SEPTEMBER 8th, 1997

Draco's palms were sweaty as he walked down the front path, Ginny and Nott in tow. He and Ginny had rehearsed the day's events over and over yesterday on the bridge, trying to come up with failsafes and Plan B's for anything that might possibly go wrong. He could have kept going through the night, coming up with alternatives, but at a certain point Ginny had cut him off, reminding him that there was in fact such a thing as over-planning.

Their ultimate goal was simple, and consistent with how they usually handled things— keep everyone's attention on Ginny, including Nott's, so that Draco could blend into the background and do what needed to be done. Easy to say, but a lot more difficult to execute when they would have the eyes of the entire student body on them, not to mention Snape and the Carrows.

Snape's words echoed in his mind. If you should need… assistance in the future, do feel free to ask.

He couldn't ask him about this though. Asking about mind magic was one thing— that could, ostensibly, be entirely selfish on Draco's part, as Snape had so quickly pointed out months before. But this… no, Snape couldn't know about this, not even a hint.

I still think my idea makes sense, Ginny sent across the bridge as the three of them came to a stop. Variations of it have worked before.

We'll see when we get there, he replied. Let's see what, exactly, we're walking into first.

"You have your speech parchment, right?" Nott asked, pulling at the collar of his robes. He was just as nervous as Draco was, though for an entirely different reason.

Ginny pulled a sheet of parchment out of her robes pocket. "Right here," she said in a flat voice, making Draco grimace. They were agreed that this was a cost they would have to pay— hell, the whole thing had been Ginny's idea— but given what she was being asked to say, it was no wonder she was unhappy about it.

"Good," Nott said, nodding to himself. "Now remember— you're not allowed to directly interact with the other students—"

"When did you get so bossy?" Draco asked.

"Taking a leaf out of your book, I would expect," Ginny said, not looking at him.

Draco smirked, hiding the fact that his stomach was in knots. "Trying to, anyway. He's missing the most important part. Look at me. From the moment we arrive on the Hogwarts grounds until we return here, you will play the role expected of you, as outlined in the materials you've received from Dolohov and as expected of you by the Dark Lord. You are a ward of the Malfoy family, who escaped terrible mistreatment at the hands of your parents, who are safely locked away in Azkaban due to their crimes against their children. You are visiting Hogwarts to encourage the students to obey the Carrows, who are here to teach that which Dumbledore forbid. You may be friendly and cordial with anyone who approaches you, including your old friends, but you may not give them any indication that anything is wrong or allow them to attempt to rescue you. You will always stay within either my or Nott's line of sight. You will not give me any reason to need to use the tattoo in front of the Hogwarts students or staff. You can look away now.Alright, I think that's thorough enough— I probably haven't given you such a thorough command since you first arrived at the manor, have I?"

"No," Ginny said with a glower. Nott appeared satisfied, and significantly less nervous.

Thank you, Ginny said. For the line of sight part. It'll work, trust me.

I sure hope so. And if not, we have Plan B—

And C and D and onwards to infinity, practically. Try to relax— it'll be fine.

"Alright, let's go," Draco said, and extended his arm to Ginny for Sidealong Apparition. "I'll meet you outside the gates, Nott."

He didn't wait for Nott to respond. As soon as Ginny had wrapped her hand around his upper arm, he Disapparated, and let out a shaky breath as he took in the sight of Hogwarts. Ginny made a small, startled sound as they landed.

Are you alright?

Yes, I just… didn't think I would ever see it again,she said as Nott appeared maybe twenty feet away from them.

Neither did I,Draco replied as memories of Hagrid's burning hut, of people screaming as they fought off Death Eaters, filled his mind. He had been sure, at that moment, that he would never see Hogwarts again.

I guess that just goes to show, Ginny said as Nott walked up to the gate and pressed his hand to the Hogwarts crest, announcing their presence. Never say never.

That was for damn sure. If someone had asked Draco a year ago, or even six months ago, if he would ever ever ever do anything to overthrow the Dark Lord, he would have said no and meant it with every fiber of his being. But, as Ginny pointed out… never say never.

Draco had hoped that Snape would be the one to greet them at the gates, but of course it wasn't him— it was Amycus, a leering grin on his face as he approached.

"Welcome, honored guests," he said in a mocking tone as he gave a dramatic bow to the three of them, still on the outside of the gate. "Hogwarts is pleased t'have ya here this morning."

Well if that isn't the biggest lie I've ever heard.

"Thank you," Nott said, answering before Draco could speak. "Now please allow us to enter— we're on a tight schedule, as you well know."

Amycus's oily smile fell at being commanded by someone who was probably thirty years his junior, but he opened the gate to allow them to enter. Draco stepped onto the Hogwarts grounds, half-sure that the land itself would reject him as a traitor, but just like with the Room of Requirement, nothing happened— he was just another person as far as Hogwarts was concerned.

"The Headmaster's got 'em all grouped together in the Great Hall," Amycus said, stumping along ahead of them. "Ready and waitin' for ya."

"Good," Draco said, not wanting to give Nott the impression that he could single-handedly run the show. "This shouldn't take long."

Although hopefully long enough for me to just… slip away for a second.

He and Blaise had debated, just as he and Ginny had debated, exactly how today should go down. Was it better to make the exchange secretly and quietly, and do their best to make sure they weren't observed? Or would it be better to disguise the brooch and bit of parchment, and have Blaise give it to him in plain sight? Draco preferred the first while Blaise preferred the second, and Draco thought it was most likely they would land somewhere in between. Given their stated purpose for being here, expecting complete privacy wasn't reasonable, especially since they were all in agreement that it would be best for Ginny notto see the exchange take place in order to preserve her lack of incriminating memories, but the very thought of the Carrows watching Blaise give him something made his stomach twist. He had already involved Blaise in too many dangerous situations— he couldn't let him get hurt. The momentary image of Blaise in Goyle's place, screaming in agony, flashed across his mind, making his breath hitch as they approached the front doors of the castle.

Hey, Ginny said. It's alright. I promise. Together, always, right?

Yes. Together, always.

