Conflicting feelings dominated Ginny. The Severus Snape sitting across from her had nothing in common with the ice-cold Death Eater who had raped Hermione. The man before her now was that Snape she thought she had discovered in the many weeks before, the sullen but polite, taciturn but attentive one who was back ever since Hermione's brief visit. He inspired hope in her where there would otherwise be none. Three major acts spoke against him: the murder of Dumbledore, the rape of Hermione, and the betrayal of the secret of the Elder Wand to Voldemort. The latter still gave her a headache.

"May I ask a question?" Ginny asked, setting down her teacup. Snape raised his eyebrow in surprise, but nodded at her.

"The thing about the Elder Wand, that Harry was the next owner after Malfoy, how did you know that? You weren't even there during the events at Malfoy Manor."

Again, Snape's face changed into the expressionless mask that Ginny knew all too well by now. She always got the impression that he was hiding a boundless hatred behind it - but this time, too, she couldn't tell against whom or why. To her amazement, Snape nevertheless began to answer. "I did not know the details of the incident. It was only on the day of the Battle of Hogwarts that I came across the truth by chance. Miss Granger was explaining the connections to your brother while they were recovering the basilisk's tooth together. I overheard the conversation and reported it to the Dark Lord."

Ginny clenched her fists angrily - so Snape really had not only Dumbledore's life directly on his conscience, but Harry's indirectly as well.

"Miss Granger saved my life with that, by the way," Snape continued, and Ginny thought his tone had suddenly turned bitter, "because it turned out that the Dark Lord thought I was the owner of the Elder Wand and he had to kill me."

"You sure thanked her for that!" Ginny whispered. It just didn't add up. He appeared to her in a way that made him almost sympathetic - and at the same time, he was such a monster. She wished she had the chance to talk to Hermione again, to get her thoughts on this man and his latest explanations. Maybe she could talk him into spending a few days with her at the Malfoys' sometime.

oOoOoOo

He had indeed gone mad. Only madness could explain why he accused her, of all people, of betraying Harry. And anyway - why did it bother him?

"Did you want Harry to win?" she asked cautiously after Draco let go of her and sat down on the edge of the bed, his back turned to her.

"Are you going to tell my father?"

The sharp but resigned-sounding words surprised her. "What?"

"Are you going to tell him about this ... What I just said, will you tell him?"

"No, why should I?" Hermione retorted, confused.

"You're spying for him!" he hissed as he turned to face her again. "And he for ... For you-know-who!"

"I'm not on his side!" Hermione said firmly. "Think, Malfoy! Do you really think anything I could do, me, the Mudblood, would make You-Know-Who accept me?"

"He has Muggles in his employ, too."

"As pawns in his chess game, there to do their job and then be disposed of!" Hermione returned. "Do you really think I'm so stupid as to accept such a role?"

Draco was silent for a long time, then he said, "But Snape said he got the knowledge of the Elder Wand from you! I heard him say that!"

"What do I know what he's talking about! Snape would be the last person I'd give such important information to!" Hermione hissed. "Now untie me already, you don't plan on touching me anyway!"

For another moment Draco hesitated before he stood up, reached for his wand and let the shackles disappear. Instantly Hermione sat up and pulled the covers up to under her chin. Draco stood in front of the bed, apparently undecided what to do now, and looked down at her. It was Hermione, who first returned to the original topic. "I'm not spying for your father. And if you're really... supporting Harry's cause, I'd be overjoyed."

"Don't get me wrong, Granger," Draco replied as he took a seat in the chair in front of his desk, "I don't give a shit about Potter's death. I don't shed a tear for him. But what's going on now, this life, I never wanted it."

It seemed as if long pent-up feelings suddenly burst out of Draco, for without letting Hermione get a word in edgewise, he told his story.

"Can you imagine what it's like? All your father's talk about golden times gone by - and then the man who was supposedly responsible for the glory comes back, and your family sinks into the abyss, blow by blow."

Distressed, but seemingly unable to stop, he continued, "When he came back from the dead back in our fourth year, I was thrilled. To this day, I don't know how he did it, but it seemed to me that all my father's praise didn't come close to describing his power. It was funny to watch Potter being mocked by everyone in our fifth year because no one ever believed the Dark Lord was back. Even Dumbledore, who was loved by everyone, was only perceived as a confused old man."

