"If Snape catches us here, we're dead," Hermione commented offhandedly as they walked through the dungeons.
"Does anybody else feel like this is a trap? Because this feels like a trap," Ron said as they stopped to make sure that no one was following them, and that no one was ahead of them. It was hard to see down in the dungeons with the torches about to die, and they couldn't risk using a Lumos, because the minute they did, Snape would appear out of nowhere and descend upon them like a flock of locusts on farmland.
He could practically feel Harry roll his eyes next to him.
"Do we have to go through this again? I thought you said you'd give him a chance."
"I did, against my better judgment. I just want to point out that the last time Malfoy asked to meet us in a place of his choosing, we ended up fighting for our lives against a guardian of Hades."
"Oh please, Fluffy was all bark and no bite…except to Snape," Hermione said to their right. "Also, for someone who's scared of getting caught by Snape, you're being awfully loud, Ronald."
He felt his face heat up in embarrassment; she knew he hated it when she said his full first name like that. It made him sound all pompous and snotty.
Like Malfoy.
"I would be quieter if you were under here with us," he hissed back. "When'd you even learn that spell anyway? Flitwick never showed us that."
The spell he was talking about was the Disillusionment Charm that Hermione was using, giving her an imperfect form of invisibility. You could catch her outline when she moved, but you couldn't see her once she stood still. Ron would admit to being a little jealous; a spell like that was neat.
It also meant she wasn't squashed beneath the cloak like he and Harry were, sweating together like two sardines.
"Harry told me about it a couple of days after returning from the Dursleys, and he said Mad-Eye put it on him. So I pulled Mad Eye aside at our little prefect party and asked him about it. He was very eager to teach me. Said it was a very useful spell for dodging Dark Wizards, and then shooting them in the back when they're looking around for you."
Yeah, of course, the crazy old codger would say something like that. Mad-Eye was cool, but there was no doubt that he was crazy after all his years of Dark Wizard catching. If only he'd been the one to catch Malfoy's dad. He doubted that even Moody would've been able to resist getting rid of You-Know-Who's walking checkbook.
Malfoy…
If you'd told him, even just a year from now, that they'd be in a position where they had to trust Draco Malfoy, he'd have called you an idiot. Malfoy was his opposite in every way; their lifestyles, families, views on life and people…and wealth. Definitely their wealth.
It wouldn't surprise him if it turned out that he hated Malfoy more than Harry and Hermione did. Harry didn't like Malfoy because he was an arrogant git who couldn't keep his mouth shut, but for Ron, it was a bit more personal.
He had been a baby when his Uncles Fabian and Gideon died, but Percy, Bill, and Charlie all had that wistful look on their faces when they spoke about them. Mom still cried on their birthdays, and it was the only day of the year that the twins got special treatment, something that they surprisingly did not abuse.
Dad didn't get weepy, but every year, on the evening of February 10th, he'd drink a shot of Firewhisky from his chipped glass mug, just staring into the fire until it was time for bed. Ron didn't remember who said it, but Lucius Malfoy had been heavily implicated in their deaths, showing up to St. Mungo with spell wounds just hours after the two men had died.
Even if Malfoy hadn't been the one to hold the wand, he'd still praised the man who had (probably) done it. His father had most likely killed his uncles and while it wasn't on Malfoy to apologize, the prat never hesitated to act like his family was better than everyone else's, even though the only notable thing his parents were known for was how many Galleons they had.
And yet, here he was, prowling through the dungeons on Malfoy's say-so, like a good little house-elf.
Honestly, now that he thought about it, why did he and Hermione have to hide? They were Prefects; they were supposed to be out after hours, to make sure that others weren't. It was Harry who needed to be hiding and sweating beneath the cloak that had gotten too small for two teenage boys to hide under without their feet smacking into each other every second step.
Well, too late for that now.
"Hold up. He said the dungeon was marked with a pentagram on the door, right?" Hermione whispered, coming to a stop in front of them.
"Yeah. In silver chalk," Harry replied.
"Then we're here."
Hermione opened the door, and he was right after her, reveling in the cool of the dungeons after being trapped under the steam room of a cloak for damn near thirty minutes-
Only for the three of them to freeze in the doorway as they saw Snape and Malfoy in the room the two of them having a conversation that had stopped as soon as the door opened.