He wanted that more than anything. But would he get to have it, really have it?

Now wasn't the time to think about that. The doors to the Great Hall were closed, but even from here Draco could hear the quiet murmur of students inside. The entrance way was dark, letting the glow of the candles in the Great Hall peek through the gap between the door and the stone floor, casting a faint light toward them.

You can do this, he sent to Ginny. I believe in you.

Love you,she said, making his heart swell. How could he ever do enough to deserve her? It would never be enough.

Amycus pulled the doors to the Great Hall open, ending that line of thought almost as soon as it had started. The students fell silent, and Draco's heart dropped into his stomach. The level of hatred on their faces as they stared at him wasn't something he had been prepared for, though their eyes didn't linger on him for long. They glared at him and Nott before looking at Ginny with… he didn't know how to describe it. Shock? Fear? Hope? Disappointment? Maybe all of those. They had read the Daily Prophetarticle, more than likely. They were trying to suss out whether or not Ginny Weasley was a traitor.

Ha. If they only knew.

"Your guests have arrived, Headmaster," Amycus said, bowing with false modesty.

Snape, looking like an overgrown bat as he always did, rose from his seat. "Welcome back to Hogwarts, Miss Weasley. I am glad to see you are well."

"Thank you, Headmaster," she said as she walked forward, her voice strong and sure. Quick whispers skittered through the crowd, though they quickly quieted under Snape's watchful glare. "I am happy to be back."

Draco and Nott kept a few feet behind Ginny, just on either side of her, and Draco knew they looked like body guards. That was fine though— the Dark Lord wasn't making any special effort to hide the Death Eaters' presence at Hogwarts, not now that the Carrows were here Crucio'ing anyone who stepped out of line.

"Ginny!"

Fucking hell, Longbottom.

Longbottom, who was near the front of the Gryffindor table, jumped up from his seat and started running toward Ginny, who paused at the head of the Hufflepuff table, just below the steps leading up to the professors' table.

"Back to your seat,Longbottom," Snape snarled.

Longbottom, just as Blaise had described, had apparently grown a backbone over the summer. He did not go back to his seat, but instead hurried over to Ginny's side, glaring at Snape all the while. Snape started to stand, and Nott stepped forward, drawing his wand, but Ginny held up her hand.

"It's alright," she said. "Hi Neville." She embraced him, and Draco reached out to grab Nott's wrist, holding him back.

Tread carefully, he sent to her. Everyone is staring.

I know. That's the point.

Merlin, you stress me out.

She laughed across the bridge, though her face in reality was more solemn as she pulled away from Neville's fierce embrace. "I know you must have been so worried about me— I'm sorry for disappearing the way I did. I—"

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Neville said fiercely. "It's hisbloody fault." He looked at Draco with perhaps the most intense glare Draco had ever seen him make. He couldn't help but be impressed.

Neville started toward Draco, and Ginny grabbed his wrist.

"Please don't," she said softly, in a voice Draco knew wasn't natural to her. "Please don't fight, Neville. There's so much I haven't told you— so much I wish you could understand."

Not a lie, Draco knew. Just expertly phrased so that Snape and the Carrows could interpret it to fit their agenda.

"It's okay," she urged, as Neville looked from Ginny to Draco and back again. "It's okay. Will you please sit down and listen to what I have to say?"

Neville wanted to believe her, Draco could tell. Wanted to believe that everything was okay. But he had apparently grown a brain along with a backbone, for his face grew cold as he took a step back.

"I'm sorry we couldn't save you in time," he said. "I'm sorry they've done this to you."

He turned away from her and hurried back to his seat, and Ginny stayed frozen for a moment. His words had been like a gut punch— Draco could feel Ginny standing, stunned, through the bridge.

It's alright, he urged. He doesn't know. But he will, after this is all done. He'll understand then, and see how brave you've been. Let's go save the world, Ginny. You and me— together.

Ginny took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and approached the professors' table, Draco and Nott following close behind. Snape stood up, rounded the table, and came to stand next to Ginny, conjuring a podium as he went.

"Miss Weasley has requested to come speak to you all regarding the… nature of her unexpected departure last term," Snape said. His command of the crowd was immediate— any lingering whispers dropped into silence as soon as he started speaking. "You will give her your undivided attention while she speaks, and you will not interrupt her in any way. As some of you may be aware, she has been through enough as it is, and has come here to speak to you all out of love for this school and its students."

No one responded, and Snape jerkily stepped away, leaving space for Ginny.

Here goes nothing,she sent across the bridge before walking up to the podium to take Snape's place. The podium was tall; Ginny was short enough that the top of it was level with her chest. Adding to her innocent, childlike image, Draco supposed.

Draco nodded at Nott as Ginny began to speak, and he positioned himself a step back and to the left of Ginny on the steps, with Nott in the same position on her right. Almost out of habit, he assumed his Death Eater stance, legs shoulder width apart and arms crossed behind his back, and Nott followed suit.

The Hogwarts student body sat in sullen silence as Ginny described the apparent abuse she had suffered at her family's hands in just enough detail to shock them but not so much that it sounded unbelievable. Longbottom looked heartbroken to see Ginny this way, his chubby cheeks red with impotent anger. Draco skimmed the crowd and his eyes landed on Luna Lovegood. She too looked emotional at the sight of Ginny standing up here, but she didn't look angry— she knew, in the most general terms, why they were here, after all. Ginny would not be rescued today, but if all went to plan… well, Draco didn't know what the timeline would look like, but she would at least be rescued at some point. Or rescue herself, rather.

Elentiya, he mused, his eyes returning to Ginny as she urged the students to be patient with these new changes and to embrace the Ministry's new position. Was she really blessed by a god? All signs pointed to that being the case. Wasn't that what the wolf-beast had said, in Ginny's memory? You have the Great Queen's blessing on you. Your blood sings with her light.He could scarcely wrap his head around it— what it meant now, and what it would mean in the future. Voldemort liked to call himself a god, but… somehow Draco thought that he had misunderstood the situation entirely.

