"What sort of idea?" Draco wishes he could feel less apprehensive about this, but the mischievous look she's sporting almost mandates it.

Looking supremely pleased with herself, Hermione admits, "It's going to take some help from your friends. Do you think they would?"

"Help us? …I think they'd try, but it'll depend on what it is."

"Of course." She waves this off, quite nonchalant about it, and his curiosity is inflamed. "And I can't lie and say I'm wild about the idea, either, but -"

Draco stops her with a hand. "You look entirely too proud of it to not be all in yourself."

Hermione gives a light laugh. "Well, that's probably fair. But I can be proud of thinking it up and still not enthusiastic about doing it."

"What is it, Granger?"

She grimaces slightly, wrinkling her nose, and says in a rushed jumble, "I-think-we-should-date-Pansy-and-Theo."

Draco chokes, swallowing the wrong way, and hacks his way through an extremely painful set of racking coughs across his chest. Hermione thumps him hard on the back like a child several times in quick succession. He gasps in air.

"What?"

"Well, we need it to be secret, still, don't we?" She blasts him with direct eye contact and Draco has an inkling she has the meaning of all this better than he could have guessed. He narrows his eyes at her, considering.

"We do."

"Even if it seems like nothing more than an occasional shag, your association with me could still bring reprisals."

"It could." The ease with which she thought of this, nearly on the spot, gives him pause. Or maybe in light of the stunt he pulled with Finnegan, maybe she's been thinking about a way to seem unassociated with Draco. That hurts. Maybe the idea that his parents know frightens her. When she'd mentioned 'reprisals,' she'd phrased it as if she were worried about him, but maybe she's afraid, too.

He tries to think it over, trying to see it objectively and weighing it against what his mother had said. It needs to seem unmeaningful, in every way.

Hermione and Theo. He does his best to ignore the flaming jealousy already flickering up his feet to his legs, climbing, climbing.

"But what makes you think it would be any better for Theo to be 'shagging' you? Please don't make me say that part out loud again."

Hermione stops, uncertain. "I - I don't know. Look, it's not perfect. And I don't know what they gain from it aside from simply helping to help, and I know that's not a very Slytherin impulse, but I don't know what else to suggest. We could go back to sneaking around, but now people are going to be looking."

"Yes, Potter, for one," Draco grumbles, flexing his right hand into a fist. He feels weak, still, and hates it. He's stuck in a bloody hospital bed in the bloody hospital wing like an invalid. "How did he know where to find me, exactly?"

She looks uncomfortable, as if this is news she'd rather not deliver. "He's suspected you of doing something - something bad, I don't even know what, but he had his house-elf following you. He saw us together. Or saw us entering and then leaving the Come and Go Room, anyway."

That doesn't quite track to Draco, even though he recalls hearing her bicker with Potter about his recent misuse of house-elves. He also recalls them trying to look for a Dark Mark on him, and thinks Hermione might have edited that little detail out on purpose.

But it's not as if he wants to be the one to bring it up.

"But we'd have seen or heard a house-elf. That can't have been all of it."

His little witch can't meet his eyes, flushing bright red, and Draco's morbidly curious. "What did he do, Granger?"

"I did hear one a time or two, I think. But Harry - he has a map of the castle, one that shows everybody on it. We'd rowed after class and he sought you out. He knew where to find you."

Draco struggles to absorb this and can't. He's never even heard of such a thing. "Well - so, if he has that, there's no hiding to be done, anyway, is there?" He gives her a little poke in the leg. He's not worried about Potter in the least, not anymore, but he wonders if she is.

She delivers beautifully. "He's not the one we have to fool. I told him to sod off, anyway. And I nicked his invisibility cloak."

She pulls out a beautiful, shimmery garment and Draco sucks in his breath. He's heard stories of these, but he's never seen one so fine. Not even in the Manor's own stores or their family vault… what his father would give - or pay, rather. What other secrets is that insufferable git hiding?

