Draco tapped his foot as Filch called out, "Next!", his wheezy voice cracking from shouting so loudly.
If this goes any slower, I'll miss dinner entirely, he thought, his stomach growling. With the political climate being what it was, all students had to be searched extensively every time they entered the grounds. Why this duty fell only to Filch, whom Draco had more than once suspected was a Squib, was a mystery.
Whose idea was this, anyway? They should have staggered our arrivals. To his left, Goyle hefted his trunk forward with a grunt. In their youth, Draco had always been closer with Crabbe, as they had grown up together, but having a regular front row seat in Crabbe's mind had changed things. Goyle was a little stupider, but he was also less complicated, which Draco needed right now. At this point, anything that added more uncertainty in his life needed to go.
"Do you think Zabini made it through yet?" Goyle asked, panting a bit with the strain of his trunk. Why he had brought all of his belongings with him for a mere two week break was beyond Draco.
"Probably," he said. "He and Nott were in the first couple of carriages, I think."
Draco had been most disturbed upon seeing the Hogwarts carriages again and finding that monstrous-looking horses were pulling them. If he hadn't learned about thestrals in Care of Magical Creatures last year, he would have been sure he was hallucinating. It had taken him a moment to realize why he could see them now.
Trelawney's corpse hitting the floor, her head cracking and bouncing back against the marble flashed across his mind and he became breathless for a second, losing himself in the tides of his consciousness. The way her eyes had... No - this couldn't be allowed to happen, not anymore. Not giving himself a moment for doubt, he roughly pulled up the image of a chest marked "for never" and shoved Trelawney's broken body into it, his vision of the Hogwarts students a bit fuzzy in his dual awareness. He warded it with double the amount of runes he had used on Ginny's chest, belted it with heavy chains, and pushed it away from him, out to drift in the deep ocean. Almost instantly, his breathing returned to normal. The sea calmed. He flexed his hands, which had grown sweaty, and moved forward in line. Working smarter, he levitated his belongings along behind him. If Goyle noticed anything unusual in his demeanor, he didn't comment on it.
After another fifteen minutes or so, he arrived at the front of the line and sneered at Filch, whom he had not seen since Slughorn's stupid Christmas party.
You might very well have ruined everything, old man. If it weren't for Filch, he never would have been at the Christmas party to begin with. Although, in that case, with everything that happened after, should he be...thanking Filch instead? It was confusing. Draco changed his mind about five times a day on whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that he had been the Death Eater chosen to bring Ginny Weasley to the Dark Lord.
"What's this, then?" Filch said with a nasty gleam in his eye, pulling out a mirror from Draco's rucksack.
"It's a mirror, you dunce," Draco said, making Goyle laugh. "You should try using one."
Filch bristled at this, promising to report him to Snape, but Draco couldn't be bothered to care. Insults of that caliber were just a regular afternoon in Snape's world - he doubted it would merit so much as a single House point taken. With an irritated wave of his hand, Filch sent Draco on through the gates, the mirror safely back in his bag.
It wasn't a Dark object like Filch had assumed, but it was a rather nifty piece of magic. His father had given it to him before he had left the manor that morning, explaining that it formed a two-way connection that would allow them to communicate undetected by anyone at Hogwarts or the Ministry. It was not unlike the Vanishing Cabinet, really - twin objects that formed a magical link to convey something. He was cheered by the thought of being able to talk to his father whenever he wanted, even though their conversations had taken an odd turn as of late.
From the time that Draco could remember, Lucius Malfoy had been, above all things, a strategist. He did nothing without purpose and, indeed, had tried to cultivate this same quality in his only son. It was part of why the attack on the Department of Mysteries had been so devastating - Lucius had planned and led the raid, and it had ended mostly in disaster. Quite apart from the Dark Lord's fury, Draco knew that his father's confidence had been shaken. If it were not for his master's quick thinking, Lucius would have ended up in Azkaban. Draco's heart clenched at the thought.
But Lucius did not end up in Azkaban. Hiding out from the Ministry, he was effectively a prisoner in his own home, but the manor's luxuries likely eased the sting of captivity. Still, the night of Trelawney's last prophecy had been a turning point for the Malfoy patriarch. After Lucius had suggested setting a trap for Ginny, he had peppered Draco with questions about her - her habits, her relationships, her values. He asked questions about Potter, Granger, and Weasley, about the teachers' dynamics at Hogwarts, about the Order's presence in Hogsmeade. Draco's throat had been dry by the time he'd finished speaking, his tea gone cold.
