Draco walked quickly up the stairs to the seventh floor, the voices of other Hogwarts students washing over him in a sea of sound. He couldn't skip class- that would be too obvious- and McGonagall had given him a strange look when he had tried to drop Potions this year, so he had had to wait for a free period in order to see if what he hoped was possible truly was.
The crowd thinned a bit as he ascended to the seventh floor landing. The passing period was ending, and most of the sixth and seventh years who had a free period at the moment were taking advantage of it outside. It was only the first day of term, so no one was working on homework yet, except maybe Granger. He turned left and focused on the sea, allowing the sound of his robes swishing behind him to reinforce the subtle roar of gently crashing waves. Rhythm like this was everywhere, if you only thought to look. Every time he entered a room now, he looked for something to anchor him to that image of the sea, something he could grab onto if his hold on his own thoughts started to slip. It was working so far, but, he supposed, it hadn't really been tested either.
He stopped in front of a tapestry showing Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls to dance the ballet. He took a deep breath. This was it.
He had discovered this room last year during his efforts to thwart Potter and his stupid Dumbledore's Army, but he had yet to try using the room for himself. What would it turn into, he wondered? Would it even work? Could Hogwarts be tricked into betraying itself?
He paced back and forth three times, focusing on the words, I need a place to work on my assignments for the Dark Lord, somewhere I can't be found. I need a place to work on my assignments for the Dark Lord, somewhere I can't be found.
To his amazement, the door appeared. So the room wasn't spelled to reject anything to do with the Dark Lord automatically. That was good to know. His hand shaking a bit, he opened the door.
The faint scent of dust hit his nose as he entered the room, shutting the door firmly behind him and watching with a bit of awe as it disappeared from the wall. Turning to observe his surroundings, he looked up at the cathedral ceiling of the absolutely massive room he had found himself in. It was filled with objects of every shape and size, many covered with a thin layer of dust. Items were haphazardly grouped together so as to make rows for someone to walk down. He noticed broken and damaged furniture, thousands upon thousands of books, potions bottles, jewels, and several rusty swords.
"This is perfect," he breathed. This room must house hidden objects from several generations of Hogwarts students. Several centuries' worth, if the rusty swords were any indication. And - he looked back to check that the door had indeed stayed away - no one could find him here either. An uninterrupted space to work, filled to the brim with the secrets of Hogwarts, in a room that desired only to meet his needs.
Scarcely daring to believe his luck, he said to the room, "I need to repair the Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor." At first, nothing happened. Then, he heard a faint rustling to his right. One of the stacks of books was teetering precariously. Slowly, a book in about the middle of the stack wriggled itself free, miraculously not upending the books piled atop it, and zoomed into his hand. That book was followed by another, and another, both from further in the room's depths, and then finally a thin pamphlet marked "Vanishing Cabinets: User Guide, copyrighted 1977." Examining the other books, he saw that one was focused on magical furniture, one was focused on the magical transportation of people and objects, and one was focused on repairing damaged magical objects.
Well, he supposed it was too much to hope for "Fixing a Vanishing Cabinet Broken by a Poltergeist: A Beginner's Guide." Still, this was more than he had had to go on this morning, way more.
"Thank you, Room," he said quietly as a cushy armchair and a coffee table floated over to him, the room seeming to sense his needs before even he did. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about the Deathly Hallows, would you?"
The room was silent at that. Fighting a small bit of disappointment, he settled into the armchair and started reading.
He was unsure how much time passed when he finally closed the third book. This was going to be insanely complicated. Synthesizing the different theories and recommendations from the books, using the spells, testing his progress...it would take months. He mentally thanked Snape for insisting that he be given until the end of the school year, because even that would be pushing it. He stood up, satisfied for the moment, and that was when a magazine that certainly hadn't been there before caught his eye. It was laid out across the coffee table - the room must have summoned it at some point during his reading and he had been too engrossed to notice it.