It slips through his fingers like water and she smirks at him again. "This won't hide from Harry's map either, but it'll help hide us against everybody else. Even without that, I'm trying to craft a scenario where all four of us could, maybe, be seen together and have it not seem as dangerous. Maybe actively throw people off. Do you think they'd help?"

He considers, turning it over and over in his mind. He hates it. But he sees the merits of it. "So I… openly date Pansy Parkinson again, to placate everybody outside the castle. You appear to link up with Theodore Nott." His mouth twists around it.

Hermione nods hesitantly. "We study together or whatever, sit together in classes, maybe. Enough to convince everybody I'm not with you."

"That doesn't change what Theo and Pansy get out of this, which is nothing at all. It makes their lives harder - their relationship harder."

She bites a lip and looks down. "I know. But if they'll do it, everybody might stop looking so close, and then our actual sneaking around might go unnoticed. At least, by the people who matter."

What Hermione doesn't know, and what Draco does, is that Theo might not mind infuriating his father.

In fact, he seems to relish the idea. Draco floats it the next time they visit him. Pansy's the one reluctant, but not because she doesn't want to help. She's just loath to part from Theo, and Draco insists that the four of them will do as much as they can together. Theo and Pansy just won't be touching the entire time, the same bloody hardship he'll be going through sitting just across from Granger and keeping his hands to himself.

He's pleasantly surprised at the lack of friction he receives over the whole thing. Not just the obvious inconvenience of disrupting Theo's relationship with Pansy, but also for whom they're doing it. Not Draco, but also for Hermione. Draco wonders if such a proposal would have been met with scorn or laughter last year, or even in the first half of this one.

He has no illusions that a full lifetime of pureblood bigotry is gone overnight. He's sure they still think they're better than Hermione is, in one way or another. But they don't criticise or disparage and he finds that's overwhelmed with gratitude for it.

"If anything," Blaise elbows Theo, "I can see the attraction. Can't you, Nott?"

"Don't answer that," snips Pansy, buffing her fingernails and glaring at the pair of them.

"No, really. She's serious, like Nott is, with the same kind of hair. You could almost be siblings! They'll be cute together, won't they, Parks?"

Pansy kicks Blaise, her shoe hard-tipped and pointy and he yelps, grabbing for his shin.

Eyes watering, he still doesn't quit and Draco almost respects the dedication, his ability to spin the argument. "Her tits aren't as good as yours, Pans, but they're still pretty excellent. And your legs look much better in those same kinds of shoes, but - hey, did Draco buy you those, like he bought Granger's?"

Theo thumps Zabini this time, and Draco wishes he'd be released from the bloody hospital wing already, and back in his common room where interactions like this are commonplace. Or at least where he could also thump Zabini for the audacity to offer opinions on Granger's tits.

Speaking of Granger's tits, what's most difficult for him will be the inevitable touching that will have to happen to sell this little fiction. Theo looks wary when Draco brings this up later, waiting until the pair of them are alone.

Draco's half-annoyed and half-amused at his friend's concern. "I won't hex you," he huffs out, although he thinks it might be difficult. But he promised not to be an overblown, possessive twat, and if he can't manage it when it's all an act, he has no hope at all.

Theo shakes his head, pushing a pair of small reading glasses up his nose. His curly hair bobs with the movement.

"I'm as happy as anybody to throw this in my father's face. The worse he thinks it is, the better. I have no intentions of ever stepping foot back into Nott Manor either way, and I might as well burn things to the ground over the next few weeks. It might even be for the best that he assumes Pansy and I have split. It'll throw off suspicion when we run. They won't expect us to be together."

"Where are you planning to go?" Draco's genuinely curious. They haven't talked about this lately, about Theo's and Pansy's plans.

Theo looks understandably hesitant. "If I tell you, then you'd know, too."

