Draco Sinister

by vanellopetroo

A reupload of Cassandra Clare's work.

3. Chapter 5

As astonished as Draco was to see Hermione, he was even more astonished by the look on her face. She looked as horrified as if she had seen a ghost and not just any ghost. The ghost of someone she loved.

Hermione? he said. Are you are you all right?

She stared at him, still with the same awful, blank expression. Oh, no, she said. Not you. He stared at her.
I suppose you re here to rescue me, she said flatly, looking as if she were going to burst into tears.
I-well, yes, he replied, floored. Shall I come back at a more convenient time?

Why couldn t you have been Harry? she said, still staring at him distractedly. Is he all right? Why isn t he here? Draco stared at her. He hadn t expected a really big welcome, but this was ridiculous. There were these veelas he began, awkwardly. And Harry s fine, he s waiting outside. And my God, Hermione, what d you do to Pettigrew? he added, staring over her shoulder.
Hermione turned around, following his glance, and saw Wormtail lying sprawled on his back in the straw. Apparently, when she had kicked him, it had been in the face. The straw around his head was dark with blood.
I hit him, she said shortly.

I should say you did, agreed Draco, rather impressed. Then he shook his head, as if clearing it of cobwebs. Is he the one who was keeping you here? he demanded.
Hermione shook her head listlessly. No.

So there s someone else here someone more evil, more powerful? Hermione nodded yes.
Right, said Draco, and seized her arm. We re going. Hermione didn t seem to want to move, so Draco began dragging her behind him down the hallway. She trailed him unwillingly, glancing behind her every few steps as if she expected them to be followed.

Do you know the way out? he asked her, panting a little as he tugged on her arm. And would you hurry up? No, I don t know the way out, she replied in a leaden voice. I don t think there is one and he s around here somewhere, he s not going to let us just leave

Who s he? Voldemort?

She laughed hollowly. Voldemort? No.

They reached the top of a wide staircase, carved of pitted stone, that swept down to what looked like it had once been an entrance hall.
Draco could see the dim outline of broken pillars and a cracked marble floor. He turned and looked at Hermione, who was still looking blank, stunned, and miserable. Can you make it down the stairs?

I am perfectly fine, she said, in a clipped voice.

Okay He looked at her, bewildered, shook his head, and started down the steps. She followed him, walking slowly. He had to resist the urge to hurry her forward in exasperation. I don t know what she s been through, he reminded himself. Anything could have happened to her anything at all. He cast a sideways look at her.

She looked all right tired, of course, and with that mother-of-pearl shine under her eyes that meant that she d been crying. There was a cut on her lip that looked as if she d bitten it, but other than that she seemed unhurt. Hermione, he said suddenly, turning towards her. Look, you don t have to talk to me, but just tell me if you re all right. Just nod, will you?

Such concern, said a voice behind them. How very endearing.

They both turned; Draco quickly, Hermione more slowly, as if she dreaded what she might see. Salazar Slytherin stood at the foot of the stairs.
* * *

Lupin looked up at the knock on his door. Just a second, he called out, glancing around hastily. He hadn t really had time to straighten up his office since he d discovered it wrecked the day before. He d swept most of the shards of adamantine into a corner, and spent some time separating his papers into ruined and not ruined piles. A few spells had fixed the windows, and returned the nymph-who-looked-like-Lily s snow globe to something resembling its former condition (although the snow in the globe now had a tendency to look rather blue.)

Lupin reached out and yanked a copy of the Daily Prophet towards him, covering the pages of the book he was reading, or trying to read. It was the book the centaur had given him in the Forbidden Forest, and so far he d had no luck trying to decipher what language it was written in. He d tried Trollish, Mermish, Giantish, and even Elvish, to no effect.

Come in, he called.

It was Fleur. She came in smiling, the light catching her silver hair, turning it to tinsel. Ello, Professor! You wanted to see me?

Fleur, he replied, with weary caution. Yes. I wanted to ask you something.

She smiled at him. Yes?

Do you know where Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are?

Her smile vanished, to be replaced by a pout. No, I do not, she said. Why would I?

Right. Lupin rubbed his eyes tiredly. He was fairly sure he could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. Have I mentioned that I know perfectly well that they sent you over here the other day to trick me into leaving my office? It seemed possible to me that they might have let you in on the rest of their plans.

Maybe, said Fleur, batting her eyelashes, It was just because I like you.

Lupin sighed. Fleur, he said. I told you. I m a werewolf. That veela business doesn t work on me. Besides, I m twice your age and I m your teacher. I could take a different class, suggested Fleur.

I d still be a teacher here at this school, said Lupin. Now he was positive that he was getting a headache.
Well, actually, as to that, said a voice from the corner.

Both Lupin and Fleur turned around. It was Sirius, of course, his head and shoulders visible in the fireplace. I need to talk to you, Remus, he said.

Relieved, Lupin turned to Fleur. If you ll excuse us?

Fleur gave Lupin an appraising look. Then she gave Sirius an appraising look. Whatever it was she was thinking caused her to smile broadly. She turned around, twitched her shoulders, and walked out, shutting the door behind her.
Pretty girl, said Sirius.

Quite, said Lupin, in a tone that suggested that that avenue of conversation was closed. Are you back home, Sirius?

I m at the Manor, with Narcissa, said Sirius, who looked tired. We got back last night. I ve sent the Aurors packing for the moment, and I ve been up all night. I owled Dumbledore So did I.

And I ve owled Harry s friends I sent a message to Ron Weasley last night, since he s Harry s best friend I thought he might have an idea where he s gone. What does Dumbledore say?

He seems to think Harry s all right, said Sirius. He s not worried. Good, said Lupin, trying to sound more optimistic than he felt.

Did you go to the Forbidden Forest?

I did, said Lupin. He reached for the book and carried it over to the fire, where he showed it to Sirius and explained what the centaur had told him. Sirius looked at the book and shook his head.
Never seen anything like it, he said. Not even during my Auror training. Are you sure that s a language? It just looks like squiggles. Oh, it s a language, said Lupin. It s got recognizable patterns. But I m damned if I ve ever seen anything like it before. And considering that I only have half my books here, and half of those have been ruined

Speaking of books, interrupted Sirius. Look, I ve just been talking to the Ministry about you About me? said Lupin, thunderstruck.
I d really like you to come and stay with us here at the Manor. Lupin stared. What does that have to do with the Ministry? Sirius sighed. The Aurors have been over this place with a fine-tooth comb they ve taken Lucius papers, and all the Dark Arts items he collected. But they haven t touched the library. There are thousands of books in the library here, many of them the only editions still in existence. It would take them months to sort and catalogue, and several of the Aurors have admitted that they ve never seen half the languages represented here. So I thought of you. The Ministry is willing to pay you to assist in cataloguing Lucius library

I m not an Auror, Lupin protested.

We don t need an Auror, said Sirius. We need someone who specializes in Dark Arts studies. An academic. Someone like you. I ve got a job here, Sirius. I can t just leave.

This job pays better, said Sirius. And Dumbledore s happy to let you go. He said he s already found a replacement willing to take over your class. Who? said Lupin, looking curious.

Snape, said Sirius, grinning more than ever.

This time Lupin grinned back. I can just see Fleur trying to lure him out of the office What? Nothing.

So you ll come?

Of course I ll come.

This is an interesting turn of affairs, said Slytherin, in his harsh, inhuman voice. He stood very calmly at the foot of the stairs, looking tall and pale and deathly. He wore different robes than he had earlier; these were a much richer green, and fell in thick folds to the hem, which was edged in gold. I wonder if he dressed up to impress me? thought Hermione, feeling ill.

She glanced quickly at Draco, expecting to see him looking horrified, shocked, or simply amazed. But he looked none of those things.
There was a look on his face that was strangely like recognition. As if he d bumped into someone he knew, someone he hadn t expected to ever see again.
You, he said, staring at Slytherin. I know you. But you re dead. And you re short. Slytherin gave him a cold smile.
Oh yeah, said Draco, in the tone of one remembering something. Platform boots, right? Draco, hissed Hermione warningly. Don t. So, said Draco, who seemed to be warming to his theme. How d that selling your soul to the Devil thing work out for you in the end? Because I can tell you, from where I ve been standing, it didn t look like a terribly bright move.

You, said Slytherin, not moving, you know who I am, then?

You re my ancestor, said Draco. He reached behind him, and drew the sword out of its casing, holding it in front of him. And I think this is yours. It is ours, said Slytherin. You have my blood in you, boy. And now you have my dreams and my memories. Soon you will become me.

Draco shook his head. I really don t see that happening, he said, still holding the sword in front of him. Despite her horror, Hermione was impressed. He actually held it like he knew how to use it. Then she recalled the fencing-room at Malfoy Manor. Maybe he did know how to use it.
Slytherin smiled again, even more coldly. You re a child, he said. You cannot recognize the workings of destiny. You think it is chance that brought that sword to you? Or brought you here? Or brought you to her? he said, glancing at Hermione. I had thought she would love me. But that she should love you that is even better. History repeating itself, the way it was meant to be.

Okay, there s one thing I didn t factor into this, said Draco, staring at Slytherin. You re a thundering lunatic.

Slytherin continued to smile.

Hermione doesn t love me, said Draco. Do you? he said, swinging around and staring at her. Hermione didn t say anything.

Consider it a gift, said Slytherin, looking at Draco. From me to you. Only one small example of what I can give you. Hermione? said Draco again, looking shocked. He stepped towards her, just as she turned towards him, and the hilt of the sword collided with her arm.
She shrieked and jumped back, holding her wrist, where a red welt was rising.

Rowena, barked Slytherin, in what almost sounded like alarm, and began to mount the stairs, his agitation evident.

Get back, hissed Hermione, glaring at him in revulsion. She stepped backward, seizing Draco s sleeve with her unwounded arm, almost pushing him behind her. As if she were trying to put herself between him and Slytherin. Just get back. Slytherin paused, looking up at them both out of dark, empty eyes.

Then he reached into his voluminous sleeve, and withdrew an object that glittered darkly in the half-light. He held it tightly for a moment, looking at Draco. Then he said, Here, boy. Catch. And threw it, hard, directly at Draco s face.

Automatically, Draco raised the hand that wasn t holding the sword, and caught the object out of the air. Then gasped, as he felt a sudden jerk behind his navel; the world suddenly peeled down the center like an orange, and his vision flooded with a blur of color.
Portkey, he thought dizzily. He was aware of Hermione beside him, still clutching at his sleeve, and then the ground struck his feet, and he stumbled onto his knees, only just managing not to impale himself on the blade of the sword as he fell forward.
He glanced around, saw green grass growing up between cracked stone, saw a familiar, tumbledown wall, saw the line of trees that marked the beginning of the forest. And over the wall, he saw the tower from which they had just come. Slytherin had flung them outside the walls.
* * *

Hermione stared around, dazed. She could tell that they were now outside the walls of the tower but why? She looked over at Draco, who had dropped the sword into the grass and was gazing around, looking furious.

Goddamn it! he yelled suddenly. I can t believe I fell for that! Here, catch! That s the oldest trick in the book, right up there with Look out behind you! That thing he threw at you, she said, dazed. Was that a Portkey?

Must have been, he said, staring down at the object that was clutched in his hand. He slowly opened his fingers and stared. It was a weathered piece of silver, in the shape of what looked like a bent, sideways X. A loop at the top showed where a chain could be threaded through it. Looks like a piece of cheap jewelry.

