FIVE.

Ron went pale in the way that only redheads can.

"I was being Crucio'd at the time, but I saw her wearing a gold chain with some heavy charm at the end. I thought it was probably a locket when I saw it."

"Convenient, that's what Harry and Hermione'll say," Ron cut in. "This is the first lead we've had in awhile. It seems awfully suspicious, you appearing just at the right time to help us out. And that you're not the Malfoy they know – even tougher to swallow."

There was something in Ron's expression that Draco read as awkwardness, but he wasn't sure why Ron would be feeling awkward. He wished there was a Gryffindor field manual somewhere: behold the retiring Ronald Weasley in his native habitat. "You can tell when I'm lying to you. What possible objection could they have?"

Ron shrugged. "They'll say you got something past me, you learned to fool the spell somehow, or you just worded things in a sneaky way."

Draco could easily see Harry and Hermione saying all of these things. "Easy, then. We'll prove I'm trustworthy by bringing something to them they didn't have before."

"Don't get me wrong, Malfoy, the thing about the locket is fantastic, really it is. But the fact that it's around the neck of Bellatrix Lestrange – you might as well have said it's in the mouth of a basilisk. And maybe it's a trap – maybe she does have the locket, but she's waiting for us."

"First, I'm aware of the challenge of taking anything from Bellatrix Lestrange that she wants to keep. And second, I'm not talking about just the locket," Draco replied with a grim smile. "Look, you said that there were no books on Horcruxes in the entire library, right?"

"Right, and it isn't as though Hermione hasn't searched."

"But there have to be. Knowledge, no matter how ominous, doesn't disappear, Weasley. It just goes to ground."

"It's not in the Restricted Section, either –"

"I'm not talking about the Restricted Section," Draco cut in. "Older students have access to the Restricted Section, if Dumbledore didn't want anyone to see it, he would've gotten rid of the books themselves. But somehow, I can't see Professor Dumbledore burning books, no matter how hideous. No, I think he hid them."

Ron's brows shot up. "Brilliant, that. Bringing books with you would secure Hermione on your side – so long as you manage to avoid calling her dreadful names." Then he flushed, and for once Draco thought he understood. Ron was sorry he'd offered Draco advice so thoughtlessly. Part of the redhead must still be cursing his luck that he'd offered to repay Bill's debt, and didn't really want Draco to succeed.

But that was one of the side-effects to Necto fiddes that Draco had counted on. Ron would have a vested interest in his success from now on, and would be more inclined to trust him than not. The spell's effect was mild, but he also knew that Ron would be more susceptible to it than most. For all Ron's wariness, he liked to trust people.

It looked like Ron was discerning the effects of the spell for himself and not liking them one bit, so Draco sped on: "Dumbledore probably put them in his office out of harm's way," Draco said. "So I figure, since you brought the Cloak –"

Ron gawped. "You think I'll help you sneak into Dumbledore's office and steal something, the night before his funeral? Are you mad? Wait," he broke off, pressing one hand to his forehead. "I think we've already answered that last question."

"Like you said," Draco informed him, "you owe me. You've got the spell to make sure I'm not lying to you, or even planning to harm you. What else do you need?"

The redhead sighed, shaking his head. "Bloody hell, Malfoy," he swore, raking a hand through his hair. "I don't know. It's just out of habit for me to trust you."

"Well you'd best get into the habit," Draco returned. "To think, you were the easiest to convince, back home."

Ron stared, but he didn't ask Draco to elaborate. "I must be going mad, myself. Can you stand?"

"Stand, walk, talk, I'm multi-talented," Draco replied, leveraging himself gingerly onto his feet. His muscles only screamed at him a tiny bit. "Let's go."

The walk down to Dumbledore's office was a bit surreal for Draco, much like walking through his scarred childhood home had been. The Castle was mostly intact, but now and again the pair would pass curse-marks on the walls. There was also a neat hole burned into the tapestry that had been Draco's secret favorite as a first-year: a meadow and pale fence with a white unicorn standing at its edge, staring off into the cultivated field. He was pleased to see that the tiny unicorn had escaped the carnage, but now she wandered forlornly about, incapable of returning to her original position.

"Malfoy!" Ron hissed, and yanked him forward.

It took a full three minutes of the both of them guessing their favorite candies before the staircase up to Dumbledore's office emerged. Apparently, just before Dumbledore's death, his favorites had been Acid Pops.

The pair stepped onto the winding staircase and threw the cloak to the side when the door closed behind them.

For a few bare moments, neither boy moved. They were not held in the spell of any of Dumbledore's beautiful and curious magical objects. They instead stared at his empty stuffed chair, both of them reflecting on how he would never fill it again.

