Author's Note: So, this update is coming sooner than I'd originally planned because I keep getting questions about the love potion (if you haven't figured this much out already, I'm sorry for the spoiler, but I'm sure that most of you know by now that Hermione isn't herself) and I just wanted to address everyone's concerns at the same time.

In my bit of research on Love Potions in the HP universe, I found that most of them last only about a day. I decided to make this one last three full days because it worked best with the plot that I had planned out. And in story time, it hasn't been three days yet since the potion was administered.

Day 1: Chapter 60/61

Night of Day 2: Chapter 62/63

Early morning of Day 3: Chapter 64/65/66/67

I realize that you're impatient to see Hermione snap out of it, and believe me when I say that I probably enjoyed writing this part of the story just as much as you enjoyed reading it.

Chapter 68

"If you hold my hand, Draco, I'm going to slug you."

I open my eyes. "Blaise."

"Yeah, it's me," he says. "What the hell happened to you?"

I sit up slowly and look around at the people in my room. Blaise is sitting on the edge of my bed. Potter's in a chair, and Weasley and Granger are both parked on the extra bed.

My eyes rest on Granger for a moment, and I see that she's holding hands with Weasley. I close my eyes as bitterness sets in.

Why do I still care about those two?

Mother's dead. Aunt Bella's stated outright that we aren't family anymore. Father… Father disowned me when he put me back in that cell.

"Draco—mate, what's wrong?" Blaise asks.

"My cover's blown," I say. Ignoring the looks of surprise on their faces, I continue, "It wasn't anything that I did, as far as I can tell. I'm pretty sure it happened on your end."

"Shit," Potter says. "What happened? How did you get away?"

"Does it matter?" I reply. "I got away. That's the important thing."

"It does matter. Something else must have—"

"Shut up, Blaise," I interrupt him. "I don't need you to butt into my business."

"Do you have any idea who the traitor on our side might be?" Granger asks.

I resist the urge to wince at the sound of her voice. She still affects me too much, and I hate it. Even though I'm carefully keeping my eyes away from her, I'm still extremely aware of her presence and her position at the weasel's side.

"I do have a clue," I admit. "But I have to check it alone. I don't want all of you in here."

"What's the clue, and why can't we be in on it?" Potter asks.

"Because I want to be sure before I accuse anyone. I'm not going to put up with your expressions of disbelief if I'm not absolutely certain of his identity."

"Your request is suspicious though," Granger says. "You can't reasonably ask us to leave so that you can examine some piece of evidence and expect that we won't ask you anything about it."

"I think you've all forgotten whose house this is," I say. "I can ask you to do whatever I want you to do. This is still my home, and I can turn you out."

"How?" the weasel pipes up. "It's not as if you can fight us all off."

"We're not going to be fighting," Potter says immediately.

"Good. Then get out," I say, gesturing toward the exit.

Blaise has been sitting silently, keeping his eyes on my face. I've done my best to avoid his searching gaze, but I decide it's finally time to look at him. He can help.

I meet his deep brown eyes and try to make him understand that they have to leave the room.

"Trust me," I say, sure that he'll understand that I'm speaking to him alone. "I know what I'm doing."

"We can't just trust you because you say to," Weasley says.

"Shut up, Weasley," Blaise says. He finally looks away from me and gets to his feet. "Let's go."

The weasel glares at my friend. "Since when did we have to listen to you?"

"Do you want to know who the traitor is or not?" Blaise replies. "This isn't about your or me. It's about the safety of the Order. The sooner we find out, the better. If Draco really needs some time on his own to verify the traitor's identity, we should give it to him."

"But… Harry—"

Potter gets to his feet, looking at me. "Fine, we'll go. But if you try to pull anything…"

"What could I possibly do to you? And why would I bother? If I wanted to kill you, I could have had Naree come here and slit your throats in your sleep," I say.

"That doesn't help your case," Blaise says to me.

Potter starts toward the door. "Come on, guys."

Granger stands up and tugs lightly on Weasley's hand, and I have to avert my eyes again. I hear them move toward the exit and feel relieved when they're out of the room.

"Blaise," I say.

He turns around on his way to the door. "Yes?"

