Only after Granger was out of earshot did Draco spin around, grab Goyle by the collar of his robes, and haul him to his feet. Though Goyle was big, Draco was strong, despite not looking it under his Slytherin robes. His quickly building fury certainly helped.

His face was only inches from Goyle's as he growled, "Do not touch her again." Draco slammed Goyle's back against the stone wall and cocked his head. "Do you hear me? If I catch you with your hands on her ever again, I will break every bone in your bloody fingers."

Rage brewed in Goyle's eyes. "Why do you care?" He cocked his head. "Is she your girlfriend, Malfoy?"

Draco sneered. "Stop acting like a child."

Goyle shoved Draco's hand off him. "Lay off, bloody prick."

"I'm surprised you haven't slithered off to some corner to nurse your wounded ego," Draco spat. "It's bigger than your head, after all."

"You don't know what happened."

"Then why don't you tell me?"

"Draco!"

Draco turned, unsuccessful in halting his eye roll. "What do you want, Pansy?"

Pansy Parkinson's gait slowed and her nose scrunched as though she smelled something foul. "What's that stench?"

Goyle snorted. "Mudblood."

"Funny," Draco snapped.

Pansy shook her head. "No, it's not that. It's…" her brows narrowed. "It's the stench of a traitor." She smirked. "How the mighty Prince has fallen. How is it living with the pigs?"

Draco chuckled, but the sound was dull. "I don't need this from you." He waved a hand in the air. "You're a coward, Pansy. You ran to Theo at the first opportunity."

"I'm not a Death Eater," she retorted. "I didn't have to be at the Forbidden Forest."

"Lucky you."

Pansy smirked. "I heard Potter died like the half-blood he was."

Draco's fury pressed underneath his skin like pressure building within a volcano. He clenched his fists to keep from doing something stupid which would land him in either detention or expelled. "Potter survived the Killing Curse from the Dark Lord twice. He dueled him to save his friends, and he even dueled the Dark Lord to save me."

That information seemed to catch Pansy off guard. Her eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Shut up," Goyle growled, standing between Draco and Pansy. He nodded at her. "Let's go."

Draco scoffed. "What have you been telling her, Goyle?"

Pansy peeked around Goyle's shoulder. "What do you mean Potter saved your life?"

He met Goyle's pissed but wavering stare. "What lies have you been spouting to save your own hide?"

He snarled. "It's what everyone saw. I'm just telling it how it is."

"Unbelievable," Draco muttered. He looked at Pansy. "What did Goyle tell you about that day?"

Goyle slashed a hand. "Don't tell him anything."

Pansy shot Goyle a pointed look. "Don't tell me what to do. Now move." His jaw twitched for a moment before he conceded. "You betrayed us, Draco. All of Slytherin house," Pansy said, arms crossed. "Goyle said you must have lost your mind because you attacked the Dark Lord. You betrayed us." She shook her head. "How disappointed must your father be?"

Goyle inhaled sharply.

Draco's eyes sliced to hers. "What did you say?"

"How disappointed must your father be?"

Draco's anger hit a plateau so hard his hands started shaking. He glanced at Goyle, thankful his wand wasn't in his hand. "Bastard," he said, voice low and raspy.

Pansy looked at both of them and then at Draco directly. "Lay off, Malfoy."

"Lay off? LAY OFF?" Draco jabbed a finger in Goyle's face and said, "Did he conveniently forget to tell you how Voldemort murdered my father in front of me and then tortured me for hours?"

All color drained from Pansy's face. "What?"

"BASTARD," Draco spat.

"TRAITOR," Goyle spat right back. "You deserved what you got. He should have killed you."

Pansy shoved between the two of them. "What do you mean you were tortured? Wait—your father is dead?"

Draco sketched a bow, his words acid. "King Draco Lucius Malfoy at your service, my lady."

Pansy shook her head again. "What do you mean your father is dead?"

The memory flashed before him. Draco glanced away, but his father stood at his back, his platinum hair perfect and expression stony as it used to always be.

"Tell her," Lucius whispered.

"I'll do one better," he muttered, took Pansy's wand from her robes, and shoved it into her hand.