He picked up the magazine with interest, excited that the room may have found something else to help him on his quest, but his smile promptly fell when he saw the title. The Quibbler. It was an older edition, published a number of years ago, and in the bottom right hand corner it said in garish lettering: "Are YOU a True Seeker of the Deathly Hallows? Join us on November 12, 1988 for a spirited discussion with Xenophilius Lovegood."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
Draco didn't know much about Luna Lovegood, but what he did know wasn't reassuring. She was a Ravenclaw, one year younger than him (in the same year as She Who Must Not Be Named), and about the strangest person he had ever come across. Worse yet, she was friends with Potter and had been involved in Dumbledore's Army last year. While they had never really directly interacted before, she had plenty of reason to send him packing without so much as a hello. And even if he did get her talking, how on earth was he supposed to trust what she said? She was relentlessly bullied, particularly by Slytherins and other Ravenclaws, for the litany of bizarre beliefs she espoused to anyone who would listen.
Not for the first time, he wondered if the Room of Requirement was playing some kind of joke on him, or if this was Hogwarts' idea of thwarting his plans. If he brought the Dark Lord some half-baked conspiracy theory, he could kiss his mother's life goodbye. He would have to be certain, and that was going to be a difficult thing where Luna Lovegood was concerned.
He observed her from afar over the course of three days. Disconcertingly, she was barefoot more often than not, with her wand tucked behind her left ear for safekeeping. Her robes, while tidy, often hung askew on her tiny frame, as though she couldn't be bothered to put them on correctly. She wore what looked like radishes for earrings and wandered about the castle with a dazed look on her face, her eyes often on the ceiling. People laughed at her in the corridors but she didn't seem to notice, which didn't give Draco a great window to step in and "rescue" her. With them being in different years and different houses, he began to despair of finding a casual way to talk to her. Finally, early on Saturday morning, he overheard two little second years in the Slytherin common room.
"-come on, just give it a try, you used to love Gobstones-"
"No, Luke, I already told you, it's embarrassing. No wonder Loony Lovegood runs the club, they probably couldn't find anyone else-"
Draco seized the back of the boys' robes as they were walking by, causing one of them to let out a terrified squeak. Giving himself only a second to bask in his scary sixth year reputation, he said, "Did you say Lovegood?"
"Y-yes, why?" one of them stuttered. Draco turned to look at Luke.
"Where does the Gobstones club meet?"
"Tell me again why I have to do this."
Draco stifled a groan. Of course Crabbe chose now all of times to be inquisitive.
"Because she has knowledge the Dark Lord needs," he said patiently.
"But why does that mean I have to have a crush on her?"
"Because, Crabbe, I need a reason to talk to her, and no one's going to believe I have a crush on her."
"But they'll believe I do?"
Choosing to sidestep that question, Draco put his hand on the other man's back as they walked down the corridor. "This is a critical mission for the Dark Lord and I need your help to accomplish it. I couldn't do this without you."
Well, that's laying it on a bit thick, but desperate times and all.
Crabbe appeared to ponder this. After a moment, he said, "You'll tell the Dark Lord I helped you? That I served him too?"
Draco thought back on his own words on the Hogwarts Express and forced himself to grin. "Absolutely! This is exactly the kind of devotion I was talking about before. I'm sure he'll be very grateful."
Crabbe nodded, apparently satisfied. "I can have a crush on Loony Lovegood for the Dark Lord."
Deciding not to argue with this very literal interpretation of what they were doing, Draco said, "Good man," and kept them moving toward the Gobstones club.
Draco hadn't played with Gobstones since he was about seven, but he thought he still remembered how to play. Luckily, those second years he had interrupted were likely the sort of crowd he would run into there - no one he knew. Part of him criticized himself for being so easily embarrassed - surely protecting his family was worth any cost - but, he reasoned, he was also a sixteen year old boy. Perfectly normal to be embarrassed about strange girls and childish games. Better Crabbe than him, if anyone did happen to see them.
"Now remember," he said as they ascended a staircase. "You don't need to do anything specific. Just play the game. I'll start talking to her, learn what I need to learn, and then we get the hell out of there."
Crabbe nodded. Draco counted the doors as they walked down the fourth floor corridor, stopping in front of the fifth door on the right.
"Well, here we are," he said more to himself than to Crabbe. He took a deep breath and opened the door.
There were about a dozen people in the room, who all stopped and looked as one when he and Crabbe entered the room. Luna was kneeling on the ground next to a first year who was staring at them with wide eyes.
Well, so much for a subtle entrance.
"Is this the Gobstones Club?" he asked and immediately wanted to kick himself. Of course it's the Gobstones Club, you idiot. They have Gobstones on the floor in front of them.