I can t believe he just let us go, she said, suddenly.

Draco looked up, and frowned at her. Hermione, he s madder than well, I can t think of anything right now, but he d madder than some very, very mad thing. He s completely, utterly bonkers. Probably from having been dead so long. He is mad, she said quietly. But he s quite determined, as well.

Draco got up, brushing grass off his clothes, and reached out a hand to help her up as well. She took it.

It was like an electric shock. She felt a jolt go through her as his hand met hers, felt the potion in her blood respond with a wave of heat and a sudden searing burst of longing.
She got slowly to her feet, staring at him. She could sense his confusion, worry and irritation in fact, she felt as if every inch of her body was sensitized to what he might be feeling. The shock that had overwhelmed her when she had first seen him was beginning to wear off, to be replaced by a terrible, heavy, aching sort of weight.

And a small, cold voice in the back of her mind was telling her that that weight would be relieved if she just went over to him and No.

She yanked her hand away. Don t touch me.

He looked at her, bewildered and with a rising anger in his eyes. What on earth is wrong with you, Hermione? What s wrong with me? she echoed, with a mirthless sort of laugh. I love you, that s what s wrong with me.

Draco stared at her, looking as if he thought he hadn t heard her correctly. You what? I love you. He shook his head. I don t I m in love with you, she said.
He went white, startlingly white he looked more as if she had hit him than told him that she loved him. She felt as guilty as if she had hit him.
No, he said. You re in love with Harry.

That s true, she said, clenching her fingers into fists of anxiety. That s true, but didn t you hear what Slytherin said, back there on the stairs? I thought we d established that he was a few sandwiches short of a picnic, said Draco. And

frankly, I m starting to wonder a bit about you.

Slytherin gave me a love potion, Hermione said, expressionlessly. He meant for me to fall in love with him. It makes you fall in love with the first person you see after you drink it. Only the first person I saw, she took a deep breath, was you. He stared at her, looking utterly stunned. A love potion, he repeated uncertainly. She nodded. Yes. And so now you love me? Because of a potion? Yes, she said, again.
But you didn t love me before, he said. You didn t love me before the potion? Hermione shook her head very slowly. Not like this. Oh, he said blankly, and then, How long is this meant to last for, Hermione? I think, she said, that it s meant to be permanent. Oh, he said again. He still looked stunned.

She reached out uncertainly towards him, and lightly took hold of his arm. The material of his jacket felt as rough as sand beneath her fingertips. She looked up into his face, and her heart turned over. It was as if her longing was so intense that it had a shape and a color of its own. I ll figure out how to counteract it, she said desperately. I know there s a way. But we can t tell Harry Draco looked startled. Hermione, you have to tell him, he said, and she pulled back. What? Are you really expecting him not to notice? said Draco in a tight, strained voice. He loves you. He notices everything you do. You think he s not going to notice this? Notice what? said Hermione stubbornly. There s nothing to notice. Nothing is going to happen, except that I m just going to have to suffer this this horrible mistake until we get home and I can figure out how to counteract the spell.

Horrible mistake? said Draco, with a very faint and unmirthful smile. Ouch. All right, maybe I shouldn t have said horrible . Maybe just mistake . Yes, that certainly makes it all better. Look, Hermione, I know you don t want to hurt him, but he ll understand that this is temporary and not your fault He ll be angry with me, said Hermione. But I don t mind that. I was thinking of you.

Of me?

I don t want Harry to hate you. Because he needs you. Harry doesn t need me. Yes, she said. He does.

Hermione Draco passed a hand over his eyes, and sighed. God, you re stubborn.

He needs you, she repeated, her voice rising to a nearly hysterical pitch. You know this will hurt him, and that it s you will make it worse everything s so fragile already, and with this Harry s not that fragile, he said.

Well, neither am I, said Hermione. And I can fight this. And I will.

You think you can fight it? said Draco, and now he looked angry. You think you can fight what you feel, every second of every day, and pretend everything is fine, and it ll be easy? It s not forever, she said. It s just until I can reverse the spell. What if it can t be reversed? Every spell can be reversed, she said.

Not Avada Kedavra, he said, and she shivered. That s death, she said. This is just a love spell. He reached out and put a hand under her chin, tilting it so that she was forced to look at him. He was almost exactly the same height as Harry she had to look up, but not too far up, to see his eyes.

What does it feel like? he said.

What does what feel like? she asked, although she knew what he meant. The spell, he said.
She heard her own voice as if it came from far away. When I look at you, I want to die.

He was still holding her face in his hands, and as he stared at her, she saw his eyes soften, silver turning to gray. Don t look at me, he said. His voice was soft, too, a voice he never used with anyone but her. Don t look at me, don t talk to me, don t even come near me. And I won t come near you. It s the only way.

All right, said Hermione miserably. He was right; she didn t see what else they could do. He let go of her, and she stepped back away from him.
Let s go, he said.

As they rounded the side of the tower, Hermione saw Harry and Ron, standing in front of the wall, looking anxiously up at it as if they expected her or Draco to appear on top of it at any moment.
Ron was saying something to Harry, and Harry was shaking his head, not vehemently, but she could tell even from this distance that he was disagreeing firmly and she paused there for a moment, just wanting to look at them her two best friends in the world, whom she had been terrified she would never see again. Even the sight of them arguing with each other seemed unutterably endearing.

She glanced at Draco, who was looking at her with an unreadable expression. He caught her eye, then jerked his chin towards Ron and Harry, obviously indicating that she should notify them of her presence. She frowned at him, and turned back towards the two boys.

Ron! she called, and then, louder, Harry!

Ron turned first, and saw her, and his blue eyes widened. And then Harry turned, and when she saw his face, and sudden wild happiness that flashed across it when he saw her, her knees gave out and she sat down hard on the ground.

She saw Harry break into a run, and then he had flung himself down beside her and was kneeling next to her in the grass. She saw him through unfocused eyes a Harry-shaped shadow, with a blur of untidy hair and then his arms were around her, and he was crushing her so tightly to him that she couldn t breathe. She threw her own arms around his shoulders, feeling him shaking, and realized with a mixture of wonder and horror that he was crying. Harry, who never cried, not even when he was eleven years old, not even in situations that would have made most children bawl like babies.

Harry, she breathed.

I thought you were dead, he said, into her hair. I was sure of it. No Harry, I m fine I m perfectly all right. He pulled away from her, just far enough to touch her face with his hand, running his finger over her cheekbone, down to her mouth.
You don t know what it was like

Shh, she said, pulled his head down, and kissed him fiercely. I m fine.

In answer, he just held her tighter. She clutched him back, feeling a little of the poisonous fear that seemed to have seeped into her system along with the potion fade away. The familiarity of Harry s embrace was utterly comforting, because, she thought, how powerful could a love potion be when you were already in love with somebody else? And her love for Harry wasn t at all diminished; she knew that without even thinking about it. He was as much a part of her as he had ever been. She lifted her face up to be kissed, holding him tightly as she did so, and thought, I can beat this. This is going to be easy.

Oh, this is just revolting, said Ron, who was standing with Draco near the wall. They d turned their backs so that they could no longer see Harry and Hermione, but they could still hear them, and neither of them was very happy about it.
Love is a beautiful thing, Weasley, said Draco, staring up at the sky.

Not when it s your two best friends, said Ron. Yech, I can hear the slobbering noises. Just try to think about other things. Oh, I ve got lots to think about, said Ron, and now there was an edge to his voice. Like you, and why you didn t come back for us like Harry asked you to.

No time, said Draco, shortly. I don t believe that, said Ron. I really don t care, said Draco.
Ron looked irritable, but before he had the opportunity to say anything, there was a soft *pop* and Charlie Weasley Apparated into the clearing.
Lo, Charlie, said Ron morosely.

Draco was startled. It hasn t been that long, has it?

No, said Charlie, who was holding something in his hand a letter, Draco saw. It looked as if Charlie had already opened it and read it. But this came for you, Ron. Owl post? said Ron, reaching for it curiously.

It s from Sirius Black, said Charlie, looking faintly exasperated. He was looking for Harry. He d no idea where you d all gone off to, of course. I finally wrung some information out of Ginny and wrote him a long letter back, but I d still rather Harry wrote him as well. Where is Harry, anyway Good Lord! exclaimed Charlie, catching sight of Harry and Hermione over Ron s shoulder. Is that Hermione, said Ron flatly.

Charlie was still staring in astonishment. I knew you came here looking for her, but I didn t know that Harry and Hermione were He blinked. Harry and Hermione? I take it you ve let your subscription to Witch Weekly lapse, said Draco. Or you d already know about this. How long has this been going on? Ages, said Ron, rolling his eyes.

About fifteen minutes, said Draco.

Not the er, kissing, I meant the relationship. You know what, never mind. I really don t need to know. We should really get back to the camp, said Draco. Right, said Charlie.
Nobody moved.

You go get them, said Ron, grinning at Charlie. You re in loco parentis around here. Can t be scarier than a lot of enraged dragons, pointed out Draco.
I dunno, said Charlie. I d rather deal with a lot of enraged dragons than have to pry two lust- crazed adolescents off each other. He looked at Ron. They re your best friends, you go peel them apart. Yeah, Weasley, said Draco. What are you afraid of?

Spiders, said Ron. Heights. The number thirteen. Peanut butter It was a rhetorical question, Weasley, interrupted Draco.
Oh, said Ron.

Peanut butter? Draco said. Oh, just shut up, Malfoy. * * *

Harry, Hermione, Charlie, Ron and Draco sat around the small kitchen table in Charlie s tent. Charlie himself was utterly silent while the four of them told him everything that had happened.
Harry and Hermione sat together at one end of the table, their hands interlaced over the arm of Hermione s chair. Ron sat opposite them, and Draco had pushed his chair back, away from the table, turned it around, and folded his arms over the back. He looked unconcerned, but Hermione had noticed that so far he hadn t looked at her once. He was living up to his end of the bargain, anyway, she thought. Even if she wasn t. Not quite.

Salazar Slytherin, said Charlie, shaking his head in wonder. He looked over at Draco. Well, I suppose from now on you can say you defeated the most evil wizard in history.

I suppose I did, said Draco, looking rather cheerful. If, that is, you mean defeated in the sense of having met . He let us go, said Hermione, in a dead sort of voice. We didn t defeat him.

Although I made a lot of very cutting remarks and I m pretty sure I wounded his feelings severely, Draco pointed out.
Let you go? said Ron, looking puzzled. Why on earth would he let you go? No idea, said Draco.
Hermione looked at him, than quickly away. So far, they hadn t mentioned the love potion she d left it entirely out of her version of events, although she had told them everything else. It weighed on her; in fact, she felt as if she were carrying around an enormous brick with the words LYING TO HARRY emblazoned across it. But she didn t see what else she could possibly do. Maybe he realized I wouldn t make a good Source after all, she said weakly.

Maybe he didn t like the look of that sword, said Harry, jerking his chin towards Draco. Remember what Lupin said, that sword can kill anything, even the risen dead.

Hermione shuddered.

Maybe, said Ron quietly, Malfoy convinced him to let them go. They all swung around and looked at him in astonishment.
You had plenty of time in there by yourself, didn t you, Malfoy? said Ron, in the same quiet voice. Did you make some kind of deal with him? Even Draco looked shocked. Deal? he said, blankly.