"What the hell, Malfoy?"

"Use Legilimens," he said, voice low. "Use it. Now."

She stared at him.

"You want to know what happened that day? Use it. I can't lie about my thoughts and memories."

"Malfoy—"

Goyle sneered.

"Use it."

He might have heard Pansy whisper the spell because in the next moment, Draco sent a spell barreling toward the Dark Lord. He had to reacquaint himself with his surroundings, but after a moment, he realized he was back. Back at the Forbidden Forest where everything fell apart. Before he thought he'd die.

Draco's attention went back to Voldemort who deflected his spell, a pile of pines and dirt exploding instead of flesh.

Draco had placed himself in front of Hermione, his back to her and his eyes to the crowd of Death Eaters and loyalists who watched. His strength wavered as the minutes passed, but the Dark Lord seemed to be fueled by hatred, which for him, was an endless well of power.

Voldemort lunged, sending a curse toward him, but Draco deflected his attack also. Before Voldemort could solidify his stance, Draco shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

The Dark Lord's wand flew from his bony hand and a hush of disbelief blanketed the forest. Draco's chest heaved with exertion as he stared at the solitary wand among the pine needles a few feet from Voldemort.

Then he met the Dark Lord's burning gaze and wanted to shrink.

He would die today. Even if Voldemort wasn't the one to do it, Draco would die.

But Voldemort cocked his head and glanced at the crowd to Draco's right. He looked at someone and nodded.

Goyle had his wand at Narcissa Malfoy's throat before Draco could inhale.

He went still and all protests died in his throat. Not his mother. Draco looked at the Dark Lord whose serpent-like face turned up in a wicked grin.

"Narcissa has been loyal," Voldemort said across the space. "I don't want to kill a loyal follower. But you, Draco, my boy, have left me no choice."

Draco glanced at his father who stood next to his mother but made no move to save her. Then he looked back at the Dark Lord. "Please," was all he managed to get out.

Voldemort motioned to his wand. "Drop it and surrender and she lives."

Draco's throat bobbed. The Dark Lord had the upper hand the entire time. There was never a scenario in which Draco would have truly won. He could have killed Voldemort, but his followers would have killed him, then. He'd tried to save Hermione and now they would both die.

He glanced behind him at Hermione on the forest floor. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "but I can't lose my mother."

Her eyes glistened, perhaps with understanding. She nodded.

Draco released his wand and raised his hands. In a few seconds, he'd be dead, Hermione would be dead, and his family's name would end with his death.

Voldemort nodded slowly and Goyle stepped away from Narcissa. Draco thought he might have apologized.

Bellatrix fetched the Elder Wand for the Dark Lord, and Draco knew that even though he'd won the Elder Wand's loyalty for disarming Voldemort, it would kill him just the same, no matter who wielded it.

The Dark Lord raised the wand at Draco.

"My Lord," Lucius said, his wavering voice cutting through the quiet. He stepped forward, hands raised. "Killing another pure-blooded wizard would only be a step back in our progress to eradicate the wizarding world of half-bloods. Don't you think? Please, my Lord. Let Draco live. He'll be no further problem to you."

Voldemort tilted his head. "You seem to be cleaning up your son's messes quite a bit, aren't you, Lucius?"

"My Lord?"

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Voldemort twisted his grip on the wand as he stared at Lucius. "Since my return three years ago, you've been nothing but spineless. Not that you weren't spineless before." His words were slow and purposeful. "You've gone soft, Lucius."

Lucius bowed his head. "I only wish to see your plan come to fruition, my Lord."

Voldemort frowned. "Like I said, spineless." His dark eyes glanced around the forest. "You'd say anything to save your son, Lucius."

"I love him." Not a direct answer, but practically a confession.

Draco had never heard his father say that to him in all his life. If he were anything, Lucius was proud of Draco, but he never loved his son. Not that it mattered because the disbelief of that confession would be short lived.

"Love is weakness and betrayal," Voldemort hissed, "and I won't have traitorous hearts in my mix."

"But my Lord, we are Purebloods," Lucius stuttered.