"Yes," Luna said in a dreamy voice. "Would you like to play?"
A fourth year Hufflepuff was eyeing them suspiciously.
"Yes," Draco said quickly, putting a hand behind his head. "My friend Crabbe here-" he slung his other arm around his friend, who jumped a little at being addressed directly "-loves Gobstones, and I figured I would accompany him. As a friend." Crabbe glared at him but schooled his face into neutrality at a subtle elbow jab from Draco.
"Ok," Luna said, getting to her feet. She wasn't wearing her school robes and instead had on a Muggle outfit that Draco believed were called overalls. "Let's get you signed up then." She walked toward a table in the back.
Is this going to be that easy? I was half sure she was going to throw us out, Draco thought as he followed her to the back of the room. Quickly signing the sheet with a false name, Draco handed the quill to Crabbe, who was slow on the uptake and used his real name.
"I'm embarrassed to say I've forgotten the rules," Draco said. "Would you mind showing me how to play?"
"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Gobstones is very complicated," Luna said blithely and gestured for him to follow her. Draco, who was fairly certain Gobstones was not at all complicated, bit his lip to keep from smirking. Crabbe started to follow, which sent a shot of panic through Draco. He didn't actually want Crabbe to hear the details of why he was here - he was more than likely too stupid to do anything meaningful with the information, but there were lives on the line and Crabbe wasn't exactly subtle.
"Oh Crabbe, you don't need Loo-uh, Luna to teach you! You're an expert at Gobstones. Why don't you help those third years over there? I'm afraid I'll just slow you down."
"But I have a-"
"An excellent grasp of the game, yes!" Draco said, staring daggers at Crabbe. "I'm sure you could show me a thing or two, but since Luna's in charge here..."
Luna stared at him for a moment and Draco immediately focused on the sea, willing his face into a mask. Her Muggle clothes were the color of sea foam on a cloudy day and he allowed his mind to drift there until Luna shrugged.
"I'm sure Harriet and Barnaby would appreciate the help," she said before kneeling down to draw a new set of circles - Gobstone rings. Draco stared hard at Crabbe until the other man lumbered off toward a pair of unenthusiastic third years.
He sat down across from Luna, who began explaining the rules of Gobstones to him. Here again he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing - either Luna was playing a version of Gobstones he had never heard of, or she had just decided to make up her own game and call it Gobstones.
He listened halfheartedly, pondering how he could bring the conversation around to the Deathly Hallows. He couldn't keep track of the rules Luna was laying out, but he supposed that if he was bad at the game, that was an excuse to keep talking to her for longer.
"Why are you really here, Draco?" Luna asked, not looking up from the Gobstone she was carefully maneuvering in the outermost ring. Draco started.
"Crabbe wanted to play," he said. He and Luna both looked in Crabbe's direction where, contrary to Draco's assertions, he appeared to be losing spectacularly. He was already covered in ink and looking murderous. Luna looked at Draco inquisitively.
He forced a laugh. "Ok, you caught me," he said, hoping his smile came off as charming. Luna appeared unfazed. "I actually wanted to ask you about this." He slid the copy of the Quibbler out from his robes and passed it to her, mentally reassuring himself that he had already memorized the scant information the magazine provided.
"Oh wow," she said, her eyes lighting up. "A 43rd edition! This one is really rare. Where did you find this?"
"The Slytherin common room," he said, his mind on the sea. Luna was still focused on the magazine, apparently not actually concerned with where he found it. "Why is this one rare?" he asked, wondering if this would be his "in" to discuss the Hallows.
"Well, Daddy only printed a few copies," Luna said, thumbing through the pages. "It has really valuable information that he didn't want to fall into the wrong hands, at least at the time."
Draco leaned forward, unable to help himself. "About the Deathly Hallows?"
Luna laughed. "No, of course not. Everyone knows about the Hallows. You've heard the Tale of the Three Brothers, haven't you?"
Confused about what a children's story had to do with anything, Draco nodded quickly and said, "So what was the valuable information then?"
"The Rotfang Conspiracy of course," Luna said, pointing to another section of the magazine. "The 43rd edition was the first to lay out all the evidence against the Ministry."