Well, you didn t come back to get us, said Ron, still looking at Draco. You must have been doing something all that time. Ron, said Harry. If Malfoy didn t come back to get us, I m sure he had a good reason. Harry looked squarely at Draco. Didn t you?

Hermione watched Draco out of the corner of her eye as all the color drained out of his face. I couldn t, he said haltingly. The veelas Fine, said Harry, without rancor. It doesn t really matter, does it? he added, looking at Ron. If Hermione s all right? In answer, Ron pushed his chair back from the table and walked out of the room.

Harry watched him go, biting his lip. He s acting so strange he burst out, with vexation. Something s bothering him.

Let me guess, said Charlie. He s moody, irritable, snaps at everyone, and spends a lot of time staring off angrily into space. Yeah, said Harry. What s that about? Charlie shrugged. He s sixteen, he said.

So am I sixteen, said Harry. So is Malfoy.

Yes, well, neither of you is exactly normal, are you? pointed out Charlie. Cheers, Charlie, said Draco, with a half-smile.
Oh, you know. The famous Harry Potter, and Malfoy, you re pretty famous yourself these days, what with recent events. I might have let my subscription to Witch Weekly lapse, but I do read the Daily Prophet. You two going off to Magid school made front-page news. Hermione glanced at Harry, and saw that he was smiling. What? she said, curiously. Is that funny?

No, said Harry, it s just he paused, and looked down at the table. She got the feeling he was reluctant to say whatever it was he wanted to say with Draco there, but he seemed determined to forge ahead anyway. When we realized that someone had kidnapped you, he said to Hermione, without actually looking at her, I just assumed it was to get to me.

It didn t have anything to do with you, Harry, she said quickly.

I know, he said. That s why I was smiling. I know it might seem strange, but it s a relief for me to know that even though you were in danger, it wasn t because of me, or who I am. Ahem, said Charlie, looking faintly embarrassed. Perhaps I should leave you two to talk alone?

Hermione glanced up quickly, and saw, with a shocked sort of pang, that Draco had gone had left the room so quietly that none of them had even noticed his departure.
That s okay, Charlie, she said. It s your kitchen, isn t it? Besides, I m so tired, all I want to do is go to sleep.

Charlie pushed his chair back. All right. I ll take you to your tent, then.

When Ron walked into Charlie s living room, he found Ginny curled up on the couch reading a copy of Teen Witch Weekly that she d scrounged from under Charlie s sofa. She had refused to sit in the kitchen with the rest of them; she was still furious about having been left out of their expedition.
Lo, Gin, said Ron, warily.

Ginny glared at her magazine with narrowed dark eyes. You re a huge bastard, Ron, she said, without looking up. And I hate you.

Ginny I told you I was sorry. Charlie said we had to go without you.

Well, it wasn t so bad. Ginny s face, which had been scowling, broke into a reluctant smile. I got to feed the dragons. By yourself?

No, with two of Charlie s friends. Cute young wizards in leather trousers. It wasn t the worst day I ve ever had. Ron rolled his eyes. I m glad you stayed out of trouble.

Ginny s mirthful expression softened into a slight frown, and she glanced past Ron to the kitchen. Charlie looked extremely grave, Harry only slightly less so. Hermione simply looked exhausted. Is it true, about Salazar Slytherin coming back? said Ginny to Ron, in a half-whisper. I was listening, but I wasn t sure I heard right.

That s what Hermione says, said Ron. And she s not an exaggerator. And Malfoy backs her up, he shrugged, not that that means anything, really, since he lies like most people breathe. But I can t see any reason for him to be lying right now. Ginny shuddered. I remember the statue of Slytherin from the Chamber of Secrets he had such a cruel, horrible face. Ron glanced away from her, towards the silver mirror on the wall that gave him back his own reflection: tired, pale and worried.
Good Lord, you re tall, said the mirror, in a purring sort of voice. You know what they say about tall men.

Ron jumped hastily back and out of the mirror s line of sight. As he did so, Draco came out of the kitchen, gave Ron an unpleasant look, and rather ostentatiously leaned over the back of the sofa to see what Ginny was reading. That Cute Boy in Potions Seven Simple Spells to Make Him Notice You, he read, and raised an eyebrow at her.

Ginny blushed. Love spells are a myth anyway, she said.

Are they? said Draco, and neatly plucked the magazine out of her hands. There wouldn t be anything in this about how to reverse love spells, would there? Ginny snorted. Why would anyone want to do that?

Good point, said Draco. Thanks for the magazine, he added, waved it at her, and walked out of the tent.
Ginny looked at Ron. He took my magazine, she said, surprised.

Right, said Ron. I ll go beat him up until he gives it back, then, and ducked out of the tent after Draco, Ginny s howl of Ron! I was only joking! trailing after him.

It was nearly sunset, and the sky above the camp was beginning to darken with faint lines like the markings inside a seashell. Draco was walking so quickly away from the tent that it took Ron whose long legs usually allowed him to move faster than anyone several moments to catch up.
Malfoy, he said. Hold up. Draco kept walking.

Malfoy, said Ron, more sharply, reached out, and put his hand on Draco s arm.

Draco whirled on him. His face was expressionless, although if Ron had known him as well as Hermione or Harry did, he would have seen by the look in his eyes that he was spoiling for a fight.
Why are you pretending that I m not here? snapped Ron. Wishful thinking? Draco suggested.
Ron ignored this. I want a word with you, Malfoy.

That depends, said Draco. Are you going to say something useful, or are you just going to glare at me and be cryptic? Back in the forest, said Ron. I was watching you.

I never knew it gave you pleasure to gaze upon me, Weasley, but far be it from me to interfere with your harmless pleasures. Come around my tent tonight, I ll let you watch me take a shower.

I was watching you when you were in the garden, said Ron. I saw you talking to the veela. Then you walked off. You walked off, he repeated, his voice rising. You should have come back for Harry and me. At least for Harry. Draco smiled. In the mood he was in, the idea of a fight with Ron gave him a thrill of dark elation. It s not your business what I do, Weasley, he said. Is it?

It is my business, said Ron. These are my friends we re talking about. And maybe you can fool Hermione she s got a massive blind spot where you re concerned and you can fool Harry, because he trusts everyone, and you can even fool Charlie with your stupid dragons, but you can t fool me, Malfoy. I know what you are.

And I know what you are, said Draco. An inbred cretin with an inferiority complex the size of Brighton. Tell me, when are you going to admit that this is all because you re jealous? Ron went white. I m jealous? You re the one who s in love with Hermione. I bet it just killed you that she chose Harry, didn t it? And you just couldn t wait to take the first opportunity that came along to cut him out Draco rolled his eyes. Come on, Weasley, you re not any better at psychological warfare than you are at cunning plans. I suggest you get out of here before you get hurt. What are you going to do? sneered Ron. Hit me with your rolled-up copy of Witch Weekly?

Oh, I m not going to hit you, said Draco, his voice alive with menace. He was looking at Ron with an expression that Ron hadn t seen on Draco s face for a while now. I wouldn t bother hitting you.
None of us can be bothered with you, haven t you noticed that? You think it s killing me to see Harry and Hermione together? I think it s killing you. You ve never mattered, your whole life you ve never mattered; the only thing that has ever mattered about you is Harry. If anyone at school knows your name, it s because of Harry. If you ve ever won a point for your house, it s because of Harry. If

you ve ever passed a class, it s because Hermione helped you. The only thing that s ever been special about you, Weasley, is your friends. And now they ve got each other and they don t need you anymore, or want you around Shut up! yelled Ron, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. Just shut up, Malfoy, or I swear, I ll rip out your throat!

Before Draco could respond, there was a rustle behind them and Ginny burst out into the clearing. What s going on? she demanded. What on earth are you two yelling at each other about? Ron ignored her. One of these days, he said to Draco, They re all going to realize what you re really like Harry, Hermione, even Sirius. And I m going to be there to watch. Ron, said Ginny, sounding shocked. Don t

But Draco cut her off. It s all right, Ginny, he said, still looking at Ron.

He turned on his heel and walked away, vanishing quickly from sight as the black of his clothing blended into the darkness of the gathering shadows.

Ron was looking at Ginny. Don t you go after him, Ginny But she was already gone.
Ron sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, watching her go.

Narcissa!

Sirius came skidding around the hallway corner to find Narcissa, her hair in businesslike plaits, wearing a patched robe and a determined expression, pointing her wand at one of the huge gold- framed family portraits that lined the corridor. When she caught sight of him, her eyes widened in surprise.

Sirius! What?

Sirius skated to a halt in front of her and leaned his hands on his knees, catching his breath. This house is far too big, he complained. I think it crosses an international time zone. When it s three o clock in the drawing room, it s six o clock in the library. Harry and Draco are all right, said Narcissa, immediately. He straightened up. How d you guess? Because you wouldn t cracking jokes, otherwise. Did you hear from them?

From Charlie Weasley, he said, handing her a letter. They re with him at that dragon camp he runs. Not all that far from here, actually. He says they re all perfectly fine. And goes into quite a bit more detail, actually read it.

He watched some of the lines of strain vanish from her face as she read the letter. When she was done, she handed the letter back to him and smiled. Well, goodbye, she said.
Sirius blinked at her. Goodbye? he repeated. What do you mean?

Well, you re going to go rushing off to Harry, aren t you? To make sure he s all right. It s fine. You should go. No, said Sirius. I m not.

Narcissa blinked at him. You re not?

No, said Sirius. Okay, he admitted, I really, really want to. But I won t. Why not? There s no harm in being protective. Sirius sighed and leaned back against the wall. I know, he said.

And most of me wants to rush down there, drag him back here, and lock him in his room until he s thirty. But the only effect that would have is that he d get loads of practice using his Magid skills to break out. I have to show him I trust him, Narcissa.

Hasn t he just betrayed that trust? she asked, looking curious.

Not really. Sirius looked thoughtful. He s being true to his nature. The impression I get is that he thought his friend was in trouble not just his friend, but his girlfriend. He s never learned to go to adults for help, and I think that by this stage, he s too old to learn it. He s not just any boy, he s Harry Potter. He might be a child, but he s got adult-sized problems, he always has, and so far he s dealt with them on his own. And dealt with them well. All I can really give him is support, and maybe a modicum of discipline. He s never going to have an ordinary life; there s no point in my treating him like he s an ordinary teenager.

It s not easy, said Narcissa, sympathetically, being godfather to a hero, is it?

No, said Sirius. I d much rather he was some swotty little weed who never left the library. Narcissa laughed, Sirius! You d hate that! Sirius grinned. Yeah, I would. He looked at her curiously. I meant to ask before, he said. What are you doing, anyway? I was marking the objects I want to sell, she said calmly, and touched the tip of her wand to a painting of a dour-looking, pale man in a long black cloak. Immediately, the frame began to glow a faint blue color. Take that, Uncle Vlad.

You re selling off the paintings? Why? asked Sirius. It was on occasions like this that it was recalled forcefully to him that he really didn t know Narcissa all that well. Although she did look fetching with her hair in plaits.
I told you before, said Narcissa, moving down the hall and zapping another portrait. The Malfoy

estate is worth a great deal, but most of its worth is bound up in objects. Paintings, furniture, gold I want to have some liquid capital for Draco to use. When does he come into possession of all this? asked Sirius, looking around curiously. Half when he s eighteen, the rest when he s twenty-one. Eighteen? Sirius whistled. That s young to be worth Seventy-five million galleons, said Narcissa.
Sirius choked. Seventy-five million?

