SEPTEMBER 3RD, 1997

Sunlight woke Ginny up for the first time in weeks. Beams of light streamed in through the window, and she squirmed in bed, pulling the pillow over her head. She didn't want to get up yet.

Obligingly, the room darkened, and panic shot through Ginny's stomach.

"No!" she cried out, sitting bolt upright in bed. She had just gotten the window back, she couldn't lose it again—

And she hadn't. The room had just closed the curtains. Ginny sighed and covered her face with her hands. She was so tired of being afraid of everything, like she was always on the precipice of falling apart. Like she could lose absolutely everything at any given moment.

Draco? she asked. Are you awake?

There was no response, and Ginny bit her lip. He had been hurt so, so badly yesterday— it made sense that he would need to rest. He was just asleep, which was perfectly normal. She would try again in a little while, maybe once she had eaten something. Lucius had taken him home, and Lucius would not allow Draco to…

Die. She could scarcely form the word in her own mind. It was an impossibility. It couldn't be allowed.

And, in any event, she felt certain that she would know if it had happened. The bridge, and Draco's door, looked and felt the same as they always did. She didn't know how the landscape of their bond would change if something happened to one of them, but she was sure that it would. No, he was just sleeping… resting and recovering. As he should.

A plate of food appeared on the small, round dining table, and Ginny stumbled out of bed toward it. In truth, she didn't feel very hungry, but she would be damned if she let herself lose muscle mass again. Working out, and regaining her old strength, was another reminder that her present circumstances were only temporary. She was still fighting, even though from the outside it looked like she was growing quite accustomed to life in captivity.

It had been four months, in one way or another. Nearly a month with Rookwood, two at Malfoy Manor, and then just over a month here again. How much longer would it be? Draco was researching for her, and had even recruited Blaise Zabini to help— without revealing anything critical, of course— but other than finding the standing stones that Alys had used, he hadn't found much of anything substantial. He might find something critical tomorrow, or it could take another year for all they knew.

Her blood ran cold, Tom's smirking face filling her mind. She couldn't wait that long. Maybe that would be something she would talk to Draco about today— how long they would spend continuing to research, and at what point they would say to hell with it and she would just attempt to contact Alys again anyway. Alys might very well refuse to help, but they couldn't endlessly go in circles researching if they weren't getting anywhere.

She hadn't dreamed of Alys in a long time now. The dreams did seem to come and go, ever since they had started, but Ginny had the strong suspicion that her nightly Voldemort dreams quashed any possibility of an Alys dream breaking through, which was frustrating in its own right— what if a dream held the information she was looking for, and she couldn't dream of anything except Voldemort ever again?

That was a disturbing idea. Her mind flashed, as it often did, on his threat to dose her with Draught of Living Death, effectively trapping her in his nightmare world forever. In truth, he needed no other threat. He lorded her family's captivity over her every chance he got, which gave her eight very, very good reasons to obey him, but even if he were to let them all free tomorrow… it wouldn't change her own circumstances at all. If he gave her that potion, it would be game over— no way to contact Draco, no dreams of Alys, no nothing, except whatever he decided to give her.

Her breakfast finished, she wandered over to the window to look outside, her mind on last night's dream. What had gone wrong, right at the end? She had been sure that he was going to reach for her, and he had started to, but it was like someone had thrown cold water over the whole scenario, ruining her spell. She would have to observe those reactions more closely— maybe his own tells of Occlumency? Draco's were in his eyes and his tone of voice. What were Voldemort's? And, more to the point, why would he need to use Occlumency in the first place when she was not a Legilimens and, in fact, didn't have access to any magic at all?

There was something there, and something with the repeated items in the dream— something secret, something special. She pondered the ones she hadn't seen in real life— the cup, the locket, and the diadem— as she looked outside, and soon the room transformed the base of the window into a lovely cushioned alcove for her to sit in. She curled up into it, and the room supplied a cozy lap blanket before levitating the sketchbook over to her.

She sighed as it dropped into her lap. The room often did this. If she didn't immediately occupy herself with something, it presented the sketchbook to her over and over again, until she finally relented and drew something. The sketchbook wasn't magical, just like the snake locket wasn't, but that didn't mean that she wanted to use it. It reminded her entirely too much of the diary.

