Snow had finally fallen, coating the Hogwarts grounds and making the castle look like something out of a snow globe. The Room of Hidden Things had provided Draco with a lovely fireplace that made the space feel quite cheery. He had dragged the armchair and coffee table in front of it, his research spread out in various piles.
He hummed to himself as he put the finishing touches on his Charms homework. He was in quite a good mood, the best he had been in months. He had made good progress on the Vanishing Cabinet, finally putting together the theories of magical transportation with the user guide. The Vanishing Cabinet was now able to transport inanimate objects and return them in one piece. It was not, however, able to transport a living being - he had three dead canaries to prove it.
"Room, do you think the Dark Lord would go for it if I offered to transfigure the Death Eaters into doorknobs and transport them that way?"
The room was silent. He sighed.
"No, I thought not either," he said. "Still, progress is progress." He leaned back in his seat and admired his handiwork. Progress was progress - things had gotten much better in the last couple of weeks and it had all started with having sex with Pansy. She was right, he did need to relax. Deserved it, even. They had agreed to keep their relationship as it was, but all it took was a shared glance or a brush of their fingers and they were rushing off to an abandoned classroom or kicking out a disgruntled Theodore Nott from the boys' dormitory.
If Pansy cared about him not asking her out, she never said anything. In fact, she never said much of anything at all - she let her body do the talking, which was more than fine with Draco. He had thought about it a couple of times, sure that she would demand the title sooner or later, but she never did, and he didn't want to look too closely at why calling her his girlfriend just didn't sit right. The ocean waves washed peacefully against the shore of his mind, and if there was a vortex swirling deep down below around a certain pirate's chest, Draco chose not to notice it.
"Alright," he said to the room, drawing himself back to the present. "I think we're on track now. My homework is caught up and I shouldn't have any trouble finishing any last minute assignments before the end of term. The Cabinet is functioning again, which for a while there seemed impossible, so now it's just a matter of harmonizing the connection between the two pieces. Not an easy task, but at least it's fairly straightforward. Now the only-"
A clatter outside of the room startled Draco, making him jump in his seat. He glared at the wall where the door would appear if only he willed it. Crabbe was standing outside, transformed into a little second year girl through a rather ingenious use of Polyjuice Potion. Snape had suggested having lookouts once Draco had complained about Potter stalking him everywhere and had even agreed to supply the Polyjuice so Draco didn't have to brew it. Sometimes Draco wondered why the older man bothered to help him so much, but he supposed their fates were intertwined at the moment. If Draco couldn't bring the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, Snape wouldn't be able to kill Dumbledore - the risk would be too great.
Draco heard muffled voices coming from the other side of the wall and forced himself to remain still. Crabbe dropping the glass outside meant that someone was in the seventh floor corridor, someone too close to the Room of Hidden Things. It was his clue to stay hidden.
Nice try, Potter, he thought, his eyes on the wall. You can't catch me. He waited for the voices to quiet before returning to his thoughts.
"As I was saying, before we were so rudely interrupted," he said to the room, "now the only thing left to work on before winter break is this stupid book you left me." He picked up Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy from the coffee table and thumbed through it disinterestedly. There were lots of pureblood families in this book, but he reminded himself that he didn't need to read through every single history. He was looking for something prior to Emeric the Evil, who had lived and died in the first half of the 14th century. Emeric the Evil had duelled Egbert the Egregious in what would become modern-day Somerset, so it was likely that whoever Emeric's predecessor was had lived in the West Country. The family would need to have three brothers, although it could possibly have more siblings. One was murdered, one died by suicide, and one lived a long life.
"That narrows it quite a bit," he said, thumbing through the early pages of the book, stopping for a moment to admire Armand Malfoy's entry in the 11th century. He had been gifted the current Malfoy estate by a Muggle king, William the Conqueror, and the Malfoy family had held that land for nearly a thousand years. But Armand Malfoy couldn't be the family from Beedle's tale, as he had only one sister.
Continuing on, he went through the early pages of the book methodically, crossing names off a list of candidates he had compiled on a nearby roll of parchment. Slowly, the list dwindled, until there were only three family names left.