That s counting the worth of the estates in Romania and Turkmenistan as well, of course, she said calmly.
Good Lord, said Sirius, and leaned back against the wall. Do you think there s anything we can do to keep him from becoming a complete and utter pill?

Narcissa put her hands on her hips. My son is not a pill, she said. Not yet, said Sirius. But all that money and power Doesn t even begin to make up for all the things he hasn t had! said Narcissa, her expression stormy.
You re feeling guilty, said Sirius.

Narcissa looked at him for a moment, then sighed and ran the back of her hand across her forehead. I know I am. It s all right, said Sirius. I feel just as guilty about all the things Harry hasn t had. But you were in prison So were you, said Sirius.

Narcissa sighed. I suppose that s true.

They re both, said Sirius slowly, really exceptional boys. And if we can keep them from getting themselves killed

Or killing each other, put in Narcissa. Then they ll practically raise themselves. They looked at each other. Sirius was the first to smile, and Narcissa smiled back. We re in big trouble, aren t we? he said.
Yes, she agreed. When are they coming home?

Tomorrow morning. And they re with their friends. The Weasley boy, his sister, and Hermione, of course. That won t be a problem, will it? This house has thirty-seven bedrooms, said Narcissa. It s no problem at all.

Ginny eventually found Draco lying sprawled on top of a large, flat rock some way from the tents. He was lying on his stomach and appeared to be calmly perusing her copy of Teen Witch Weekly. She knew that he saw her, although how she knew that she couldn t have said.

She climbed up on top of the rock and sat down next to him, looking down at the top of his silvery- blond head, which was resting on his folded hands.
So, she said. Learn anything from the magazine?

Not to wear horizontal stripes, he said. They ll make me look chubby.

Please, you could never look chubby. You re oh, never mind, you weren t serious, were you?

No, but I m very serious about taking this Personality Quiz. This week s topic: Are You Too Forward When It Comes To Meeting Boys? Ginny grinned. So? Are you?

Apparently, said Draco, which is rather bewildering, but never let it be said that I do not answer magazine poll questions honestly.

Let me see that, Ginny said, taking the magazine away from him.

She giggled. According to the quiz, you should learn to stop fixating on the pretty boys and appreciate the less flashy but potentially more stable blokes all around you. Because after all, that nice shy boy who sits behind you in Potions might just be your soulmate. Harry sits behind me in Potions, said Draco darkly.

Aw, how cute, said Ginny. You hate him, he hates you, all those years then, suddenly, love blossoms.

Indeed, said Draco, leaning back on his elbows. So, do you think he d prefer candy or flowers? Or just a nice romantic dinner out? Although his table manners are atrocious. Have you seen him eat soup? Ginny giggled despite herself.

See, Draco said. I told you if I ever tried to be funny around you, you d be rolling on the ground laughing.

I am not rolling, said Ginny, trying to compose herself.

And I m not really trying, said Draco, and sat up, stretching his legs out in front of him. He looked over at her, and, even though he didn t change expression, she felt suddenly sober.
Ron was being a right git before, she said. I m sorry.

Draco didn t reply. She looked over at him and saw that he was staring blankly off at the darkening line of trees in the distance.
What are you thinking? she asked.

I was pondering the immortal words of Julius Caesar when he said Brutus! You stabbed me in the back, you bastard .

I don t think I remember that from my edition of Shakespeare, said Ginny, stifling a smile. I m paraphrasing. Harry doesn t think you did anything wrong, said Ginny. Don t let Ron talk you into feeling guilty. I don t feel guilty, said Draco, in a rather muffled voice.

I have six older brothers, said Ginny, with asperity. I know what boys are like when they re feeling guilty. They crawl away and curl themselves up into miserable little balls and insist they want to be left alone which is what you re doing. I didn t tell you to leave me alone, Draco said.

Ginny looked at him sideways. Empirically speaking, he was better-looking than Harry was, she thought, although his face lacked the heartbreaking transparency of Harry s it was impossible to tell what Draco was thinking, impossible to tell whether he was amused, bored, or hurt. Or maybe it was just that his face was new to her, while she had memorized Harry s. Comparisons are silly, she told herself sternly. Stop that.

You look tired, she said. Yeah, he said. I am tired. Are you still having nightmares? she asked, in a small voice.

When he spoke again, it was in a flat tone, and she knew immediately that he was lying. Just your run-of-the-mill bad dreams, he said. Academic failure. Falling off my broomstick. Suddenly realizing I m wearing tweed out of season. Ginny laughed. Draco looked at her sidelong, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. You have a nice laugh, he said. Sorry, by the way, to whinge all over you. That s all right, said Ginny, feeling a sudden fluttering in the pit of her stomach. She smiled at him. Don t you have any pithy sayings or useful quotes from your father that would be helpful right now?

For some reason, the only one of my father s sayings that seems to be sticking in my head right now is when he told me There s always a light at the end of the tunnel. Of course, it s usually an oncoming express train. That s not very encouraging, said Ginny dubiously. No, Draco agreed. No, it really isn t. * * *

Hermione walked into the tent she was to share with Ginny, and looked around wearily. Inside, it was a cozy little room with two small beds, and a desk in one corner with a cracked but clean round mirror hanging over it. Moving slowly, every bone in her body aching with tiredness, she walked over to the desk and sat down. She could see her reflection in the mirror, although not very well. A long crack down the middle of the mirror split her face into two uneven parts.
That s me, she thought grimly. Split in half.

She pulled out one of the drawers of the desk, and found what she was looking for: a parchment, ink bottle, and quills. She laid them out on the desk and stared at them. Somehow, the sight was comforting; it always helped her to have something concrete to occupy her hands and mind. She picked up the quill, dipped it in the ink bottle and started to write.

She was on her third sheet of parchment when the door of the tent opened and she turned slowly, expecting to see Ginny.
It was Harry.

She stared at him, really seeing him, she thought, for the first time that day. When she had first seen him, she had been too overwhelmed by the shock of seeing him again to really take in anything about him, and in Charlie s tent she had been concentrating too hard on not looking at Draco. But Draco wasn t here now; no one was here now, and for the first time in three weeks, she was alone with Harry.

She should have been pleased, she thought. But instead she was terrified. He walked across the room to her and leaned on the back of her chair, looking over her shoulder at their reflections in the mirror. She could see his face reflected, and thought he even looked a little older. Less like himself, and more like a photograph of himself or a photograph of James.

He saw her looking at him in the mirror and smiled. What?

You re taller, she said, without thinking. How could you have gotten taller in only two weeks? Concentrated effort. And you re so brown, she said. And you have freckles on your nose. I know, he said, looking downcast. Are they horrible? No. I like them. But you look so tired.

Three days of gut-wrenching misery and turmoil will do that, he said, frowned and squinted upward. I think I got a white hair, actually. I was going to name it after you. Oh, very funny, said Hermione. She swiveled around in the chair and looked up at him. I m sorry you were worried, she said, more seriously. I ve spent the past six years worrying over you, so I know what it feels like.

Harry didn t look as if he had heard her. I got away from Charlie for a few minutes because I wanted to tell you something, he said. Actually, I wanted to show you something. She smiled at him. She hoped it didn t look like a nervous smile. And I bet you say that to all the girls. Harry didn t smile. Apparently he wasn t in the mood to be teased.

He had the expression he always got when he was trying to work up the nerve to say something serious. No, she prayed. Not now. Not anything serious. Not now.
He reached a hand into his jacket pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper, which he handed to her. It was creased and shiny from being read and re-read. Hermione took it curiously, unfolded it, and blinked.
It was the letter that she had written while under the Imperius Curse, telling Harry that she was leaving him for Viktor. She had no memory of writing the words, and saw her own shaky handwriting with wonder: I saw Viktor this afternoon, and realized that I have really loved him all these years you will always be a dear friend of mine Please don t try to contact me.

Harry! she exclaimed, looking up at him in horror. You can t tell me that you believed one word of this for even one minute! Well, that s just it, said Harry. I did. Hermione was dismayed. You did? At first I was just shocked. I didn t want to believe it, but every time I told myself it was impossible I started to worry that I was rationalizing. Being arrogant. Making assumptions about you, like I used to assuming that you felt a certain way about me, when really

But the Mirror, Harry

Yes, but we weren t speaking then, were we? he said simply. And I thought, maybe you seeing me in the Mirror just meant you wanted out friendship back the way it was, and not anything else. And then what? said Hermione, exasperated. I was just too embarrassed to correct your mistaken impression that I loved you, so I went along with it? Well, said Harry, looking as if he felt rather small, Yes.

Harry, if you thought that, you re a complete dunce, said Hermione, firmly. Let me guess. Ron convinced you that you were being an idiot. Actually, it was Malfoy.

Draco? said Hermione faintly. Oh, why did Harry have to bring him up? Of all the things she didn t want to talk about.
Yes. He was for some reason utterly positive you weren t acting of your own free will. He called me a lot of names kicked me around a bit well, you know how he is. But I think it was just what I needed. I was

Being utterly ridiculous? said Hermione, with a wan smile.

Afraid, said Harry. He took a deep breath, and said hastily, I ve learned enough about myself, Hermione, to know what really scares me. And that s just one thing. The idea of losing my family again. And that s Ron, and Sirius and you. You re my family, Hermione. You re everything to me.

Hermione burst into tears.

Harry looked utterly appalled. Hermione

Hermione shook her head violently. She was temporarily incapable of speech, which on reflection was probably not a bad thing.
Awkwardly, Harry reached out and stroked her hair and the side of her face, and she fleetingly wondered why it was that Harry was awkward with her, even now, when Draco never was, never made a single move that didn t seem purposeful and meant, or a single hesitant gesture, and why did she have to think about him right now when she should be thinking of nothing but Harry?

I m sorry, he said gently. After all you ve been through, and I m blithering on about letters and Malfoy and nothing very important I don t want to talk about Malfoy, interrupted Hermione tearfully, stood up, and kissed him. She felt his hands slide up her arms, the familiar pressure as he cupped the back of her head, reaching up to pull the chopsticks out of her hair and tossing them aside, letting her hair fall down around them. He was still Harry, so familiarly Harry in that way that wrenched at her heart, the feel of him the same, the fine slender bones of his hands and wrists and face, the untidy hair that brushed her hands. She slid her fingers lightly down his back, knowing she ought to touch him, but feeling as if she hadn t any right

This is worse than the Cruciatus Curse, Hermione thought miserably. This is awful. Hermione, said Harry softly, pulling away from her.
What? You re crying. I m sorry

No. Don t be. He pulled her closer to him, threading his hands into her hair, and kissed her eyes and the tip of her nose. It s all right, he said. I m never going to not trust you again. But it s not all right, Harry, she thought miserably. It is very much not all right.

They both heard the door being opened at the same time, and turned their heads to see Charlie enter, carrying what looked like a pile of clothes. He glanced at them, and said resignedly, At it again, are we?

We re not at anything, said Harry, with dignity, although he stepped away from Hermione. We were just talking. That s right, said Charlie, with a grin. You just got to talking, suddenly tripped, and fell on each other s lips. Happens all the time. He tossed the pile of clothes onto the bed, and said, Hermione, I ve brought you and Ginny some old t-shirts to sleep in. I m sorry if they re a bit ratty, but it s all I ve got. Harry, get along with you. Back to the boys tent.