He let his eyes wander from Ginny towards the Slytherin table, where Blaise was watching him, pretending to be bored. Draco made eye contact with him, gave him the smallest of nods, and mouthed "after," aware that Snape and the Carrows were behind him, and Ginny and Nott were off to his side— none of them were in a position to see. Blaise looked away, fiddling with the fork in front of him, but Draco knew he had seen.

Morgana's brooch had to be in the room with them right now, he realized. Blaise had to have it in his pocket— he had known to be prepared for their eight o'clock arrival. Draco's heart rate quickened. They were so close. They couldn't screw this up.

"Above all, I urge you to think of peace," Ginny said, her voice wavering just a bit. "We all want that, I can assure you— and not a false peace, as we've been under before. True peace. Change is hard— adjusting to a new way of life is hard. But that is the path forward. I've started down that path, and I hope you will follow me."

She stepped back, letting out a deep sigh. The hall remained silent— no claps for what the older students at least recognized as propaganda. But Draco knew she had spoken true, in a way. She did want peace, and she was walking toward it, though the road was hard. I hope you will follow me.Would they follow her, when she eventually rose up against Voldemort? Would she even want them to?

"Thank you, Miss Weasley," Snape said after a tense moment, rising to his feet once again. "An inspiring speech, one that our student body would do well to heed. You're all dismissed— off to class with you now."

The benches groaned and scraped against the stone floor as the students got to their feet, and Draco felt a moment of panic seize him. Did Blaise have a free period right now? He thought so, but what if—

"Thank you for hosting us, Headmaster," Ginny said, turning to Snape, speaking quietly enough that the rest of the teachers couldn't hear. "I wanted to ask… a favor of you."

Oh Merlin. I guess we're going with her plan…

"A favor," Snape repeated. "Surely any favor I can grant pales in comparison to that of the Dark Lord. Why don't you ask him for it?"

"Well, I have, after a fashion," she said, looking down and tucking her hair behind her ear. Perfectly docile.

"If he did not grant your request—"

"He did," she said, looking up to meet his eyes. "In letting me come here. I'm asking you to let me experience that fully— I came here to give this speech, but also because I miss the school. I'd like to walk around for a bit, before I have to… go back. The Dark Lord knows my desires— it's the biggest part of why I'm here. Will you please allow me to do so?"

Snape said nothing for a long moment, looking her up and down. Ginny, to her credit, did not look away. "I will not be able to accompany you—"

"I have two guards," Ginny said quickly. "Both sworn to protect and defend me. One of whom who has already… given his commands. I am no threat here, and no threat will befall me. Please— just ten minutes. Then I'll go, I promise."

Snape stared at her, and Draco half-wondered if he was attempting Legilimency before he abruptly looked away. "Fine. Though if I have to hunt you down, I can assure you that the Dark Lord will be most displeased that his… trust, was misplaced."

"I won't let you down," she said, letting herself smile. Snape appeared unmoved, but Ginny had the answer she needed. She turned to look at Draco and Nott and said, "That's okay, isn't it? Just ten minutes?"

Nott, having been eager to be in the leader's role earlier, now looked to Draco, who grimaced.

Letting me take the blame for agreeing in case something goes wrong. How noble of him.

"Fine," he said, his voice cold. "You remember our discussion though— not out of our line of sight."

Ginny nodded, and, once the last of the students had filtered out of the hall, she descended the stairs, Draco and Nott following along in her wake.

What plan letter is this again? Draco asked. We went over so many, I forgot.

Told you, she said, sounding satisfied. Over-planning. Don't worry about the plan letters. We're going to wander around for a couple of minutes before I suddenly, urgently have to go to the bathroom.

Ah. That plan.

I suppose it's too late to talk you into something else.

Yep. This will work— trust me.

I always trust you. I'm just also trying to be pragmatic.

They exited the Great Hall, and Ginny turned left— toward the library, he realized with a start. A quick glance down the hall revealed Blaise sitting casually in one of the window arches, a book in hand— for all appearances, like a student enjoying a free period.

Too bad this connection doesn't extend to Blaise as well, he said. Would be easier to just update him in real time.

If you think I'm sharing this connection with anyone else, you're mad.

Draco felt his cheeks flush lightly. Would he ever get used to it? These casual declarations of her care for him? He couldn't imagine it.

"Hello gents," Blaise said without looking up from his book, giving them pause. "Weasley."

Ginny stopped walking. "Hello," she said, a little uncertainly.

"Lovely speech you had up there," he said. "So sorry to hear of what you've endured."

A truth within a lie.

"Thank you," she said in a stiff voice. "It was… horrible. I'm glad it's over now."

"Indeed," he said with a little nod. "To better times ahead, eh?"

"What are you doing here, Zabini?" Nott demanded.

Ugh.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Reading."

"Shouldn't you be in class?"

"I have a free period. I have quite a lot of those, actually. All the more time to relax." He stretched his legs out in front of him, emphasizing the point.

"Hmph," Nott said in disapproval— he had always been rather studious in school. "Well, we'll be going then."

"Enjoy your stroll," Blaise said, returning to his book.

They walked forward a few paces, apparently heading towards the library, when Blaise called after them.

"Actually, Draco, wait," he called. They paused again and looked back at him. He had stood up, but hadn't moved any closer to them. "My mother will kill me if I forget again— I was supposed to give this to you back at Ginny's birthday and it completely slipped my mind. My mother bought something for yours while she was in Italy— some insanely expensive jewelry piece, apparently. I tried to get her to just send it via owl post and she lectured me for half an hour on wasting family funds and the unreliability of avian messengers for such things. I have it in our dorm— come with me real quick to fetch it?"

Fucking hell. So we're apparently doing none of the plans. Great. Just great.

"I'm a bit busy, Zabini," he said in a cold voice. "I'm escorting Ginny through the castle, as you can see. I doubt she wants to go down to the dungeons."

"It'll barely take five minutes," Zabini said. "You'll be back before little Miss Weasley here has time to blink, practically."

Draco bit his lip in a show of consideration.

Nott wants to prove himself, Ginny said. He just doesn't want to be blamed for something going wrong, if he can help it. Give him his chance.

