CHAPTER 33

"The first game of the season!" is the annoying, sudden sound that wakes me up that next morning. Though Christopher is gone—there's absolutely no way to guess when he might have left—I'm not alone in the common room. Slytherins bustle about, most of them ecstatic about the Quidditch game that will begin in just a few hours. I, on the other hand, still unable to care about going to the pitch to watch the match, pry myself from the sofa's comfortable clutches and make my way up to my bed.

I close the curtains around myself, fold myself into a ball, and collapse onto my side, unsure if I've ever been this tired in my life. My mind is screaming at me, begging me never to do this again. Little does it know that I will be doing this until Voldemort is defeated once and for all. Pansy's voice echoes through the room (I hate sharing a dormitory with her), "Do any of you know where Draco has run off to? We were supposed to have breakfast together in the Great Hall."

I pull my blankets up closer to my face. "Are you sure about that?" Millicent Bulstrode asks.

Another one of the Slytherin girls in my year, Tracey Davis, says, "From what I hear, he was seen going into the spare classroom with Charlotte just the other day. Perhaps—"

"They're no longer together!" Pansy shrieks. "He wouldn't go in there with her! He hates her!"

"Says who?" I hear Daphne ask. "I've seen them talking a lot this year."

"She's a filthy half-blood!" Pansy screams. "He wouldn't waste his time with her!"

"What makes you think she's a half-blood?" Millicent says. "People say that she's claimed to be a pureblood, a half-blood, and even a Mudblood. I don't think anyone truly knows her blood status."

"Even if she is a pureblood, she isn't worthy of Draco!"

"Have ever really even talked to her?" Daphne asks. "I mean, really spoken to her? I think you're letting your . . . crush on Draco cloud your judgment. You should try speaking with her."

"How can we?" Pansy says. "She's weird, keeps to herself, doesn't really talk to anyone besides you and those others you seem to enjoy being around these days—and Potter and his friends on rare occasions. And—"

"She can't even really be considered a true Slytherin," Millicent says. "What kind of Slytherin would willingly speak to those disgusting Gryffindors?"

"We go to the same school!" Daphne says. "You can't expect us to never speak with anyone of another House."

"Something's off about her," Tracey replies. "I don't know what it is, but there's something . . . something wrong with her."

Having never heard this about myself, I'm inclined to listen, slightly touched that Daphne would defend me like this though doing so is completely unnecessary because Pansy's opinion means so very little to me.

"How can you know something is 'wrong' with her if you've never even spoken to her? I talk to her quite a bit, and she's—"

"But I have spoken to her," Millicent says. "Last year, she took my copy of The Daily Prophet. When she started reading about the Death Eaters who escaped from Azkaban, she freaked out."

"But who didn't?" Daphne says. "They were Death Eaters who escaped Azkaban!"

"Oh, shut up, Daphne," Pansy says. "You've always been a bad judge of character. Need we even bring up that Mudblood Accrington? You don't know Charlotte enough to trust her the way you do. Showing up in fifth year with—"

"I know her well enough. You can't go around tarnishing someone's reputation when you've never spoken to them—"

"Because she won't let us," Tracey cuts her off.

"Something has obviously happened," Daphne says, acting as if she didn't realize that she had been interrupted. "I don't know what it is, but there has obviously been something tragic in her life. There's been something tragic in Draco's life as well. It's no wonder if they get back together." She knows that'll never happen, but I have to smile at the fact that she's just stoking their fire.

"They're not back together!" Pansy hisses. "She cheated on him with that blood traitor Weasley! He hates her as much as the rest of the Slytherins do!"

"And by 'the rest of the Slytherins,' you mean you, Crabbe, and Goyle?" Daphne says.

"Why do you care so much?" Tracey laughs. "You hardly know her!"

"I know her well enough," she repeats. "She's my friend."

Pansy scoffs.

"Would you be saying any of this if she were in the room right now?" Daphne asks. "I've seen you flinch when she gets angry. You're afraid of her. Why don't you mouth off to her face instead of behind her back?"

"She's not," Pansy says. "She was asleep in the common room—"

"Another mark of her odd ways," Millicent interjects.

I slide the blankets off me, take out my wand, and cast the Disillusionment Charm over myself in case they check.

"Maybe Daphne's right," Tracey says quietly. "Who's to say she didn't come back up here?"

"Someone would have seen her!" Pansy says. The curtains around my bed are thrown open. "See! It's empty!" Pansy points her finger at Daphne. "I'm growing sick of this, Daphne. You need to decide where your loyalties are: with us—your real friends—or with her."

"She's my friend too," Daphne says.

Pansy huffs at her before leaving the room, calling along Tracey and Millicent as she goes. Daphne plunders in her trunk for something, and I remove the charm from myself. "I appreciate you trying."