Goodnight, Harry, said Hermione, a little too quickly. She felt, rather than saw, Harry look at her with a quizzical expression on his face, but she didn t return his glance.
He bent and kissed her lightly on the temple. Sleep well, he said.

Remus Lupin had never before been to Malfoy Manor, but if he had, he would have been astonished upon arriving there, battered leather case in tow, to see how much it had changed.

The giant spiders were gone, as was the vicious attack topiary, the spiky portcullis, the magical land-mines and the Jigsaw Hexes. The Bottomless Pit was still there, although Aurors from the Ministry of Magic had surrounded it with blinking signs that read Danger: Approach And Risk Hurtling Through Empty Space For All Eternity.

The Venus Flytraps and black hedgerows starred with malignant-looking flowers had been replaced with neat herbaceous borders that would one day sprout daisies, if Narcissa had her way.
When Lupin Apparated into the drawing-room, he found Sirius waiting for him there, wearing a white shirt, black trousers, and an ear-to-ear grin. Harry s all right! he announced, by way of a greeting. So is Draco. They re all right? echoed Lupin, astonished and relieved How do you know?

I owled Ron Weasley yesterday, said Sirius, taking Lupin s case from him and indicating that his friend should follow him upstairs.
I figured if anyone might know where Harry would be, his best friend would. Anyway, I got a letter back this morning from Charlie Weasley they were with him at that dragon camp he runs. I owled him back, and he s sending them home tomorrow morning. He says they re all perfectly fine.

They went to look for Hermione, Lupin said, feeling both relieved and disquieted. Didn t they?

Yes, and she s with them now, said Sirius, turning a corner. As they passed through the halls of the Manor, Lupin noted the suspiciously light square patches on the walls where various portraits had been removed, and the score marks along the floors where heavy furniture had been dragged away. And according to Charlie, they re all in excellent health. Of course, when Harry gets here tomorrow, I m going to kill him, so the point is moot.

Despite his feeling of anxiety, Lupin laughed. What? said Sirius.
You, said Lupin. Being a disciplinarian.

I know, said Sirius gloomily, pausing in front of a large oak door and pulling a ring of keys out of his pocket. What can I tell him? When I was your age, I never would have dreamed off sneaking away from school in the middle of the night and not telling anyone where I was going, and oh, by the way, there s a spot on the North Tower that affords an excellent view right into the Ravenclaw girls showers.

I think it was the Hufflepuff girls, said Lupin. Not that I know what you re talking about, because I don t.

And then there s Draco, Sirius added, even more gloomily. He found the correct key and inserted it into the lock. The door swung open. I haven t the faintest idea what to say to him, and Narcissa won t be any help. She feels so guilty about Lucius and everything that happened that she wouldn t discipline him if he burned the house down.

Lupin whistled as they walked into the room beyond the door. It was Lucius library; an enormous, hexagonal room with a ceiling that disappeared into darkness and dust motes far above. Huge bookshelves lined the walls, reaching so high above their heads that the tallest shelves could only reached by climbing the carved mahogany ladders, kept upright by magic, that were ranged around the room at intervals. Lupin could tell just by looking at the spines of the books that many of them were incredibly ancient and rare.

The Aurors have been stripping this place down, Sirius remarked, following Lupin s gaze. Took away most of Lucius papers, his Dark Arts toys, all sorts of nasty torture devices. But Dumbledore convinced them to leave the books here.

Lupin looked at him. Why?

I think he was hoping you d find something here to help explain what s been going on lately, said Sirius quietly. You know how he is he won t say anything directly. But I know he thinks that all these recent events are related the dementors disappearance, the disturbances in the Forbidden Forest, and now all this about Salazar Slytherin being back Do you have that book with you? he interrupted himself, looking suddenly curious.

Lupin took the book out of his case and handed it to Sirius, who took it and walked with it across the room to one of the long stained-glass windows (green and blue, they showed an intricate design of letter M s). He opened it, and frowned at the pages.

You re right, he said. I ve never seen anything like this before. He glanced up. Firenze said this would help explain things? Yes, said Lupin, hesitantly, remembering the centaur s actually words with a chill of foreboding. Nothing will help you now.
Although he didn t seem terribly optimistic

No, they rarely are, said Sirius, closing the book and laying it down on the desk. They re a depressing lot, although very sincere about paying back favors. Which reminds me, he added, sitting down at the desk and putting his chin on his hand. He looked thoughtfully at Lupin. I was thinking of having a birthday party for Harry.

What? said Lupin, startled by this sudden change of subject.

As far as I can tell, he s never had a birthday party, never even had his birthday acknowledged before. And he s going to be seventeen, that s quite an important age Well, by all means have one, said Lupin. What s it got to do with me?

Well, you did teach at Hogwarts, I thought, if you could remember who any of his friends were

Lupin snorted. Don t try to get me involved in party planning, Sirius, he said. The last party I was at was James bachelor party, and that was twenty years ago.

And yet I remember it like it was yesterday, said Sirius, with a grin.

Lupin raised an eyebrow. I d be shocked if you remembered any of it. In my recollection, you got thoroughly pissed, stood on your head in the front garden, and sang eighteen verses of a song entitled I May Be A Tiny Chimney Sweep But I ve Got An Enormous Broom . Then we had to carry you home.

That song, said Sirius with dignity, only has fifteen verses. Then you made up the last three. Did they rhyme? Sirius You brought it up, said Sirius, and made a face. See, that s what I m talking about. How am I supposed to be any sort of moral example to Harry? I never had a moral example when I was his age, except maybe James, and what can I say about that? Be like your father ? He could do a lot worse, said Lupin.

I know, said Sirius. But he s never known his father, so will it really mean anything to him? He sighed. I want him to be happy here, Remus, but I just don t know. I even thought of putting in a Quidditch field in the back garden. There s plenty of room.

I never thought you were much of a Quidditch enthusiast, said Lupin.

No, but I thought it was something Draco and Harry might like to have, said Sirius.

Good Lord, they ll be living here together, won t they? said Lupin, looking as if this novel concept had only just occurred to him. It ll take a lot more than a Quidditch field to keep the peace between those two. I suppose the length of about eight Quidditch fields might do it, mind, if Harry stood on one side and Draco on the other.

Sirius smiled at him. You just don t believe me that they re friends, do you? Lupin shrugged. It s not me you have to convince, he said. It s them. * * *

He walked through the gardens of the tower in the forest, only now it was whole and unruined and the gardens were alive with flowers.
None of it seemed strange to him, only wholly familiar, as if he were revisiting a place he had been many times.
He was eager to get inside, why he wasn t sure. He walked swiftly through the gardens, mounted the steps that he had last seen cracked and broken, and went through the open double doors of the tower into an anteroom hung with tapestries and glowing the candelight.

Hermione was waiting for him there. He knew it was Hermione, although she looked very different. Her hair was plaited on top of her head with thick robes of sparkling emeralds, and she wore a long green silk dress tasselled with gold. She looked almost completely, although not quite entirely, unlike herself. She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as though she kissed him every day.

Hello, love, he heard himself say. It wasn t what he had planned to say. He had wanted to ask her why she was all dressed up, were they going somewhere? But that wasn t what came out when he opened his mouth. Did you miss me?

I always miss you when you re gone, she said, pulled back a little, and made a face. But look you re all bloody. Yes, he heard himself say. It just won t wash out.

She reached up and touched his face, and as she did so, he saw that there was a scar on the inside of her wrist. He tried to lean closer to see it, but his dream-self wasn t cooperating. This are better now, he heard himself say. Aren t they? You mean since you killed him? said Hermione, looking cheerful. Oh, yes. Things are much better now. He jerked away from her. What? Who did I kill? he demanded, and it wasn t his dream-self speaking, it was himself now. He saw her eyes widen in surprise, and then she spun away from him,

vanishing along with the richly decorated staircase, the walls, and the rest of the dream.

He opened his eyes. He was staring at the black night sky carpeted with stars. When he rolled over, he saw that he was lying on the ground at the base of the rock he d been sitting on earlier with Ginny. He had no memory of having fallen asleep there, no memory in fact of even having fallen asleep at all. One of his arms was under his head, the other, stretched out next to him, clutched the hilt of Slytherin s sword.

He sat up slowly, aware that he was drenched in cold sweat. He looked down at the sword. I thought we were done with all that nightmare business, he said to it. Am I ever going to get another peaceful night s sleep as long as I have you? The green jewels in the hilt glittered up at him like winking eyes.

Who did I kill? he asked it. Who did I kill? But he knew.
* * *

Not long after Harry and Charlie had departed, Ginny came into the tent, whistling softly and looking buoyant. Hermione, who had already put on one of Charlie s pullovers and was lying in bed, turned on her side and at looked at Ginny quizzically. You seem awfully cheerful, she said.

Ginny flopped down on the bed opposite her and kicked off her shoes. I am, a bit, she confessed. In fact, there s something I wanted to tell you. She paused, and looked guilty. Although, you re the one who ought to get to talk, she said, hastily. I mean, after what you ve been through No, said Hermione, automatically. No, I really don t want to talk about it.

Ginny crawled under the covers with her clothes on, looking dubious. Are you sure? she asked.

I m completely sure, said Hermione. In fact, if you have something pleasant to tell me, I d love to hear it. I could do with a bit of cheering up.

Okay, said Ginny, and said, very quickly, I think I m starting to fancy Malfoy. What? Hermione almost fell out of bed. How? Why? Are you sure? Ginny blushed as red as her hair. I know, it s sort of weird, she admitted.

Weird? said Hermione, aware that her voice was reaching a slightly higher pitch than she had intended. Ginny, he s I mean, he s not well, he s not very nice, is he? I know, I know. He s unpleasant, cruel, sarcastic, bitter and kind of strange. But I really think I like him. Oh, said Hermione faintly. Are you sure it isn t just the leather outfit? she added hopefully.

No, I liked him before that, said Ginny, and told Hermione about how she had come into his room at the Burrow when he had had a nightmare, and how he had asked her to stay there with him. I

don t know, there was just something about how he asked me to stay. It was the first time I ever felt sympathy for him. Oh, Hermione said again. She was aware that she was battling a strong urge to scream. Well, she said, slowly, Do you do you think he fancies you? Ginny bit her lip. I really don t know, she said. Sometimes I think he might. He s certainly willing to talk to me, which for him is saying something. But then, yesterday And she repeated to Hermione what Draco had said about not needing love or wanting to be fixed, especially not by her. So that was a bit discouraging.

Hermione could feel her stomach knotting in anxiety. Stop that, she told herself furiously. It s none of your business. Actually, it s not discouraging, she said, a bit squeakily. It means he likes you enough not to want you to have unrealistic expectations of him. You have to understand he won t lie. Not about how he feels. He s always, she choked a little on the words, painfully honest.

With emphasis on the painful bit, said Ginny, with a laugh.

Ginny are you sure? I m mean, he s awfully difficult, said Hermione, haltingly.

I m sure, said Ginny, sleepily. I mean, I can say this now, since I don t feel that way any more but after all those years of having a crush on Harry I m sorry, Hermione, but I mean, you already knew that it s just such a relief to have these feelings about somebody else for a change. Somebody who doesn t already have, and now Ginny yawned hugely, a girlfriend

Right, said Hermione, staring wide-eyed at the roof of the tent. She sat up, suddenly, feeling her heart pounding hard against her ribcage, and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Ginny blinked at her sleepily. You getting up?