"Where should we look first?" Ron finally queried. "Only, I don't fancy getting caught after hours in Dumbledore's rooms. They'd think we were both impostors."

Draco winced silently, because he was trying to avoid thinking what might have happened to his own Ron Weasley. This Ron was just closer – my Patronus found the closest one. Or: This Ron is the proper Ron Weasley of this world – my Patronus found the Ron Weasley who belongs here.

Anything to avoid thinking that Patroni couldn't carry messages to the dead.

"Malfoy?"

Draco shook his head free, focusing on the job at hand. "Accio books on Horcruxes."

Ron ducked as several books flew from various locations in the room, landing in Draco's outstretched arms. One book knocked into an large vase that shimmered strangely; Ron lunged across the room to save it from shattering.

"Not bad, Weasley," Draco murmured. "You'll make Keeper, yet."

Ron gave him an odd glance, but replaced the vase without another word. "We'd better get out of here, before –"

"Acid Pops," said a familiar, gravelly voice, and Draco and Ron exchanged panicked glances.

Ron lifted the edge of the cloak and beckoned frantically. Draco ducked underneath the raised edge of the cloak and Ron dropped it to cover them. The pair huddled against the wall and the door swung open.

A very familiar set of robes and sensible buckled heels could be seen through the tiny gap in the Cloak.

"Keeping to the Headmaster's tradition?" queried a smooth, deep voice.

"I haven't had the heart to change it," Professor McGonagall replied.

Even to Draco's untrained ear, she sounded pretty broken up. He tried to imagine what it would be like to take over Hogwarts after such a disaster, and failed.

"No matter how terrible it is, we must think of the future," said the other wizard. Draco got a peek at the man's features; he was tall and dark-skinned, with a strong jaw and one gold hoop pierced through his right ear.

"Harry will go back home. Clearly, Hogwarts is not the safest place right now. We will need to labor all summer to reinforce the wards, to ensure that the Castle can house students in the fall."

"The issue," added the deep, resounding voice, "is returning him to Hogwarts once he turns seventeen."

Professor McGonagall's heels clacked hollowly on the floor as she strode to stand behind the desk. Draco saw her hand caress the stuffed chair behind it. She gave a strained little laugh. "I can't bring myself to sit behind it, yet," she said, apropos of nothing.

There was a space of silence where Ron and Draco scarcely dared to breathe.

"Minerva…"

The elderly witch shook her head. "Never mind it, Kingsley, of course you're right. Providing Harry with protection is the issue at hand. I've thought of it before, of course – Dumbledore and myself discussed it, on numerous occasions. I believe we will transport Harry to a safehouse of one of the Order shortly before he comes of age. While many of the Hogwarts staff will be re-working the wards at Hogwarts, I want the most talented witches and wizards doing the same to the homes of all the Order."

"Won't that alert the Death Eaters?"

The Professor's voice firmed. "That's as may be, but the time for hiding is past. It is unlikely we will be able to keep our covers now that we are in the middle of out-and-out war. It is better they wonder which of many houses is holding Harry Potter. It is better we have warning if someone tries to breach those wards than we sit idly by, hoping that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named does not guess our identities." She paused. "Who knows? In these dark times, heavily warded homes may become… very common."

"I'll get Burbage on finding some good wardsmiths. What about the boy?"

"I've cast every spell I can think on the boy," McGonagall replied. "He isn't lying when he says he's not of this world. The school's magic doesn't recognize him as the Draco Malfoy enrolled here, but every spell I know calls him by name."

It took all of Draco's self-control not to make a sound. He found Ron's arm and dug into it with his fingernails to prevent the other boy from doing the same.

"Did He send him?"

McGonagall shook her head. "It wouldn't appear so, but we can never be too cautious. I'm placing him in the same protective custody as Harry."

"That means the real Malfoy is still out there," Kingsley said, eyes narrowing.

"I'm afraid so. I would like you to delegate locating Mister Malfoy to Moody."

"Moody, Professor? Isn't that a bit of overkill?"

"Hardly." Professor McGonagall placed both fists atop Dumbledore's desk and leaned forward. "Draco Malfoy has information about Snape, information about Dumbledore's death. We must find that boy before we move forward."

"I understand." Kingsley's voice softened. "Try to get some sleep – Headmistress. It's an important day tomorrow."

McGonagall waved her hand at Kingsley, who made a motion someplace between a nod and a bow and exited, closing the door behind him.

Professor McGonagall wandered over to sit on the wrong side of the desk. For a long minute, she stared at the empty chair.

Then she placed her head in her hands.