His father's words echoed in his mind as he pushed the front door of the castle open, the chatter of students at dinner washing over his ears. This is your mission, Draco - I will leave you to plan the details. But remember - just as you must draw her toward the Dark Lord, you must draw her away from Potter. Use what you know to make one more enticing than the other, and let your magic do the rest. I will be here to help you - you will make me so proud, my son.
Not wanting to miss dinner, Draco entered the Great Hall without taking time to put his bag away in the dungeons. As he moved toward the Slytherins, his eyes shot to the Gryffindor table, looking for Ginny. There was Potter, she shouldn't be far behind... but she wasn't there. Her brother was here, so it wasn't like they hadn't returned from break. Unless...
His heart dropped with the sudden, irrational fear that he had already been found out. Did Dumbledore know? Did Potter? What if Ginny hadn't returned to Hogwarts? How on earth was he supposed to-
Oh. She was with Lovegood. She had her back turned away from the Gryffindor table, so Draco didn't recognize her at first. She usually faced away from the Slytherins if she chose to sit at the Ravenclaw table, her red hair like a beacon in Draco's direction.
Ginny did not look happy to be back at school. She wasn't crying, but her face was blotchy and she was picking at her food. As Draco rounded the Slytherin table, he looked back toward the Gryffindors. Surely Potter would be watching Ginny, maybe talking to Granger with a concerned expression on his stupid face...
Potter was indeed talking to Granger, but he wasn't looking at Ginny at all. He was talking to Granger and laughing, laughing while Ginny looked...like that.
Anger, white-hot and pulsing, swirled in his stomach as he joined Blaise at the Slytherin table. This was Potter's fault, it had to be. Couldn't The Chosen One be bothered to care about his own girlfriend?
Isn't this good for you though? a small, hesitant part of him asked. Remember what Father said...
Reluctantly, Draco pulled his gaze away from the Gryffindor table and locked eyes with Blaise, who raised an eyebrow at him.
"I need your help."
Blaise grinned.
"It's not what you think," Draco said quickly. "Well...not exactly, anyway. Meet me on the seventh floor, next to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Make sure you're not followed."
"Of course, my liege. Your wish is my command."
Draco rolled his eyes and served himself dinner, his stomach rumbling.
"What is this place exactly?" Blaise looked around the room with wide eyes, trying to hide his awe.
"Some people call it the Come and Go Room," Draco said, "but I've also heard it called the Room of Requirement. This particular version is the Room of Hidden Things."
Draco had hurried here after dinner in order to arrive before Blaise. Not wanting to lay all of his cards on the table just yet, he had hidden the Vanishing Cabinet under an old blanket and piled a couple of broken chairs and some books in front of it. He made sure to stand away from the area, next to a rusted old suit of armor.
"I discovered this place last year," he continued. "Potter was using it for his stupid Dumbledore's Army. But it has other uses too."
Like the room had read his mind - which, to be fair, it probably had - a fire roared to life in the fireplace and two armchairs floated forward, seating themselves a comfortable distance away from the flames. Blaise couldn't help himself - he broke into a huge grin.
"Wicked!" he said, making Draco smile too. In public, Blaise always made sure to keep his composure. Glee like this was hard-won.
Draco moved to sit down in his favorite seat and Blaise followed, stretching his long legs out in front of him as he sank into the chair. The fire had a lovely, woodsy smell as it burned, and Draco was reminded of earlier Christmases spent at the manor, gathered around the hearth with his parents to open presents. How different this year's Christmas had been.
"So this is where you've been sneaking off to all this time?" Blaise asked. "To work on your...what did you call them? Assignments?"
Draco nodded. "If I ask for privacy, the room will make it so that I can't be found. I ask for resources, and if there's anything helpful in here at all-" he gestured to the veritable sea of items around them, "-the room will provide."
"But, of course, the room is lacking my charm and stunning good looks, so you needed my help," Blaise said with a casual shrug. Draco laughed.
"Of course," he said. "Although the room can be quite charming when it wants to be." As though determined to prove him right, quiet classical music began to play from somewhere further back as a familiar coffee table came forward, landing neatly between them. Two teacups appeared, steam billowing lazily off the surface of the liquid.
"I meant no offense," Blaise said with a grin. "Merely wanted to make you aware of my many talents. So...what's this all about, exactly?"
Draco took a deep breath. Where to begin? "Well, you already know that I have...assignments to work on for the Dark Lord. Two of them. One of them I'll be keeping to myself for the time being, but the other had some...interesting developments over the break."
"Could you be any more cryptic? You just said so many words without saying anything at all."