I forgot, said Hermione hastily. I meant to send an owl I ll be right back. Do you want me to go with you? No no, it s fine.

Ginny didn t respond. She s asleep, thought Hermione, with relief.

Good. She got to her feet and tiptoed across the room to the chair where she had left her clothes neatly folded. She took off Charlie s t-shirt and changed into the red dress she d been wearing for the past few days. She didn t bother looking for her shoes, but went barefoot to the door and slipped through it, closing it carefully behind her.

It was cool outside, but not cold; the air was so clear it seemed transparent. The camp was bathed in milky moonlight; she could see the dim outline of Charlie s tent, and beyond that, the jagged line of trees in the distance.
Charlie had pointed out the where the owls were kept earlier when he had walked her to her tent. She found the small round tent without much trouble, located a diminutive brown owl, and gave it

the letter she had written, addressed to Sirius Black at Malfoy Manor. She walked outside, watching the owl as it flew off over the distant line of trees, a small white speck vanishing into darkness.
And then, as she gazed unhappily out at the dark forest, a flash of silver caught her eye.

She walked towards it, not really thinking about what she was doing or why she was doing it, because she knew she had no good reason for being out here. She threaded her way among the silent, shadowed tents, passed Charlie s tent where Harry was sleeping, passed the pen where the dragons waited, awake, their gold eyes glittering like miniature suns against the dark sky. It might, under other circumstances, have struck her as an eerie and frightening sight, but she barely saw them now. She was going somewhere, she had a purpose, she was looking for

Draco. He was standing in the same clearing that Ginny had found him in earlier, although Hermione couldn t have known that. He had taken off his jacket and was standing with his back to the rock. He seemed to be engaged in hurling Slytherin s sword violently at the trunk of a tree, watching it stick, retrieving it, and repeating the process. He didn t look up as Hermione walked into the clearing, but she saw his shoulders stiffen and knew that he had heard her approach.

Who s there? he called, not turning around. You again, Weasley? Come back for another spot of name-calling? God, I come here to be alone and it s like a bloody rock concert. You ve been fighting with Ron? Hermione asked. Why?

Draco whirled around, a look of surprise flashing across his face as he saw her. Oh, he said. You. He glanced at the sword, sticking at right angles out of the tree trunk, and sighed. Yes, I ve been fighting with Ron, he said. What s new? The Weasleys and the Malfoys have been mortal enemies ever since 1325 when a Malfoy caught a Weasley poaching on his land and snicked off his head with an axe. Sensitive lot, those Weasleys. Ever since then, it s been schoolyard shoving, full- time name-calling, and general loathing all around.

Charlie doesn t loathe you, said Hermione. And Ginny certainly doesn t loathe you. Draco gave her a narrow look. Did she tell you that? Hermione looked at the ground. She might have said something. Draco gave her an even narrower look. You re jealous, he said. Hermione jerked her head up and stared at him. I m not! Oh, yes you are, he said shortly. Which is pretty hilarious, considering. What are you competing for here, Hermione? Grand Prize Winner in the Bitter Irony Sweepstakes? I am not jealous, repeated Hermione furiously.

He backed up a few steps and leaned back against the side of the rock, crossing his arms over his chest. Then why are you here?

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again. Then she said, rather weakly, I was worried

about you. Ginny told me you ve been having nightmares. So you got up to check on me? She told me about the blood, Hermione went on. You know, discorporeal bleeding that could mean a lot of things Dark magic, possession He looked at her, and she felt her knees weaken the way they did when Harry looked at her only this was different, more purely physical and somehow outside herself. It s not real, she told herself angrily.

So you go up to check on whether or not I m possessed? That seems singularly unnecessary. Why are you so angry? she demanded.
He looked exasperated. Why am I angry? Because all day I ve been having to pretend that nothing at all is wrong. Which, frankly, I m used to. But this is getting to be a bit much. I ve been concentrating so hard on not looking at you that I think if I concentrate any harder on it, I ll start bleeding out of my ears.

Well, I m grateful, she said stiffly.

Ah, he replied. Gratitude. The emotion teenage dreams are made of. What do you want me to do? she said angrily.
What do I want you to do? Well, how about and I am starting to wonder here if you slipped some drugs into my food, but never mind how about being honest with Harry? I told you why not

Right, he interrupted. Go to bed, Hermione. You shouldn t be here. No, she said, obstinately.
He blinked at her. Well, either go away or come over here, he said. I m not going to yell across the clearing at you. Rather stiffly, she crossed the space that separated them and leaned against the rock next to him. This is a bad idea, said a little voice in her head.

She ignored it.

I wanted to ask you a question, she said.

And I, of course, have nothing better to do than answer it. Why do you love me? He goggled at her. What?

Why do you love me? I want to know.

For a moment, he was lost for words, a rare circumstance for Draco.

I don t know, Hermione, he said finally. That s like asking me why I m left-handed. Some things don t have a reason. She bit her lip. You re right. I m sorry. I shouldn t have asked.

She looked at him sideways. The silver moonlight fell on his upturned face, his hair, turned his eyes to silver, the shadows under them to black. He was frowning as he said, Why did you ask me that? She shook her head. I don t know.

I do, he said. He turned towards her, resting his right arm against the rock, and put his hand under her chin as he had done before, tilting her head up, forcing her to look at him. You wanted to hear me say that I love you. I just wanted to know why

Well, I do love you, he said. Now, go back to bed. She didn t move.
Not so easy, is it? he said, with bitter triumph. I told you it wouldn t be easy.

It was a little like being in a dream, Hermione thought. Over and over she imagined herself pulling away, walking away from him and from the clearing filled with silver moonlight, walking back to the tent and then reality would snap back in, and she would still be standing here, leaning against the rock with her hands behind her back, because if they weren t behind her back

I have to go, she said. So go, he said.
She heard her own voice, as if from a very great distance away, heard herself say, How can you just let me go? He looked at her. And thought: this isn t real, but it seemed a distant and unimportant sort of thought, not as immediate as the feel of her skin, not as real as the sound of her voice. He had a great deal of self-control, more than most sixteen-year-old boys, more than most people twice his age. But everyone has a breaking point.

Everyone.

I can t, he said, and kissed her.

He caught her by the shoulders and turned her towards him, bringing his mouth down on hers gently at first, but when she didn t pull away the trembling tension in his body altered swiftly and he pulled her towards him. A profound and solemn quietness came over her as if she had walked

into a church, or some great and open space full of light. There was nothing wrong with this. There could be nothing wrong with something that felt so perfectly right, that felt like coming up into air after a long time drowning.
They stumbled backwards, locked together; Hermione felt behind herself for the rock to lean against but missed, and they crumpled together, half-falling, landing on the ground with enough force to knock the air out of Hermione s lungs.

But she didn t care. She felt the weight of him all along her body, pressing her into the ground. Felt herself being crushed, and it hurt, and the rocks digging into her back hurt, and his grip on her shoulders was so tight that it hurt, but she hardly felt the pain. She only felt the galvanic shocks that tore through her nerves as he touched her, fueled by the magic of the potion and the relief of no longer fighting what couldn t be fought. It was almost the same dizzying high that she had felt under the Imperius Curse, only that had been a cold sort of joy and this burned. The pain and the intensity built like a storm in her head; she heard a roaring in her ears, the rush of the blood in her body, felt herself burned, crushed, annihilated, and she wanted it, wanted to disappear entirely into this sensation and forget everything else in the world except for Draco.
She heard his voice in her ear, or maybe it was in her head. Breathy, a little panicked, but shaking with a wild sort of joy. Am I hurting you? Hermione, am I ? Yes, she whispered. Don t stop.

Neither Draco nor Hermione heard the rustle of leaves parting as Ginny turned on her heel and fled the clearing as fast as she could.
She had been worried about Hermione the other girl had been gone so long, surely it couldn t take so long to write a letter. Perhaps she d gotten lost. All the tents did look rather similar, especially in the dark. So Ginny had gotten up, and reached for her cloak, and gone looking.

She paused now to catch her breath, leaning against a tree trunk, half-blinded by tears. God damn Hermione, who did she always get everything, did she have to take everything Ginny had ever wanted?

It wasn t fair. It wasn t

She raised her head slowly, blinking tears from her eyes, and realized where she was. She was standing in front of Harry s tent.
Somewhere inside that tent he was sleeping. She had watched him sleep before, back at the Burrow; he slept like a child, innocent, curled around his pillow, cheeks flushed to roses. It would be so easy to go in there and wake him up and tell him, and together they could storm the clearing in righteous indignation. They would make Draco and Hermione sorry. They would humiliate them.

It would be so easy

Draco had been kissed before, but not like this; he had kissed her before, but not like this. Before, her feelings had never matched his, it had always been him kissing her. Even during their last kiss, under the tree by the lake at school, he had sensed her reluctance, her desire to return to the castle and to Harry. But now, her emotion matched his, all his desire, hope, ardor and confusion mirrored in her own; it was her arm that hooked around his neck, drawing him down to kiss her, her bare feet that locked themselves around the backs of his knees. She slid her hands inside his shirt and he felt her small, cold, delicate fingers against his skin. His heart was trying to bang its way out of his ribcage and he couldn t get enough air, but it didn t matter. All that mattered was her, her whispers against his mouth, his hands tangled in her hair; she was saying his name over and over, a feverish and desperate whisper and she wanted him, and more than that. She loved him. He could feel it in the way she had looked at him, and even more in the shuddering tension of her grip on his arms. She loved him.

And then a sharp, unwelcome voice in the back of his mind spoke.

You shouldn t be doing this. It s not right. Draco was outraged. Not right?
You should stop.

I m not going to stop. It s a miracle, that s what this is, one chance in a thousand, and you want me to just give it up?

The small, cold voice in his head sounded smug now. It s what Harry would do. I m not Harry! I don t want to be Harry!
For a moment, the cold voice was silenced, and he tightened his arms around Hermione. He kissed her mouth, kissed her eyes, kissed her throat and the fluttering pulse there. He could actually hear her heart beating, he had never really been close enough to her before to hear it like that. Had never been close enough to anyone to hear it like that.

The voice spoke again, and now it was very, very cold. When they take the spell off her, she ll hate you for this. She ll hate you forever.
He froze. Hermione looked up at him, brushing hair out of her dazed eyes. Draco, is everything all right? No, he said, and rolled off her, landing on his back in the grass. We can t be doing this. He heard her sharp intake of breath. What? Why? You know why, he said, staring fixedly up at the sky. He had a feeling that if he turned at looked at her, even once, his conviction would dissolve like so much smoke. It s not real, he said leadenly.
This isn t you.

She reached out. He felt her cool hand against his face. I love you, she said. He closed his eyes. No, he said. No, you don t. It hurts, she whispered.

I know, he said, with a spark of anger, You think I don t know? The difference between what you feel and what I feel Is what?

Is that you can tell yourself that what you re feeling isn t real, and you can get rid of it with a spell. And I can t. Now get out of here, Hermione. I mean it. Get the hell out of here. He heard her sharp intake of breath, heard her getting to her feet. You re right, she said, in a muffled voice. I m sorry Don t apologize, he said. Just leave.

She didn t say anything at all after that. He turned over and buried his face in his arms, listening through the ground to the echo of her footfalls as she walked away, growing fainter and fainter and finally fading altogether into silence.