Fucking hell.

He turned to look at Nott. "Can I trust you to look after her for five minutes?" he asked in that same cold voice. "To take her to the library, let her look at a book or two maybe."

He could see Nott making the calculations in his head. If something were to happen, they would both be in horrible trouble… but Draco would be the one who had technically abandoned his post. And if Nott saved Ginny single-handedly from danger… well, all the better for Nott.

"That's fine," Nott said, straightening his shoulders. "I've got things under control here."

"I'll catch up with you in a second, Zabini," Draco called, keeping his gaze on Nott. "I'll meet you in the dungeons."

Faint footsteps let him know that Blaise had heeded his words. Not looking behind him, Draco seized Nott by the front of his robes, startling him.

"If anything happens to her, anything at all, I will kill you, do you understand?" Draco snarled, pulling up some of his rage at Voldemort and at Rookwood for dramatic effect. "The Dark Lord won't even have to kill you, because I'll have done it for him. Nothing is more important than she is, nothing."

Nott recovered quickly. He yanked his robes out of Draco's grasp, a sneer on his face.

"Don't worry about me, Malfoy," he said. "I take the Dark Lord's words seriously— I refuse to fail in my service to him."

Not what your Imperius practice said, but alright, works for me.

"See that you don't," Draco said, returning Nott's sneer before looking at Ginny. He reached out and tipped her chin up. "Be good, little saint. You know what's expected of you, and what's on the line."

Ginny scowled at him, but she was squealing with glee on the inside.

See, sometimes you don't need to plan at all! Sometimes things just work out.

Don't count your dragons before they've hatched. I still have to get the thing.

Spoilsport.

He dropped her chin and turned abruptly away from them, storming off in not-entirely-faked irritation. He hadn't wanted Ginny to see the exchange happen, and he supposed she wouldn't now, but she had certainly overheard him talking to Blaise, about a gift no less, and so had Nott. Nott, so focused on Ginny and on his own potential to prove himself, wouldn't suspect anything, but what would the Dark Lord think when he looked in Ginny's mind once they returned?

Too late to worry about that now. He hurried down the hall, his heart pounding as he made his way toward the dungeons. Luckily, it appeared Blaise was one of the few students who had a free period right now— the halls were practically deserted.

As soon as he entered the dungeons, Blaise emerged from the shadows.

"Took you long enough," he said. "I thought you would be right behind me."

"I had to make sure Nott didn't get suspicious," Draco said, looking around to make sure they weren't overheard. "What happened to waiting for my signal?"

"You didn't look like you were going to be able to give it, what with Nott practically breathing down your neck. I saw an opportunity and I took it. And it paid off, I'd say— you're here, alone."

"If the Dark Lord gets suspicious about the gift—"

"I thought of that too. You're going to hide away this memory in a moment, then I'm going to walk with you into the dorm, where I'll give you a gift box with a lovely emerald ring inside it— I found it in the ever-helpful Room of Requirement. The gift box has a false bottom, enchanted to stay hidden. Call me once you're alone with it and I'll walk you through the counterspell. The brooch and the spell page are in there. Items in question are protected, and you have a nice, non-treasonous memory to show for it, once you tuck this away."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "And you didn't think to tell me this yesterday, whyexactly?"

"To your point, we didn't know what exactly today was going to bring. And, to be honest, I didn't think of it right away. It came to me last night, and I got it all sorted out in the Room this morning, before you arrived."

"Blaise Zabini, wandering the castle at 6am. Will wonders never cease?"

Blaise smirked. "It wasn't the first time, but Merlin's beard, I hope it's the last. And speaking of time, you're running out of it. Use your special mind powers to temporarily forget this conversation and let's get on with it."

That… wasn't how it worked. But Draco didn't see any point in correcting Blaise now. He leaned back against the wall of the dungeon, letting the cool stone touch the back of his neck and remind him of the bite of the sea as he closed his eyes. He willed himself out to the water, which was deliciously cool against his fevered skin. He pulled together the wisps of memory from the last few minutes, letting them coalesce into a loose ball in his hands before he dived down under the water. He couldn't let these be seen, not even if the Dark Lord looked directly in his mind. There was only one place to store them.

He swam down, deeper and deeper toward the bottom of the sea, where a familiar pirate's chest awaited him. It stored everything that was most important… and most dangerous. This was the right place, he was sure of it. He tilted up the lid, slipped the memories inside, then locked it, the rust-covered lock clicking into place in his hand. He looked around, willing the sand to smooth out around him, leaving no trace of his presence. This was just another random feature of the sea floor— nothing special. Merely his imagination given shape.

Satisfied, he swam up again, and when he reached the surface, he opened his eyes and nodded at Blaise, who briskly started walking toward the Slytherin common room. Draco quickly followed, doing his best to keep his mind on the irritation at being called down here unexpectedly.

"It's ridiculous that your mother wouldn't just send this via owl post," Draco said. "Or drop by the manor herself. Making me fetch it like some errand boy."

"My mother spends maybe 10% of her time in this country, and that's being generous," Blaise said with a casual shrug. "Always been that way— probably always will be. Why deliver it herself when I can deliver it for her? And you know she's right about the owls. It's probably better now that the Ministry has changed hands, but you really think someone wouldn't be tempted to steal something so valuable if they were checking the mail?"

"Whatever, let's just get this over with quickly," Draco said, musing on Blaise's words. He had never really asked Blaise about his childhood— all he knew was that his mother was rich, famous, and politically important, and that she had been married a whopping seven times over. If Chiara Zabini spent most of her time out of the country… had she taken a young Blaise with her? Or had he grown up alone in a big empty manor?

He had said he was close with his grandmother, he recalled, remembering Blaise's Venice mindscape. Maybe this is part of why?

They reached the Slytherin common room, and Blaise spoke the password— mandrake— allowing them to enter the space.

"I never expected to be back here," Draco said, taking a second to admire the windows looking out on the Black Lake, allowing its watery depths to reinforce his own Occlumency.

"I know, I know, you've moved on to bigger and better things," Blaise said, wasting no time as he headed toward the seventh year boys' dorm, Draco following in his wake. "Some of us want to graduate though."

