Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

Warning: Just moving my story along, possibly some cursing.

Adrian Pucey - Phobos

Liam Baddock - Deimos

Theodor Nott – Oberon

Draco Malfoy – Chaos

Vincent Crabbe - Moros

Gregory Goyle - Pallas

Blaise Zabini – Pan

Pansy Parkinson - Nyx

Daphne Greengrass - Hebe

Morag Macdougal – Nike

Millicent Bulstrode - Cerberus

Elijah Harper - Cratos

Anthony Vaisey - Tyche

Malcolm Baddock – Hecate

Astoria Greengrass - Eris

Flora Carrow - Nemisis

Hestia Carrow – Hypnos

Ginny Weasley – Tartarus

Seamus Finnegan – Hyperion

Neville Longbottom - Chiron

Dean Thomas – Prometheus

Demelza something or other - Selene

Anthony Goldstien - Styx

Terry Boot - Perses

Zacharias Smith - Chronos

Kevin Entwhistle - Pontus

Jack Sloper – Morpheus

Ritchie Coote - Erebos

Colin Creevey - Metis

Dennis Creevey - Eos

Mandy Brocklehurst – Leto

Michael Corner – Charon

Stephen Cornfoot - Atlas

Orla Quirke - Lamia

Ernie Macmillan –Minos

Sally-Anne Perks – Aether

By way of silent, and mutual agreement, Draco's father showing was not discussed. Draco wasn't sure if it was because Potter understood, or if he didn't particularly care, or if it was because he seemed terrified of Draco. Draco had thought it might've had something to do with being a werewolf, but when he was a wolf in the woods, Potter had had no qualms about grabbing him.

Draco snapped back to the moment, and nodded to Tartarus, to show that he was paying attention. She smiled, drew herself up, closed her eyes, and focusing hard muttered the incantation. She began to grow, and Draco watched with interest as her limbs lengthened, her skin turned to fur, and before long, stood a large reddish pony, with white speckles across its body, a brown red mane and tail swishing behind her.

Draco smiled, rolling his eyes as she tossed her head. "Good job, Tart, now we can give someone a pony ride."

She pinned her ears at him, baring his teeth for a moment, before turning, snorting and bolting across the manors lawn, throwing bucks and kicks of joy in every now and then. Draco laughed, and turned to go back inside, after all, it was still a British winter, and the cold air was biting at him.

He moved into the kitchen, sitting next to Pan, shoving a cold, sock clad foot beneath the other boys leg. Pan looked up and rolled his eyes, but continued calmly leafing through his newspaper. Draco's eyes were drawn to another article about centaur uprisings, and he didn't hear whatever Leto said as she burst in.

"What, sorry?" Draco said looking up, rubbing his tired eyes, and focusing on her.

"I said, the old man's awake."

Draco shrugged, and said, "Then go tell Potter, I don't want anything to do with him."

Leto gave him a look, but turned and moved towards the part of the manor where the others had taken up residence. Leto had an unwavering respect for human life, and while she pointedly ignored anytime someone that had to die did die, she was more content playing nursemaid and potions keeper than she was to actually do the killing, no matter how much she might approve of the elimination of a death eater.

Pan put down his paper, staring into the fire for a moment. "What are we going to do with him?"

Draco shrugged, his fingers tracing the rough wood grain on the table, and eventually, he answered, "I guess we'll have to surrender him to someone, my cousin, maybe."

Pan nodded, but didn't pick up his paper again, turning to survey Draco. "We need to get on this, before they become blinded by their rage," he said quietly, gesturing vaguely at the newspaper. Draco nodded slowly, an idea blossoming in his head.

"We need to get the old man out of here, before we start. Our only saving grace going in is that we're all children in their eyes. We need to get him out of here before we bring anyone back."

Pan nodded slowly, his dark brown eyes meeting Draco's pale grey ones squarely. Draco held the gaze strongly, though both boys were human, the eye contact was distinctly canine, and when Pan blinked, and looked away, if he'd had ears, they'd be to the side, in submission. Draco accepted it, and turned back to the fire for a moment.

"I'll go. With Tart and Hecate, we'll move faster just the three of us. I know of 4 herds, so it could take us up to a month, but hopefully we won't come back alone. I'll send word about how many to expect, but you need to get the old man out, to my cousin before we get back."

Pan's eyes flashed with an emotion, but it was gone too quickly for Draco to interpret it. The dark haired boy just shrugged, turning away to face the warmth of the fire again. Draco stayed there for a long moment, trying to interpret what was going on, but his tired mind was nearly numb, and he couldn't come up with anything that seemed relevant.

