Author's Note: Thanks for reviewing the last chapter. I was being rather moody (not the first time it's happened in this story…), the result of staying up to do homework instead of going to bed like my lucky roommates. But I did end up getting a good six hours of sleep, and I feel pretty good right now. So I'm going to thank you guys for putting up with me and my insecure, moody self by putting up another chapter.

"When she was just a girl, she expected the world. But it flew away from her reach, so she ran away in her sleep, and dreamed of para, para, paradise. Para, para, paradise. Para, para, paradise, every time she closed her eyes…"

(:

Chapter 85

Finally, she opens her eyes again, and I smile.

"Welcome back."

"How was it?" Potter immediately asks her. "Will it work?"

"We can try," she says, nodding. "But Blaise… this is really dangerous."

"We're in a war with the Darkest wizard of all time. Everything is really dangerous," he points out.

"We should go, then," Potter says. Then he looks at me. "Malfoy, you'll tell Blaise when to come, right?"

I glance at Hermione. "Just give me the signal," I say to her.

She nods and puts a hand over the heart charm. Then she says, "Bye, Draco."

I realize that if this plan goes south, this may be the last time I ever see her. Fuck. I step toward her and lean down to get another taste of her.

What if I die? What if I never have the chance to tell her how I feel?

But I can't seem to get the words out.

"Bye, Hermione," I mutter. I love you.

Potter Disapparates, and Hermione backs away from me, lifting her wand to Disapparate as well.

"See you on the other side," Blaise says to her.

She only nods in response. Then she turns and meets my eyes once more, and in that moment, every fiber of my being screams at me to tell her not to leave, to fuck this plan. Everyone in Hogwarts can go to hell. I just want to be with her. We could stay here forever. No one would be able to find us.

But she would never agree to that. I know it.

With a last faint smile, she Disapparates.

Then Blaise speaks.

"I understand your reasoning for not telling them about your crackpot rescue plan, but honestly, the likelihood of their getting caught is close to zero. I mean, you told me—"

"I'll be wiping your memory," I say. "Everything that references the escape plan. Because when Voldemort inevitably cracks into your mind, I'm not letting him see what my next move is."

He sighs. "I guess it's for the best."

"It is."

"I still think you should have told Hermione, at least."

"She wouldn't let it happen, if she knew," I say. "She'd leap over all the stuff in between and say that it isn't worth it, that I might as well save the trouble and turn myself in from the start."

"She's not that unreasonable," Blaise says.

"All girls who decide to start fancying guys become unreasonable, to some degree. At least, that's how it's been in my relatively limited experience," I say, grinning at him.

He shakes his head. "That isn't funny."

Yes, he's still touchy about the boy he was in school.

"Anyway, today was a good enough example. Do you think it was reasonable for Daphne to agree to help us?"

He pauses. "So you do believe in Hermione's feelings for you."

"Tentatively."

"I think you should show her more of your thoughts. She's legitimately worried about you."

I frown. "Worried about me? Why—"

"What happened in Russia? She wanted me to ask you that."

"I already told her that I wouldn't be telling anyone. That includes you."

"What if I promised not to tell her?"

"I can't accept a promise from you. She probably already made you promise to tell her everything. And besides, she still has access to your head."

"Can you not think so much, for once?"

"You say it as though you're not always thinking a lot," I reply.

"Yeah, all right," he concedes. After a pause, he says, "Was it really that bad? Maybe you're just making it out to be—"

"Yes, it was really that bad. Now will you drop it?" I say impatiently.

He nods. "Sorry."

I start toward the kitchen, but his next words stop me in my tracks.

"Do you mind telling me how you escaped when you were exposed? I know someone died in the process."

"How—"

"I know you, Draco," he says. "I saw the look on your face when you were recovering after the escape. Nothing else could have put that expression on your face. Was it your mom?"

I don't respond.

"She's… really gone," he realizes.

"You're not helping."

"I'm sorry, mate."

I continue on my original course and enter the kitchen.

"Hello, Master!" Naree exclaims.

"Hello, Naree," I reply. "Have you recovered?"

He nods. "Fully. See, Master did not have to make a potion for Naree. Naree can recover very quickly on his own."

"Yes, I see that," I say.

I look over and see that Weasley's glaring at me, but he isn't speaking. It's nice to know that even Potter decided that he deserves to be left hanging.

"Mate, you have to talk about this," Blaise says. "You can't leave it buried like that."

"Sure I can."

"Hermione won't be able to just guess it, like I did. You have to tell her."

"Give me one reason why I should do that."

"To build trust. To build your relationship. What's the point of keeping it a secret anyway? I know that you're strong, but this isn't something you should try to handle on your own."

"It won't change anything, telling her. I don't want her to pity me."

"You need it, Draco. It's not healthy to let yourself go on like this," he says.

"You're not a Healer. You don't know what's good for me."

"Yes, I do," he says, and now he looks a bit angry. "You think you're such a tough guy, don't you? Holding it all in doesn't make you strong. Strength is having the ability to let someone in, even when you're afraid."

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are. Don't deny it in front of me. I see through all your bullshit, Draco."

I glare at him.

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Weasley finally blurts, unable to hold in his curiosity.

"None of your business," Blaise says.

He jerks his head toward the living room, and I reluctantly follow him back outside.