"I don't want to spill magical blood, but what is blood without loyalty?"

The Dark Lord yelled the Killing Curse, and instead of reaching for his father, Draco dove in front of Hermione, his body curling over her form on the forest floor.

A thud wrenched his gaze from dirty brown hair to where Lucius had fallen to the earth, his eyes open and unseeing.

Narcissa let out a blood-curdling cry that echoed through the trees. She fell to her knees, tears staining her porcelain complexion.

Draco could only stare.

The Dark Lord's wand pointed at Draco and Hermione. "You will live, boy, but you'll wish you hadn't. I'll use you two as an example."

Fenrir took Draco by the collar of his coat and dragged him to his feet, arms pinned behind his back, and Bellatrix cackled as she swaggered over to Hermione.

Draco jerked in Fenrir's grip, but the werewolf had an iron hold.

Bellatrix took Hermione by the hair and threw her at Voldemort's feet.

The Dark Lord grinned down at her. "Let's start with you."

Before the rest of the scene could unfold, Draco was dragged from his subconscious as Pansy fell from the confines of his mind. He leaned a hand against the stone wall as he attempted to catch his breath.

"You care about her," Pansy said between ragged breaths.

"Of course, I do. She's my mother."

She shook her head. "Not her."

Her insinuation dawned on him. Hermione Granger. Draco wanted to shake his head, but something within stopped him from doing so.

Did he?

Then he chuckled. "Out of everything you saw, that's what you chose to focus on? Not the fact that Goyle's been lying to you for months or the fact that I surrendered to save my mother?"

Pansy shifted toward Goyle. "When Voldemort raised his wand to kill your father, you chose to cover her rather than attempt to save him. You chose a Mudblood over your own blood."

Draco sighed. "What do you want from me, Pansy?"

"So you don't deny it?" Goyle said before Pansy could respond.

"Deny what?"

"That you chose a Mudblood over your own father?"

"You were there, Goyle," Draco said. "You can decide what you want, but I also remember you holding a wand to my mother's throat."

Pansy eyed him. "I was ordered by the Dark Lord. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Grown a backbone."

"A backbone? To stand against my Lord and side with people like her? Where's your head gone? Granger is the type we're trying to rid this world of, Malfoy."

Draco clenched a fist and muttered, "No, you're trying to rid this world of people like her. I've made no such oath." He shook his head. "Also, do you hear yourself? You want to commit mass genocide simply because some people don't have the same amount of pure magic in their blood? Are you daft?"

"Why shouldn't those with pure magic blood be superior?"

"Because you'll do things like try and kill off anyone else!" Draco yelled, flinging a hand out to the side. "Do you realize who you're acting like?" Goyle stared. "What other mass genocide happened in the last fifty years that killed millions of Muggles simply because they didn't believe in the same things?"

"What do I care about Muggles?"

Draco took a deep breath. He was yelling on deaf ears. There would be no change if Goyle didn't see the problem in his actions. He glanced at Pansy. She, on the other hand, looked startled.

"You can both hate me all you want, but I won't have any hand in whatever it is you still believe. I have myself and my mother to think about."

"Always self-preserving, aren't you, Malfoy?"

Draco shrugged. "I quite like being alive."

"Do you?" His throat bobbed but he didn't look Goyle in the eyes. "A few hours ago, you seemed quite content to let me keep hitting you."

Pansy glanced at Goyle. "You did that to him?"

"He did this to me," Goyle said, gesturing to his bruised and swollen face. "We're even."

"Malfoy," Pansy said, "if your father were here—"

Draco glanced up at the ceiling, strands of his hair falling to the sides of his face. "Oh, he is here."

"What?"

Draco cocked his head. "I see him every day. He walks next to me as though he's still alive. Sometimes I forget he's not." He took a breath. "He's not the only one I see." Draco waved a hand, shrugging. "Crabbe, Fenrir, Dumbledore." He snorted. "I even see that kid, Creevey. Though he's always hidden in shadows."

Goyle and Pansy looked at him as though he'd gone mad.