This is fair and Draco tries not to let it bother him. He's keeping far greater secrets than Theo's, but not in Theo's opinion.

Either way, his friend brings the conversation back around. "You need to sell this thing, right? I want to sell it. I want it to be convincing. But I also do not want to get cursed in my sleep, and - no, don't argue. I'm not thick and we both know it's a solid possibility."

He throws a wadded-up piece of parchment at Draco's head, who bats it down. So far none of them have openly commented on the humiliation of Draco lazing about, bound with magic to a hospital bed and wearing pastel. Today's hospital robes are light pink. It's more than Draco could have done in their place.

"How's this: we discuss the necessity of some occasional physical contact in strategic, public moments, but we do our best to only do it when the other couple is not around. I don't want to see you snogging Pansy, believe me, even if I know you've already done it."

"Snogging isn't even on the table, Nott, believe me."

Even without open snogging, avoiding the other couple for little scenes like that will be hard. They're largely in the same set of NEWT classes and take meals at the same time. Draco has a wild flash of how it would be if he, Blaise, and Theo had their own dormitory. Pansy already has access and if he could smuggle in Hermione… well, Zabini might want to throw himself in the deepest part of the Black Lake, but the other four of them could really make the most of the situation.

That's absurd, though. Crabbe and Goyle aren't going anywhere, tragically.

However, Draco is beginning to get an idea about how to put Crabbe to use.

Draco took her idea better than she thought he would, if Hermione's honest with herself. He must be more concerned about the situation than he's letting on. Well, obviously; that has to be true, since he's only told her the bare minimum about it. Just that people outside the castle also know, and it's a risk. Hermione is the one who suggested the subterfuge, taking it a step beyond 'casual.' Put Draco hand-in-hand with an appropriate pureblood girlfriend, again, and divert suspicion.

She really hadn't been thinking of Theo much, and she feels a little bad about that now. If it's bad for Draco to be associated with her, why wouldn't it also be bad for Theo? His father is also a Death Eater, as Hermione recalls.

She's desperate. That's all it comes down to.

She's afraid for herself, yes, but also for Draco. The way Narcissa sounded, crouched over his bedside. She was terrified of something, and yet, Narcissa knew - on some level - that Draco wouldn't be breaking things off. Hermione has to suppose Narcissa, at a minimum, will see through their act with Pansy and Theo. She's not sure how she feels about that, but there's also nothing she can do. She'll have to let Draco think through the implications of it, the possible ripple effects of her suggestion.

Hermione just isn't sure that rote sneaking around will be good enough anymore. Not if Crabbe and Goyle are actively trying to catch them, now.

She was being honest with Draco, that she's not at all concerned about Harry or Ron at this point. She told them the truth and she told them to get over it or sod off, leaving the choice up to them.

Well, somewhat. She's still angry and is still avoiding them, for the most part, preferring silence to lectures. But she supposes sooner or later she'll have to see which route they're going to choose.

She hopes they come to the same tacit agreement that she and Ginny have. Hermione saw Ginny on a sofa in the Gryffindor common room with Harry just this afternoon and thinks Ginny might be using the situation to her advantage - making Harry feel better by spending time with him. Time that Hermione knows Ginny would like to evolve into something a bit deeper.

Emotional and physical - yes, that too. Hermione rolls her eyes, still preferring not to think of Harry in any kind of sexual light. The idea that half her schoolmates think they're getting off together already gives her the icks.

As an afterthought, she wonders what Ron thinks about that gossip.

If she's dedicated to this new plan she proposed, even if they aren't putting it into action yet, she ought to be in the common room more. For now, anyway. She's going to have to sell that she and Draco are no longer shagging and that she's about to start dating… Theo Nott.

She makes a face, glad she's in the privacy of her own dorm. Not that she sees anything particularly wrong with Theo. He's quiet, studious, and not bad on the eyes. His taunts in earlier school years were more peripheral, never an instigator to any bullying. He always seemed to hold himself above it all. So it's nothing like that. It's that she's currently got the reputation of shagging one (or two) wizard(s) already, one of whom is already the source of rampant speculation among the student body for being the Chosen One.