Draco glared at Blaise, who just kept on smiling. "This is serious. I've kept this a complete secret since the summer. Lives are on the line - I need to know I can trust you, I can't just spill everything all at once."
Blaise scoffed. "I may not be a big scary Death Eater like you, but I'm no Crabbe. I'm not looking for ways to screw you over." At Draco's silence, Blaise continued, "How can I prove it to you then? You trusted me enough to bring me here, you must have some faith in me."
Draco's eyes lit up as an idea struck him. "Yes, but maybe I don't need to have faith. I've been learning Legilimency. Would you let me look in your mind?"
Blaise raised an eyebrow. "That's some pretty advanced magic, even for you. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
Draco scowled and Blaise put his hands up in mock surrender.
"Alright, alright, by all means. Try not to scramble my brains, please. Good looks aren't everything, I would like to still be functioning after this."
Draco's scowl remained but he stood up, gesturing for Blaise to do the same. He walked around the coffee table and stopped when he was only inches away from Blaise.
This should be interesting. Blaise has got to have a more complex landscape than Crabbe.
"Keep eye contact with me," Draco said. Blaise did so, all trace of amusement gone from his face. Blaise's eyes were darker than Crabbe's - he almost couldn't tell where the pupil ended and the iris began. He took a deep breath, preparing to dive, and said, "Legilimens."
Legilimency really did feel like diving. He could almost feel the springboard effect of jumping from his consciousness into Blaise's, the most delicious kind of falling. He felt Blaise's surprise at the moment of impact, the instinctual recoil from having your mind invaded. Draco slowed his descent, giving Blaise time to acclimate to the feeling.
"This is bizarre," Blaise murmured, his voice echoing as Draco perceived it both through his own ears and inside Blaise's mind. Draco felt his feet touch down on the ground and looked around as Blaise's internal landscape began to form around him.
Definitely more complex than Crabbe's.
He was in a city, though he was the only person around. The buildings were old, historic, and many of them were painted in jewel tones. Lanterns were strung between the buildings, giving the evening atmosphere a warm glow. He was standing on a narrow cobblestone street, but most of the path between the buildings was taken up by a lazy, winding canal.
"Is this Venice?" Draco asked in Blaise's mind, and instantly knew that he was correct. Satisfied, he began to walk along the canal, focusing on Blaise's intentions for helping him. Before the thought had even fully formed, he felt a tug in his gut urging him to turn left up ahead.
"Wicked," he said, echoing Blaise's earlier sentiment. He picked up his pace, following the impulse.
This place must be a memory, not something randomly constructed, he thought as he hurried along, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting out of an open window. No, there was too much sensory detail here. He could feel the unevenness of the cobblestones beneath his feet, a light breeze rolling off the canal and carrying with it the smell of the sea. Smiling at this welcome detail, he turned the corner and stopped in front of an art gallery. The tug in his gut urged him forward - this was it. He pulled open the leaded glass door, bells twinkling above him as he did so.
The gallery was a lovely one, something Draco would have liked to see in real life. The paintings and sculptures were beautiful, clearly curated by the same artist. When he refocused on his desire to understand Blaise's motivations, the painting closest to him swirled and changed, pulling forward Blaise's memories.
He watched them with interest, teasing apart his recent conversations with Blaise, as well as his thoughts about Crabbe and Goyle. He looked at Blaise's thoughts about the Dark Lord, about Potter, and, selfishly, about Ginny. He could find nothing to reproach him on - as far as he could tell, Blaise was telling the truth about just wanting to help a friend.
He looked around the gallery for a moment longer before pulling out of Blaise's consciousness, feeling like he was coming up for air after a long time under water. Both of them gasped as Draco's consciousness returned to his own body.
"My mind doesn't look like that normally," Blaise said, panting a little. "Why did it change for you?"
"The way I practice Occlumency is very visual," Draco said, also a little out of breath. "It's bled over into how I see other people's minds. Yours was unique though - others' I've seen have been much less descriptive. Have you been there before?"
"My grandmother is an artist," Blaise said. "We took a trip to Venice when I was eleven, shortly after I got my Hogwarts letter. It's one of my happiest memories."
"Interesting," Draco said. "I didn't consciously choose it, and neither did you...but it's like your mind knew what to show me anyway. Memories within a memory."
And wasn't that what the sea was to him, anyway? It wasn't a random seashore, he had been there before.
"So did I pass your super special test, oh master mindreader?" Blaise asked, trying to bring some levity back to the conversation.