Draco looked over at Ron to find that the redhead's own eyes were welling with tears as he watched his Head of House. Draco knew what it was like to watch his own Head of House in the middle of a breakdown. He remembered it as though it were minutes rather than days ago, that urge to throw himself at Snape's feet and swear to do anything to make things right.

Draco wasn't very good at comforting people, but he managed to relocate the hand that had been gripping Ron's upper arm to his knee and squeeze.

Ron turned to stare, and Draco gave his best sympathetic look. He hadn't been all that fond of the old geezer, it was true, but watching the stalwart McGonagall dissolve into tears was terrible. Watching Ron in tears was terrible too, in its way.

The new Headmistress cried only for a few minutes. Very rapidly, her tears slowed, then stopped altogether. She wiped at her eyes, gave a heroic sniffle, and exited the office.

Draco and Ron waited another full minute under the cloak before lifting it and standing.

"Well?" Ron wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to say anything – aren't you going to say how hopeless we have it, if even our Headmistress can't keep it together?"

Draco looked up in surprise. "It looks pretty hopeless, I'll grant you that. But it isn't as though quitting is an option. And I don't like that plan she was laying out."

"The plan where they lock you up? I'll bet you don't."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Bloody brilliant, pick the one useless thing out of that whole lot!"

"You're shouting," said Ron, in a much smaller voice.

"Sorry," Draco murmured, contrite. "Come on, let's get out of here before McGonagall decides she's forgotten something."

They descended the staircase, Ron carrying the cloak in one hand, Draco carrying the stack of books. After a moment, Draco gave up on discretion and rolled his eyes in the most dramatic way he knew how.

"That's a stupid plan. Come on, Weasley, find one of the many holes in it."

Ron blinked. "Well – all right, fine. Why is Harry going back to Privet Drive in the first place?"

Draco nodded vigorously, and would have pointed if his hands weren't full. "Exactly. I'm not saying he wouldn't be safer there, but only for the time being. Eventually he's going to have to go off in search of the Horcruxes. Why would he wait?"

"It's the Trace," Ron said. "Harry might be able to leave Privet Drive, but he wouldn't be able to defend himself without the Ministry trying to arrest him."

"There's got to be a way to remove the Trace," Draco countered. "That's what we should really be working on. If we know where a Horcrux is, we should get it now, before it moves!"

"There probably is a way," Ron agreed.

"Maybe your father would know something. He works in the Ministry, after all."

Ron looked at him askance. "Maybe, but I doubt he'd tell me."

"The information must be somewhere –"

All of a sudden, the books in Draco's hands yanked to the left. When Draco clasped them to his chest, they pulled more insistently.

"Weasley!"

"What are they doing? Are they possessed?"

"I don't know!"

For a moment, the two boys wrestled with the Horcrux books, and then finally Ron shook his head and laughed. "Someone's Summoned them!"

"Granger," Draco said. He took an unsteady breath. "Let them go, for now. Let her have them."

"Malfoy –"

"Trust me, Weasley, and let them go."

Ron released the books, and the two boys watched them zoom down the hallway and out of sight like loosed birds.

"Why…?"

Draco turned to him. "I've had an idea, that's why." Draco worried his lower lip between his teeth. "Did you tell anyone else you were coming to the Wing to talk to me?"

Ron shook his head.

"Brilliant," Draco replied with a wide grin. "All right, you need to research the Trace. Don't borrow any books from the library, just take notes. If anyone asks, you're doing a Potions assignment."

"I quit Snape's class after fifth year," Ron returned.

"Astronomy, Arithmancy… something difficult, but other than that, it doesn't matter what. Sneak into the Restricted Section if you must, but for Merlin's sake don't let anyone see you entering or leaving. And above all, don't ask a professor for permission."

"I could nick the Invisibility Cloak again, and do the research tomorrow night," Ron offered with a frown. "But I still don't understand."

"Potter's guardians mean well by trying to give him more time to prepare, but they're not being very clever," Draco replied. "The Death Eaters'll know Harry's not safe anymore after his birthday…" When Ron eyed him warily, Draco scoffed. "Come now, hasn't the surprise worn off yet? Of course Harry told me about his mother's protection spell…" I could feel it when his bindings lashed around me: warm, and dark, and heart's-blood red.

"The surprise will never wear off, Malfoy," Ron darkly replied.

"In any case," Malfoy went on, with a sharp glare at Ron, "they'll be expecting that he'll move, then. Why oblige them?"

Ron crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't you think the Order's thought of that, Malfoy? I mean, some of them fought in the first war. What makes you think that your plans are better than theirs?"