The other is a Slytherin and a scandalous choice, to put it mildly. A former bully of her own and known to be Harry's rival, the bad blood spanning six years of education here.

Immediately hooking up with one of his friends, another pureblood Slytherin, is going to churn up the gossip mill all over again. It's going to be positively rabid and Hermione bleats a despairing sigh into her hands.

But that rabid talk is what will reach far beyond Hogwarts, and with any luck, all the way into Azkaban to Lucius Malfoy and the others.

Hermione won't be able to rely on the cloak most of the time if she wants to lean into this plan. She'll have to let Harry and Ron in on it, at least, knowing they'll see her sneaking around on the map. Unless she can guilt Harry into handing it over, laying on the guilt extra-thick about how difficult he's made things.

Harry would have a very legitimate argument that Draco himself caused this particular problem, or most of it, in the first place. But the only reason Hermione is presumed to be an absolute slag right now is because people misunderstood Harry's motivations.

Yes, fine, they'll make similar assumptions when she begins publicly studying with Theo, eating meals with Theo, and so on.

Maybe she's just not quite ready to let go of her anger yet. Harry did nearly kill Draco, and his only outward regret around it has been missing the Quidditch cup finals.

Maybe she'll hold off on asking about the map until she can do it without getting riled again.

Back in the common room, Seamus gives her a perfect opportunity to ease back into things. He's studying in one of the quiet corners and calls out in a hushed voice, asking if she'd like to join.

She would. Hermione plunks down her satchel and reaches for her Charms notes, spreading things out on half the table, and after a quiet moment revising together, Seamus speaks. His voice is so tentative that it's almost cute, and Hermione bites back a smile.

"So - is everything okay, Hermione?"

She's always liked the way his Irish accent curls around her name, and his eyes are so earnest. She lets her smile come forth.

"Yes. Thank you for asking. It was all a bit - disproportionate."

She goes back to her parchment, wondering if that'll be the end of it, but course it isn't.

"It did seem like an overreaction," Seamus concurs mildly, but she can tell he's watching her.

She can agree with that. "It was. He overstepped his bounds, and it's - well, it's not what it was. Not anymore."

Somehow, Hermione can't bring herself to say 'it's over,' even if she knows it's a lie. She hasn't even officially heard confirmation from Draco that the plan is a good one, that Theo and Pansy have agreed. She can't put the cart before the horse, even if it's only words.

She throws out an easy redirect, fingering her quill. "And of course, there's never been anything between Harry and me."

Seamus jolts, almost as if he was goosed by a ghost. "Oh! I never thought there was! Blimey, Hermione, no one in Gryffindor could ever think -"

He breaks off, blushing a little pink around the ears, eyes darting around the common room. They land on the fire and he seems to soak up some fortitude before turning back to her.

"If - if it's - if you're not - would-you-like-to-go-to-Hogsmeade?"

Hermione gapes. She hadn't seen that one coming, even if Draco evidently had last week outside class. Somehow, she's caught completely flat-footed.

In the back of her mind, she thinks this would be good for the plan. The Theo/Pansy swap seems almost too clean at times, but she knows Draco would never tolerate this. And for all her scolding him, she doesn't want him to. She sort of liked the jealous streak in him, the idea that he wants her in that way. She just doesn't want him making public scenes about it.

Also, it's one thing if all parties involved are trying to help, but Seamus is serious. That wouldn't be fair to him, and Hermione could never go through with it.

She has absolutely no experience turning down dates, though. Her jaw opens and closes twice before words come out. Seamus is already turning brighter red, beginning to stammer, and she has to raise her voice to cut through. It draws an unfortunate number of young Gryffindor eyeballs nearby.