"Yeah," Draco scoffed, "I bet you two don't see the ghosts of those you've killed." He straightened up and stared down at them, voice dull. "You would've had to have actually killed someone to achieve that."

"You didn't kill Crabbe or Dumbledore," Goyle said.

"Not directly, no. But that bastard, Fenrir," Draco growled, "He deserved what he had coming. I'd do it again in a split second."

Pansy smirked. "That's the Draco I know."

He glanced at Goyle. "You're not going to call me traitorous filth for killing Fenrir, too?"

The bigger boy swallowed and then shook his head. "What he was going to do…that's unthinkable. Even for me." He met Draco's gaze, unflinching wickedness in his eyes. "You put him down like the disgusting dog he was."

Draco nodded, pushing those thoughts from his head.

Then Goyle continued talking when he should have kept his big mouth shut. "But your father on the other hand…His death? That's on you."

"Shut up."

"I guess there's just some things he can't save you from. Like your own stupidity or the Dark Lord's mercy."

Draco cast the silent spell before he could stop himself.

Goyle went flying down the corridor. His back made contact first, and he slid for a few meters before halting. He didn't move.

"Good boy," Lucius whispered in his ear.

"Draco," Pansy hissed, running for Goyle's immobile form. "You could have killed him!"

Draco tucked his wand back into his robes and pushed his hair out of his eyes. He straightened his shoulders. "I didn't."

Pansy whipped her head around, face scrunched in a sneer. "Maybe the Dark Lord should have killed you that day for treason."

Draco shrugged. "Sorry to disappoint."

"He should have killed Granger, too."

He whirled, face hot. "Leave her out of this."

Her laugh was humorless. "Deny it all you want, Malfoy, but I was in your mind, remember? I know exactly how you feel." Her lip curled. "A Mudblood. Disgusting."

He wouldn't strike her. That would only result in an action he'd immediately regret because he'd never put hands on a girl. Never. Even if she was saying vile things.

So Draco fixed his robes and started toward class that he was already late for. He said over his shoulder, "When Goyle wakes, tell him I'll do it again, but next time, I won't leave him breathing."

He could feel the middle finger she threw at his back and met her with one of his own.

Voldemort letting him live had not been a mercy.

It had been a punishment worse than death.

…

Classes had dragged on, and Draco's mind had been on everything but his lessons. In particular, his thoughts had been on Hermione. Perhaps she wouldn't show tonight.

He'd been so foolish to grab her wrist like that, but he didn't want her taking the fall for something that Goyle was most likely the catalyst of. He'd reacted. And God, the way she'd looked at him—the anger and fear in her eyes—he never wanted that to happen again.

He hadn't eaten dinner, and now his stomach was angry with him for neglecting it.

He'd been trying to read a book for the past hour. He sat in the Slytherin common room, a leg over his opposite knee as he reclined in what he believed to be the most comfortable chair.

Goyle had passed earlier but said nothing. He'd just glared at Draco from a good distance away.

Though he tried to force himself to focus on the words printed on the page, once again, his thoughts turned to Granger.

Draco turned over his hand, studying the Malfoy crest ring.

It warmed.

He sighed. Merlin's beard. Perhaps Pansy was right, and he'd rather run nude through the courtyard than admit Pansy Parkinson was right about anything. Although, onlookers would probably enjoy the show.

He rubbed a thumb along the outside of his ring, feeling the pulsing warmth of it. Confirmation of his internal questions for some reason didn't make him feel much better.

A dark-skinned figure approached and sat on the sofa to Malfoy's left. He glanced up from the book he wasn't reading. "What's up, mate?"

Zabini shrugged. "I was going to ask you the same thing."

"Why?"

Zabini leaned forward and lowered his voice. "What the hell happened this morning? Why the hell did I find Goyle absolutely laying into you?"

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. "None of your business."

"Really? Because I might be one of the only friends you still have, Malfoy. I wouldn't be so stupid as to assume otherwise."

He supposed Blaise was still a friend. And he was right; he was probably the only one Draco could count on in all of Hogwarts. He'd ostracized himself from the other Slytherins when he stepped over the line and saved Granger's life. At that moment, he chose which side he'd stand on. Draco wasn't sure yet if he regretted that choice.

