.

It's silent for a long moment.

"Please tell me who you are, what you're doing in Severus' house," he says.

"No."

"How long—"

"Until sunrise. By then, any Polyjuice Potion you might have in your system will have faded. Until then, I won't reveal anything to you."

"Are you in the Order? Can you tell me that much?" he pleads.

"No, I'm not," I tell him.

He looks extremely disappointed, dejected. "Why aren't you taking me back, then? Why do you give me hope? Was I able to kill that guard only because you allowed it?" he asks in a surprising bout of clarity.

"Perhaps," I say, intrigued. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

His eyes have gone unfocused again, unseeing. "I bit a small boy," he says softly. "I couldn't stop. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to eat him."

"What did you do after you escaped?" I ask, ignoring his statement—he must be thinking of his werewolf memories.

"Ran," he replies, still with that same lost look in his eyes. "I ran here. I recognized… recognized this neighborhood. Lily's house. I saw… I knew that Severus lived here."

"And why did you want in?"

"Hungry… thirsty… needed a place to hide," he says. Then his face contorts with anguish and guilt. "I bit Alicia."

"Yes, I heard you the first time you said that," I say. "Do you remember the path you took to get here?"

He doesn't respond.

"Hey," I say to get his attention.

"I won't tell you anything. Are you going to torture me now?"

"No," I say.

Lupin looks surprised, but he doesn't speak again. We stay silent for a long time.

To occupy my mind, I decide to test the wards to make sure no one else could have gotten in. I shrink them until they hug the house and then expand them, monitoring the boundaries to see if anyone has followed Lupin here. My sweep reveals no one.

There's no way that Lupin could have escaped, unless they allowed him to. Tonight isn't the full moon, so why would they release him?

"Lupin," I say, and he jerks toward my voice. "If you truly are Remus Lupin, tell me this. What was Draco Malfoy's boggart from the end-of-term exams, third year?"

Each of us had taken on a boggart privately in those exams, and Lupin had promised that no one else would ever know what our boggarts were. If he gets this right, I can be certain of his identity.

"Young Malfoy…" he murmurs. "Is it you?"

"Hardly."

"It was your father," he goes on. "I still remember… every word he said."

The werewolf looks extremely lucid, and I wonder exactly how much pain he's endured, so much that he slips in and out of full awareness.

"And what do you remember that he said?"

I had worshipped Father then. My worst fear was that he would tell me how he disapproved of me, how he was ashamed to have me as a son…

"I… am ashamed of you," Lupin begins to recite. "You are not fit to bear the noble last name—"

"Enough," I say, cutting him off midstream.

"It still bothers you," he says perceptively.

I finally step out of the shadow and into the muted moonlight that's filtering in from between the shades. His eyes find my face, and he sighs.

I take a knee in front of him.

"Look into my eyes," I say. "I have to be sure."

He meets my gaze readily, and I dive into his memories. Wanting to cause him minimal discomfort, I flip swiftly through his mind until I find the memory of his escape.

The images are blurred, hazy, and the sounds are distorted and indistinct—telltale signs of having been tampered with. All that's clear is that he had a knife, and he slit the throat of the guard who had come to deliver a meal to him.

Not even the inside of the cell or the corridors that he ran through are clear. This might even be a planted memory.

The inspection confirms my suspicion that this was an intentional release, and not some miraculous escape. But what could be their motive for releasing him? There's an extremely slim chance that this could be an Oliver Wood repeat performance, but I highly doubt it. No one's even out searching for Lupin, so this must have been planned.

But why?

I withdraw from his mind, and his eyes fall to the ground.

"I apologize, but it was necessary," I say, Vanishing the ropes around him with a flick of my wrist. "I'll have someone take you back to the Order."

I wrap my fist around the serpent charm. Lupin, Spinner's End.

"I heard that… that Dora…"

"She's not dead, as far as I've heard," I say, knowing that he's talking about Nymphadora.

Despite my words, Lupin still looks worried and restless as he slowly regains his feet.

The response on my charm comes almost instantly—when?

Now.

"Is that a… Protean Charm?" Lupin asks, eyes focused on the necklace.

I nod. Then I feel someone crossing the boundary. "Stay low," I tell him. "Someone's here, but the wards don't tell friend from foe."

Lupin nods and crouches low.

I move to the door and throw it open, wand at the ready.

"You said Lupin is here?" Granger asks, standing a few feet away from the door.

The sight of her crushes me yet again—her hair is a little messy, and her lips are swollen, evidence of her recent activities with the weasel. I have half a mind to tell her to leave straightaway and send Blaise instead, because I won't let her have Lupin.

"Well?" she says.

"Hermione…" Lupin murmurs from behind me—apparently he's moved to the doorway as well. "It's great to see you."

"Oh my god…" she says softly, moving past me and into the house. "Lupin… what did they do to you?"

"You can worry about it when you're safe," I say. "Take him away."

Granger turns to me. "But I can't take him to your—"

"Take him to Hogwarts," I say.

I spoke to Aunt Bella late this afternoon, and she told me about the failure of the Death Eater patrol at Hogwarts. She broke the news to Voldemort two days ago, but although he was livid, he hadn't decided on a course of action regarding the wizarding school.

"Voldemort is furious that you've retaken it, by the way," I say, deciding that the Order should have a warning. "He's planning to take it back eventually, but you should be safe for the time being."

"All right," Granger says. "I'll tell the others. Draco… can you stay here for a few minutes? I want to come back and… and talk to you."

I shake my head. "Sorry, can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

She frowns at me but doesn't reply.

"Just take him," I say.

Lupin is looking between the two of us, not quite following the turn in our conversation.

"Fine," she finally says, taking Lupin's hand.

She Disapparates with him, and I'm left standing alone in the doorway of my godfather's house, feeling more alone than before.

I wonder if this was what my godfather felt like whenever Lily Evans left his company for James Potter.

I suppose he and I have more in common than I thought.

Fuck.