"Now this is interesting, Room," he said, leaning forward a bit in his seat. "I've never heard of this family before. The Peverells." It was like the room shuddered at the name - a rustle went through the stacks like a gust of wind. Draco looked around, his pulse quickening, before returning to the entry. "Antioch Peverell, line extinct - murdered in 1292 in an inn (assailant not identified), no children fathered. Cadmus Peverell, male line extinct - died in 1293 by his own hand. See Gaunt family line for descendants. Ignotus Peverell, male line extinct - died in 1343 of old age. See Potter family line for descendants... The Potter family line! Room, what are the odds?"
He stood up and started pacing, his thoughts flying faster than his mouth could keep up with. The Peverell family certainly seemed to fit the Tale of the Three Brothers - one murdered, one dead by his own hand, and one "greeting Death as an old friend." The wand had obviously been stolen by whoever killed Antioch, maybe even Emeric himself, and its bloody legacy was splashed all throughout the history books. The other two items could have stayed within the family lines - in fact, didn't Beedle even say that was what happened to the cloak? Draco didn't know anything about the Gaunt family, but the Potters...
"Potter's invisibility cloak," he whispered, his eyes going wide. "I should have taken it when I had the chance! Fuck!"
Part of him felt crazy for even considering it, because it was all a little too convenient, wasn't it? But on the other hand... Trelawney's words had been, You must unite the Deathly Hallows and become the Master of Death. Only the Master of Death may triumph over the Boy Who Lived. If Potter had the cloak, and Dumbledore had the wand... perhaps the way to defeat them was to steal the Hallows from them. Perhaps Dumbledore's great power came from the wand rather than any real skill. And without the cloak, Potter would have nowhere to hide...
Draco's heart sank as he put it together. How on earth was he possibly going to steal Dumbledore's wand? It wasn't like he left it laying around. Maybe if he had the cloak he could manage it somehow, but even getting that was a shot in the dark. If Potter had it out, it was because he was using it, and Draco couldn't steal it in a way where Potter would suspect his involvement.
He'd probably suspect me anyway, even if I was nowhere near it...lousy git...
The sea roared to life within him, a great tidal wave slamming into the shore and leaving him breathless. How was he going to do this? The crash of the waves was impossibly loud in his ears, drowning out the room around him. Where was the surface?
"Enough!" he yelled out, grabbing onto his arm forcefully to pull himself back to the present. He forced his breathing to slow, and the tide with it. Slowly, stubbornly, the waves subsided.
"The Dark Lord didn't ask me to bring the Hallows to him," he reminded himself. "Only the information. I know what the Hallows are, and I think I know where two out of the three are. I can find out information on the third." He looked down at his hand and was disturbed to see that he had unconsciously grabbed his Dark Mark. His hand was shaking. Growling in frustration, he stomped back to his seat. It took him an uncomfortably long time to settle. He leaned back in his seat once he stopped shaking, fighting the beginnings of a headache.
"Something doesn't make sense though, Room," he said in a quiet voice. "What about the second prophecy? What you desire can only be obtained at the place where death has been weakened. Can be obtained only at the place where death has been weakened? Two of the three Hallows seem to be at Hogwarts, but the prophecy can't mean Hogwarts, can it? Maybe it means that I shouldn't try to steal the Hallows here... They need to be obtained somewhere else, where the Peverells first weakened Death. The Peverells didn't live in Scotland, they lived in...where did they live?"
He grabbed the genealogy book to consult and his stomach tightened as he read.
Godric's Hollow.
The same place where a baby Harry Potter had somehow repelled the Dark Lord's killing curse. Where death has been weakened.
He snapped the book shut, feeling oddly detached.
"Well, Room, that's quite enough earth-shattering revelations for one day," he said. "I will think more about this tomorrow. Please change into an old classroom - I need to practice on Crabbe now."
The room did as he bade, shrinking and twisting around him as the Room of Hidden Things went - well, wherever it went - and an old, dusty classroom took its place. Crabbe had no idea what he was working on in here and Draco intended to keep it that way. He hadn't trusted him to start with, but ever since he started learning Legilimency, he kept the other boy at a very safe distance.
