Hermione wasn't sure how long she'd been wandering. She had hoped to catch a glimpse of the potions master, who was still staunchly avoiding her despite her upcoming detention. It was foolish to think he would ever apologize to her, but a part of her thought they understood each other, two people bound by a war neither of them asked for. She saw his supply of dreamless sleep. There was no way that man got more than four hours of sleep a night. Besides, he had been so kind to her that night in his quarters, something in his gaze convincing her that he cared. At the very least, he wasn't indifferent. The longer she swept through the castle, the more idiotic she felt. Perhaps she had imagined it. If Dumbledore hadn't asked him, Snape wouldn't care for her at all.

She really should start borrowing the cloak, even if it meant more questions from Harry that she couldn't answer. Of all people, he should understand what she was going through, but he was too focused on monopolizing any and all trauma derived from being a teenager handed the fate of the war. At least Draco didn't demand her assurance that his problems were worse than hers.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione was oblivious to the heated whispers until she was almost upon them. She couldn't afford another week of detention at this point and she would rather avoid Filch's smug self-satisfaction if possible. Before she could be discovered, Hermione tucked herself away into a shadowy alcove, fervently praying to whatever sentience the castle carried to keep her hidden.

"Draco, for the love of Merlin, stop whining! There will be time for regret and tears later. It is imperative to stay as reserved as possible until we are finished with the headmaster," Snape's low baritone carried into the quiet passageway, trailed by the muffled sobs of the blonde walking beside him.

Hermione pressed further against the wall, the chill of the cold stone oozing through her thick robes. What was he talking about? Why would they need to see Dumbledore at this time of night? And why was Draco crying? She had never seen him shed as much as a tear, even after she slammed her fist into his face third year. The pair advanced down the hall, leaving muddy footprints in their wake.

"I'm sorry sir. I've never—It felt different somehow. Being so close to them, out in the open like that. They deserved better. It's my fault, for parading around with Granger, letting the whole bloody school see me pratically begging Potter for an apology," Draco said, his words hoarse and strange, far from his usual clipped accent.

"It is not your fault. I should have done more to protect you, to prepare you for the many pointless and barbaric tests the dark lord will put you through to prove your loyalty. I never expected him to call you away while at school."

Hermione tried desperately to swallow the panic steadily climbing her throat, willing herself to be still. Harry couldn't be right. Could he? Was Draco desperate enough? Was Voldemort desperate enough? Maybe he was a spy like Professor Snape. A month ago she wou ld have easily believed in Draco as a purely evil person, but she swore that there was a certain vulnerability he had near her that couldn't be fake.

The men drew closer, overcoming her hiding spot and continuing toward the corridor that led to the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office. Hermione tried to gather her courage, determined to follow them. Not that she could eavesdrop much longer, but she needed to know if she had been played for a fool. Before she could creep towards them, Snape turned and stared into the darkness, directly towards the shadows she clung to. Hermione's breath caught, heart sinking as she saw the glossy copper stains spattered across the hook of his nose, curving beneath his chin and soaking the front of his robes. Whoever Draco cried for was no longer alive.

Professor Snape narrowed his eyes, dark pools in the pale moonlight. Hermione nearly took her chances and ran, but he only shook his head and grabbed Draco's arm, nearly dragging him down the hall and out of sight, as if he suddenly understood the urgency of wandering the school grounds soaked in blood.

Filch be damned, Hermione took off into the darkness, hurtling towards Gryffindor common room and the warm safety of her bed curtains, not caring who saw her or what trouble she was in. Whatever took her far away from the darkness living in her newfound friendships and the questions they rose.

Leaning against the cool marble column in Dumbledore's office, Draco felt like he was going to vomit all over the gleaming floor. As if in answer, Severus not so subtly kicked an ornamental trash can in his direction. Draco nodded gratefully and sunk into one of the chintz armchairs kept at the edge of the sunken floor, taking the trash can with him. He felt the headmaster's stern gaze boring into him, most likely trying to bypass his occlumency shields, a habit he was made constantly aware of at every meal when he glanced up and found the older man's steel pupils trained on him. Whatever. He didn't much care what the old man thought of him. He wasn't a Gryffindor and already agreed to murder him. Draco wasn't exactly a sterling example of Hogwarts ideals, unlike Potter and his loud mouth.

"He is escalating faster than I expected, Severus. Torture and humiliation are to be expected. But murder? On muggle lands? Risking Mr. Malfoy's discovery? It is unlike him to be so utterly reckless."