That stung, even though he knew Blaise hadn't meant it to. Draco wanted to graduate. He just hadn't had the option— never would, now. Although he supposed he didn't much need to worry about N.E.W.T. qualifications, given that his career choices were limited to Death Eater or Azkaban prisoner. He grimaced, remembering his words just over a year ago on the Hogwarts Express. Same words, but such a different sentiment behind them now.

They entered the boys' dorm, Draco purposely keeping his eyes away from his old bed, and Blaise dropped down to dig through the chest at the foot of his four poster.

"You were just supposed to hold onto this until you saw me again?" he asked. "That could have been ages from now."

"I think she expected you would return to school, now that your name has been cleared in the Prophet," Blaise said, still digging. "I tried to tell her, but you know her— once she gets an idea in her mind, there's no changing it."

Draco did not, in fact, know her— he hadn't ever met Blaise's mother before.

"Aha!" Blaise said, pulling out a small, grey velvet box. "Here we are. Have a look-see."

His stomach twisted horribly at that, but he pushed it down, down below the sea waves, as he took the box from Blaise and flipped the lid open. Inside was an obscenely large emerald ring, sitting on a veritable bed of diamonds in its setting.

"Wow," Draco said, not even having to fake it. "This is… something else."

"What's that expression? You can't buy taste? Size isn't everything? Something like that. Anyway. You'll give this to your mother? Mine will be expecting a gushing thank you card, I'm sure."

"Of course," he said, closing the box and slipping it into his pocket, his heart pounding. "Thank you— I'm sure she'll love it."

"No thanks needed," Blaise said with a wink as he rose to his feet, closing the chest behind him. "Alright, I've kept you long enough I suppose— go back to work, Death Eater extraordinaire."

Draco laughed, though he quickly stifled it. "I'll see you soon, I'm sure. Over the holidays if nothing else."

Or tonight, when I call you about this damn ritual.

Draco left the dorm, hurrying through the common room and back through the dungeon, intent on heading for the library.

Are you still in the library?he sent to her.

Yes. Did you get it?

Yes.

He could feel her elation through the bond; it was infectious. He fought back a smile as he ascended the stairs and walked down the corridor, heading for the library doors.

He had done it. Now they just had to get back undetected, and then Draco would slip away— perhaps "go to work," and then call Blaise.

He opened the library doors, the memory of being in here with Kathleen hitting him with a sharp pang, and glanced around for Nott and Ginny. Madam Pince dutifully ignored him, keeping her eyes on the circulation desk.

Toward the far window, Ginny said. Where you can see the pitch.

He walked further back, and soon came across them. Ginny leaned against the window, staring longingly at the Quidditch pitch in the distance. Nott stood awkwardly nearby, seemingly unsure how to interact with her alone.

"There you are," he drawled, startling Nott. "Enjoying the view?"

Ginny looked back at him and smirked. "Remembering beating your sorry arse."

Draco barked a laugh, the memory flooding back to him. "A favorite memory of mine," he said as he took a step closer to her, his voice growing lower as he remembered them racing neck and neck, their hands scrambling for the Snitch.

"Okay, that's enough of that," Nott said hastily, stepping in between them. "I'm apparently the only one who remembers we're here on a mission. And your ten minutes are up… Weasley."

Why'd he say my name so weird?

He doesn't know what to call you. He doesn't want to be disrespectful to the Dark Lord's saint.

Gross.

"Okay," she said with a dramatic sigh, stepping away from the window. "We can go back."

"Thank Merlin," Nott muttered, hurrying ahead of them toward the library doors.

Let's get out of here, Draco sent to Ginny. I won't be able to take a full breath until I'm back at the manor, brooch in hand.

Almost there,she said, striding along beside him and doing a passable job of looking disappointed that the trip was ending.

"Should we say goodbye to Snape?" Nott asked, looking over his shoulder. "Go up to his office?"

Hmm.

"We don't have the password," Draco said. "He didn't give it to us before we left. I think we can just leave— as long as we're back to the Dark Lord on time, I wouldn't worry about Snape."

"If you say so," Nott said, though he sounded relieved.

They hurried through the halls, passing no one as they went— Filch was apparently occupied in some other part of the castle, and the professors were in class. They left through the entrance hall, and only once they were outside did Draco let his eyes drift to the Astronomy Tower— the site of Dumbledore's murder, and the last place Ginny had been on the grounds before she left. His heart squeezed painfully. The culmination of a year's worth of work had been in that tower, a year's worth of work which had brought the world that much closer to ruin. He could only hope that he could undo it now, as much as he could at least.

"Well, I would say that went well," Nott said, breathing an audible sigh of relief as they walked away from the castle and approached the front gates. "Speech went off without a hitch, and other than Longbottom making a fool out of himself as usual, nothing to worry about with the students."

"Neville is my friend," Ginny said icily as Nott pulled open the gates. "Don't talk about him that way."

"Yeah, Nott," Draco said, making Nott raise his eyebrows. "Longbottom's a pureblood, remember? A blood traitor, just like Ginny was. He'll be one of us soon enough."

Ginny blanched, and Draco made himself smirk to ignore the queasy feeling in his stomach.

Nott laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, I suppose so. I forgot Longbottom's pureblood."

"You would never know it, the way he behaves," Draco said, walking through the gates. "He barely has enough magic to avoid being labeled a Squib— figures he would be a Muggle sympathizer."

Why are you being so mean?

Setting the stage for Nott, and anyone else who looks. Direct the audience's attention, right?

Ginny took a deep breath as she walked out of the gates toward him. Okay.

"Cheer up, Weasley," he said. "More obedient students means less students getting punished— that's a good thing, right?"

"I suppose so," she said flatly.

"I'll meet you back at headquarters," Draco said to Nott before extending his arm to Ginny. Nott nodded and Disapparated, but Ginny did not walk forward to take his arm.

"Come on then," Draco said. "Let's go."

"I…"

"Ginny."

She swallowed hard before stepping forward and grabbing his arm.