It was at that moment that three things happened almost simultaneously. First, incensed at Luna's either cluelessness or purposeful misdirection, Draco leaned forward to snatch the magazine back from her. Second, the door to the classroom opened and Ginny Weasley walked in the door. Third, a startled Draco bumped one of the Gobstones out of place and it promptly shot him right in the face with horrible-smelling ink.
"Ugh!" he sputtered, blinking and wiping at his face.
"Malfoy?" Ginny asked, a giggle evident in her voice. "What are you doing here?"
Draco was still in the process of wiping his face. "I-"
"I have a crush on Loony Lovegood," Crabbe blurted, remembering his cover story.
Ginny wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Ew. Don't call her Loony, you creep - no one walks around calling you Creepy Crabbe, at least not to your face. Come on Luna, it's almost dinnertime. Let's go." Crabbe stood up at that insult but at a sharp glare from Draco moved no further.
Draco looked at Luna, who had the gall to offer him her handkerchief. Not wanting to appear overly rude in front of Ginny (who was apparently also Luna's friend?), he took it, gritting his teeth.
"Let me know if you want to know more about the Rotfang Conspiracy," she said, rising to her feet and dusting the chalk off her pants. "The 78th edition has more information and I think I probably have a copy back in my dormitory."
Unable to speak, Draco settled for a tight nod. Ginny raised an eyebrow at him, suspicion and disapproval radiating off of her. She extended her arm to Luna, who locked elbows with her as they left the room. As soon as they were out of earshot, Draco stood up and grabbed hold of Crabbe's arm to drag him away from this disaster.
"Did you get what you needed?" Crabbe asked.
"No," Draco said bitterly. "It was a waste of time."
"What did you say Malfoy wanted again?" Ginny asked.
"To know more about the Rotfang Conspiracy," Luna said, twirling spaghetti onto her fork. Ginny, who had opted to sit at the Ravenclaw table with her friend, frowned. She had heard Luna talk about the Rotfang Conspiracy before, and she somehow didn't think Malfoy was interested in Ministry officials secretly spreading gum disease. Putting his strange behavior out of her mind for the moment, she took a bite out of a bread roll and glanced over toward the Gryffindor table.
Harry had told her that he had to meet with Dumbledore for something about the Order, something top secret that he couldn't reveal. True to his word, he was absent - Ron and Hermione were seated together, looking cozy. She sighed. Even though Ron and Hermione weren't together, they still managed to display more public affection than she and Harry could. Harry was nervous about Ron's reaction and still hadn't told him about their relationship. Ginny had agreed over the summer to give it time, but she found herself growing more impatient with each passing day. This was supposed to be the beginning of her grand happily ever after, wasn't it? So why did she feel like she was hiding some terrible secret?
The doors to the Great Hall opened just then and Crabbe and Goyle walked in. Crabbe looked in their direction and appeared to consider heading their way, but Ginny's glare was fierce enough that he thought better of it. The two sixth years took a seat at the Slytherin table next to Pansy Parkinson. Ginny read the girl's lips as she spoke, asking the same question that was on Ginny's mind.
Where's Draco?
"Well, just stay away from them, Luna," Ginny said darkly, turning back to her own plate of spaghetti. "Harry suspects Malfoy of being involved in some dark stuff, and you've seen what his father's like. And Crabbe is as stupid as he is cruel. I don't know what they were after, but we should stay out of it."
"Draco didn't seem so bad to me," Luna said, wiping her mouth with a monogrammed Hogwarts napkin. "He makes bad decisions because he's lonely."
"That's no excuse," Ginny said scathingly, putting her fork down in protest. She knew quite a bit about loneliness, though maybe that wouldn't be obvious from an outsider's point of view. "Being lonely doesn't mean you can be a giant git."
"But it can lead to making bad decisions, and not knowing how to get out of them," Luna said, undeterred. "Before you, I had never had a friend before. Without the Grey Lady, I might have made some bad decisions myself."
Nonplussed, Ginny stayed silent. If what Harry suspected was true and Malfoy really had become a Death Eater, one could hardly chalk that up to a 'bad decision,' particularly not on par with anything a first year Luna could have done. But, she supposed, that was what she liked most about Luna - her willingness to see the best in others, even when they didn't deserve it. Ginny's skepticism and outgoing nature balanced out Luna's empathy and quirkiness.