But some battles, in the grand scheme of things, weren't worth fighting, especially when her whole role in the master plan was to play nice and seem docile.

"Can I have colored pencils this time?" she asked, and the room obliged. She eased down in the window seat, getting comfortable against the cushions, and began to draw the glen from her dream, small glowing flecks representing the Flitterbies.

Perhaps an hour later, Voldemort walked in the room.

"No need to get up," he said as she started to extricate herself from the blanket. "I've only come to deliver a message."

Ginny cautiously settled back in her seat, eyeing him warily. He walked toward the vanity where the emerald tiara sat on its pillow, and he ran one long finger down its points.

"I want to give you realistic expectations about this… bargain you established last night," he said, his eyes remaining on the tiara. "I have no problem upholding the arrangement you made in your little dream, but the facts are what they are— Cordelia Mulciber was seriously injured when she Apparated, which in and of itself is a risk for her survival. She could be anywhere in the country at the moment, if she even lasted the night."

Ginny held her breath. Was this his way of telling her that Cordelia was going to die anyway, that he wouldn't be upholding that end of their agreement after all?

"I said nothing of the sort," he said, a hint of irritation in his voice. "I'm telling you the opposite, in fact. I fully intend to honor this agreement, despite you having dreamed the whole thing up, but, as I recall from your memory, the agreement was that I do everything I can to save her life. I'm telling you that everything I can is still not a guarantee that she will live, or that we can even find her. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord." Why was he bothering to tell her this?

"Her home and apparent place of work have been searched, and my Death Eaters could identify no clues for her family's possible whereabouts," he continued, his attention wandering to the series of pictures tucked into the edge of the vanity's mirror. Mini-Ginny stuck her tongue out at Voldemort, blissfully unaware of her audience. "Cordelia was indeed thorough in hiding from wizard-kind. But there are some things even she can't control."

He walked away from the vanity, his eyes finally landing on her.

"I summoned her brother Eamon this morning— you saw him yesterday, during his punishment— and required him to perform a bit of old, rare magic. Cordelia may deny her heritage, but it does not deny her— she and Eamon remain connected by blood. Through his blood, he should be able to find her. It should, in theory, work on Cordelia's daughter as well, in the event that Cordelia dies before Eamon reaches her. If fate is on our side, her injuries will be healed, and then I will let them all go… as agreed."

He had continued to approach as he spoke, and by the time he stopped, he was quite near her seat. She had to tilt her head back to keep eye contact with him, which felt dangerous to do, but somehow, it also felt dangerous to look away.

"Thank you, my lord," she said. "I suppose I'll be praying for a miracle."

"Praying," he repeated softly. "Who will you pray to?"

"Fate," she said, answering on instinct. "That fate is, as you say, on our side."

He broke eye contact and, with a wave of his hand, levitated the sketchbook out of her lap.

"Pretty," he said, tracing over the Flitterbies. "You have a vivid imagination."

"… thank you, my lord." Why didn't he just come out and say what they both knew? Why keep up the illusion?

He glanced at her, and for a moment she was sure he was going to respond to her thought, but he simply returned his gaze to her drawing.

"This was a good gift, I think," he said. "You use it often." He thumbed through the pages, just as he had yesterday.

"It keeps me occupied," she said, unsure of what else to say.

"I know you're tired of being in this room," he said, handing the sketchbook back to her, "but you must be patient."

Patient for what?

"Yes, my lord."

He turned away from her. "I will tell you if and when Cordelia Mulciber is found, and I will return for you on Sunday if nothing else."

"Alright," Ginny said as he walked away. "Thank you."

He disappeared through the wall without another word, and once he was gone, Ginny leaned her head back against the wall of the alcove, closing her eyes.

Draco? Are you awake?

Ginny?

His faint voice sounded absolutely exhausted.

Draco! Oh thank Merlin— you're alive. I was so worried about you!

It'll take more than that to kill me, he said, trying and failing for bravado.

Don't even joke about those things! Can you come to the bridge?

I can try.

Ginny took a deep breath as she reached deep inside herself for the cherrywood door, recalling the gleam of the light on the polished wood contrasted with the matte finish on the iron hinges. It appeared in no time, and she pulled herself through it, landing quickly on the bridge. It was misty here, like it always was. Was there land or water below them, or was it more like the vault, where nothing existed that did not need to?