She squeaks, her eyes widening as she turns to see me sitting up on my bed, my eyes heavy with exhaustion. "You heard all of that?"

"I mean, yeah, but I've heard worse, so I really don't care."

"Sorry about the you-and-Draco thing. I figured it was the easiest way to get under her skin."

I smile at her. "It's fine, it was interesting to hear all about my odd ways." She clears her throat uncomfortably. "However, now that Pansy's loud mouth is out of here, I'm going to go back to sleep."

Daphne nods weakly. "Are you going to the game?"

"No," I say, closing my eyes again. "I'm exhausted. Let me know who wins, will you?"

"Do you want company?"

"I mean, I'm just going to go back to sleep."

"I'll let you know who wins." She leaves the room, and I pull my curtain back around my bed to get some rest.

By the time I wake up again, basically every student is down at the Quidditch pitch for the game. After stopping by the Owlery to send my replies to Zoe and Fred (I'm really thankful that our correspondence is so frequent), I wander around the castle aimlessly. At least that's the plan until I see Draco coming around the corner with two young girls I've never spoken to. We both stop when our eyes meet. "Why aren't you at the Quidditch match?" I ask him. "I thought you were Seeker."

"With everything going on, do you really think playing Seeker matters much to me anymore?"

"I see your point."

"Why aren't you down there?" he asks.

"I don't like Quidditch."

"But you used to love going to the games."

"I only went to the games because of you."

He smiles. "I see your point. I was quite stunning up on my broom, wasn't I?"

I ignore his comment. "So where are you going now?"

Draco's smile fades. "I'm working on . . . my task . . ."

"Oh."

He and I are silent for a few moments—the two girls are as well, giving each other confused and uneasy looks. Then Draco says, "Why don't you come with me?"

I'm taken aback, almost as much as the girls behind him. He was so hell-bent on preventing me from knowing what he has been doing. What's changed? "What?"

"You should know what I'm doing—so you're prepared." Without letting me give him an answer, Draco puts his hand on my back and leads me through the corridors, the two girls still following. As he's made no attempt to hide from them or lose them, I can only assume he doesn't care that they're following. But why?

We stop at a place I know all too well: the entrance of the Room of Requirement. When a door appears in the wall, we step inside and are greeted by clutter, generations upon generations of students' hidden items. It's a maze of rubbish and random items stacked precariously high, stacked almost to the ceiling. Should any of this start falling, we'd be buried alive, likely never found again. The door closes behind us, but the girls do not follow us inside as Draco leads me to a large black . . . thing. "What is this?"

"It's a Vanishing Cabinet. There are few things I'm going to do to . . . fulfill my mission, but this is the final act, the one that will pull through if nothing else does."

"What will it do?"

"There's one identical to it at Borgin and Burkes," he says. "I'm going to connect them—to get the Death Eaters into the castle."

So Harry was right. Draco was doing something at Borgin and Burkes that day they saw him. "And you believe it'll work?" If the Order is truly guarding the castle, the Death Eaters have no chance of getting into the castle, let alone killing Dumbledore. Either way, someone is going to die. If Draco succeeds (though I doubt he will), Dumbledore will die. If Draco fails (more likely to happen), he will be killed.

"It has to work. It's the only way. But it's complex and very temperamental—"

"Like Pansy," I say without thinking.

He smirks. "Just like her."

"I hear you were to have breakfast with her."

"D'she say that?"

"Yeah, she was asking around for you."

"I don't know why she does that. I've told her that there's too much going on for me to date. But she doesn't like to take 'no' as an answer."

It takes a lot for me not to laugh at this. "Does she know about those two doe-eyed little girls following you around just now?"

Draco bursts with laughter. "That's Crabbe and Goyle. Polyjuice Potion!" Do the real girls know that they're being impersonated? "Couldn't have anyone knowing Crabbe and Goyle are keeping guard for me. For anyone who knows about the Room, it'd be too obvious I'm doing something in here if they were guarding it as themselves. Potter already suspects I'm doing something . . . so I stole some Polyjuice from Slughorn's class the first day."

I nod, a little uncomfortable with Crabbe and Goyle impersonating young girls, likely without their knowledge, and change the subject, "How do you plan on fixing this?"

"No idea. I just thought I'd show you, you know, so you will have an idea of what will happen should it come to this."

I nod. "I'll stop distracting you then, yeah?" He stares at the Vanishing Cabinet. I put my hand on his arm in goodbye and retrace my steps to get out of the Room of Requirement, only getting lost twice on my way out. I don't bother looking at either Crabbe or Goyle when I exit the Room.

