As Draco turned, he saw pure, unadulterated shock flicker across his friends' faces before it was quickly masked by a far more neutral expression that barely hinted at confusion. Their wands remained pointed at him and Ruth, who stood to his left. She had her gloved, wandless hands raised and was giving him a tired sideways look.
"I can explain," he said.
"Draco?" said Theo.
"That's not him," said Blaise.
"Polyjuice?"
"Most likely."
Draco sighed. "Listen, I know it's a lot to take in but—"
"The question is," said Blaise, "where did he get his hair?"
"Where did I get my hair?" Draco repeated slowly. "Why, Blaise, I always thought you were jealous of my platinum blonde, but is that really what you want to discuss right now?"
"Stop it, stop it right now!" Blaise snarled. "Do you think we're stupid? You don't even look like him!"
"What do you mean I don't look like me?"
"Draco would never wear something this atrocious. I mean, what even is this?"
Draco rolled his eyes and was about to vanish his drysuit, but as soon as he lowered his hands by an inch, Theo and Blaise jerked their wands at him. Annoyed, Draco raised his hands again, grimacing as he did so. The adrenaline dulling his senses was slowly wearing off, reminding him of his injuries.
"That's not even his wand!" exclaimed Blaise.
Oh Merlin, his poor, poor wand.
"Of course it's not my wand! I've just lost it to the giant squid, you idiot."
Unbelievably, Theo snorted. "If you're suggesting that Draco Malfoy would willingly go for a swim in the Black Lake, let alone fight the giant squid, then you obviously didn't know him at all."
Draco wanted to groan. Or howl at the moon. Or climb the walls. And he would have, but any movement, any extra sound was like a sharp knife stabbing him from within.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Theo," he said, wincing. "Who else would know that your first crush was Mrs. Zabini."
The looks on the boys' faces turned equally horrified.
"Or that you, Blaise, got so drunk on your fourteenth birthday that when Tracey tried to kiss you, you retched all over her? Remember?"
They stared at him, flabbergasted and speechless.
"Well, I do," continued Draco. "You spent three weeks studying Memory Charms before we could talk you out of Obliviating poor Tracey."
"That's enough," said Blaise, his voice strangled.
"Or shall I remind you of that one time in the greenhouse when you two used the Devil's Snare for—"
Ruth cleared her throat loudly.
"That's enough," said Blaise, firmer this time.
"Is it?"
The boys exchanged glances.
"Yes, I suppose it is."
Still visibly perplexed, they lowered their wands, letting Draco and Ruth lower their hands as well.
"Finally," muttered Draco, vanishing their gas tanks and transfiguring their drysuits into simple, black cloaks. "Now will you two please shut up and get me something to drink?"
Furrowing his refined, dark brows, Blaise took a glass from his side table and offered it to Draco.
"Not firewhiskey, you moron. Water!"
Theo scratched his head, dishevelling his already dishevelled black hair even further. "Who's that?" he asked, nodding at Ruth.
Only then did they become conscious of their unpresentable appearance, witnessed by a stranger girl, no less. Hastily, they summoned their cloaks and threw them on. Idiots. They would have him die of thirst right here.
"That's... Rachelle. She's from Beauxbatons." He could almost sense Rachelle doing her best not to roll her eyes. "It's a long story. Now, do you mind? I'm bloody dying over here."
"But you are dead," said Blaise, frowning.
Honestly, was he speaking with Zabini and Nott or Crabbe and Goyle?
"I'm not, obviously. But I will be if you don't get me some water and Skele-Gro right now."
"Skele-Gro?"
"My ribs are literally broken."
Theo chuckled. "If it's really you, Draco, then I'm not worried."
Blaise nodded thoughtfully. "Must be a bruise then."
Ruth gave a low whistle. "Wow, Draco, you've got such amazing friends."
He really did, didn't he?
"It's not like it was with the hippogriff, you twats," he hissed.
It was becoming harder to breathe. He leaned against a cupboard for support.
His friends' sceptical glances turned into ones of concern. Blaise downed his glass of firewhiskey, Scourgified it, filled it with water, and handed it to Draco. Theo dashed to the potions cabinet—water splashing around his feet—and rummaged through its contents.
"We don't have any Skele-Gro, I'm afraid," he said upon returning. "But here's something for the pain until we get you to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey will patch you up."
"No, no Pomfrey," Draco said, his voice growing faint. "I need Snape."