That wasn't important now. Ginny ran down the bridge, toward their meeting place, and she soon arrived at the empty bench. For once, she had arrived before Draco. She bit her lip, trying not to worry, and sat down. He was alive. That was good. He was just recovering. Normal for him to be a bit slower.

She waited maybe thirty seconds before she saw his shadow approaching through the mist. She jumped up and ran to him, needing to see, needing to feel, needing to know for herself that he was alright.

"Oof!" he cried out as she jumped on him, embracing him tightly. "Someone's happy to see me."

"I had to keep talking myself out of thinking you were dead," she said, crushing him in her grip. He smelled like mountain pine even here, with just a faint undercurrent of seawater. Would she ever get tired of that smell? It felt like she could smell it forever and not get enough of it.

"You really thought I was dead?" he asked, incredulous. "I'm sorry— I would have reached out sooner if I had known you were that worried."

She pulled back and smacked his chest, making him wince. "Don't say you're sorry! You're the victim in this whole thing. Don't apologize for being tortured. And of course I thought you were dead! Your father magicked you away, unconscious and bloody, and then I didn't hear anything after that! What was I supposed to think?" She smacked him again.

"Okay, okay, I'm not sorry!" he said, holding his hands up in mock defeat. "I'm not sorry and I'm not dead. Happy?"

"No," she said sniffily, "but I'm glad you're not dead."

"Me too," he said with a smirk. "Can we sit down now? My body is still recovering, and I can feel the fatigue even here."

"Of course," Ginny said, her momentary anger dissipating at once as she took his hand and led him toward the bench.

"I already miss being able to see you in person," he said as he sat down. "I'm not sure when I'll be allowed back."

"And I suppose it would be unwise of me to ask," Ginny said with a sigh, leaning her head on his shoulder. He flinched for a split second before putting his arm around her.

"Did anything happen while I was gone?" he said. "With… Vol… ugh. I was getting better."

"It's okay to be scared to say it," Ginny said, making him go still.

"You're not scared to say it," he said.

"Yeah, but I grew up around Order members. It's just different. I can see why, after yesterday, it would be hard to say it again."

His grip on her tightened. "Voldemort," he said. "I'm not going to be afraid to say it. Voldemort."

He was fighting so hard. Fighting for her. Almost dying for her. "I love you," she sighed, the words slipping out without even meaning to, and she gasped as he stiffened beside her.

"You…" he trailed off.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to say it out loud."

He started laughing as he removed his arm from around her shoulder. "Sorry? What the bloody hell are you sorry for?"

"I don't know," she said defensively, sitting upright so that she could look at his face. "It's not something you should just say randomly, and it's a lot of pressure on the other person, and we haven't talked about it—"

"Ginny."

"What?"

"I love you too."

Before she could say anything, he leaned forward and kissed her, and Ginny's whole body became electric as she kissed him back. He loved her too. He was the first person to ever say that to her— not Michael or Dean or Harry. Draco. She knew, in that moment, that she wanted him to be the last.

After a few long, sweet moments, they broke apart. Draco's cheeks were flushed, and his eyes, molten silver, were sparkling as he looked at her, a faint smile playing on his face.

"Say it again," he said.

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you."

"Again."

"Stop that!" she said, and smacked him in the chest, making him laugh.

"Alright, I guess three times can be enough for now," he said. "I just never thought I would hear you say it at all. Can you blame me for wanting to get my fill?"

"I suppose not," she said. "But now it's uneven."

"I love you, Ginny Weasley. I've loved you for months and months, and now that I can say it out loud, I'm never going to stop saying it. I love you, I love you, I love you."

He kissed her hand, and she started laughing.

"Now it's uneven the other way!"

"Only one way to fix that."

"I love you," she said with a smile. "I love you. I love you."

"Now we're even," he said with a grin, and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

"See? Good things happen when you stay alive," she said, and he laughed again.

"I'll have to move that higher on the priority list, then," he said. "Speaking of the priority list, though… I talked to Blaise this morning. He found something, in the Room of Requirement. About Morgana."

"He did?" Ginny said, eyes growing wide. "What did he find?"