Lupin took his glasses off and rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes. He felt half-blind with exhaustion, but at the same time utterly unable to sleep. Brilliant moonlight poured in through the windows, tinted pale green and pale blue by the stained glass, throwing moving blocks of color over his hands as he turned the pages of book after book.

He was sitting behind the desk in what had once been Lucius Malfoy s library, engaged in what seemed more and more like a fruitless search for some way of translating the centaur s book.
Guides to dead languages lay strewn across the desk and floor, but not one of them had yielded up any kind of Rosetta Stone that might allow him to make sense of the meaningless squiggles.
It was a cramp in his shoulder than finally prompted him to move.

He stood up, stretching his arms out, and as he did, he knocked the centaur s book to the floor. Sighing, he reached down to pick it up.

As he lifted it, it fell open to the last page of text. Only it wasn t just text. There was an illustration there as well.
Lupin sat down rather suddenly, staring at the open book in utter disbelief.

He had no idea how long he might have sat there, staring. His spellbound astonishment was finally interrupted by the sound of the library door swinging open.

It was Sirius, in black silk pajamas, blinking sleepily. Moony, what the hell are you doing up? he said, without preamble. It s the middle of the night. Lupin didn t reply. He was still staring, astonished, down at the book in front of him.

I know you re a night creature, added Sirius, with a tired grin. But you should really get some sleep. Lupin cleared his throat, trying to force his voice to function. You re awake, he pointed out.
Because I got an owl, said Sirius. Landed on my head. Woke me up. From Harry? No. Hermione Granger, said Sirius. It s quite a letter. He held it up for Lupin to see. Five sheets of parchment.

What did she have to say? asked Lupin, who had an odd sort of feeling that he already knew.

What didn t she have to say? said Sirius. She wanted to tell me what happened. She says that she was kidnapped by a wizard claiming to be Salazar Slytherin. Wormtail was working for him. He dragged her off to some ruin in the forest and Harry and Draco found her there. A wizard claiming to be Slytherin? echoed Lupin, eyebrows raised.

Well, anyone can go around claiming to be Slytherin, said Sirius defensively. You d be surprised. I can t tell you, back when I was an Auror, how many puny-looking vampires I dispatched who went around calling themselves Dracula and Lestat.

More to the point, said Lupin, What did this wizard want with Hermione?

That s where it gets interesting, said Sirius. Apparently he elaborated on this very baroque mythology, involving Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor, several demons She s telling the truth, Sirius, said Lupin, shortly.

Well, of course she is. Hermione wouldn t lie. I m just saying that grown men who kidnap teenage girls and drag them off to forest hideaways usually have one thing on their minds. Maybe he thought telling her that he was Salazar Slytherin would impress her.

And maybe he really was Salazar Slytherin, said Lupin. The prophecy said he would come back. The centaurs say he s back. One by one, the creatures he brought into existence the dementors, the veelas, the vampires are vanishing. And we know that Peter that Wormtail always flees to the shadow of the most powerful wizard. And what other wizard could be more powerful than Voldemort?

Sirius looked dubious.

Why on earth is she telling you all this, Sirius? Lupin added.

Sirius looked more dubious. I m not exactly sure, he said. She seems to be convinced that Slytherin has some kind of connection to To Draco? said Lupin.

Yes, said Sirius. She s convinced he s in some kind of danger, but she doesn t want me to tell him that she thinks so. She says that when they confronted Slytherin, Draco greeted him like like he knew who he was.

Maybe he did know, said Lupin. He is a descendent of Slytherin, isn t he? And I told you about that prophecy, that Slytherin will rise and with the help of his descendent, will wreak havoc and terror on the wizarding world? You can t tell me you think Draco s going to go around wreaking havoc and terror on the wizarding world, said Sirius doubtfully. He s only sixteen.

I didn t say that, said Lupin. But things are beginning to fall into place.

Sirius looked at him dubiously. Please tell me that place is somewhere near this place, he said. Because I am not following you. Lupin looked back at the book he was holding and said, Sirius, have you ever seen a picture of the Founding Four? Well, I ve seen portraits, statues and the like.

But never a portrait of them when they were young. Sirius stared at him. What are you getting at? Come here, said Lupin, and beckoned him over. Sirius got to his feet and came around behind Lupin s chair. He followed his friend s gaze down to the desk, where the book the centaurs had given him lay open to its last page. Half the page was taken up with more unreadable squiggles. The lower half of the page was an illustration.

Yellowed with age, the parchment looked so ancient that it surely would have fallen apart if it had not been held together by spells.

But it was, and the illustration, done with bold strokes of ink, stood out plain and clear. It was a group portrait of four people. That s Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin, Lupin said.
Sirius stared. Whoever the unknown artist of the portrait had been, they had captured not just the appearance but the spirit of all four.

Salazar stood with his chin raised, looking arrogant; Rowena looked thoughtful, Helga ebullient, and Godric faced the observer with a direct and challenging gaze. He knew why Lupin had showed him this. There was, in all their faces, a definite resemblance to four children that he knew. It wasn t

physically obvious, but it was there, in their eyes, the way they held themselves, the way they stood.
What does it mean? said Sirius.

You know what? said Lupin. I ve absolutely no idea.

When Hermione returned to the tent and sat down on the bed, she found that she was shaking with reaction, almost as if she d just had some sort of terrible scare. She could still feel the potion coursing through her body like poison, knotting her stomach with confusion and anxiety. She leaned forward and put her face in her hands.

Hermione? said Ginny s voice.

Hermione whipped her hands away from her face and sat up. I m sorry. Did I wake you up? No, said Ginny. I was awake. In fact, I was worried about you, so I went looking for you. There was a short silence.
Hermione said, Well, I m fine.

Yes, said Ginny. I rather think you are.

It was as if a fist had squeezed her heart. She knows. Ginny

If you tell me, said Ginny, in a very cold voice, that that wasn t what it looked like, I will kill you. Hermione bit back the words that sprang to her lips, and whispered instead, I wish I could explain.

I don t want an explanation, said Ginny. I want to forget I ever saw anything. I m sorry, said Hermione, in a whisper.
It s not me you should apologize to, said Ginny. It s Harry. I almost told him, you know. I stood outside his tent, wondering if I should tell him. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, God.

But I didn t, Ginny said finally. Her tone was tense and distant. Relief flooded through Hermione, but it was short-lived.
I decided you should be the one to tell him, Hermione, Ginny snapped. And you d better. I ll make sure that you do.

I can t, said Hermione. You don t understand.

Shut up. I don t want to talk to you. Now, or ever again.

In the morning, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny met in front of Charlie s tent with their broomsticks. They were a glum and silent group, Ron looking sulky, and Ginny and Hermione avoiding each other s gaze. Harry glanced around worriedly.
Where s Malfoy? He must have gotten up before we did, because he wasn t in the tent this morning. He knows we re supposed to leave now.

Ginny glanced at Hermione, who was looking white and ill, and staring off fixedly in the other direction.
I dunno, said Ron, sourly. I vote we leave him here and he can catch up later. We can t find the Manor without him, said Harry crossly. It s unplottable. Ginny sighed. I think I know where he is, she said, dropping her broomstick on the ground. They all glanced at her, Ron with a question in his eyes, Harry with curiosity, and Hermione with an anguished sort of pleading look, which Ginny ignored. I ll go get him, she said. I ll be right back.

She was conscious of Ron s eyes following her as she walked away, and felt bitterly resentful. He s got no call to be so suspicious of me, she thought. If he only knew-
She emerged into the clearing where she had seen Draco and Hermione the night before. She saw the sword first, its green jewels glittering in the morning light, stuck blade-first into an oak tree.

Then she looked down and saw Draco, curled up on the ground, his head on his arms, apparently asleep. She approached him slowly. He had taken off his jacket and used it as a pillow; his hair looked very white against the black material. His eyes were closed; she could see dark blue shadows under them, as if he were exhausted. He looked pathetic, and altogether rather endearing.

Right, said Ginny, drew her foot back, and kicked him hard in the ribs.

He yelled and rolled over, clutching at his midsection. Ouch! he gasped, looking up at her. Ginny! What did you that for ? Get up, she said savagely. We re all waiting for you. He blinked at her, and sat up, leaning back on his hands. Oh, for God s sake, she said, glaring at him.
What? he said, still blinking tiredly.

You have bite marks all over your neck, she said, in a wintry tone. What were you two doing last

night, chewing on each other? Never mind, don t answer that.

Draco put his hand to his neck, quickly. Would you believe me if I said I was attacked by an angry squirrel? he asked.
Would that be the same squirrel that ate the buttons off your shirt? replied Ginny acidly.

Draco glanced down at himself. Bloody hell, he said. He looked up at Ginny. Does everybody know about last night? Nobody knows but me, said Ginny, with loathing. And I wish I didn t. I m not going to tell Harry, she added, forestalling his question. Not for your benefit, but because he deserves better friends than you.

Draco didn t say anything, just stood up and brushed the dirt off his clothes. Then, as Ginny watched, he ran his left hand down the front of his shirt. When he took it away, a neat row of buttons held the front together. He looked at her.

You know some medical magic, he said. Don t you? Yes, said Ginny, knowing what was coming.
You can fix my neck, he said. Will you?

Ginny felt her teeth grinding together in rage. Malfoy I can t do it myself, he said, still looking at her steadily.
Ginny closed her hand around the wand in her pocket, took a deep breath, and said. All right. Stand still. He obeyed her as she approached him and reached up to pull the collar of his shirt aside.
She bent his head to the side, took her wand and ran it over his neck, and the marks on his skin vanished. She stepped back and surveyed her work.

You look fine, she said.

Thanks, he said, reaching down to pick up his sword from the ground. He straightened up to find her looking at him, her arms crossed over her chest.
Just so you know, I m not doing this for you, she said. I m doing this because I don t want to see Harry hurt. Really? Draco looked at her with an expression she couldn t quite read anger? Amusement? Guilt? Nothing at all? Better keep your eyes shut, then, he said, and walked away from her, back towards where the others were waiting with their broomsticks.
* * *

Sirius attempt to be stern and disciplinary was summarily ruined by the fact that when Draco,

Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny walked into the anteroom at Malfoy Manor, holding their broomsticks and looking wary, Sirius burst out laughing. Draco! he exclaimed.
What are you wearing?

Draco looked down blankly, then back up again. Charlie s clothes, he said. Ha! said Sirius, or something very like it, and proceeded to fall about laughing.
I think he looks sweet, said Narcissa, who had been standing beside Sirius on the stairs with her arms folded. Unable to suppress a smile, she uncrossed them, walked down the stairs, threw her arms around Draco, and kissed him on the forehead.

Mum! he exclaimed, looking only marginally less horrified than he had when confronted with Salazar Slytherin.
Those trousers can t be comfortable, she said. They re so They re fine, he said, through his teeth.
Meanwhile, Harry was looking at Sirius in astonishment. He had rarely seen Sirius laugh so hard. Sirius caught his glance, and saw the surprise in it and the anxiety as well. He stopped laughing, came down the stairs, and stood looking at Harry for a moment, noting with a pang that Harry was now nearly as tall as he was.

Hallo, Sirius, said Harry, looking nervous.

Sirius stood still, looking at his godson, seeing Harry s green eyes widen with anxiety behind his glasses. Then he leaned forward, and as Narcissa had done with her son, kissed Harry on the forehead.
Welcome home, Harry, he said.