"Because, Dumbledore's primary mission wasn't to end the Dark Lord," Draco said, and watched Ron both wince a bit at the Dark appellation. "It was to make sure Harry was ready to end Him. I think that's the problem: Dumbledore has a schedule. Had a schedule," he corrected with an apologetic glance, "and that schedule revolved around Harry. But there's no rule saying we've got to follow it."

Draco could see Ron was wavering, so he pressed on:

"What we need to do is move long before anyone suspects it.

"Now."

Ron's head jerked up.

"Well, not tonight, obviously," Draco allowed, examining his nails. "I'll need a bit of recovery time; I'm still weak. That'll give me the time to brew an advance supply of my daily potion, Madam Pomfrey said it was cheap and easy to brew, which means the ingredients I'd need are probably in the Potions lab right now. Oh yes, and we'll need a way of dampening the Trace… or removing it entirely."

"I'm of age," Ron said.

Playing for time again, Draco knew. He watched with a half-smile as Ron's eyes darted, his thoughts moving just as quickly as Draco's own.

"As am I," Draco replied. "As is Granger. The only one who isn't –"

"…is Harry himself," Ron finished. "So of course they won't be expecting him to leave before his birthday… that's kind of brilliant, leaving long before anyone suspects we might."

"Well; and I thought of it. What did you expect?" Draco looked up with a conspiratory grin, only to find that Weasley was looking at him oddly, again.

"Sorry," Ron said with a duck of his head. "Reckon your Ron and you were, uh, friends…?"

This was more of a concession than Draco had expected from the other boy. "I don't mean to forget who you are," he finally replied. "If you'll forgive me for the one, I'll forgive you for the other."

Ron's lips twitched. "So, er… reckon you want me to get Hermione's help and try to find out –"

Draco shook his head and held up one hand. "No; she's busy studying the Horcruxes; let her, we'll need all of that information as well, and the fewer who know about this, the less chance it'll leak. I need you to be in the library doing that research on the Trace."

"But I'm rubbish at research," Ron said, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, a gesture which Draco had long since translated as embarrassed, and entered into the Ronald Weasley Lexicon of Incomprehensibilities. "Hermione would really be better at –"

"Merlin, Ron!" Draco snapped. "What if Hermione Granger falls into a bog?"

Ron stared. "What?"

"Or, I don't know, bumps her head, and all the legions of nonsense she's read fall out! You can't seriously mean to say that you – you – you –"

"Steady on, mate," Ron muttered, and clasped Draco's shoulder.

Draco looked down at the hand, then back up at Ron, who withdrew the offending appendage.

"Sorry," Ron said. "I didn't mean – it's just, you've got a point, only I figure I'll miss something. Hermione's always the one who makes the brilliant leaps."

Draco blinked. "The Ronald Weasley I know beat a chess puzzle McGonagall constructed when he was only eleven. Not much gets past him."

Ron quirked a grin. "Well – I mean, I did that, too, but..."

Draco's lips thinned in determination, and his jaw firmed as he stared into Ron's features. "He was the only one who knew I'd taken the Mark screaming all the way. Harry and Hermione thought I'd defected, but he knew. He knew with one look at me."

Ron swallowed. "That wasn't –"

"Yes, I know," Draco replied, not taking his gaze off of Ron, needing his help and needing to make him understand. "But I think it easily could've been. And I think you're more than capable of finding the true information and sorting it from the dross. In fact, I think it's kind of your thing, knowing what's real and what isn't."

Ron looked up, and there was a strange, high emotion running in his eyes that Draco could not interpret. He cleared his throat. "So, when do we talk to Harry?" he said, finally, voice determined.

"Here's the thing," Draco said, as the beginnings of a wicked smile tugged at his lips. "We don't. We're going to kidnap the Savior of the Wizarding World."

A/N: All right, I know it was a very short one, but how can you NOT stop a chapter right there?

Doing some vanity searching, I found that tv-tropes lists Secret of Slytherin as an aversion of the 'Ron the Death Eater' trope, complete with the 'you two sure do turn on a knut, don't you?' line. Tv-tropes is such a black hole that I don't recall the details as to when/where/how long I was sucked in... for all I know, I could have put the entry there myself, years ago...?

In other weird SoS news, the Epilogue has apparently deleted itself, or, rather more likely, I accidentally deleted it myself when I tried to add something along the lines of 'this story has a sequel!'. Luckily, the story is archived at Potions and Snitches, so all I have to do is re-post. Lots of confused people are going to get updates in their inboxes.

Thanks for the reviews last time, folks! You inspired me to keep going with this story. And to all of those of you who, like me, are imprisoned by the snow this week, hopefully I've given you something to take away the cabin fever a bit...

Sorry, but no recs this week. White Collar fandom has eaten my life, and I haven't read new HP in ages!