The girls continued with their meal, Ginny's mind drifting to Harry again. What could he be doing with Dumbledore? Was he in danger somewhere? Her heart plummeted at the thought.
No, she reassured herself. He's with the Headmaster. Whatever he's doing, he's safe as long as he's with Dumbledore.
She scanned the head table, watching Professors McGonagall and Sinistra uncharacteristically giggling about something. Her eyes lingered on Professor Dumbledore's empty seat before falling on the seat that should have belonged to Professor Trelawney. Ginny hadn't taken Divination as an elective, opting instead for Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes, but seeing the way the poor woman had been dragged from the castle had haunted her for weeks afterward. Ginny hoped that wherever she was now, she was happy. Maybe she had opened up her own business telling fortunes somewhere. Plenty of wizards put a lot of stock in Divination, as evidenced by the absurd amount of prophecies in the Department of Mysteries. And if not that, Ginny knew that there were plenty of Muggles out there who would jump at the chance to know their future, whether it was accurate or not.
Her eyes sliding further down the table, she noticed that Professor Snape was also not present for dinner. She opened her mouth to ask Luna where she thought he might be, but at that same moment, a Howler went off at the Hufflepuff table, and Snape was promptly put out of her mind.
"Concentrate," Snape said in a biting tone. Draco, whose knuckles were white by this point, growled in frustration.
"I am concentrating," he said, his mind resolutely on the sea. Waves came forward, carrying memories with them as they crashed against the shore before slowly sinking back with the tide. The ever-present gull cried overhead, its wings spread as it soared out over the water. It was overcast here today, if it could be called a "here." The surf was choppy, the waves foamy as they swelled. He pulled forward memories of the work he had done this week on the Vanishing Cabinet - secretly moving it from the first floor hallway to the Room of Requirement, summoning the helpful texts, meticulously reading and taking notes on the one about repairing damaged magical objects.
Despite his best efforts, the pirate's chest rattled, threatening to break open.
"What is it you don't want me to see, Draco?" Snape asked in a soft voice. Draco gritted his teeth. The man was clearly trying to distract him, to trick him into thinking about it. He would not be fooled. His willpower was ironclad.
The chest rattled in protest, a faint golden light shining at its edges.
"Enough of this," Snape said, grabbing Draco's chin roughly. "Legilimens."
Draco recoiled as he felt Snape's consciousness sink into the ocean water. The current grew stronger, pulling the intruder back toward the surface, but Snape was determined. His consciousness grew heavier and heavier, weighing itself down in the water.
"This is a battle of wills, Draco," he said. "Push me out."
Draco pushed, but nothing seemed to happen. This was so much harder in practice, although he couldn't help but think that Snape had an unfair advantage - he had helped him craft this metaphor, after all.
The chest rattled again, louder this time, before finally popping open. Draco gasped as Ginny Weasley's face raced toward the top of his consciousness, memory after memory tumbling out of the chest. She was sitting in the Great Hall, laughing over breakfast with some friends. She was flying with the Gryffindor Quidditch team, neck and neck with him as they raced for the Snitch. She was holding hands with Potter at King's Cross. She was looking at him suspiciously from a doorway, her arm locked with Luna Lovegood's.
There were too many of them. They flooded the water until soon, everywhere he looked there was Ginny.
"No!" he yelled, and that, finally, seemed to be the push he needed. Snape's consciousness went hurtling upwards and Draco's mind returned to the room around them. Both of them were panting and sweaty from the effort. Snape turned away from him and walked back toward his desk.
"I must impress upon you that you are playing a very dangerous game, Mr. Malfoy," he said quietly. In that moment, Draco knew that whatever Snape had expected to find in that chest, Ginny Weasley wasn't it. The man looked oddly pensive, his hand on a little carved deer that Draco had never noticed before. "You will reinforce that chest with the runes Eihwaz and Algiz before our next meeting, and the next time I inspect your mind, for her sake, I hope you don't even know the name Ginevra-"
"It's not like that-" Draco started.
"I don't want to know," Snape said, holding up his hand. "The less I know, the better for you and the better for her. The Dark Lord exploits people's weaknesses, Draco. You must show him none."
Draco gritted his teeth. The chest, apparently satisfied that it had spewed its contents everywhere, slowly closed, empty.