"I'm sorry, Seamus, but I don't think it's a good idea."

She's not at all sure how to elaborate but Seamus spares her the mortification. He's feeling enough of it to go around, it seems, and is bundling up his coursework faster than a Snitch on the go.

"S'ok, Hermione, I understand, I -" and then he's gone.

Hermione groans under her breath, sinking her forehead into the crook of her elbow on the table.

Enough of hanging about her own house and common room.

Upstairs, she paints her toenails (alternating red and green and feeling rather Christmassy, if out of season), puts on the higher heels Draco's given her, and swings the cloak over her shoulders. One unexpected benefit to the increasing height of the shoes Draco gifts her: Hermione's gotten much better at walking in heels. This is especially crucial when one's feet are invisible.

Biding her time, she waits until two second-years exit the portrait hole and slips out alongside. She's not even certain Draco will still be in the hospital wing, but that's where she checks first and lucks out. He must be close to being discharged but evidently, it's not tonight.

She wishes she could curl up next to him better here, but she ought to curb that thinking anyhow. They have no idea how this is going to work yet, but until they're back in the privacy of the Come and Go Room, she needs to be careful. And she can do that; she can be the careful one if she must.

Like right now, she's being so careful he ought to be proud of her. Quick glances around the corridor - no one afoot, no sixth-year Slytherin boys with Beaters builds lurking - and slips inside.

Ah, there's the oversized Slytherin. One of them, at least. She tucks the cloak closer to her body and slides along the wall. What she hears doesn't sound contentious, but she thinks she ought to keep an eye out for an Extendable Ear she can borrow for moments like this.

"It's not ready yet," Dracy says gruffly. "But I'm about to need a second set of hands. I'll let you know."

Something that might be pleasure crosses Crabbe's meaty face, but it's a bit hard to tell. He grunts out a semi-respectful, "Malfoy," and turns to leave. Hermione holds her breath as he passes, but he doesn't seem to notice anything amiss. She waits a few minutes to make sure he's not coming back.

The ward is otherwise empty. No Madam Pomfrey, either, the Healer's door closed and light dimmed.

Maybe it's later than she realised. Ah well, if the littles were headed out at this hour, it can't be too late. She can spend some time here before heading back, even if she wishes she could stay. She needs to be seen in Gryffindor Tower.

Before she can scare the pants off Draco, she takes the cloak off from across the room. His face lights up and her heart skips a beat. He looks so much better, so much more like himself.

"What was that about?" she asks, but he pulls her down for a kiss instead of answering.

"Shut the door?" he says against her lips as a question, breaking off only long enough to glance over her shoulder. She hadn't, but she does now, sending a colloportus at it for good measure. The lock clicks shut and he grins against her.

He starts to pull her onto the bed with him and she digs in her heels. "No, not yet. You're almost well. I won't be responsible for setting you back."

"You won't, you won't," he insists, his hands already trying to snake up the sides of her jumper and Hermione knows she's in trouble. If he gets her horizontal, she's doomed. She swats his hand.

"No! I'm looking forward to returning to the Come and Go Room, and I won't have you re-injure yourself just before we might finally manage it."

He releases her wrist and pouts, perhaps predictably, but her logic seems to be sound. She tugs over a chair and can't stop a short giggle at the lingering consternation on his face.

"I'll snog you, you silly wizard," she concedes, "but I'm not climbing up there with you again. Especially not since you've regained full use of your hands."

"I'll heal faster if you lay down with me," he proposes with clear optimism. "I'll be so still."

"You won't. Now stop trying to distract me." She leans back in the chair and props her feet up on his bedside, crossing her feet at the ankles. She nudges his hip with the toe of her shoe. "What was that about? You know they're trying to catch you with me."

Looking at her feet with interest, her offering has been accepted. He lifts one gently, turning the shoe back and forth with his hand to admire it. The big toenail, the only one visible, is a deep red. He slips his hand up to her ankle to finger the strap, and Hermione feels a surge of heat begin to coil at his touch. He's taking his time on purpose, she knows.