"I wouldn't say it is unlike him. This is the same wizard who had a bridge full of muggles dumped into the Thames fairly recently," Severus snorted, perching uncomfortably on the chaise lounge across from Draco.

Draco held back the delirious laughter rising within him at the sight of his godfather doing his best not to drape himself across the garish pink couch. He should have lost the ability to laugh in between the muggles' screams and vomiting his guts out somewhere in Ireland but unfortunately his brain seemed to have lost all sense of rationality.

"Severus. Please attempt to be serious. I severely underestimated Tom's interest in Miss Granger. I thought our efforts at house unity would reach his ears at the end of the term if not the summer holidays." Dumbledore leaned against the gleaming mahogany desk, his blackened hand only half-concealed.

"If Draco had not so brazenly fought Mr. Goyle in front of half of his class, the dark lord may not have seen this coming. However, it is frankly impossible to win Miss Granger's trust and allow her to be bullied by any child with death eater sympathies. The children aren't stupid, Albus, and frankly, they are choosing sides"

Dumbledore sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, though Draco secretly suspected the old man never truly slept. He had never been a fan of the headmaster, even before he arrived for his first day at Hogwarts. Years of his father's endless ranting about the famous wizard and his prejudice towards Slytherin house had left him with a laundry list of inherited grudges and a score to settle.

That didn't mean he was interested in taking him out. As a younger man, Draco imagined participating in the bloody rituals of death eater lore, taking pleasure in punishing those lesser than his great family. But what was so great about it? Hoarding money and growing lonelier in his empty manor. Playing house for an increasingly senile dark lord. He didn't want to inherit another regime of bloodshed and frivolous parties.

"Draco? The headmaster asked you a question." Severus glared down at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry, sir. My mind seems to be unraveling tonight" Draco muttered, clenching his robes.

"No matter, Mr. Malfoy. I merely asked if anyone has been particularly inquisitive regarding your friendship with Miss Granger. Or the events of your last Hogsmeade weekend? I worry you are no longer the only young death eater in Hogwarts"

Draco frowned, shifting in the armchair. All of the furniture in here was too fucking soft to be properly comfortable. The truth was that there were hardly any Slytherins left who deigned to speak to him. Even before he apologized to the sacred trio, his father's stint in azkaban colored him with failure. Goyle hadn't made a peep after attacking Granger.

"No, sir. Not that I can remember. Anyone could have brought it to his attention. I wish I could be of more help."

Dumbledore nodded but Draco could see the distrust written in his gaze. Severus warned him it would be this way. Twenty years on and his godfather was still begging for his trust.

"Severus, we need to find a way to protect Miss Granger. Voldemort's interest in her is more than concerning. Perhaps I should call off your tutelage."

"I hardly think that will be necessary, Albus. In the event that Potter will need to flee, she needs to be ready as well. He won't prepare. I can introduce defense training into our sessions. The dark lord will grow suspicious if suddenly I am no longer responsible for her. We must find a way to make Miss Granger useful to him. He will not lose interest." Snape looked suddenly ten years older, worry gathering in his pale features. Draco couldn't remember a time he ever saw the man smile.

"Very well. We will discuss this further. At the moment, my concern lies in Mr. Malfoy's care. It is too late for answers."

A quick tapping at one of the many stained glass windows brought Draco suddenly to his feet, heart thudding along with it. Severus cast him a quizzical look but was distracted by the owl Dumbledore let into the quiet office, a small scroll dangling from its ankle.

Albus quietly thanked the owl, scattering a handful of treats across his desk, rolling beneath the scattered papers piled on the wood.

His good hand easily unfurled the parchment, eyes darkening as they flickered across the missive. "Severus, please take Mr. Malfoy to the dungeon at once. You must not be seen."

Snape snatched the parchment only to drop it a moment later, as if burned. "Albus, we cannot possibly keep this from her."

"That decision is at my discretion Severus. Take Mr. Malfoy to his quarters. We will deal with this in the morning. I will inform Miss Granger myself."

Severus glared at the headmaster, standing nearly half a foot taller than the wizened old man.

"Please, Severus."

"Fine. Come, Draco."

Snape threw open the oak doors with a bang, the thick wool of his cloak flying around the corner as he stormed down the passage. Draco scurried after him, raising his hand in an awkward wave to Dumbledore as he fought to keep up with his head of house.

"Severus! What was all that about? Inform Granger of what?" Draco panted, trying to keep his voice down.

Snape whirled to face him, eyes flashing in the pale moonlight streaming down the corridor.

"Those muggles were her parents Draco. We murdered her parents."