"A bit of old parchment, in a runic script. The Room translated it. I can't quote it from memory here, but Morgana was apparently not always called Morgana— she's named after the Morrigan. You said Alys described her people being led out of a war-torn land by the gods, hundreds of years before Alys, right? I think Morgana was the one who led them to the village near my manor— except it would have been centuries before the Malfoys even came to England. And the parchment also said that Morgana and her successors would be called Elentiya, for having— are you ready?— golden hearts. Golden hearts to protect their people from their enemies."

"That's got to be talking about the gem!" Ginny said. "That all makes sense… It's been passed down, through the leaders of their group, and Alys was the last. Her grandmother talked about that, sort of. But what do we do with that information?"

"Blaise had the answer for that too," Draco said. "I know I joked about cracking puzzles, but honestly, without him, I would be lost half the time. He found a spell that, as long as we have an object belonging to the deceased person in question, will allow us to ask a question about their life, and see visions related to what we're looking for. If we word the question right, we should be able to learn about how to access the gem's powers, or maybe how to access the second sight so you can talk to Alys— we'll have to think about what exactly we want to ask, or if we want to ask multiple questions."

"But we would need—"

"Something of Morgana's," he finished. "Good thing her brooch is on display at Hogwarts."

"At Hogwarts? Are you sure?"

"According to Hogwarts, A History, yes. Blaise is working on getting it confirmed. It's supposedly in Ravenclaw Tower, so he's going to try to talk to Luna."

"Luna?" Ginny said in alarm. "I don't want to drag her into this—"

"Blaise isn't going to tell her anything important," Draco said quickly. "Hell, Blaise doesn't even know anything really important. But we need access to Ravenclaw Tower, and Blaise can either go through Luna directly, or he can try to get Daphne to get one of her friends to let him in, but that—"

"Opens the situation up to even more people, and potentially less trustworthy ones than Luna," Ginny said with a grimace.

"Exactly. Daphne's no Death Eater, but the more people know, the worse off we'll be, and Daphne spends a little too much time around people who are Death Eaters for her to be an entirely safe option, not to mention we know absolutely nothing about any Ravenclaws she's friends with. Lovegood is the safer option— she's on your list, right? So she's already fairly safe, and Voldemort has no reason to be paying any attention to her right now."

Ginny pinched the bridge of her nose. She couldn't put Luna in danger. But she didn't see another way around it.

"Alright, so Blaise casts this spell—"

"Well, that's the other thing. He and I both don't think he should cast it. Like I just said, he doesn't know enough. It should be me. I need to get to Hogwarts somehow, once he confirms the brooch is there, so he can give it to me. I don't have to be there very long— no reason I can't cast the spell at the manor, or out in the woods— but I have to get it somehow."

"Hmm. Could you meet him for a Hogsmeade visit?"

"They're temporarily suspended," Draco said drily.

"Of course," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "How… how is Hogwarts doing?"

Did she want to know, when she couldn't do anything to change it?

"It's… rough, to be honest," Draco said, running a hand through his hair. "The Carrows are… what you would expect Death Eaters to be like as professors. Apparently Longbottom is already brewing a little rebellion."

Oh Neville…

Ginny covered her face with her hands. "I know we're working as quickly as we can, but we have to go faster somehow. So many people are suffering…"

"Shh," he whispered, putting his arm around her again. "I know. Once I'm recovered, and once Blaise confirms the brooch is even there, I'll find some excuse to give to Voldemort for why I need to go to the castle, and then we'll know more of what to do. And I'll—"

"Wait," Ginny said, an idea forming in her mind. She removed her hands from her face and looked up at him. "I had a dream last night."

"Like you do every night," Draco said, confused.

"Yes, but this one was different. Listen." She rapid-fire explained the vault, the deal she had struck to save Cordelia Barrows' life and let Kathleen and Mr. Barrows free, Voldemort's strange fascination with the objects he summoned in the vault, the dance, the gardens, and the Flitterbies.

"And," she continued, "yesterday morning, not in a dream, he made me hold Nagini, but then afterwards took me outside and let me fly on the Firebolt—"

"You were able to fly?" Draco interrupted, finally.

"He gave me the ability back temporarily. It's gone again," she said, wrinkling her nose. "But do you see the pattern? Bargains, exchanges. I give him something he wants, and he gives me something I want. What if the thing I want is to go to Hogwarts?"

"No," Draco said immediately. "He'll suspect something. And besides, Blaise can't give you the brooch— how would you explain that to Voldemort? Some token of Blaise's affection? And then you would have to get it to me…"

"Don't be dumb," she said. "We would both go."