He accepted the vial with pain-relieving potion and gulped it down in one go.
"Why do you—"
There was a knock at the door.
All four of them froze and exchanged alarmed looks. More knocks followed.
"Blaise? Theo?"
Relief washed over Draco's mind and body: first, it was only Pansy, and second, the potion was finally numbing the pain in his chest area.
Using hand gestures, he asked Blaise not to tell her anything. Blaise furrowed his brows once again and mouthed, "Why?" Draco mouthed back, angrily, "Just don't tell her."
He'd reached this decision a week earlier. The fewer people knew, the better. Besides, if Pansy saw him alive, she would break down in tears, and dealing with sobbing girls was the last thing he needed on this mission.
Meanwhile, the polite knocking turned into banging. Bare-legged, Blaise crossed the room, wading through the water. Stopping right in front of the door, he called out to her, "What is it, Pansy?"
"What do you mean?" Even through her muffled words, her annoyance showed. "Daphne woke me up, said she heard some really loud noises coming from your room. Is everything okay?"
"Um, yes. Theo's cauldron blew up, but it's all good now."
"What, am I supposed to believe that the two of you were brewing potions in your bedroom? At three in the morning? Really?"
"Theo was. It's this extremely important extracurricular project from Snape."
In a second, the scepticism in her voice shifted to apprehension. Quietly, she asked, "You mean it has something to do with—"
"No!" Blaise interrupted. "Nothing like that."
Draco tensed.
Pansy was back to annoyance though. "I heard voices, Blaise. More than two. I know there's someone else in there. Is it a girl?"
"You heard wrong, Pans, it's just me and Theo."
"Let me in, Zabini! Immediately!"
"I can't. Theo, he's—" Blaise's eyes darted to the three of them. "—he's really, really indecent."
Theo arched his eyebrow, amused.
"Indecent?!" screeched Pansy.
"Blaise, let her in," Theo drawled. "Pansy, dear, come and judge for yourself. Bring Daphne too, will you?"
There was a pause.
"Ew, you're disgusting, Theo," Pansy said at last. "I'm going to bed."
"Sweet dreams, Pans," offered Blaise, but she did not respond.
He then Silenced the room—the first rational decision he'd made so far—and faced Draco's glare with an apologetic expression.
"There's something I need to tell you," he said. "Pansy and I, we're—"
"I don't care about that!" shouted Draco. "Show me your arms!"
Without waiting for a reaction, he grabbed Theo's hand, rolled up his sleeve, and cast a Revealing Charm on his spotless inner forearm.
An ugly black skull with a snake crawling out of it appeared on his skin. With a sharp inhale, Draco took a step back and stared at Theo. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed how Ruth's eyes sharpened and locked onto the Dark Mark.
Not knowing what to say, Draco turned to the approaching Blaise. "You too?"
"No, of course not."
Blaise rolled up his sleeves and displayed his forearms.
"Aparecium," Draco whispered, drawing a pattern with Lucian's wand.
Blaise's dark skin remained clean.
Harpy-like, Draco whirled back to Theo. "Just what in Salazar's name were you thinking? No, tell me—what moronic thought compelled you to do something this stupid—"
"You think I had a say in this?" Theo snapped back, incredulous. "You, of all people, should know better."
"What, did they drag you by the scruff of your neck and make you kneel in front of the Dark Lord?"
"Nah, I knelt myself. Thanks for asking! Do you truly not see it? It was either resist and have Father Imperius me into joining him on his missions or go willingly and join them later, after graduating."
"What makes you think you have the right to judge him?" Blaise cut in, stepping between them. "You, who fell off the face of the Earth and made your friends grieve for months? How dare you just appear out of nowhere and accuse him of something you yourself did gladly?"
"Exactly!" exclaimed Theo. "What was that all about?"
Draco gave a tired sigh. They were right, of course. He had no right to judge them. No right at all.
"Look," he said. "It's a very complicated story, and I do hope I'll get to tell you all of it later. But right now, what you need to know is—no one can find out I'm alive. No one except you two and Snape. If anybody else finds out, that's it. I'm dead. My mother is dead. My father is dead. It's important that you understand that."
Draco looked at them expectantly. Slowly, Theo and Blaise gave subtle, gloomy nods.
"Thank you," he said, trying not to show how much relief it brought him. "But I have one more favour to ask of you. Can you take me to Snape? Discreetly, so that no one sees us."