"I know he is. I'm trying to keep my enemies close, and all that. Might as well act to make nice. Make him think he's my friend and there's nothing to see here. He's stupid enough to believe it."

"What about Theo and the rest? Did you talk to them?"

"Yes. They'll do it. You don't know this, but Theo doesn't mind setting his father off. They, ah… don't get on. So in Theo's words, the more public and believable, the better." Draco's lip curls a little.

Hermione isn't so sure she wants to be that enthusiastic either, but she might as well do the thing properly. It was her idea, after all. "And Pansy?"

"Not thrilled, but understands. So long as we all still find ways to be together, which is obviously a goal we all share."

Yes, they do. He's got her shoe off, now, and he's gently wiggling each of her toes. No; not each. Just the ones painted green. She grins.

"Theo had one idea I'm not so sure about."

"Oh?"

"He thinks I should be seen with Pansy, first. No public incident or anything, just visibly together. And then he'll go for you in 'retaliation,' saying if I don't want you anymore, he wants a go. He'll make a big scene between him and I where I can scoff and huff and proclaim I don't give a shit, and he'll do it anyway. Then we can all settle into a new group of four, since I won't appear to be jealous and he will have moved on, too."

It's not a horrible idea. Hermione can understand why Draco isn't a big fan of it, though. Theo said the more public, the better. She contemplates the various angles. It prevents the smooth swapping out that she thinks would look arranged. It certainly plays to temperamental teenage impulsivity.

"When?"

Draco heaves an aggrieved sigh. "Soon, I suppose. Might as well get on with it. As soon as we get everybody's attention diverted, we can get back to the better things." He starts tracing his way up her calf with his fingers and Hermione knows where this is headed.

"No, I said."

"Why not?" he whinges, his hair falling in his eyes adorably.

"I've told you why not, you greedy thing."

"But I feel so much better."

"Yes, that's the idea. Do keep on with that, please."

His eyes start to sparkle. "I have something for you."

Hermione's suspicions immediately flare up as he rustles about under the sheet. She swears, if he's about to pull out his -

The necklace comes up slowly, dangling from his fingertips. The charms are twisted and he sorts them to rights, the crescent moon falling into place beside the star. "Would you… like it back?"

He asks so hesitantly, hair still in his face, that her heart skips again. She leans in to kiss him and he slides his hand to the back of her neck and into her hair.

"Yes, I want it back," she says, muffled and laughing a bit. She tries to pull back but he won't let her. "This is what you wanted all along, isn't it?"

"Obviously." He traps her lower lip. "Come here."

"I told you -"

"I won't move, I promise. Not much."

He has two visitors the following day, just before he's released back to the dungeons for normalcy again.

His mother comes first. She has good timing, since parental visits aren't allowed for regular students going about regular school business, and Draco must assume Snape tipped her off to arrive before he's formally sent back to his dormitory.

"Have you thought about what we talked about, Draco?"

More than she knows. He's waffled on how to approach this, but decides to play it openly safe. "You were right. She didn't take it well. I think the issue has resolved itself."

She squints at him closely, trying to gauge. "Are you alright?"

"Of course," he scoffs. "Like you said, there are other witches. I might try for Pansy again. She was always fun."

This phrasing makes him cringe a little, but it does the same to his mother, and that was the point. Make all of it seem not just frivolous, but even a little dirty. Nothing meaningful happening, just raging hormones.

"Miss Parkinson would be - ah, a good choice, darling. She's a sweet girl. An upstanding young lady. It would please your father. He was disappointed when it ended last year."

Almost two years ago, Draco thought, but that's neither here nor there. Time to bring up something else, something he should have done a while ago.

"How are things at home, Mother?" He phrases this cautiously, with emphasis, knowing she'll catch his meaning. Her eyes meet his, her more brilliant blue to his icier lightness.