"I don't think he's keen on my presence at the moment, particularly around you," Draco said drily. "My father gave me a whole lecture about it. I told him about our bond, by the way, but I think it was a good gamble. He knows you're technically… he knows he can't just toss you aside, like he wanted me to do. And he knows I'm tied to you regardless of what happens, so he's motivated to keep my secrets from Voldemort."

"I still think it can work," she said, undeterred and not willing to let herself be distracted by worrying about Lucius Malfoy. "What if it goes like this? I want to go to Hogwarts, and what I offer up is… I don't know, doing a speech for the student body in favor of the Ministry's new policies. All that media campaign stuff that I was supposed to be doing, remember? Seems like it would be useful, if the students are already starting to rebel and it's only September 3rd. And it would make perfect sense for you to go with me— thanks to Rita Skeeter, everyone knows that I'm supposedly staying at your family's. Maybe you and another Death Eater come along as bodyguards, and then Blaise just has to slip you the brooch at some point. It would take barely thirty seconds of time— thank Merlin it's something small. It makes sense, more sense than you trying to justify going to Hogwarts randomly."

Draco bit his lip. "I don't like it."

"Why?"

"We have to see if he's actually going to hold up his end of the bargain, about Kathleen's mum. What if he was lying?"

"Definitely possible, although he did make a point of reassuring me about it right before I reached out to you this morning. Apparently he made Eamon Mulciber cast some kind of rare blood magic to try to find Cordelia."

"He did?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow. He blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, I also don't like it because it puts you in potentially more danger. I suppose if we got caught you wouldn't have any incriminating memories, but he would know it was your idea for the two of us to go to Hogwarts. It's too dangerous."

"Draco, anything we do or don't do is dangerous!" Ginny exclaimed, pulling away from him and throwing her arms up in exasperation. "There's no option that's perfectly safe, for either of us. Me just sitting here is not safe, trust me. It just looks safer, but you know as well as I do that he could decide, for any reason or no reason at all, to dose me with Draught of Living Death at any moment. Then what would you do, hmm? Spending eternity trapped in Voldemort's imagination is not high on my priority list, to use your term. I'm willing to take some risks to avoid that, and it's not fair for you to try to talk me out of it solely because I could be in danger. I'm in danger either way."

Draco sighed. "Are you sure you're not a Slytherin? Because you're being very manipulative right now."

"I'm just telling you the truth."

"What if his… price, is that what he called it? What if his price for letting you do this is higher than you just giving a speech?"

"Well, depending on what it is, I pay it. Anything in the dream world is fair game, but—"

"How can you say that?" Draco snapped. "After last night, how can you say that?"

Ginny paused. "Okay, not anything. If the price is too high, it's too high— but it would have to be very high for it to be too high."

She put her hand on his leg, and he bowed his head. "I just don't want you to get hurt," he said in a small voice.

"I know," she said softly, squeezing his leg in reassurance. "I don't either, and I don't want you to get hurt trying to protect me. And I don't want Blaise or Luna to get hurt, or Neville, or our families, or anybody else. But in order to save them, and ourselves, we have to take some risks. Can you take this risk with me?"

He nodded, and she reached out to cup his cheek before kissing him.

"Thank you for trusting me," she said. "So we wait to hear from Blaise that he's found the brooch and gotten ahold of it, then I see about arranging for us to get to Hogwarts, and then, assuming that works, you get the brooch from Blaise and cast the spell on it once you're alone. Agreed?"

"Agreed, though I still don't like it," he said. "But I'll follow your lead, Elentiya."

She laughed. "Don't call me that, it's weird."

"I'll only not call you that if you tell me you love me one more time," he said with a smirk.

She ran her thumb over his lower lip, making him pause as she held eye contact with him.

"I love you, Draco Malfoy," she said slowly, "and together, we're going to save the world."

He took a shaky breath as she leaned in and kissed him, long and slow, and she let herself relish the scent of crisp mountain air and the salt of the sea.

SEPTEMBER 6TH, 1997

It was the first Saturday of fall term, and if life was anything close to normal, Blaise would be sleeping right now. Weekends were for lounging in bed till mid-morning, then indulging in a late brunch before maybe cracking a book open after noon. If Blaise was up walking around before 10:30, something had gone wrong.