Students flood back into the entrance hall by the time I get there, and it doesn't take long before I see Astoria, Daphne, Grant, and the first-years approaching. Astoria waves to me when she sees me, and once they make it through the doors, she takes me by the arm. "I need to have a word with Charlotte. We'll meet back up with all of you later."

Before anyone has a chance to say anything, Astoria drags me back outside and away from the crowd of students. Once we're far out of earshot from everyone, we sit down, leaning against the castle. "Is something wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing like that. I just . . . didn't want anyone else to hear this." I watch her expectantly. "All right, well, first, I guess, I should ask you how you feel about Draco these days."

"We're friends, why do you ask?" Does she know that he's doing something?

"There've been a few nights this year where it's just me and Draco in the common room," she says, picking at the robes covering her knees. "And I mean, he's nice, you know? I see why you liked him so much last year. But I know he's . . . prejudiced. And he can be hateful. But he's nice to me and we get along really well. We used to dislike each other strongly, but he's kind of . . . I don't know, become a tentative friend. But you're my friend too, and you were my friend first. So if you think it'd be wrong for me to—I mean, I'm not even sure if he'd be willing or if he'd want to—it's just that I kind of care about him and I don't know why considering how we clashed so badly last year and the years before and even some of this year but I think he's kind of changed a little—or at least to me—because he doesn't seem the same but that might be because he's so isolated—but anyways I wanted to check with you first."

"Are you trying to tell me that you fancy Draco?"

Her cheeks turn a brilliant scarlet, and she glances quickly at me before turning her attention back to the spot on her knee. "Yeah," she whispers. "But I don't want to—"

"Draco and I ended on really good terms, Astoria. We're friends. But we actually just spoke . . . and he's not in any condition to date or—"

"I don't want to date him," she says quickly. "At least not yet. I just . . . I do like him, but I didn't want you to find out through someone else."

"You might be a good influence on him. Try to be his friend, and I guess we'll see how things go. It won't bother me. Just . . . don't tell Zoe. I fear she might disown you."

She smiles timidly at me. "If anyone would be telling Zoe, it'd be you and you know it." That brings a smile to my face. "So we're good?" I nod, and she breathes a sigh of relief.

The group of Slytherins I consider to be my friends sit around a large table in the common room. We've been in silence for nearly twenty minutes, which is an odd occurrence around these certain first-years. While they work on the Switching Spell some more, trying to make more advanced Transfigurations, and while Grant and Astoria and Daphne all write essays for their classes, I sit in a state of internal turmoil. Should I tell Snape what Draco told me? Surely I should. He took the Unbreakable Vow, which means he needs to know what Draco is planning. So why don't I get up right now and go tell him?

Because I don't want to sever Draco's trust in me.

I've just gained the courage to leave the room and go tell Snape when I hear, "Charlotte, look!" and nearly have a heart attack. Trying to calm my breathing, I look over at Julia, who has successfully switched her cat's teeth with rubber. She beams at me proudly. I reach my finger out to it, sticking my finger in its mouth. When it tries to bite me, it doesn't hurt. The other first-years, except for a scowling Jacob Butler, giggle happily.

"Can you change it back?" I ask her, smiling at the confused cat.

She points her wand at it and tries, but when the teeth don't immediately come back, her face becomes panicked. She tries again—he breathing becomes quick and heavy when the teeth still not return. Though she continues trying repeatedly for the next six seconds or so, nothing changes, and quiet, horrified noises start coming from somewhere deep in her throat with each inhale and exhale. "Charlotte," she whispers frantically. "Charlotte!" Jacob sniggers at her. "CHARLOTTE!"

I can practically feel the eyes of many nosy Slytherins turning to our table. "Calm down,," I say gently. "Take a breath." I wait until she starts trying to calm down. "Focus. I know you can do it."

She nods and takes another deep, then sets her jaw determinedly and points her wand at the cat without giving me a second glance. While nothing happens, instead of asking me for help again, she sets her jaw once more and gives it another attempt. This time, the teeth go back to normal, and she rejoices with a loud laugh. Her cat then hops off the table and retreats up the stairs, probably to the bed it shares with Julia to sleep off its horror over what's just happened.

I'm about to congratulate her on her success when someone interrupts me. "Hi," the voice says. I turn to see Blaise Zabini watching me with a grin. "May I have a word?"

I stand and walk a few feet away from the table, out of earshot of my friends. "If you're going to ask me to stop helping them for some obscure reason, I'm afraid I have no choice but to say no. And any further arguments are fruitless, and therefore I will not have them."

He smiles. "That's not exactly what I was going to talk to you about."

I pause, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Oh . . . All right then. You may have a word with me."