The sea was calm and soothing now, its gentle roar slowing the beating of his heart. He stood up, the armchair vanishing as he did so, and walked to the wall where the door appeared. He yanked it open, hissed, "get in here," and slammed it shut again after Crabbe complied. He had apparently timed it just right - the Polyjuice was already starting to wear off.
"You took forever," Crabbe whined, his voice catching oddly as his vocal chords shifted. "I hate doing this."
Draco smirked at him. "Service to the Dark Lord takes many forms, Crabbe. Or should I say many faces? It's a wonder little Penelope has never run into her doppelgänger all this time."
Crabbe winced but said nothing.
Smart man. We both know you're not as stupid as you look.
"Speaking of run-ins, you dropped the glass," Draco continued. "Who was outside?"
"Weasley and Brown."
Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust.
"Spying?"
"No, they wouldn't stop snogging-"
Draco held up his hand to stop Crabbe from recounting Weasley's disgusting make-out session.
"Well, we'll see, won't we? Legilimens!"
He held eye contact with Crabbe as he pushed his magic forward into the other boy's mind, diving in through the pupils. More advanced Legilimens could enter another person's mind without eye contact, without even speaking the incantation, but Snape had advised that for beginners, the pupil made the easiest entry point. Crabbe did not resist, though Draco's consciousness was vaguely aware of the tension running through Crabbe's body, like he was holding back a punch.
Crabbe's mind was, unimaginatively, a warehouse. Crabbe hadn't chosen the image, but Snape had explained that more visual practitioners of mind magic such as Draco often unconsciously formed images out of the contents they discovered in order to make sense of them. Draco strolled to the closest shelf, bored, and observed Crabbe's recent memories in miniature. They looked like little floating photographs, the scenes looping on each other just as though they were the headline of the Daily Prophet. He lifted up the one with Weasley's face and tossed it in the air, allowing it to expand.
He observed the scene for a while, looking for any hint that Potter could have sent Weasley to spy on him, but no, the idiot was just really invested in sucking Lavender Brown's face off.
Is that what I look like with Pansy? he thought with a ripple of disgust. Merlin, I hope not. When the memory started to loop on itself, Draco dismissed it with a wave of his hand. He surveyed the room for a moment, taking in all of Crabbe's embarrassment and anger at being forced to transform into a little girl, his lust for power and influence in the coming new world, and a surprisingly painful thread of hatred directed at Draco.
You shouldn't be surprised, he told himself. He isn't really your friend. But it hurt all the same. Annoyed with himself, Draco ripped himself from Crabbe's consciousness, ignoring the pained gasp his quick exit caused. It was just more confirmation of the same - he was alone, and it was up to him alone to save himself and his family.
"Come on. Let's go back to the dungeons. We'll meet here same time tomorrow."
"I can't, Snape put me and Goyle in detention tomorrow night."
Draco scowled as he ripped open the door.
Draco strolled up the stairs in a sour mood. It was the last day before term ended, which meant it was his last day to make progress on his assignments before reporting to the Dark Lord. Like an idiot, he had overslept this morning, which meant no early morning work in the Room of Hidden Things. The halls had been crowded all day with students running around, playing pranks or running to the library for a last minute assignment. He was pretty sure he had spent less than five minutes alone all day.
It was evening time now, though, and he was certain he would have better luck now that most everyone was settled into their common rooms. Slughorn's Christmas party was tonight, which meant no Occlumency or Legilimency lessons with Snape and also meant that Potter wasn't going to be able to spy on him. He would be working alone since Crabbe and Goyle were in detention, but it was worth the risk. With Potter safely out of the way, no one would be trying to follow him, and he would simply stay in the Room of Hidden Things until the morning to avoid any possible trouble.
The sconces along the wall shone cheerily against the stones as he checked his pocket watch. It was a little bit after eight, which meant Slughorn's party had already started. Blaise would be in attendance, with Daphne Greengrass as his date. Crabbe and Goyle were stuck in the dungeons doing detention, and he and Pansy had already said their goodbyes earlier that afternoon. Everyone was accounted for.
"Where d'you think you're goin', boy?"
Draco stiffened at the sound of Filch's voice behind him.
If I Stun him, he'll report me to Dumbledore for sure...
"Looking for Professor Slughorn's Christmas party, sir," he said in a smooth voice, the gull's distant cry echoing in his mind.