He laughed and shook his head. "I admit Umbridge was nuts, but it gave me a chance to finally do some justice. You Gryffindors had always been favoured, but now I was in charge! And again, you defied the rules, created Dumbeldore's Army and made fools of us forever. And the worst part was that I knew he was back, but my parents wouldn't tell me. I had to watch you prepare a battle under Potter's guidance ... and even I knew nothing about what was really going on.

"Until the day you fell into the trap with the prophecy. My father wrote me a letter saying that the Dark Lord had a plan to lure Potter out without his protectors knowing. I was to keep an eye on you and send an owl as soon as Potter escaped. And yet... my father failed, whatever the prophecy was, he could not fulfil the Dark Lord's task. Instead, he became the scapegoat for everything that went wrong. That you were able to escape, that the Ministry finally had to admit that he was back ... everything was attributed to my father.

"When I went home for summer vacation that year, I thought I would find proud parents, loyal followers who were happy to finally stand openly with the Dark Lord. Instead ... my mother was afraid. My father was too, but he acted as if nothing had happened. But I knew something was wrong, at the latest when my mother talked more and more about me accepting the Dark Mark. I would have thought that my father would support that, but he was against it.

"They argued all the time. 'You're a failure,' Mother would often say to him, 'because of you, we've fallen out of favour with the Dark Lord, and now you want to throw away our only chance at redemption?' My father's answer was always the same. 'You know as well as I do that this is not about amends. It's a punishment! He pretends to reach out to us graciously, but in reality, he knows as well as we do that Draco can never complete the task. If we accept, it means his death!'

"When I first overheard this conversation, I realised that the man my father had described so brilliantly was simply cruel. I had no idea what my role was, but I believed my father. Mother, on the other hand ..."

For a second, Draco stopped, his face buried in his hands, before he found the strength to continue. "'I will ask Severus for help,' she said, 'if Draco fails, he must do it. No one will know, and then the Dark Lord will have to accept that Draco did it ... and all will be well again!'

"I still remember my father's mirthless laugh. 'Fool! He'll know that Severus, not Draco, killed him! It will only make things worse! If Draco accepts, he'll have to go through this alone. Any help would give the Dark Lord a reason to kill him!'

"The thought that I should kill someone made me nauseous, but the fact that I had to do it because otherwise I would die was much, much worse. I've been afraid ever since that day, Granger! Can you imagine? I've lived in fear of death every day for over two years. My parents sold me to the Dark Lord. My father gave in and also urged me to accept the Dark Mark. Ever since I got it, I have wished for You-Know-Who to die. So much so that I helped you back when you were trapped here. I could have betrayed you, but I didn't. I risked my life for you! I really thought you could do it!

"And now... now I live in a house with a mother who seems more and more like Aunt Bella, and a father who doesn't see that fucking a Mudblood while treating his wife like dirt questions his loyalty. My parents already sold me to the Dark Lord once, so I play the good son. I bet they would betray me to him at the slightest suspicion. And then you... Instead of helping Potter, you betray him to Snape. And then you go after my father. Why? With you at his side, Potter could never have lost! Wh-why did you fail? My life is completely fucked ... because of you! Because of you!"

The hatred that oozed from Draco's last sentences made Hermione fear for a moment that he would strike her again. Instead, Draco sank down exhausted and closed his eyes. Struck by Draco's unexpected openings, Hermione just sat there silently. The previously inexplicable hatred for her, which came out especially strongly whenever Lucius Malfoy treated her well, suddenly made sense. Likewise, Hermione understood that his fear was the cause of his aggressiveness. Like a cornered animal, Draco was snarling and venting his fear in the form of hatred - hatred for her who couldn't defend herself, her who worked well as a scapegoat in his twisted world.

Slowly, Hermione opened herself to the idea that Draco actually was not a follower of Voldemort, even wanted him dead. Unexpectedly, here was an opportunity to pact with one from the other side, one who was not a slave and, as a member of a formerly respected Death Eater family, might even have access to Voldemort's inner circle.

But the Draco who now sat before her seemed so fragile, so resigned and exhausted, that she doubted he was even thinking about rebellion or conspiracies. The fear of death he had spoken of now seemed to have given way to a dull resignation and only occasionally broke out in the form of hatred and violence against her. Before she could work with him on the death of Voldemort, she first had to build him up, encourage him, give him hope.

The only question now was how she, of all people, should succeed with that in her position as a slave.