Just adding to it, she said right before they Disapparated. I know we both don't want to go back.

And yet here they were, back again… back outside Voldemort's home. Draco resisted the urge to put his hand in his pocket, checking that the jewelry box was still there, and instead threw every bit of his effort toward focusing on the sea, on locking any treasonous thoughts and memories away as they walked slowly, so slowly, toward the front door.

"I don't want to go back," Ginny whispered, her voice trembling.

"You know you have to."

"I know."

Draco the Death Eater needed to be in charge here. Or Death Eater Malfoy, as Ginny called him.

"It's not so bad, is it? A beautiful room that gives you anything you desire? No obligations except to occasionally sit there and look pretty? The Dark Lord does spoil you, even more than I ever did. You're probably the luckiest one out of all of us."

"We apparently have different definitions of lucky," Ginny said as he held the front door open for her and let her walk in ahead of him.

More than anything, Draco wished he could simply walk Ginny upstairs, kiss her goodbye, and head to "work." But Voldemort would be waiting for them.

They walked to the ballroom door, and Draco had barely raised his hand to knock when Voldemort's voice commanded them to enter.

Nott was already in the room, looking very nervous, which turned Draco's stomach. They couldn't possibly be in trouble, could they?

"My saint returns," Voldemort said. "Just as she promised."

Ginny dipped into a small curtsy, though her robes weren't really suited for it. "My lord," she said. "Thank you for allowing me to visit… to visit Hogwarts this morning."

"Come here," he said, not bothering to get up from his throne. Nagini was stretched over his shoulders, and he was almost slouched in his seat— making himself comfortable.

Ginny obeyed, striding forward toward the dais and ascending its steps. Draco followed behind her, stopping next to Nott, acutely aware of the fact that the last time he had been in this position, he had been whipped to the point of losing consciousness.

"No," Voldemort said when Ginny went to kneel on the pillow next to the throne. "Face me."

Ginny shot the briefest of worried glances at Draco before slowly rising to her feet and walking in front of the throne. Voldemort remained seated.

"Let's see, then," he said, lifting his gaze to her face. Draco saw her stiffen, and his stomach tightened.

Legilimency, it's got to be. Checking how the morning went.

"What a bittersweet reunion with your little friend," Voldemort said, his eyes never leaving Ginny. "We'll have to find a good place for him, when the time comes. He shares your taste for the impulsive, I'll give him that."

He stared at her for a little while longer, and then snapped, "Draco, why did you walk away from my saint?"

Fuck.

"I stayed with Nott," Ginny said. "I didn't break any rules. It was a good thing, my lord. Sometimes he…"

"Sometimes he what?" Voldemort demanded.

"Smothers me," Ginny said quietly. "Getting a few minutes to walk the castle without him was… nice."

I'm sorry.

Definitely don't be— you're saving my arse, hopefully,he sent to her as the Dark Lord barked a laugh.

"You can't decide what you want, can you?" he asked her. "I send him away and you can do nothing but think of him constantly, practically begging me for his return without coming out and saying it. But then half the time when he's around, all you want is to get away from him. How am I to understand that?"

Ginny had the audacity to shrug. "Maybe I don't always know what I want, at least not until I'm in the moment."

That seemed to land, somehow; Voldemort cocked his head as he continued to look through her mind, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Perhaps you don't," he agreed after a long moment. "How fortunate for you that you have me to guide you now."

She stiffened at that, making him smirk. Draco stayed quiet, aware that he had been asked a direct question and yet having the sense that this was a dangerous moment to interrupt.

"Let's see this jewelry, Draco," he said, his eyes still on Ginny.

FUCK.

Holding his breath, Draco walked forward, and as he did so, he took a gamble— he pulled out the jewelry box, took the ring out of it, and put the box back in his pocket.

"Here it is, my lord," he said. "Would you like me to—"

He didn't get to finish the question. The ring floated up out of his hand, toward the Dark Lord. Its multitude of gems glinted in the dim light of the room as it ascended, floating past Ginny and into the Dark Lord's outstretched hand. He turned it around a couple of times, examining it, and at one point waved his hand in a way that Draco was sure meant he was checking for any enchantments.

"Do you like it?" he asked, showing it to Ginny.

"No," Ginny said, disdain in her voice. "It's ugly."

Voldemort laughed. "What do you not like about it?"

"It's too gaudy. I prefer simple things."

He turned the ring over in his hand again, considering. "Then I suppose Narcissa can have it. Here, Draco."

He floated the ring back to Draco, who held in his sigh of relief as he reached out to grab it. "Thank you, my lord." Being as nonchalant as he could, he reached into his pocket, grabbed the box, put the ring back inside it, and slipped the box back into his pocket.

"You've done well, Theodore," Voldemort said, addressing him for the first time. "You were alert, did not once abandon your post, and brought my saint back to me safe and sound. You may go now."

"Th-thank you, my lord," Nott said, bowing deeply before hurrying out of the room.

Once the door closed, Voldemort said drily, "Word of your punishment must have spread. He couldn't wait to run out of here, even though his mission was a success."

Draco said nothing, waiting and hoping to be dismissed.

"Sometimes you don't know what you want until you're in the moment," he said, turning his attention back to Ginny. "Well, little saint, in this moment, what do you want me to do with Draco? Keep him here?"

Ginny took a deep breath. "No, my lord. Not right now."

Draco held his breath.

"And why is that?"

"Being… being back at Hogwarts… it reminded me… of how I came to be here," she said, her voice a little unsteady. "I would rather not see him right now."

Good cover story,Draco sent to her, hoping that it was, in fact, a cover story.

"Should I indulge you, do you think?"

"I think that's up to you, my lord."

"You're right," he said softly. "It is up to me." He stood up abruptly, making Ginny take a quick step back in order to give him space to do so. "Draco, return to your manor. You may return here… on the 13th, I think. Complete your tasks at the Ministry, and be prepared to return here this weekend."

Draco bowed. "Yes, my lord."

"You're dismissed."