"You're clear on the wrong side of the castle for that," Filch said nastily. He grabbed Draco's arm and turned him around, his face cast oddly into shadow by the flickering torchlight. "Do you think I'm stupid? Of course you do... I'll show you stupid, I will. Let's go see what Professor Slughorn thinks-"
"You're going to look stupid when you drag me in there like a criminal," Draco snapped, losing his patience. "I was invited. Slughorn knows my grandfather-"
But Filch wasn't having any of it. He seized hold of Draco's robe and started dragging him down the hall, ranting all the while about students out of bed and that he wouldn't be taken for a fool. Curse after curse ran through Draco's mind, each nastier than the last, but he allowed himself to be taken down the stairs to the sixth floor. Slughorn would kick him out of the party and with any luck, he would be sent back to his dorm with Slytherin house points being the only casualty. He could sneak out again later that night.
As they drew closer, sounds of talking and laughter could be heard down the hall. Draco dimly wondered if Blaise was having a good time, and briefly allowed himself to imagine an alternate reality in which his father wasn't being hunted by the Ministry and he had been invited to join Slughorn's little club after all. Would he be one of those people laughing right now? Maybe he would have even brought a date... and it wouldn't have been Pansy.
Filch yanked open the door to Slughorn's office, which appeared to have been magically expanded to accommodate all of the guests. Draco moved to pull free from the man's grasp, intending to walk in of his own accord, but Filch seemed to interpret this as an escape attempt and roughly seized Draco's ear.
"Ouch! Stop it, you blasted-"
Filch paid him no mind as he dragged him through the crowd, stopping in front of Professor Slughorn, Professor Snape, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, and Harry Potter.
I couldn't have picked a worse mix of people, Draco thought with a scowl.
"Professor Slughorn," wheezed Filch, his jowls aquiver and the maniacal light of mischief-detection in his bulging eyes, "I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?"
Draco pulled free of Filch's grasp with a glare, straightening his robes and avoiding Potter's gaze.
"All right, I wasn't invited!" he said angrily. "I was trying to gate-crash, happy?"
Please work.
"No, I'm not!" said Filch, a statement at complete odds with the glee on his face. "You're in trouble, you are! Didn't the headmaster say that nighttime prowling's out, unless you've got permission, didn't he, eh?"
Draco struggled not to roll his eyes. Obviously nighttime prowling is out, you idiot.
"That's all right, Argus, that's all right," said Slughorn, waving a hand. His face was quite red - he appeared to have already had quite a bit to drink. "It's Christmas, and it's not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we'll forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco."
Draco's eyes widened a bit before he caught himself and schooled his face into a neutral expression.
Blast Slughorn's Christmas spirit.
"Thank you for your generosity, Professor," Draco said hastily, keenly aware of Potter's stare.
Now I won't be able to leave without looking suspicious - Filch made a huge spectacle dragging me in here, everyone saw.
"It's nothing, nothing," said Slughorn, waving away Draco's thanks. "I did know your grandfather, after all..."
"He always spoke very highly of you, sir," Draco said, scanning the crowd for any possible getaway strategy. He could feel Snape's consciousness at the edge of his mind, pressing against his passive protection. "Said you were the best potion-maker he'd ever known..."
Catching sight of Blaise, he quickly excused himself, taking a moment to push against Snape's relatively lazy intrusion. The older man wasn't really trying to penetrate Draco's mind, he knew - this was more like a passive test of his abilities.
Maybe Snape will cover for me.
"Way to make an entrance," Blaise said with a smirk, a glass of pumpkin juice in his hand. He had his arm slung low around Daphne's waist. She mirrored Blaise's smirk.
"Yes, Draco, if I'd known you were coming I would have told Pansy to find a way here too," she said. Draco rolled his eyes.
"Yes, this was clearly intentional on my part," he said. "This is exactly where I wanted to end up. I'm going to get a drink."
Irritated, he loosened his collar as he eased through the crowd toward the drink table. He would have one drink, smile at the right number of people, and sneak out once Filch had gone. He needed to check over the Vanishing Cabinet one more time, as he would be reporting to the Dark Lord tomorrow on its repair as well as on the information he had gathered about the Hallows.