"Bring me the stone basin that's beneath the sink in the bathroom."

He nods and leaves the room wordlessly. A moment later, he returns with the basin and places it on my bedside table.

"I trust you, Draco. Don't betray that trust," he says in a low voice.

His thinly veiled threat stings me. I've never betrayed him. I've never even spoken ill of him. He was the one who turned his back on me, on everything that we'd agreed upon.

"You're one to talk," I say.

His eyes widen a fraction before narrowing. Then he flicks his wand, and the door swings shut, giving us some privacy.

"I was right, and you know it. Otherwise, you wouldn't be working with us now," he hisses.

"That doesn't mean you didn't betray my trust," I respond coolly.

I watch as he clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath to calm himself.

"You were right," he finally says in a detached voice. "It's impossible to forget scars like these."

And he's back.

"You can leave now," I say.

But he doesn't move, and I observe his face, looking for any hint of emotion. But of course, being Blaise Zabini, nothing's visible on the surface. I can only sense that he's conflicted.

When he finally speaks, his voice is much softer than I'm accustomed to.

"It'll never be the same, will it?"

I hide my surprise. He's revealing his uncertainty to me, sharing his fear with me. Best mates we may have been, but we were still Slytherins. Though I knew his thoughts and concerns and he knew mine, we rarely offered to share them without prompting from the opposite party.

I shake my head, deciding on the painful truth. "No."

He clenches his jaw again, looking at the ground. "I wish…"

"Me too."

His eyes flit up to meet mine, and I feel like he's aged so much. From the look in his eyes, he thinks the same of me. If I'd known then what I know now, I would have forgiven him. I would not have chosen to join him—at the time, I couldn't have let my family die for that—but at least we wouldn't have had to fight. In the end, I suppose Mother had to die anyway.

Not going to think about that.

"I'll go, then," Blaise says. "Bye."

"Bye, mate."

He exits the room and pulls the door shut behind him.

I reach into my robes and notice that they're clean and mended—I can't see the places where Aunt Bella's spell hit me. For a brief moment, I think that it might have been Granger, but she doesn't really care about me.

It was Blaise. He was sitting beside me when I woke. Yes, it was him.

I take out the small vial and pause. I can't afford to let any of them come in while I'm still occupied.

With a jolt, I realize that I left Naree behind. I've just been labeled a traitor—without a doubt, Naree has been imprisoned as well. Fuck!

"Naree!" I call out.

He appears instantly with a loud crack and falls to the ground. His pillowcase, usually crisp and white, is stained all over with blood. I'm willing to bet that it's his blood.

Alarmed, I sit up straighter and start to get out of bed, but he holds up a hand and gets to his feet. He shakes his head a few times as though to clear his mind.

"I'm so sorry," I say, settling back against the headboard.

"It is okay," Naree says, looking up at me with his large eyes. "Naree will heal on his own, slowly."

"I'll make you a Blood-Replenishing Potion when I'm done with this," I say, holding up the vial.

"No—Master cannot—"

"Don't argue this. You're injured."

The house-elf nods meekly. "Naree is most grateful for Master's kindness."

"I just need one favor, if you're feeling up to it," I say.

"Anything for Master."

"Make sure that they don't come in here until I'm done. And no matter what they say, don't tell them what I'm doing," I instruct him. "I don't want them to know any more than they have to."

Naree nods. "Naree can do it, Master. Naree will guard the door."

He hobbles to my bedroom door and sits with his back against it, a determined look on his face.

"Thanks, Naree. Again."

He nods eagerly and gives me a wide smile. Then he goes about tending to his own wounds.

I pull out my wand and tap it against the side of the basin, muttering a spell that will allow it to function as a Pensieve.

This was something that my godfather showed me when I jokingly protested his claim that he'd always given me special gifts for my birthdays. He took my accusation seriously and decided to prove to me the value of the stone basins that he'd given me.

I wish I could thank him properly, but it's already too late for that.

I extract the silvery memories from the vial and let them fall into the makeshift Pensieve. They swirl about lazily, and I stare at them for a moment, wondering what I'll see.

Then I lower my face to the swirling contents and plunge in.