He turned around and walked toward the doors, forcing himself to keep his thoughts neutral, allowing just a hint of disappointment to come through that he wouldn't be seeing Ginny for several days. He shut the doors, walked at a measured pace through the hall and out through the front door, and took only a few steps outside before Apparating away, his mind on the manor.

He arrived outside its gates, and jumped for joy, unable to contain his excitement.

"Yes!" he yelled, throwing his arms wildly above his head. "Yes!"

We did it, Ginny! We did it. I'm going to go inside the manor, say hello to my parents, then call Blaise and see about doing the spell later tonight.

No response, but that was perhaps to be expected— she was likely still in Voldemort's presence. Above all, though, he could feel a deep, abiding sense of satisfaction resonating from behind the cherrywood door.


SEPTEMBER 8th, 1997

Lord Voldemort watched his saint's retreating back as she left the ballroom, heading for her room upstairs. She had come back. She wasn't hurt, and more importantly, she hadn't escaped. Hadn't even attempted it. She had been a little reticent, right at the end, to come back to the house, but that was perhaps to be expected. He had known that the school would be an incredible temptation for her, but she had done well, overall.

Probably in large part because of Draco's commands,he thought, his grip on the Elder Wand momentarily tightening before he stood up, Nagini still on his shoulders. Today would be a day for checking progress, for there were numerous things in motion, numerous things that needed to be completed sooner rather than later. But what should he check on first?

He sighed. "I must not be impulsive, Nagini." He sat down again.

The girl was such a temptation— so easy to ignore everything else, in favor of her. Was that its own kind of test? Was he required to prove his restraint, prove that he could do what had to be done, even when temptation beckoned?

Perhaps so. He would attend to the less pleasing matter first, even though it was sure to put him in a foul temper. He could not let himself get distracted. He pressed the tip of the Elder Wand to his left forearm and focused on Corban Yaxley's name. The magic pulsed within him for a moment, confirming that his summons had been sent.

Yaxley was usually timely with his arrivals. He wouldn't have to wait more than a minute or so, he guessed. Yaxley, despite or perhaps because of his constant thirsting for power, knew what was important to Lord Voldemort and what was not— what annoyed him, and what was likely to please him. How he must be dreading this summons, given the news he was likely to deliver.

He was correct. Barely any time passed at all before there was a knock on the door, strong and sure. Yaxley's promotion at the Ministry had given him a newfound sense of confidence.

"Enter," he commanded, and Yaxley did so, bowing deeply before striding toward the throne and standing at attention, waiting to be addressed. A good soldier.

"I imagine you know why you are here," Voldemort said in a bored tone, reaching up to absently pet Nagini. "Have there been any status changes regarding your search for the boy?"

Yaxley visibly swallowed. "I regret to say there have been none, my lord. The boy's hideout yielded nothing of interest, just general signs that they had been living there. We have located a couple of the Mudbloods he helped escape, but none of them even realized it was Potter— they knew nothing useful."

"You disposed of them, I'm assuming."

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. What else?"

"I collaborated with Severus, and reviewed his memories of the Weasley family's interrogations under Veritaserum, on the off chance he missed something," Yaxley continued. "But he did not. Potter was unfortunately very tight-lipped about what his plans were. He has not gone to the Weasley residence, nor to any of the Order's known safe house locations. They may have more, and we're continuing to search for them, but—"

"He won't be sitting in a safe house, Yaxley," Voldemort said in a bored tone, his eyes on the Elder Wand as he twirled it between his fingers. "He's not hiding. Or not only hiding. He's on a mission of some kind. He remains hidden in service of that. Sitting in a safe house won't accomplish anything for him."

"We have offered a substantial monetary reward for capture of the boy, or his two friends," Yaxley said.

"How much? For Harry?"

"One hundred thousand Galleons, my lord."

"Make it two hundred thousand."

Yaxley blanched but nodded quickly.

"Of course, my lord."

"What else?"

Yaxley swallowed. "Our groups of Snatchers— Mudblood hunters— have all been given photos of the three of them, and instructed to bring him in straight away if he… as soon as he is found. They're spread all throughout the country, in rural areas and in cities. Between them and the ordinary folk looking to make some gold, we've offered a multitude of incentives."

"A multitude of incentives," Voldemort repeated. "That's good."

"Th-thank you, my lord."

"The Taboo is still active?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. So if his hubris gets the better of him, we will know about it. You will obviously alert me as soon as he is captured— return to me in one week's time regardless, with an update."

"Understood, my lord," Yaxley said with a bow.

"You are dismissed."

Yaxley bowed again and left the room, the door clicking closed behind him.

It was not such a bad thing that they had not found the boy yet. Harry needed to be dealt with as soon as possible, but that all hinged on his own control of the Hallows— without them, fate would not grant him his victory, and he was not yet certain, not completely, that the fourth Hallow was his.

Thus today's check-ins.

"It's a nice day outside, Nagini", he said in Parseltongue. "Go enjoy the warm weather, while it still lasts."

"Thank you, my lord,"Nagini replied, her voice soft as always as she slithered off of his shoulders and headed for the door. He willed it to open, and it was so, allowing her to head out of the room.

The conversation about Harry had not been as frustrating as he had feared. Yaxley was taking varied measures to find the boy, and while they had not been successful yet, it had only been a handful of days since Harry had foolishly broken into the Ministry of Magic. They had time, particularly given these other elements in motion.

Now… would he rather be frustrated with himself, or someone else?

Someone else, certainly. He pressed his wand to his arm again, focusing on Walden Macnair.

Macnair was not quite as timely as Yaxley, usually. He was a bit like Rookwood in that way— fastidious to the point of annoyance. But, frustrating as it was, there was no one better to work on the problem of the tattoo.

Macnair arrived approximately two minutes after his lord's summons, and he entered and bowed in much the same way Yaxley had.

"I hope you have good news for me, Macnair," Voldemort said. "Of at least progress, if not success."

"Progress, yes, my lord," Macnair said quickly, though Voldemort could sense his beating heart from here. "Under laboratory conditions, I have been able to stabilize the curse's power at its origin point, which when balanced with the—"

"Sometimes the simplest explanation is best, Macnair," Voldemort said in a bored tone. "What does your progress mean for my saint?"