"I'm part of the Slug Club, and Slughorn is having a Christmas party thing. We're allowed to invite guests. I was wondering—"

"I'm dating Fred Weasley," I interrupt him, knowing for sure where he's going with this. "And I know how you feel about his family. You call them blood traitors. Which means I am a blood traitor as well. From what I hear—"

"Charlotte," he interrupts me, flashing me a perfect smile, "just give me a minute, will you?"

"Fine."

"I know you're dating Fred Weasley. That's why I'm not asking you as a date. And while, yes, you could be considered a blood traitor, Draco doesn't seem to see you that way. I need someone to go with, and he recommended asking you because you wouldn't take it as me asking you on a date, which I now realize I should have led with."

I was chosen out of convenience, nothing else, and for some reason that offends me. "As flattering as that is," I say tartly, "I'm just not sure I want to be a choice of convenience. In fact, I'm not even sure I'll be here during the party."

"I haven't even told you when it is."

"We've hardly ever spoken before!"

"Yes, but we have spoken." He drops his hand, realizing that I am not going to shake it. I stare at him, unwavering in my decision. "Please just come to the party with me," he says. "My mother would be disappointed in me if I didn't show up with a date."

"And your mother would know if you went alone?"

"I keep nothing from her," he says sincerely.

"Take Pansy. She loves feeling important."

He smirks. "I would, but just as my mother would be disappointed in me for not getting a date, I would be disappointed in myself for not having a beautiful date."

I ignore the heat I feel on my face. "Looks aren't everything," I say firmly.

"But they help." He huffs at the determination on my face. "Please come with me, Charlotte. From what I've seen in Transfiguration, you're wildly talented. Who knows, you might land a spot in the Slug Club."

"Because I so desperately want to be a part of that."

He shifts around where he stands. "Draco said you might be difficult about it," he comments, "but I told him that you wouldn't." He meets my eyes. "Help me prove him wrong about you."

This time it's my turn to huff. "I'll have to think about it. I'll need to discuss it with Fred."

"I would expect nothing less. It's the twentieth of December." He offers me his hand, and I accept it this time.

I smile back at him and head to the table with Christopher and the others. "What was that about?" Daphne asks me.

"He was inviting me to the Slug Club Christmas Party." She makes a noise of feigned interest, then turns her attention to an essay in front of her, obviously bored with the idea of Zabini and a Christmas party.

"How do you join the Slug Club?" Jacob asks.

"You have to have influence, or know someone who has influence."

"And that's why you're not part of it?" Jacob says.

I meet his eyes. "Not exactly. I've never even spoken with Slughorn before." That's a lie, but both of us seemed relatively bored with one another during our short conversation.

"But you're going, right?" Christopher says, now giving his full attention to this conversation.

"Of course she is!" Ella says. "That guy was stunning! You have something to wear, right?"

I clear my throat and look to Astoria for help, but she just shrugs. And Daphne refuses to look up from her essay now, so I'm stuck in this conversation.

"Of course she doesn't!" Jacob says. "She's an orphan! She hasn't got anything!"

"Hey," Daphne snaps, looking up from her essay. "Don't talk to her like that."

Jacob makes a face at her, but neither of them says anything else. Daphne goes right back to her essay without another word.

I catch Draco's eye from across the room and jerk my head toward the door of the common room. We meet outside of it nearly five minutes later. "What the hell, Draco?" I hiss at him when the door closes.

"What?"

"You told Zabini—Zabini— to ask me to the Slug Club Christmas Party?"

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't think of anything else!"

"Couldn't think of anything else for what?"

"I need someone I trust at the party."

"Why?"

"Snape is supposed to be there."

"Your point? Get to it quickly."

"All right, all right. I'm planning on working on the cabinet that night. Most students will be getting ready to leave for the holidays, which means there'll be fewer of them wandering the castle, which means it'll be the best time for me to test the cabinet without running the risk of getting caught."

"And?"

"Snape can't know what I'm doing. That's where you come in."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Keep him occupied."

"How do you suggest I do that?"

"I don't know. The two of you seem friendly at times. Start a conversation with him and keep it going during a certain period of time. Can you do that for me, Charlotte? Please."

I close my eyes and sigh. "Yes."

He thanks me quietly before going back into the common room.

I remain standing there in the corridor, debating whether to tell Snape Draco's plan to get the Death Eaters into the castle. Snape needs to know, a voice in my mind says. With a groan, I walk to his office door and knock, waiting a few moments before knocking again. When no answer comes, I crack the door open. "Professor?" I whisper. "Professor Snape, are you in here?"

When still no answer comes, I back away and make my way to the Slytherin Dungeon. If Snape didn't answer, then I'm not meant to tell him, right?

I don't know, but that's certainly the excuse I'll be sticking with for now. If things get out of hand at the party, I'll tell Snape everything. Until then, I guess I can keep my word to Draco.