Alas. Something had gone wrong. Death Eaters ran Hogwarts now, and Blaise was somehow the only person here who could do anything about it.

He snorted to himself as he walked toward the Great Hall. "Bet no one had that on their bingo card," he muttered. Blaise Zabini, super spy? Blaise Zabini, taking down the Dark Lord from the inside? No, no one was betting on that…

And really, it wasn't him, anyway. It was Draco. But, in the privacy of his own brain, referring to himself as a super spy made getting up at the arse-crack of dawn slightly more tolerable.

Draco had been in this same position last year, he mused— trying to get information out of Luna Lovegood. Draco had orchestrated a complicated reason to talk to her with the whole Gobstones Club incident— why he had thought Crabbe was the best choice for that particular affair still baffled him— but Blaise wasn't going to try the same tactic. No, from what Draco had described, Lovegood had seen right through his silly ruse, even if she never connected the dots on what exactly he was looking for. For all her oddities, Luna Lovegood struck him as someone who valued honesty. So honest he would be, or as close as he could get, anyway.

He still had to find a way to talk to her semi-casually though, since he couldn't arouse the Carrows' suspicions of any odd behavior among the students. Longbottom, fortunately or unfortunately, kept their attention mostly occupied, but— certainly unfortunately— Lovegood was good friends with Longbottom, which meant that the Carrows paid more attention to her than Blaise would like. Him striking up a conversation with her needed to look casual, and the best way he could think to do that was to leave the Great Hall at the same time as her.

Which meant he needed to be there at the same time as her, and he had no idea when that was, seeing as he had never had occasion or reason to pay particular attention to Lovegood before. He could wait for dinner, but curfew— newly imposed by the Carrows— wasn't long after dinner, and Blaise didn't want to drag this whole thing out. No, breakfast would be better… catch her after breakfast, explain the situation in the least incriminating way possible, and see if he could talk her into letting him into Ravenclaw Tower.

So here he was, dragging himself into the Great Hall at 7am, book bag and all. This was going to be the slowest breakfast ever, unless Lovegood happened to be an exceptionally early riser. He would eat slowly, painfully slowly, and work on Charms homework at the same time… really drag it out, and only leave once breakfast was truly over. He sighed. What a horrible way to start the weekend.

There were— predictably, reasonably— very few people in the Great Hall this early on a Saturday morning. Blaise sat on the far side of the Slytherin table, with a perfect view of the Ravenclaws, and began pretending to look over the offerings, musing on what he would like to eat.

Snape was here early, though he was one of the few teachers who were. Blaise absently wondered if this was the new Headmaster's way of avoiding his students. Snape had never been particularly social, but now he rarely left the Headmaster's office… like he was hiding, if Longbottom was to be believed. Blaise wasn't sure what to think, and more importantly, he wasn't sure that it mattered. Snape was a Death Eater, and the further he stayed away from Blaise— and now Lovegood, by association— the better.

"Miracles do happen. Hi Blaise."

Blaise looked up, startled, and saw Daphne Greengrass sitting across from him… right in his line of sight of the Ravenclaw table.

"Daph! Hello there," he said. "You're looking radiant this morning."

Daphne laughed. "You're so silly."

"I'm quite serious. You're so radiant you're blinding me. Why don't you sit next to me, instead of across from me? Save my poor eyes?"

Daphne raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you talking about?"

Damn it. He couldn't let Daphne in on this, at all. He and Draco were agreed on that, though maybe not for the same reasons.

"What I mean to say is, I miss you. We don't talk enough. Come sit next to me instead."

"If you say so," she said cautiously, and pushed her bowl of cereal across the table toward him. He sighed in quiet relief as she rounded the table— really quite a far walk, he would never have asked her to move under ordinary circumstances— and sat down on his right-hand side.

"Is this better for your eyesight?" she quipped.

"Absolutely, and better for the rest of me," he said before taking a bite of toast. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you," she said with a hint of a giggle in her voice. "You ask that like we don't share a dorm."

"We share a common room, not a dorm," he corrected her, "and besides, we only have three classes together. Hardly any time at all."

"Aren't you only in four classes?"

"I would be in less if I could, trust me."

"It must be nice to have so much free time," she said wistfully. "I feel like my eyeballs are ready to fall out from the amount of reading I've been doing, and it's only the first week!"