"It's not mind reading, but yes," Draco said, sitting back down. "Ok, where to begin?" He kept the Vanishing Cabinet to himself, but he explained Trelawney's prophecies, the connection to the Deathly Hallows that he had inadvertently figured out through Luna Lovegood, the holiday party, and the Dark Lord's latest demands regarding Ginny Weasley.
Blaise blew out a long breath when Draco was finished. "Well, that puts you in a hell of an awkward spot, doesn't it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Oh come off it, Draco, don't play dumb. We're alone here, after all. Your chances with her already weren't good, but after this-"
"I can't think about that right now," Draco said in an irritated voice. "This isn't optional. I have to do this."
"Alright, alright. So if you have to do it...what next?"
"I've talked it over with my father, and he thinks the best course of action is to trick her into thinking she's helping Potter. It makes sense, but I just need to figure out how-"
"One problem with that, mate. She and Potter broke up."
Draco's heart skipped a beat. "What?"
Blaise laughed. "I thought that's what you were wanting to talk about, before you pulled the whole special agent act. Didn't you see her sitting with Lovegood?"
"Yes, but I didn't think... I didn't want to make assumptions. You're sure they broke up? How do you know?"
"Positive. Word travels fast around here if you bother to pay attention. Don't know what the reason was though, or who initiated it. Although, given how they were acting at dinner, I'm guessing it was Potter."
That spark of anger flared again deep in Draco's core, Ginny's face flashing across his mind.
"Well, that just ruins everything," he said, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. If he had a little bit less dignity, he might have described himself as pouting.
"Does it, though? Won't it be easier to...nudge her along if she's not blabbing every single thing to Potter every second? You don't want them going to Dumbledore."
Draco ran a hand through his hair. "No, definitely not. God, this was hard enough when it didn't involve anyone else. How am I supposed to keep this a secret while making sure she does what she's supposed to?"
"Don't keep it a secret."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Don't keep it a secret. Let her catch you. Well, don't really let her catch you, but let her think she's catching you in the act, just with the right information. You said Potter's been tailing you all year, right? He's dying to know what you've been doing. What do you say we turn this thing on its head? Go from being hunted to the hunter, and all that."
Draco chewed on his lower lip, contemplating. After a moment, he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.
"I'm listening."
Harry ran his hand through his hair as the common room began to empty out. Though Ron was less enthused with Lavender than he had been before Christmas, he hadn't broken up with her, and she had glued herself to his side almost immediately upon their arrival back to Hogwarts. Lavender had tried to snog him once they got to the common room after dinner, but, with an awkward glance at Harry, Ron had bid her good night instead and headed up to the dorm early.
That had left Harry with Hermione. Ginny had headed back from dinner early, no doubt in part to avoid any awkward run-ins in the common room. Flooing back to the castle together had been downright painful. She had refused to look at or speak to him, opting to pretend he wasn't there at all.
"Thanks for trying to take my mind off things, Hermione," Harry said. "You always know the right thing to say."
She reached out to rub his shoulder, as he had once seen Ginny do to her. "Things will work out, Harry. I can't say I agree with your decision, but I know why you did what you did."
"Do you think she'll ever forgive me?"
"I hope so. Maybe when everything is...over." After a moment of silence, she continued, "Are you sure you don't want to just...apologize?"
Harry groaned in frustration, putting his face in his hands. "Of course I want to apologize, Hermione! I want to just take the whole stupid thing back. Seeing her at dinner and trying to pretend like everything's fine was torture. But..."
"But you're still worried about her getting hurt."
"All the time. I think about it all the time. It's not like I don't think about it for you or Ron, I do, it's just-"
"It's different, I know," Hermione said quickly, rubbing his shoulder again. "Have you tried talking to her about it?"
"Yes, but she doesn't listen!" He threw his hands down, his voice rising. "She thinks I'm babying her or something. I'm not babying her, I just..." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I think about that night constantly. Voldemort knew to use Sirius to get to me, he knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself from doing whatever it took to save him. Bellatrix knew - she threatened to torture Ginny in the Department of Mysteries without even knowing who she was, don't you remember? You and Ron, you've been through things with me since the very beginning. But Ginny... all I've done is put a bigger target on her back. We never should have gotten together." While he had been near shouting at the beginning, his voice had fallen to barely more than a whisper. He hung his head in shame.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, and put her head on his shoulder. "Ginny loves you, I know she does. She'll understand one day."
"I hope so, Hermione. I hope so."
They sat in sad, companionable silence for a while after that, until their conversation turned to Dumbledore. Harry would be meeting with him tomorrow night for another lesson, and Malfoy was top of his mind for conversation topics.