Mentally rehearsing what he would say, Draco's mind was elsewhere as his hand collided with someone else's over the punch bowl. The person dropped their empty glass and, unconsciously, Draco's Seeker reflexes kicked in. He caught the glass and looked up, finding himself inches away from Ginny Weasley, looking festive in a scarlet red dress.
All breath left him as he caught her honey-brown eyes. He could tell instantly that she was just as thrown off as he was, as her eyes were wide and apologetic rather than angry and suspicious. In that instant, a dozen images flashed through his mind at once. Ginny's lips on his, the way her breath would hitch as he ran his hand through her hair. Ginny's robes sliding off her shoulders, how he would follow the trail of freckles down her shoulders to her breasts with his mouth. Ginny in Pansy's place, his hands on her hips as she rode him-
"Can I have my glass back please, Malfoy?"
Her voice snapped Draco back to reality in an instant. He looked at her again, really looked at her, and fought the small bit of disappointment at her now irritated expression.
"Sorry," he breathed, and handed it back to her, careful not to accidentally touch her fingers. She took it cautiously, clearly trying to figure out why he wasn't insulting her. At that moment, Potter walked up, and the spell of the moment was broken.
"Everything okay over here?" Potter asked Ginny, sliding a hand onto her back before glaring at Draco.
"It's-" Ginny started.
"I was just leaving," Draco interrupted with a sneer. "Happy Christmas, Potter. Weasley."
He turned to leave and walked right into Professor Snape.
Son of a bitch.
"Ah, Draco, I was just looking for you," Snape said, his dark eyes glittering. "I'd like a word."
"With pleasure," Draco sneered and, without looking back at the happy couple, stormed out of the party, Snape hot on his heels.
They hurried down the corridor before Snape pulled him into an empty classroom.
"Well, I hope you're satisfied with yourself," Snape said. "No less than fifty people saw you publicly being reprimanded for wandering around after dark. Potter already suspects you and has made no secret of that. You cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled-"
"I'm not going to get expelled," Draco scoffed. "They don't know anything. Potter's been tailing me all term and hasn't learned a single thing. My assignments are safe."
Snape pushed against his mind for real this time, but Draco was ready. He had let the tide pull back the whole time they were walking out of the party, and once Snape's consciousness arrived in the water, Draco released the tide, allowing a veritable tsunami to wash a bedraggled Snape back to shore.
Snape sneered at him. "What a creative use of Occlumency. What will your master think of it, I wonder?"
"I'm not trying to conceal anything from him, I just don't want you butting in all the time."
"We both know that's a lie."
Draco scowled. "Just trust me, I've got everything under control. He'll have all the information he needs to fulfill the prophecy, and the repairs will be completed on time."
"For your sake, I hope that is true. Tell me what you intend to report."
It was Draco's turn to sneer. "I don't need your help on this - this is my mission, not yours. You worry about your own problems."
"If you tell me what you are still working on, I can assist you-"
"I've got all the assistance I need, thanks, I'm not alone!"
"You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish in the extreme, wandering the corridors without lookouts or backups, I have told you these are elementary mistakes-"
"I would've had Crabbe and Goyle with me if you hadn't put them in detention!"
Draco grabbed the bridge of his nose, unsure why he was being so argumentative. Ginny had upset him unexpectedly and he wanted to take it out on someone. Potter wasn't an option, so Snape would have to do.
"Keep your voice down!" spat Snape. "If your friends Crabbe and Goyle intend to pass their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. this time around, they will need to work a little harder than they are doing at pres-"
"Why does it matter?" Draco snapped, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the small space. "Defense Against the Dark Arts - it's all just a joke isn't it, an act? Like any of us need protecting against the Dark Arts-"
"It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!" said Snape. "Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! Your Occlumency control is very good, but you are being incautious still, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught...it cannot happen again. I understand your father's fall from grace has upset you, but-"
Draco saw red. His mind blank with anger and rising panic, he slammed the door open and strode down the hallway. He was going to the Room of Hidden Things, caution be damned. How dare Snape lecture him like this, when he was so close to victory? He had been asked to do the impossible, twice, and he was doing it. The Dark Lord would be pleased with him tomorrow night, and his parents too. They would all be safe.