This was exactly the bland, agreeable kind of comment that made Daphne so well-liked by so many people.

"I don't envy you," he said truthfully.

"And yet here you are at 7am, doing Charms homework," she teased, an easy smile gracing her beautiful face.

"Well, all the better to get it out of the way," he said. "Can't have something as mundane as Charms homework obstructing my weekend."

"Got any big plans?"

"Oh, you know, this and that," he said with a shrug. "Nothing too wild and crazy, you know me. I like the quiet life."

"I'm not so sure that's true."

"Sometimes you're too smart for your own good, Daph," he said before taking a bite of potatoes.

Her brow furrowed and she opened her mouth to say something, but luckily Tracey Davis and Pansy Parkinson arrived at the Slytherin table, sitting across from her and occupying her attention.

Blaise glanced at Pansy as he continued to eat his breakfast and keep one eye on the Ravenclaw table. Pansy had returned to school, as she was obligated to, but Theo had stayed behind, in the Dark Lord's service. Was she worried about him? She had been sullen and withdrawn since returning to school… she couldn't be happy about the current state of affairs, though he knew she was certainly a Death Eater sympathizer. She just hadn't expected the Dark Lord's policies to have any impact on purebloods.

Still no sign of Lovegood. He glanced at Daphne again. Would she be forced to marry someone, in the Dark Lord's new order? There were certainly more male blood traitors than female Death Eaters… a young, agreeable, beautiful member of the Sacred 28 would be a very attractive prospect. The thought turned his stomach, though it wasn't the first time he had had it. If it came to that, maybe he would propose to Daphne himself. He thought of her like a sister, but if his mother had taught him anything at all, it was that marriage was love-optional.

That thought made him kind of sad as he continued his Charms homework, and distracted him enough that he almost missed Luna Lovegood walking into the Great Hall. She had her wand tucked behind her ear and her head tilted up toward the ceiling as she walked, like she didn't care overly much where she ended up— no need to look where she was going. He watched her half-walk, half-prance down the aisle between the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs before she sat down and began helping herself to porridge.

Perfect. Now he just had to keep an eye on her, and when she was done eating, follow her out. He picked up the pace a little bit with his own breakfast and pretended to listen to Daphne rant about… something about her cousin? He wasn't really following.

What he was following was Luna Lovegood as she lazily, slowly, painfully slowly, ate her porridge. Was Lovegood part snail? This was the slowest breakfast ever. She needed to hurry up, damn it. Soon the—

And there they were. The Carrows. The hall grew quieter as the pair entered, sneering at the students before walking toward the staff table. Damn it. He had thought he had gotten lucky. He didn't want to do this with them in the room…

Another glance at Lovegood confirmed she was still entirely entranced with breakfast. He glanced at the staff table, where the Carrows were busy discussing something with an irate-looking Snape, and then at the doorway. There was only one way in and out of here… no one said he couldn't wait for Lovegood outside. What would it matter if she figured out he was waiting to talk to her? He had decided to be honest, after all.

"Well, as riveting as this conversation has been, I'm off," he said, rolling up his Charms homework and stuffing it in his bag. "The weekend awaits. Enjoy your breakfast, ladies."

"Bye Blaise!" Daphne called cheerfully, while the other two ignored him. Pansy had seemingly lumped Blaise into the "pro-Draco" category, which meant he was on her shit list, and Tracey didn't seem to exercise much independent thought beyond what Pansy told her to think. That was fine. Two less people to potentially entangle in this whole overthrowing the Dark Lord business.

He left the Great Hall unnoticed by anyone else and wandered off slightly to the right, where he leaned against the wall to wait for Lovegood. The suit of armor near him clanked as it turned its head to look at him, and he nodded at it.

"Good day, sir knight," he said. "Hard at work, I see."

The armor groaned and clanked in response as it turned forward again.

Tough crowd.

Finally, Luna emerged from the Great Hall. Mercifully, she was alone.

"Psst! Lovegood!"

She looked around, her large eyes blinking several times before they settled on him.

"Hello," she said uncertainly.

"Hi."

"What are you doing just leaning against the wall like that?"

He looked around quickly before looking back at her. "I'm on a secret mission."

Luna perked up at this news. "A secret mission?" she asked. "What kind of secret mission?"