After a thoughtful pause, Blaise replied, "We can do that."
"Are you sure? What about the new staff? Any Death Eaters among them?"
"The Carrows, yes, but they sure love their sleep. You'll just have to Disillusion yourselves and follow us closely. If someone does stumble upon me and Theo—which is doubtful since it is three in the morning—we'll just tell them to mind their own business. No one dares question Slytherins these days, especially not those with a Mark."
"So it's not just Theo?"
"No. Crabbe and Goyle have been Marked, too. They seem to enjoy it, actually."
Draco rubbed his forehead. This shouldn't have come as a surprise. He did suspect that the Dark Lord would be recruiting more people.
The four of them finally got around to drying up the water and pulling fallen objects out of it. After exchanging a few quips—"That was one hell of an entry," "Damn you, Draco, you ruined my Herbology essay!" "What do I do with this tentacle?" "Keep it for personal use, Theo, why don't you?"—they restored the room to its previous condition, and Blaise and Theo retreated to the other corner to get dressed properly.
Draco used the Quick-Drying Charm on his and Ruth's shoes. Lifting his gaze, he noticed a thoughtful expression on her face—thoughtful, with a dash of menacing. He knew that look.
Oh no.
He leaned closer to her and whispered, "I want you to add Theodore Nott to your ridiculous list of exceptions."
Ruth turned to him slowly, tilting her head to the side.
"That's a rather long list, don't you think?" Her words were a silky whisper.
Her hands caressed her wand in a loving yet threatening manner, and her dark eyes had a hungry, predatory glint to them.
Draco grabbed her by the shoulders and hissed, "You. will. not. touch. Theo."
"Everything all right?" came a voice from the side.
Theo was approaching them, fully dressed and blissfully ignorant.
Ruth smiled at him pleasantly. "Of course."
She slipped out of Draco's grasp and glided to Theo's side.
"Theodore, is it?" she asked in a saccharine voice.
"You can call me Theo, sweetie," he replied with a grin. "Beauxbatons, huh? I've heard wonderful things about that school."
"Oh, it's a lovely place."
Draco groaned inwardly. Leave it to Theo to deem this moment appropriate for resorting to his womanizing ways.
If only he knew...
"Shall we go?" asked Blaise, joining them.
When everyone nodded in agreement, Theo offered Ruth his elbow, and she gracefully accepted it.
"Allow me," he said, tapping the top of her head gently with his wand.
Before disappearing into the cold air of the dungeons, Ruth glanced back over her shoulder, giving Draco her most innocent smile.
Draco scowled.
Merlin help him.
With the two of them Disillusioned and their footsteps Silenced, the group crossed the empty common room—painfully familiar in its elegant coziness—then moved through the dungeons—cold, silent, and dreadfully dark despite the glow of their wands—past the Sleeping Dragon Statue, and onto the Grand Staircase.
"Look, about Pansy," Blaise whispered skittishly to Draco as they ascended the steps side by side. "It's the most recent development, and, truthfully, it would probably never have happened if we knew that you—"
"Blaise, I don't care. Really, good for you. I have much bigger problems to deal with right now."
He meant it—to both of their surprises.
Almost imperceptibly, Blaise shook his head, slowing down at a landing. "I just... I just can't believe you're alive. I mean... How?"
"It's best if I reveal as little as possible. For both our sakes."
Draco's eyes kept darting in every direction, but he saw only portraits, and they were asleep, just like the rest of Hogwarts' inhabitants.
"Fine," Blaise grumbled. "But do you have any idea what you put us through?"
"Well, I'm... sorry for that. But believe me when I say this, I had no choice."
They got off the staircase and turned into a corridor, passing flickering torches. Draco kept glancing at Theo, but that bastard seemed to be doing just fine, flirting in a low voice with... himself, apparently.
Somehow, Blaise's eyes once again found Draco's. "Are you sure we can't tell Pansy?" he asked. "She's a mess."
"Didn't sound like a mess to me."
"Draco!" Blaise chided quietly. "You haven't been here. You haven't seen her at the funeral. Your funeral."
Draco swallowed hard. He'd been a selfish prick, hadn't he? So fixated on his parents, he hadn't spared much thought for his friends at all. Though, to be fair, he hadn't been sure if he still had any. It was a bittersweet revelation to realize they still cared about him. Draco felt so guilty then that a part of him really wanted to let everyone know he was okay, but...
