Plans Ch.13
Draco's POV
The chill of the night air bit at Draco's skin as he slipped silently through the darkened corridors of Hogwarts. His heart pounded in his chest, and though his steps were light and cautious, the silence around him felt suffocating. He had been careful to time his departure with the changing of the patrols, slipping past the prefects and younger students with ease. If there was one thing Draco Malfoy had mastered over the past year, it was how to move unseen.
As he approached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the knot in his stomach tightened. The familiar spot just beyond the tree line, shrouded in darkness, had become a hidden meeting point for the Death Eaters. It was risky, sneaking out like this, but Draco had no choice. The summons had come, and when the Dark Lord called, disobedience was not an option.
His conversation with McGonagall earlier that evening hung heavily in his mind. The irony wasn't lost on him—here he was, pleading for help in one breath and crawling back to the Death Eaters in the next. But there was no other way. He had to play both sides, at least for now. The key was to survive long enough to find his way out.
Stepping into the shadows of the forest, Draco caught sight of the small group of hooded figures gathered in the clearing. He approached cautiously, pulling his cloak tighter around himself as he neared the others. The familiar feeling of dread settled over him as he recognized some of the faces beneath the hoods—Nott, Crabbe's father, and the ever-terrifying Bellatrix Lestrange. She stood at the centre, her eyes gleaming with dark excitement, as though she thrived on the malice in the air.
"Late, are we, Draco?" Bellatrix's voice was a low, mocking drawl, laced with venom as she eyed him. "I'd have thought you'd be more punctual, given how much is at stake."
Draco's mouth went dry, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I had to be careful. The castle's being watched."
Bellatrix's smirk twisted into something darker. "Of course. Wouldn't want to draw any unnecessary attention, would we? You've always been good at hiding, haven't you?"
He bit back a retort. Bellatrix thrived on pushing his buttons, but he couldn't afford to show weakness—not tonight.
Another figure stepped forward from the shadows, tall and thin, with a face as skeletal as his reputation. Yaxley. Draco's stomach churned. There was something about the man's presence that sent a wave of revulsion through him. Yaxley had a way of making everyone feel small, insignificant.
"We don't have time for your games, Bellatrix," Yaxley said, his voice cold. "The Dark Lord's plans are moving quickly. The Separation is upon us."
Draco's pulse quickened at the mention of the Separation. He had heard vague rumours, snippets of conversations about the upcoming operation, but no details had been shared with him until now. His mind raced as he wondered what exactly this would entail.
"The female witches," Yaxley continued, his eyes scanning the group. "Those unfit for service, the ones who defy us—they will be removed. The rest… they will be dealt with as the Dark Lord sees fit."
Draco's blood ran cold. Removed. He knew what that meant. The witches who didn't conform, who didn't fit into the twisted vision the Dark Lord had for the future, would be sent away. Captured. Tortured. Perhaps even killed. The idea made his stomach twist in knots, though he forced himself to remain impassive.
Bellatrix, who had been watching him closely, let out a high-pitched cackle. "It's going to be beautiful, isn't it? Watching them scurry like insects when they realize there's nowhere to run. And the Order won't be able to stop it. They're too busy hiding."
Draco clenched his fists. The weight of his conflicting loyalties pressed down on him, suffocating him. He couldn't stand here and listen to their plans any longer, but he knew he had to keep his mouth shut. The Separation—whatever it was—would be catastrophic. If they really intended to target witches, Hermione could be in grave danger. But how could he warn her without drawing suspicion to himself? How could he even help at all?
"How soon?" Draco found himself asking, though he regretted it the moment the words left his mouth.
Yaxley's eyes flicked to him, narrowing slightly. "Soon," he replied. "The Dark Lord will decide when it is time. We will be ready."
Draco nodded slowly, the weight of his role in this mess pressing down on him. He had no choice but to continue playing along, to act as though he was fully committed to their cause. But in truth, his resolve was crumbling. He needed to find a way out—before it was too late.
"Be ready, Malfoy," Bellatrix added, her voice sickeningly sweet. "You've got a part to play, and the Dark Lord expects nothing less than perfection."
Draco forced himself to nod, though his mind was screaming. The meeting dissolved into darkness, the figures slipping away one by one, leaving him standing alone beneath the towering trees. He exhaled a shaky breath, the tension in his body finally breaking.
He had to get back. He had to find a way to keep this from happening. But he didn't know where to start.
Hermione's POV: Gryffindor Common Room
The warmth of the fire wrapped around Hermione like a blanket, but it did nothing to ease the tension coiled in her chest. She sat with her knees tucked up under her chin, staring blankly at the flickering flames. Her thoughts kept returning to the coded messages she had received from Harry and Ron, the details and warnings hidden within the innocuous words.
The Separation. It was coming.
She couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out. Fun Day had been a brief distraction, a momentary escape for the students, but now, the looming threat felt closer than ever. She had to figure out a way to move the Horcrux and get out. soon.
Ginny walked through the door to the heads common room and plopped down beside her; her usual vibrant energy dulled by the weight of everything happening around them. She nudged Hermione gently. "You're staring at that fire like it's a ghost," Ginny said softly. "What's going on?"
Hermione hesitated, her mind racing. She hadn't told Ginny about the letter. She couldn't. It was too dangerous, too risky to involve anyone else. But she felt guilty, knowing that Ginny, of all people, had a right to know about the plans and dangers looming ahead.
"I'm just… thinking," Hermione said, offering a small smile, though it didn't reach her eyes.
Ginny raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Thinking about what?"
Hermione glanced at the door, making sure there was no sign of him returning soon. "There's so much we still don't know," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "About what's coming."
Ginny's expression softened, and she reached out to place a comforting hand on Hermione's arm. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out. Together. You know that, right?"
Hermione nodded, though the pit in her stomach remained. "I just don't know how much time we have."
Ginny leaned back in her chair, her gaze never leaving Hermione's. "Harry and Ron—they'll figure something out. They always do."
Hermione's chest tightened at the mention of their names. Harry and Ron were still out there, still fighting, but how much longer could they keep going without being caught? Without her help? Their letters had been a lifeline, but they was sensitive, and if they fell into the wrong hands…
"I hope you're right," Hermione whispered, her voice barely audible.
Ginny studied her for a moment, concern flickering in her eyes. But she didn't press further. She understood, in her own way, that there were things Hermione couldn't share right now. They both had secrets to keep.
As Hermione sat there, a sudden thought gripped her: what if Draco knew something? They had been avoiding each other, and the tension between them was palpable. She could still feel the electric charge in the air whenever he was near. But could she trust him? After everything, would he even care about the danger she or others faced?
Her heart raced at the thought of confronting him. What if he had information about the Separation? Or worse, what if he was involved in it?
For now, all Hermione could do was wait—and prepare for what was coming.