"Naree, take care of my guest, will you?" I tell the house-elf before leaving.

He smiles widely as he shuts the door.

"All right, fine," I say. "You caught me. I'm afraid of opening up. Now what?"

"It's not all bad, Draco. Let her see the rest of you. She only sees this cold front that you put up. How can she really get into you if you never show her who you are?"

"She doesn't want the person I really am."

"You don't know that."

"You don't know what I've done, Blaise."

"I know, Draco. You've murdered, tortured, ripped people apart. But—"

I shake my head. "Just stop. You're not going to convince me."

"You're dooming your relationship with her, if you keep this up. She won't stick around if you never let her in."

"What is this, relationship counseling? Leave me alone."

"Don't you want her to stay with you? Don't you want to be with her?"

I walk past him and sit down on the couch. "Shut up, Blaise."

He looks at me, clearly frustrated. "Do you see how much she cares about you? Can't you see it?"

I refuse to answer. She still doesn't know. If she knew, she wouldn't…

"I'd give anything for her to look at me like that, Draco," Blaise confesses.

I look up and see that he's watching the ground, fighting back the pain that is threatening to come to the surface.

"You can't deny her a chance," he continues. "It's for real. Her feelings are real, Draco. As real as yours or mine. Don't dismiss them. If we both make it through this, and I hear from her that you still aren't letting her in, I'm going to murder you myself."

He's not joking. Well, maybe he is about murdering me. But I haven't seen him look so solemn in a long time.

"Mate, it's not your relationship that I'll be ruining, if I don't tell her anything."

"So you acknowledge that it'll ruin your relationship," he says.

"We were never really meant to be together."

"More bullshit. You don't believe in fate. I know you, Draco. Don't fucking lie to me."

I shake my head. "Leave it alone, Blaise."

"What can you have done that was that bad, mate? She knows you were a Death Eater for years. She understands that you had no choice in the matter. You aren't the one to blame for everything that Voldemort made you do, and she knows that."

"Shut up."

"Draco—"

I glare up at him. "I told you to shut up."

His eyes narrow, and I can tell he's trying to guess at what could possibly have happened in Russia to make me act this way. But he can't lift the truth out of my eyes, can't force his way into my mind.

"Look, there's a chance that one of us is going to die tonight. And I hope, for Hermione's sake, that if someone has to die, it'll be me."

"Blaise—"

"Let me finish," he interrupts. "If she loses me, she'll be sad. She'll have lost a best friend. But you… your relationship just began. I don't think heartbreak would be an exaggeration, at this point. But I don't think she'd fare much better if you survived and continued to shut her out like this."

I take advantage of a pause in his speech to interject, "You're not going to die tonight, Blaise."

"That brings me to another point," he says. "If there's a moment tonight where you have a choice between saving me or saving yourself, don't be noble."

"I won't let you die, mate."

His eyes harden. "Is that how little her feelings matter to you, then? Do you somehow not care how she'll feel about the outcome?"

"I care, but for you, it'll be life or death. For her… it'll just be emotional. She can recover from that. You can't come back from the dead."

"But you can't come back from the dead, either. Do you really think I want you to die for me?"

"Do you think I want you to die for me?" I shoot back.

We stare at each other for a moment, neither willing to relent. I can't just disregard his life like that. I understand that Hermione won't exactly be happy to hear about my death, but I'm sure that Blaise and Potter will look after her.

And sometimes I think death would be a welcome relief. Gone would be the pain, the guilt, the grief, the nightmares, the constant inability to sleep…

And then Blaise somehow manages to lift the sentiments right out of my mind.

"Do you want to die, Draco?" he asks in a low, clearly concerned voice.

"No," I say firmly.

I'm not suicidal. I'm just not loath to the idea of dying. It's not the worst that could happen.

"Are you sure?"

I nod. "Of course. When have I ever acted suicidal?"

"You're perfectly capable of hiding your true intentions, Draco."

"From everyone else, yes, but from you?"

"Good point."

"Can we just get through this first? You can worry about my relationship later."

"If I die—"

"Which you won't," I say.

"—I don't want you to drive her away," he continues as though I hadn't spoken.

"You're a nosy bastard, you know that?"

"So you've told me before."

"Well, I'm not going to promise anything," I say. "It's a part of me that I don't want anyone to know. But I'll try to… in your words, open up."

"I guess that's the best I'm gonna get out of you."

"It is."

He watches me sullenly for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and sitting down next to me.

"Can't say I didn't try," he says.

"I should wipe your memories now."

He nods and shifts slightly to face me. I draw my wand at point it at him.

"Obliviate."

I sift through the memories of the past hour, erasing anything in our conversations that might allude to the fact that there is a rescue plan.

A moment later, I stow my wand away again, and he leans back against the couch.

"Mate…" he begins.

Then my chest burns, and I pull out the snake pendant.

He looks over. "Is that Hermione?" he asks.

I nod. "She says it's time."

He raises an eyebrow. "Already? That was quick."

"Yes."

"If we live through this… we should forget about everything that happened. Start over," he says as he gets to his feet.

I shake my head. "We can never start over."

"Then we'll give it another try."

I hesitate, then nod slightly. If we live through this.

He Transfigures himself into me. "Good luck, Draco."

"Good luck."

Then I watch as my mirror image twists away and Disapparates.