"Alright," she replies softly. "Our... extended houseguests have their own wing now. No one is sure how long they'll need to stay, but the Manor is quite hospitable. We have every comfort."

Yes, too comfortable. Too hospitable. A perfect headquarters for the Dark Lord, along with any and all Death Eaters and sympathisers in the vicinity.

"And how are you?" he asks, reaching for her hand. Tears spring to her eyes.

"Now that you're alright, darling, I'm just fine. When I thought I was going to lose you -" she chokes up. "Well, let's just say nothing else matters."

Draco's back in regular robes, a tremendous relief. The hospital robes were rubbish. Pastel is not his colour - any of them. Even the green, which comes off somewhere between a mint colour or seafoam. Both ridiculous.

Snape lifts the final enchantments and Draco is able to roll up his sleeve at last.

Seeing the Mark for the first time in close to a week is off-putting. It turns his stomach, if he's honest about it. So dark, so hideous. Not for the first time, he resents his father for his mistakes, for backing Draco into a corner he didn't see a way out of. He wonders what would have happened if he'd refused.

He's never refused his father. Nor, to his knowledge, has his mother. But her small fire of defiance is kindling in him now, as well. What would have happened if they'd both said no?

Nothing good. He knows that. A few doses of the trusty cruciatus until he'd agreed, more than likely.

Would the Manor have permitted it? This brings Draco back to his musings about how protective the blood wards are on his ancestral home. He still suspects the Dark Lord himself would be powerful enough to override them. They hadn't tested it, though, hadn't been bold enough to try. Now, he wonders.

He knows the odds of his mother voicing anything other than whispered dissatisfaction to him in private are slim. She wouldn't have tried it. Any dissension from Lucius's wife would be taken out on Lucius. So, too, his son.

And so they'd both obeyed. Now Narcissa is playing hostess to a band of rabid animal Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself, alone in the Manor of any in her own confidence. Once, her own sister might have been considered a personal ally, but no longer. And Draco's been branded, for good.

Snape's face as he looks at Draco's Mark is inscrutable.

"May we speak plainly, Draco?"

He looked up in surprise, but this is the first time he's been fully conscious and coherent around his godfather. He should probably apologise for his behaviour earlier in the year. He nods, waiting for Snape, who silences the ward nonverbally. Draco feels the blanket of the spell settle over them.

"Please understand that I am not trying to take this mission away from you. But may I ask what your plan is? Time is growing short and I cannot pretend that others are not growing impatient. I can help silence those opinions if I know more."

Between Snape's obvious efforts to protect him of late and his mother's urging to allow him to help, Draco takes the plunge.

"I'm repairing the broken vanishing cabinet. The mate is in Borgin and Burkes. It'll allow a passageway."

Snape's eyes widen almost imperceptibly. "Who else knows?"

"No one. But Crabbe is nosing around."

"How close are you?"

The moment of truth. Draco weighs it. He knows that even though Snape vowed to protect him, he serves the Dark Lord.

"Nearly there. Two more things to test, I think."

"How much longer?"

Draco glances about. "Well, now that I can move under my own power again -"

"Don't be impertinent. It was necessary for your healing. You'd have been in that bed far longer had I not restrained you to it."

"I won't know how much longer it'll take until I see if the next step fails or succeeds. If the test works, then I have only one other thing to do. I think, mind you. I won't know until it's done."

"Term is almost over."

"I understand. There's a chance it won't be complete until the very last moment, but I will get it done. I will not leave this castle until it's finished. The passage will be open."

Snape studies him solemnly, tapping his chin with his index finger. "Do you require help?"

Draco tries not to bristle. "No, but if I need help with testing, Crabbe has offered."

A ghost of a smirk crosses his godfather's mouth on one side. "Do make sure he doesn't end up like Montague, won't you? That was quite a lot of paperwork when it was all said and done."