"No. Pansy cannot know," he said firmly. "Anyone who knows is in danger."
"Oh, you hapless buffoon, what did you get yourself into?"
"Trust me, you don't want to know." Draco's eyes scanned the corridor and found it empty. Then his fingers gripped Blaise's arm, and he lowered his voice even further. "I need you to promise me something."
"What is it?"
"Promise me..." He paused.
Theo was walking just a step ahead of them, chatty and cheery, clearly not having any intention of eavesdropping.
Oh, Theo.
It was hard to say these next words, but he had to.
"Promise me," he murmured, "that if—not if, when... when Theo gets summoned to a Death Eater meeting, you will... erase this night from his memories."
Blaise's face went rigid. He did not answer, and they turned another corner in silence.
"It's important," pressed Draco, hoping his friend would see reason.
Without a word, Blaise gave a single stiff nod and walked faster, shrugging off Draco's fingers in the process. Draco let out an audible exhale and rushed after him.
Soon enough, they reached the Gargoyle Corridor, shadowy and ominous at this time of night. The tall arched windows were painted on the stone floors with moonlight, taller there still. On the opposite side, mirroring the windows and submerged in darkness, were niches filled with verdant plants and colorful tapestries. At the end of the corridor, two lonely torches illuminated the bronze gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office. Halting their conversations, the four of them crossed the corridor, coming to stand in front of the statue. It stared at them, ugly as ever.
"Do you know the password?" Draco asked.
"Don't bother," said Theo. "The office is empty."
"How can you tell?"
"It's a trick Snape told me about. When there's no one inside, the gargoyle's eyes squint slightly. See?"
Draco did see it now. The yellow eyes—rather narrowed, indeed—seemed to follow the movements of his invisible frame.
Huh.
"But where is he?"
"I have an idea," Blaise said coolly. "Wait here, I'll fetch him."
Thank you, Draco wanted to say, thank you for everything.
"Make sure not to mention my companion," he said instead. "Also, Theo, you can go with him. We'll be okay."
Theo looked in his direction, trying and failing to meet his eyes. "Sending me away? Already?" he whined. "We haven't even hugged yet!"
"You'll get your hugs when you come back. Hugs, group photos, whatever you want; just go."
And so, they left—one pouting, the other sulking. Draco smiled sadly, following them with his gaze. Once they turned the corner, he lifted the Disillusionment Charm, first from himself, then from Ruth. She stood several feet away, taking in their surroundings with barely concealed awe.
"This castle is beautiful," she murmured. "It's so... so... so magical."
Draco snorted. "Well-spotted."
She rolled her eyes at him.
"So," he said, "did your assassination attempt fail spectacularly, or did you change your mind after all?"
He saw her hiding a smile behind a schooled expression.
"He's such an airhead," she said. "I'd be doing Death Eaters a favour by ridding them of him, and, unfortunately, I owe them no such kindness."
"And it's not because you fell victim to his charm?"
"What charm?"
Draco chuckled and shook his head. "I almost want to say I'll miss you."
A corner of her lips quirked upward. "I almost want to say I'll miss you too."
Feeling a mild twinge in his chest—was the potion wearing off already?—he summoned a gun from his pouch, along with a heap of Galleons, and placed them in her cloak pockets. As she opened her mouth to thank him (or to protest, more likely), he interrupted her, pointing to a tapestry to their left.
"Behind this tapestry is a hidden passage," he explained, his breath coming in short bursts. "It will lead you to a narrow corridor that ends in a staircase... a staircase descending to the Hufflepuff common room. Near that staircase, there's a painting of a bowl of fruit. Tickle the pear in the painting, and it will... it will turn into a door that leads into the kitchens."
Gradually, with every breath, the discomfort in his ribcage grew more pronounced, like a dull ache nestled under his skin, slowly awakening.
Taking a shallow breath—and ignoring her worried expression—he continued, "There, you'll find house-elves. Look for an elf named Dobby—ugly ears, sheepish smile, and... actual clothes. He'll be more than happy to guide you safely to the Gryffindor Tower. Got it?"
"Go through the passage, reach the staircase, tickle a pear on the portrait, find a fancy elf named Dobby," she repeated to herself and nodded. "Got it."
Taking a step towards the tapestry, Ruth moved it aside and peered into the dark passage behind it.