Macnair gulped. "We will not be able to remove the tattoo from her— it is too volatile once attached to a host. But we can disconnect it from Malfoy's Dark Mark."

That was good news. Very good news.

"You don't sound excited. Shouldn't that be something you were racing to tell me?"

"The trouble, my lord," Macnair said quickly, "is in guiding the tattoo to a new master. Disconnecting it won't be a problem, but reconnecting it…"

Ah. That would be a problem.

"I see," he said coldly. "What are you doing to rectify that issue?"

"It might… it might be easier for me to show you, my lord," Macnair said. "The progress, and the… stuck points. May I show you a memory?"

Voldemort waved him on a tad impatiently, and Macnair withdrew a memory from his own mind, the cloudy wisps clinging to his wand. He flung his wand, and the memory spiraled outward, expanding into a moving image.

The two men watched as memory-Macnair paced around a floating Dark Mark, an inky tendril laced to a squirming black mass that Voldemort instantly recognized as belonging to Macnair's modified Imperius Curse. He murmured some words, and with a wave of his wand, the tether was broken. Voldemort held his breath and leaned forward in his seat, watching as the mass of black energy bent out of shape for a moment before returning to normal. Macnair was right— it could be disconnected, though it would likely be painful. Perhaps he could take that memory from her as well, if she was truly upset by it. This was not intended as a punishment, after all.

But then the trouble started. Macnair conjured a second Dark Mark, and began guiding energy from it toward the curse, while at the same time drawing out a tendril of the curse's power and guiding it toward the Mark. He looked like he was conducting a symphony as the two pieces of magic grew ever closer to each other. They connected, and held together for a split second before the curse energy writhed and stretched and jolted around— things in the room Macnair was in began to fly around, knocked back by the curse's power as it fought back before exploding in a blast of power, leaving ink splattered everywhere.

"I don't know what that would do to the girl's arm," Macnair said, "but it would not be good."

No, it wouldn't.

"What about disconnecting her current bond, while you work out the issues with its transfer?"

"I believe it would wipe the current bond's commands, my lord," Macnair said. "It would have no true master at that point. And without another person to take his place—"

"We would lose the ability to control her," Voldemort finished, annoyed.

"Yes, and… as I and others have mentioned, my lord, the curse is semi-sentient at this point. I would be afraid of unintended consequences if we were to leave it in the girl's arm, unattached."

He thought back to Ginny opening the portal, to the way the tattoo had soared back to her arm as soon as she was close enough to it, how it had retained its exact original shape as it reformed, tying her to Draco Malfoy.

"Fine then," he said flatly. "Continue your efforts, and update me as soon as you've made progress. The sooner this is done, the better. I expect your full attention to be on this task, nothing else."

"Of course, my lord," Macnair said with a bow. "I will not rest until it is completed."

An idea occurred to him then. "Are you familiar with the Suea flower?"

"N-no, my lord."

"Research its properties. It is prized by alchemists who need to purify a substance, or a receiving vessel, before completing other work. A rare bloom, but I happen to know how to acquire some. If you think it will be helpful, do let me know."

"I will look into it immediately, my lord."

"Good. Then you are dismissed."

Macnair hurriedly bowed and practically ran out of the room, likely to look for an Herbology book discussing flowers.

A more disappointing report than Yaxley's, but still good news overall— Macnair had made substantial progress since their last discussion of this issue. Had he only known a few months ago what he knew now, he never would have bound her to the Malfoy boy to begin with. Ah, well— yet another test of his patience, he supposed. Nothing worth having was easily obtained, after all.

Two down, two to go. He stood up, floated down from the dais, and walked out of the room, heading for his study. Now that his work lived in this room, he had spelled the door closed, not unlike the room for his saint. With just a bit of focus, he released the spell, revealing the door, and slipped inside, closing the space up tight behind him.

He walked quickly toward the back of the room, through the handful of standing bookshelves that kept this space hidden from immediate view. He made himself slow his breath as he approached— alchemy required, above all, a deft hand, and nerves would do nothing but muddle his progress.

Behind these bookshelves sat a great cauldron, not unlike the one he had been reborn into the first time. Pale lavender liquid bubbled and smoked, an ever-burning fire lit beneath the cauldron's base keeping the potion active.

This wouldn't have been possible without the Elder Wand, he was sure of it. He had never attempted this before, but even the most reliable texts on the homunculus process didn't expect progress this quickly. He waved his wand, focusing on the essence he was creating, and the liquid became temporarily transparent.

It was like a giant fetus, really. No skin yet, just the barest traces of muscle covering the bones, but the baseline structure was all there. He had had to sacrifice a memory from the age he wanted this form to take— no big loss, truly. He had opted for twenty-three. Older than the girl's memory of him with the diary, but he had been so much stronger at that age. He would not truly hit his magical prime for decades yet, but the young adult Voldemort, working for Borgin and Burkes, was still infinitely more accomplished than his sixteen year old self had been.

If the progress kept up this pace, his new body would be ready in a couple of weeks, minus the issue of the blood. It would be so much easier if he didn't have to worry about that, but he didn't dare skip steps, no matter how pleased he was with the speed and finesse of the Elder Wand's superior magic. He could not afford to make foolish mistakes, not with his saint and not with Harry Potter.

He released his hold on the cauldron, and the liquid returned to its normal lavender hue. There was nothing to be done now but wait, aside from puzzle over the blood problem. That, more than anything, was truly vexing— he would dedicate all of tomorrow to it, he decided. Today he would spend time on his newest project.

He waved his wand once again, and a potion vial came floating towards him, Severus's spiky writing visible on the label. They hadn't ever settled on a name for this potion— perhaps he would allow Severus the honor, as its inventor. Although, would he really hold that title once Voldemort was through with this work? He created the initial version, but Voldemort would create its perfected form.

So many things to modify. Hopefully this would prove a more simple task than Macnair's cursework. He would modify this potion, and then perhaps take a clandestine trip to the Department of Mysteries… see what the scholars had to say about other worlds, and walking between them.