"Right," Draco said softly. "Apologies, mate. Didn't mean it."

"Sure you did, but that's alright." Zabini shrugged. "It's not really any of my business. Not if you don't want it to be. But I'm here for you, mate."

Draco nodded. After a moment, he closed his book and sat up straighter. "Granger said you let her leave. Didn't let Goyle touch her. Thank you."

He shrugged again. "Honestly, I don't think she needed me to step in. Granger can handle herself. That much is obvious."

"What did she do?"

"To Goyle?"

Draco nodded.

Zabini chuckled. "Mate, you missed quite the show. Goyle was being his usual asshole self, gloating about wrecking your face, and Granger…" He shook his head. "Anyway, she must have overheard him. Not that it was difficult to listen since practically half the hall could hear him. She came right over, called Goyle an abominable shit goblin and turned his legs to jelly."

Draco loosed a breathy chuckle. "An abominable shit goblin?"

Zabini nodded, a sly smile appearing. "Definitely caught me off guard, but what was better than the insult was Goyle's face when he realized what she'd done." He laughed. "Priceless."

"She's brilliant," Draco muttered, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Granger deserved to walk away with that victory. She'd earned it."

Draco sobered and stared at Zabini. "I need to watch Goyle. I don't trust him. Not around Granger and certainly not to stay out of trouble that could implicate us all in something idiotic."

"I've been keeping an eyes on him, but with him, Theo and the others going through interrogations every week, there's not much more I can do. The Ministry will find out if they're planning anything."

"I'm not so sure," Draco said. "Veritaserum isn't foolproof. Goyle said they ask the same questions every time. If the Ministry never deviates, then I'm sure they could figure out a way around it." He leaned back in his chair, sighing. "He's been so adamant about finishing what the Dark Lord couldn't complete. I know he's not the brightest, but I can't imagine Goyle would be dumb enough to try and gather forces for a third revolution."

"Where would he even find anyone to join him?" Blaise said. "All living Death Eaters are in Azkaban, and Hogwarts is being monitored at all times, so no one could get in or out."

Draco recalled two years ago when he'd spent ten months preparing to move forces inside Hogwarts through the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement. He sat up. "The Vanishing Cabinet was destroyed, wasn't it?"

Zabini nodded. "Crabbe's fire serpent destroyed everything in that room." He added quietly, "Including himself."

"His death is on me," Draco said.

"No, mate, it's not."

"I brought you three with me that day when you should have stayed back. I'm the reason you guys were there in the first place. I convinced you all that Potter was the one to kill." He exhaled. "I was wrong."

"Now you're spinning lies, Malfoy," Zabini said. He clapped a hand on Draco's shoulder, shaking him out of his stupor. "You went there to get your wand back. That was it. You never went there to kill Potter. I wasn't going there to kill Potter either. I never agreed with what Voldemort wanted to do. That's why I never became a Death Eater."

Draco touched a hand to the inside of his forearm where the Dark Mark scar lay hidden beneath his sleeve. "Right smart decision that."

Zabini's voice was soft. "We all have made mistakes."

"Mine have been pretty permanent." His thoughts turned to Granger again. Would she ever look at him like he wasn't a monster?

Blaise cocked his head. He was quiet for a moment before he said, "Is this about Granger?"

"No."

"I don't believe you, mate."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because I wanted to see how much you trust me."

Draco scoffed. "Don't take it personally, Blaise. I don't trust anyone nowadays. Besides, I don't have the answers you want."

"Do you not? Or do you just not want to share?"

Draco huffed and stood, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets. "I've loved the chat, but I'm through here."

Zabini nodded, standing too. "I get it." He walked backward toward the fireplace. "I'll see what Goyle's up to." He turned and disappeared into the dark green of the next room.

Malfoy picked up his book and went to gather his jumper when his ring heated. He hissed, clamping a hand over it. His gaze sliced to the common room entrance. "No bloody way," he muttered.

He walked over, yanked open the door in the wall, and gaped at the person whose hand was raised as if to knock. "Granger?"