"The kind where I need a partner. Care to join me? Somewhere more… private?"

Why did that make it sound like he was coming onto her? Stupid, stupid, stupid—

"Sure," she said, bouncing up next to him. "I've missed going on secret missions."

"Perfect," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Er… well, let's get going then."

He started to walk, and realized he hadn't thought through where to have this conversation. The Room of Requirement maybe? Lovegood knew about it from her time in Dumbledore's Army, so he wasn't revealing anything by taking her there.

"If Ginny was here, she would tell me not to trust you," Luna said as she followed along, making him splutter.

"Why are you, then?"

"If you wanted to hex me, you would just do it in public," she reasoned. "You wouldn't get in trouble for it. The Carrows would probably encourage you, actually. And if you were trying to trick me into something, you would have led in with something more expected, like you needed help with homework or you wanted to join the Gobstones Club. But instead you said something you knew would pique my interest but also sound suspicious, which leads me to believe you're being honest."

"Well-reasoned," he said, baffled. "I suppose the Sorting Hat didn't put you in Ravenclaw for nothing."

"Some people like to think otherwise, but I think they have a rather narrow view of intelligence."

"I think you're right."

They walked along in amicable silence up the flights of stairs, Blaise glancing at her out of the corner of his eye every minute or so. He had never had occasion to talk to Lovegood before, but what he had expected, this wasn't it.

"I believe you're familiar with this particular corridor," he said as they reached the seventh floor.

"Oh yes," Luna said happily. "Are we reviving the D.A.? You weren't a member last time, but some people aren't here, so I'm sure you could join—"

"Er. No. Not exactly that. Something else," he said, although he mused that taking down the Dark Lord was indeed uncomfortably close to the purported purpose of Dumbledore's Army.

He walked in front of the door three times. I need the Room of Hidden Things.

The door appeared, and he held it open for her. "After you."

"Oh wow!" she said, running inside. "Look at all of these things!"

Blaise bit back a laugh as Luna looked around the room, wonder-struck.

"Yes, there's centuries worth of things in here," he said.

"The perfect hideout for a secret mission!"

If only you knew.

"Why don't you come sit down?" he called after her as she disappeared down one of the aisles. "I have to explain said secret mission."

"I need a disguise first," she called back, from impossibly far away.

"But I already know what you look like," he called back, biting back a laugh. Perhaps he had finally found someone stranger than him.

Luna returned a few moments later wearing a very rusty armored helmet on her head. He was amazed that she could even find him— the visor covered her eyes entirely.

"If I'm going to be part of a secret mission, I want a disguise," she said.

"Very subtle," he said, lifting the visor up so he could see her eyes. "No one will guess it's you under there."

"It's a work in progress," she said, undeterred.

"Alright, well, come sit down, master of disguise," he said, setting the visor down gently so it didn't clang. "I need your help."

"Is this about Ginny?"

He took a deep breath.

"It is, actually."

"Is this going to help rescue her?"

Er. Hmm.

"In a roundabout way, yes. I said I wasn't exactly joining the D.A., and I'm not, but—"

"I'm in," she said.

"You're… what?"

"I'm in," she repeated, her voice echoing oddly under the helmet. "What do we do?"

"Oh. Umm. Well." Blaise had not been expecting this. "I need to get into Ravenclaw Tower. I'm looking for something— a brooch belonging to Morgana, the dark sorceress who fought with Merlin. Do you know of anything like that?"

"Hmm," Luna said, making the helmet vibrate. "I think so."

"You do?" Blaise said, hardly daring to hope. "It's really important that I find it. It could change the whole course of the war."

He wasn't entirely sure that was true, but he hoped it was.

"Let's go look for it," she said as she took the helmet off and set it on Draco's favorite armchair. "I don't need a disguise for Ravenclaw Tower. Come on."

"Lead the way," he said, holding back a laugh as she marched for the door. Luna certainly marched to the beat of her own drum… he could admire that, even if it made him giggle.

"If it's not where I think it is, the Grey Lady will certainly know," she murmured to herself as she pulled the door open.

"Hey Luna?" he asked, making her pause. "Do you like Acid Pops?"

She smiled brightly. "Of course! They remind you to keep your wit sharp."

She turned around again and bounced out of the doorway, with Blaise following behind her, a faint smile playing on his lips.