He got up, squeezing his best friends shoulder, but Pan didn't seem to notice, eyes caught up in the flames hypnotic twist.

Draco scrubbed hard, enjoying the warm water that he didn't know when he would next be able to enjoy. Warm water was soothing as it hit him, and he needed a moment to think where he didn't have to worry about what his facial expressions might make others think.

He felt bad, moving the old man so soon after he woke, but he couldn't afford to keep him, and anyways, the man would be more trouble than he was worth. For that matter, Potter was more trouble than he was worth, but he wouldn't cause the centaurs to distrust them like Dumbledore would. Draco sighed, leaning back against the steam warmed marble wall, letting the water run over him, soothing his aching muscles. He knew they would have to kick Potter and his trio out soon enough, but at the same time, he refused to do it just out of fear that they'd be found harboring them. He refused to do anything else in his life for fear of Lord Voldemort.

He turned off the water decidedly, wrapping a towel around himself before trotting out, down the hall, through the tapestry hole, and over to where he kept his things. He pulled on pants, black muggle denim trousers, and a newly stolen off a clothes line black shirt. It was slightly too large for him, but the air space in the garment was good for trapping heat.

He rifled through his rucksack, pulling out the wands, dumping all but 4 on Pan's bed, a silent peace offering, and only keeping a sweater, a spare mask, a black handkerchief, his belt kit, with its knives and little stoppers of dittany, and of course the cloth bag filled with odds and ends that Perses, Styx and Aether had turned into blood activated Portkeys to one of the cellars.

Draco got up, and moved through the hall back towards the entrance hall. He glanced up at the walls, scorched remains of portraits and run down, dust covered tapestries that reminded him of a broken version of his childhood memories. He sat on the cold marble steps, leaning against the banister, looking up at the ceiling. It was black, covered in soot from when the towers had burned, and even though he was almost used to it, it still felt like a knife twisting in his gut when his thoughts strayed to his mother.

Before long Hecate came out and looked around, before spotting Draco, and padded over, sitting quietly, one step down. Draco nodded silently in greeting, then the two boys sat quietly, waiting the last. This felt different, usually when leaving for missions Draco felt adrenaline coursing through his veins, but the fact that he wouldn't be back for a while, made him feel a little sick with worry and fear.

Voices drifted towards them from the hall, behind the steps, out of sight. Three voices, angry, carrying through the echoing, deserted hall. Tart, Weasley and Potter. Tart was being quiet, mostly just telling the others to stop, to go away, but Weasley had a lot to say.

"You can't just go off, Gin you're only a kid. You can't tell me where you're going, won't tell me with who, won't tell me why, and I'm your own brother. You're 15, what am I going to tell mum if you get killed?"

His rage was cut short by Potter interjecting, "Ron, she won't die, right? It's not that kind of thing?"

His heroic concern made Draco want to vomit, but just then the three rounded the corner, coming into sight, and Draco decided vomiting would show weakness, so he thought better of it, and just silently rose. He took two steps down, as Hecate rose, but stayed put, flanking Draco.

Tart looked up, and smiled a small smile at them, nodding slightly. Potter and Weasley were both making outraged noises, but if Tart wanted to ignore them, Draco would follow her lead, they were her Gryffindors after all.

"Malfoy! You can't let her leave, she won't be safe! You have to tell us where you're taking them," Weasley moved to block Draco's path off the stairs. Draco stopped, surveyed him coolly for a moment, then shrugged, and just raised one eye brow, in silent ridicule of this mother hen act Weasley was putting on.

"Come on, Malfoy, they're just kids!" Potter looked scandalized, his brow furrowed. Draco looked past him, meeting Tart's eyes. She just shrugged, obviously irritated by the two boy's outrage.

"We're all just kids," he said simply, moving past Weasley who just spluttered in outrage, and grabbed his arm.

"Take me instead!"

"Let go of me. You'd be of absolutely no use to me, in fact, you'd likely be a hindrance. I need Tartarus, and you need to let her decide what she fights for, and when she fights for it, and you really need to let go of me before my self control snaps and I gut you like a fish," Draco snapped, jerking his arm hard, until Weasley let go. Tart's cheeks were slightly flushed, and Hecate took the two Gryffindors surprise as an opportune moment to slip past them, and the three of them turned and walked through the door way, leaving one Gryffindor spluttering, his face an off reddish purple, the other looking like Draco had just stolen his number one fan away, or kicked a puppy or something.