As the sensation expanded, turning sharper, Draco gripped the wand.
Now was the time.
He raised it, aiming at the back of her head.
Could he do it? Such a tricky spell with someone else's wand? While feeling on the verge of losing consciousness?
He had to.
The beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. Draco wet his lips and whispered, "Oblivi—"
"I was wondering when you'd ask me. And if you would ask at all."
She turned to him, unsurprised to find a wand pointed at her face. Theo might not have been eavesdropping on him and Blaise, but she certainly had been.
"I..." he began.
Ruth raised a hand to stop him. "It's okay. Do what you have to do."
That was an awful lot of trust she placed in his current magical abilities. Trust. They all seemed to trust him. He didn't deserve any of it.
Inhale, shaky and cutting. Exhale, slow and even more painful.
She gave him an encouraging smile. Or was that only a wishful hallucination, induced by the pain and the darkness?
A gentle whisper, "It's been nice knowing you, Draco Malfoy."
Did he imagine that too?
The corridor was floating, floating, floating away. The torches, the stars, everything dimmed.
A distant sound, "Are you okay?"
Draco shifted his weight, and the jolt of pain brought him right back.
His fingers tightened around the wand again, but as he was about to utter the incantation, footsteps echoed from just around the corner.
Damn it.
They tumbled into the passage, hastily closing the tapestry behind them. Sharp pain shot through Draco's entire body. Leaning against hard rocks, he bit his lip hard to stifle a cry. It was pitch black, and he couldn't see a thing.
The hushed voices grew louder—"He was right here"— and the footsteps came closer and closer, until they stopped right outside their hiding place. Draco tried to quiet the sound of his breathing, but there was nothing he could do about his heart pounding wildly in his aching chest.
"I hope you didn't seek me out just to hide behind tapestries," said a familiar voice, slow, deep and dangerous.
Draco cast a wary glance in Ruth's direction. Though he still couldn't see her, he trusted her to be smart enough not to make a sound. Then, placing one hand on his chest in a futile attempt to evade the pain, he reluctantly slipped out from the passage, the heavy fabric brushing against his skin.
He was met by the critical, assessing gaze of Severus Snape, his black eyes squinting like those of the gargoyle, not a hint of sleepiness in them. He looked pretty much the same; his new Headmaster status did not seem to be reflected in any visible way. Yet, in the seconds that passed, Draco couldn't think of anything to say to him. Off to the side, Blaise and Theo stood silently, watching the scene unfold.
"Are you alone?" Snape asked at last.
"Yes," Draco replied, refusing to break eye contact.
Snape's gaze slid past him toward the hidden passage. His lips curled into a condescending sneer.
"Show yourself," he commanded.
Draco winced.
Couldn't anything go as planned for once?
Following a faint rustling sound, Ruth emerged from the passage, her wand firmly gripped in her right hand. She stepped up beside Draco, wearing a hard and hostile expression on her face.
Snape regarded her with a quick, almost dismissive glance before he turned back to Draco, asking, "And what could you possibly be doing in Hogwarts with a muggleborn witch?"
"Muggleborn?" Blaise repeated, scandalised.
Draco's mind raced—How on earth did he—but before he could finish his thought, Ruth raised her wand, poised to attack.
"Don't!" said Draco, but it was too late.
Theo and Blaise were already brandishing their wands, both aimed directly at her.
Without a second thought, Draco seized her hand and jerked her back, stepping in front of her, feeling as if something stabbed his flesh from within. Clenching his teeth, he shakily lifted Lucian's wand in defence.
If Draco thought his friends were shocked to see him earlier, it was nothing compared to the thunderstruck expressions on their faces now. But just as before, the astonishment didn't linger. In a moment, Blaise's features hardened, and his lips twisted in disgust. That hurt, but not nearly as much as the look of betrayal in Theo's eyes.
And so they stood, wands pointed at each other, waiting, waiting, waiting for some sort of signal. Draco thought they were waiting for someone to attack, but really, they were all just anticipating Snape's reaction—the only person in the corridor whose face remained unreadable and whose wand stayed at his side.
This mission was a terrible idea. What was he thinking? He had come to the Dark Lord's most trusted advisor. He had come, waving white flags. He had surrendered himself to Death Eaters, that's what he'd done.
Interrupting Draco's thoughts, Snape finally spoke. But his words weren't at all what Draco had expected.
"Lower your wands," he said slowly. "All of you."