It took several hours of everyone talking over everyone else in loud, excitable voices for Sirius and Lupin to even begin to sort out the story of what had been going on.
They were all in the library (except for Narcissa, who had remained downstairs to talk to the Aurors who had come to pick up the last of Lucius Dark Arts collection.) It was early afternoon now, and the stained-glass windows threw dizzying patches of colored light over everyone as Hermione, the last and the most reluctant to speak, told them what she could remember of what had happened to her. Lupin stood with his hands clenched on the side of the desk while Sirius listened with his eyes narrowed and his fingers templed under his chin.

When Hermione had finished, Sirius lowered his hands to the desk and shook his head. Well, he said. You ve all been through quite a bit. And you ve all, he added, been very brave, if somewhat over-impetuous. But I think you also know that this situation reaches far beyond you. It s very, very serious.

Hermione closed her eyes. A terrible pounding headache had begun just behind her forehead. Vaguely, she heard Sirius say,
The real issue of course, is whether that actually was Salazar Slytherin, and if so

Of course he was Slytherin, said Draco, in a tight voice. Who else would he have been?

That is the question, said Sirius. We can t discount that this could be some plan of Voldemort s. He might think that the name of Slytherin would strike such fear into the That wasn t Voldemort, interrupted Draco, again. Voldemort would have killed us if he d had us right there like that. He wouldn t have let us go.

The Dark Lord wouldn t have wanted you, put in Ron, rather unexpectedly. He would have wanted Harry. Maybe that s why he let you go. If he d kidnapped Hermione, he would have expected Harry to show up. Not, he added, with distaste, you. Right, said Hermione, irritably. Because Voldemort reads Witch Weekly and knows all about my love life.

Besides, I ve met Voldemort, added Draco, in a rather tense voice. And that wasn t him.

Sometimes, said Ron, leaning forward and looking at Draco with mock earnestness, you know, villains, they actually disguise themselves. In fact, they re known for it. It was Salazar Slytherin! shouted Draco with sudden and unexpected violence. Doubt all you like, he will make you regret it He broke off.

Everyone was staring at him.

Harry was the first to break the silence. Malfoy, he said. Are you feeling all right? I m fine, said Draco, although he looked startled.
Are you sure? said Sirius, looking at him with concern.

You d better tell them, Sirius, said Lupin, suddenly. He had been very quiet up until that point and was looking uneasy.

Sirius glanced over at Lupin, and then back at Harry and the rest.

Tomorrow, Professor Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge are coming here to talk to you, he said, to all of them. As I said before, this is a serious situation. Perhaps we can leave further speculation until then I m sorry, said Hermione suddenly, and stood up. I m not feeling well. She was aware of Harry glancing up at her, and of the room swinging around her in a coruscating blur of colors, but mostly she was aware of the pain in her head. It felt like two hot red pokers were pressed against the

backs of her eyeballs. It s my head.

She was vaguely aware of a murmur of voices, and of Harry s voice in particular. She heard herself tell him that she was fine, just tired.
She heard Lupin say something in a worried tone about shock and stress, and she heard Sirius say that she should lie down. Then she was aware of a hand on her arm, and that the hand seemed to be attached to Draco. I ll show her where one of the bedrooms is, he said. She thought about protesting, but her head hurt too much. She heard Harry push his chair back, and then heard Sirius say, Harry, wait just a minute, and was, guiltily, briefly thankful that Harry couldn t follow her.

Draco turned her towards the door. Her vision cleared a little as they crossed the room. As they passed by Lupin, she saw him recoil sharply back from Draco. She blinked in surprise, glancing back over her shoulder. Now why would he do that? she wondered, as the library door closed behind them.

Harry, would you not fidget for just one second? said Sirius exasperated.

Harry made a concerted effort to sit still. He was worried about Hermione, she had looked extremely pale and ill just now. And, of course, sending her off with Malfoy to look at bedrooms didn t sit too well with him either.
Sirius looked at Ron and Ginny. I owled your parents this morning, he said.

Ron and Ginny let out identical wails of horror. Sirius! said Ron, looking betrayed. How could you? Despite himself, Harry felt a small smile creep across his mouth. Ron wasn t used to the new, more parental Sirius; he was used to a Sirius on the run from authorities, a Sirius who lived in a cave, ate rats, and never, ever, owled anyone s parents.

Well, I haven t heard back yet, said Sirius.

Maybe the owl got lost, said Ron, hopefully. Maybe it couldn t find them on holiday. Ron, owl post doesn t go missing, said Ginny, irritably.
But, in the meantime, you can dream, pointed out Sirius.

And we might as well tell you, Harry, said Lupin, walking over to the desk and looked at Harry with his arms crossed, that you ve been expelled from Magid school. Harry made a sort of choking noise. Expelled?

Well, Lupin pointed out gently, you did break about thirty school rules, run away while classes were in session, and destroy school property.

Expelled, Harry repeated, looking horrified. Then he glanced up at Lupin, and asked, Is Malfoy

expelled, too?

Er, yes, said Lupin, blinking in surprise. Good, said Harry, with immense satisfaction.
Really, Harry, is that all you care about? said Sirius, looking amused. Well, said Harry. Actually. Yeah. Sirius looked at him and said, Harry. If you really hate him, you don t have to live here with him, you know. There was a short, acute silence. Ron and Ginny glanced away, as did Lupin. And Harry looked merely astonished. Finally he said, in a startled sort of voice, I don t hate him. He looked around, a bit defensively, and shrugged. I don t. Sirius looked over at Lupin, unable to conceal a slightly triumphant smile. Ron looked dubious. And Ginny suddenly bolted to her feet, announced in a strangled sort of voice that she wanted to check on Hermione, and left the room.
* * *

As soon as the library door shut behind them, Hermione wrenched her arm out of Draco s grasp and glared at him.

What are you doing? she hissed.

Taking you to your room, he said, and started to walk down the corridor. She followed him, scowling. You know we shouldn t be alone together. Correction. You shouldn t be alone with me. I can control myself perfectly well around you.

Oh, so that was just me last night, she began waspishly, realized how she sounded, and stopped. Never mind. It s not your fault, I know you didn t choose this. Just what Freud would have said, only possibly without that know-it-all attitude.

Hermione was relieved to note that the love potion did not prevent her from becoming very, very angry. What is your problem? she snapped. As if we don t have enough to deal with. We? he echoed, and stopped dead, glaring at her. This is not my problem. This is your problem. These are your friends. These are your lies. You, he said, and now his voice snapped with anger, have to realize, Hermione, that there are repercussions. There are consequences to your actions. There are

What on earth are you talking about?

He threw his hands up in exasperation. Forget it, he said. I m leaving, anyway.

Leaving?

Leaving, he said, and started to back down the corridor, away from her. I ve got an errand to do. She stared at him. You can t just go, she protested. Sirius Draco shrugged. So cover for me. What?

Cover for me. I ve been covering for you since yesterday. Now you cover for me. I ll be back later, maybe tonight. Just stall them if they ask for me. Where am I supposed to tell them you ve gone? You re clever, said Draco. You ll think of something. He turned and began to walk away from her, down the corridor.

I won t make up lies for you! she called after him, her voice cracking a little.

He glanced back at her over his shoulder, and shrugged. Really? he said, with immense disdain. And here I thought you loved me.

Knotting her hands into fists of rage, she watched him go without another word. Then she turned around, and realized, to her horror, that she was completely lost. She stared around her. She was in a hallway lined with portraits, much like the other dozens of hallways in the Manor. And she had been so preoccupied by her argument with Draco that she had no recollection whether she had come from the left, or the right. With a mental shrug of despair, she turned right and walked down a narrow corridor, trying to remember if any of the portraits looked familiar. It was hard to tell portrait after portrait of pale, blond, arrogant-looking Malfoys stared back at her.

And they all, she thought hopelessly, looked rather the same.

She turned one corner, and then another, and came out into a hallway she was positive she had never seen before. And there, standing in the middle of the hallway, was Ginny.
Ginny glanced up and saw her, and her eyes darkened. She started to turn around to walk away, but Hermione, who was starting to feel as if everyone had begun to hate her, caught at her hand. Ginny, don t. Leave it alone, Hermione. I don t want to talk to you. You don t understand. It really wasn t what it looked like. Now Ginny looked anxious. This is really isn t the time to Well, when is the time? Hermione snapped, her voice rising. The pain in her head made her own voice sound shrill in her ears. I have to explain to you, otherwise I ll be panicking all the time that

you ll tell Harry. And you can t tell Harry, you have to promise me

Hermione, no, Ginny interrupted, shaking her head at Hermione, but Hermione ignored her.

Ginny, I promise you, I swear that this is important. I ve never lied to him before, do you think I would lie to him about just anything? Hermione! Shut up! Ginny exploded, but it was too late. The door she had been standing in front of opened, and with a shock that felt like the bottom of her stomach had fallen out, Hermione saw Ron standing there, staring at both of them with astonishment. Behind him she could see the familiar room, the desk, the rows of books, the glass windows somehow she had come in a full circle and wound up back at the library. And it was quite evident from the expression on Ron s face that Lucius library did not have soundproofing. What, said Ron, looking from Hermione to his sister, are you two yelling about?

I, said Ginny tightly, was not yelling.

Hermione cleared her throat. She was beginning to feel something she had never felt before in her life.
Stupid.

It s nothing, she said.

The hell it s nothing, said Ron, and broke off as another hand took hold of the door he was holding and swung it wide.

Harry.

She could vaguely see the shapes of Lupin and Sirius behind him, couldn t make out their expressions, and didn t really care. She was looking at Harry, and seeing not just Harry when she did, but the wreck of the fragile structure she had been trying so hard to preserve.
This can t be happening.

You re lying to me? Harry said, looking at her with surprise and a dawning sort of dismay. Lying to me about what?

Are you sure about this? asked the wizard guard, looking anxiously at the boy in front of him. His face was familiar to him from pictures in the Daily Prophet, and of course the resemblance was there, as well. But the pictures hadn t shown such a cold, set expression. Nor had it shown the fear in the boy s eyes. If you don t mind my saying, you don t look all that well

I m perfectly fine, said the boy, in the ringingly superior tones of someone used to getting his own way. Although he was wrapped in a floor-length black travelling cloak, and it was not a cold day, his teeth were chattering. I m authorized, is that correct? Well, of course you are, but

And you ll be watching? Yes. Then let me in.

All right, said the guard, and took out his wand. The lock on the heavy iron door was less a lock that series of magical wards that required a sequence of spells to remove. The process took several moments, during which the boy stood glaring at him, pale and impatient-looking.
Are you done yet? he demanded.

Yes, said the guard, and pushed the door open. The boy went through without looking at him, and the door shut behind him. As it did, it became transparent, so that the guard could watch what transpired in the room, although its occupants could not see out.
It took Draco s eyes several moments to adjust to the half-light inside the cell. There were no windows, nor were there any lamps.
The light that there was seemed to come from the walls, dimly blue and phosphorescent. By its glow, he made out the shape of the small, square room, a mattress on the floor, and a low table set against a wall. A man sat at the table, holding a book in his lap. He had raised his head when the door opened, and his eyes fell on Draco with a cold and calculating look altogether lacking in surprise.
I knew you d come eventually, he said.

Draco felt his hands knot together tightly under his cloak. Hello, Father, he said.