Ron didn't say anything; he didn't have to. He was certain that the two of them could feel the 'I-was-right,' energy just wafting off him in waves as Snape glared at them, looking as if he was trying to decide whether tonight was Christmas or April Fools.
Oh, if only being right didn't cost Gryffindor three hundred points…
"This is what you intend to use my dungeon for, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked, condescension dripping with every word. "To parley with…dunderheads?"
"I know you don't have to be nice since we're using your dungeons for this, but right now, we are kind of allies," Draco said, a small smile on his face. "I'd be grateful if we tried to keep things somewhat professional."
The bat of a man merely rolled his eyes as he walked towards the door.
"Woe betide the four of you if you are caught. Whilst Umbridge detests coming down here, she's not above using Filch as a spy. If you get caught, I was never here, and I will advocate for Potter to be thrown out immediately. Good night."
And with that, the door closed behind him with a click.
It took them a good few moments before someone finally spoke, and to his surprise, it was Hermione.
"What just happened? Why was he so…nice?"
"Nice?!" Harry said incredulously. "He just said if we get caught, he'll ask Umbridge to throw me out!"
"Well yes, but that's Snape; it's expected by now. The fact that we're not five hundred points short and up a detention every night cleaning bedpans for the rest of the year…that's nice. For him, anyway."
Ron gave a dark snort as he nodded at Malfoy.
"I guess with enough Galleons anything is possible."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "I don't have to pay Severus to help me. He wants to."
Harry asked the obvious question before Ron could process the fact that Draco called Snape by his first name.
"Why, because you're a Slytherin?"
"No, because he's my godfather," the blond prick said, uncaring that he had just dropped a bomb on the three of them.
First off, who chooses Greasy Snape as the godfather to their child? Did Lucius Malfoy just not have any ready to take on the responsibility? And secondly, that revelation cleared up so many things; no wonder Snape babied Malfoy so much over the years! Was that even fair, having a teacher teach his godkid? Malfoy probably got points for breathing, if that was the case!
"Anyway," Malfoy said, drawing their attention back to him. "We're not here to talk about my family, illustrious as it is. We're here for three main reasons. One, these meetings are the only times we can talk frankly without being interrupted or overheard. We cannot keep whispering in corners between classes. That is exactly how I found out about you lot hiding a dragon in a wooden hut, which never inspired confidence in your intelligence, by the way."
Ron felt his face become warm with embarrassment, and opened his mouth to defend their eleven-year-old selves (though to be fair, they should have gotten on Hagrid a bit harder about the fire-breathing monster in the wooden house thing), but Malfoy didn't even give him a chance to speak before he ran right over him.
"Secondly, these meetings will be an exchange of actual information and tactics. The information in Slytherin House is very scant because a lot of the adults don't actually tell us when they plan to go murdering and pillaging, so a lot of the information I'll be giving you is from the summer, most of which is still relevant now and is extensive enough that we can't go over everything even if we had two hours to spare."
"And finally, I will be teaching Potter how to master magic; we will be going over rituals, wandless magic, specific potions you need to learn, runes and spells that are normally restricted to purebloods, and even physical training; There are a startling amount of wizards who cannot handle a hand to hand confrontation. Get in close before they can cast, and you've won."
"Hey, what do you mean rituals?" Ron said, clamping down on that little tidbit immediately. "We're not doing any dark shite, you psycho!"
"For Merlin's sake, Weasel, I know critical thinking isn't your strong suit, but you really need to get out of your comfort zone," Malfoy drawled. "I'm not asking you to bathe in the blood of virgins, I'm talking about cleansing rituals, rituals for strengthing wards, hell, even the Fidelious involves a ritual. The really strong shit involves more than just wand-waving. The Ministry decried it because amateurs get themselves killed, and because yes, a fair amount of them actually are dark. That doesn't mean you can discard them; Potter needs to be at least good enough to survive the Dark Lord by the end of this year. He doesn't have the time to try and learn everything by the book."
Malfoy's gaze zeroed in on Harry, and his voice was cold as he spoke.
"You are going up against a man who is generally acknowledged as one of the greatest modern wizards ever to hold a wand. You have no special talents or abilities that will allow you to escalate to his level. You only have one choice available to you: cheat."
"Now, shall we begin?"
"What's Voldemort planning? For the war?" Harry asked, his voice low but steady.
"Right now, he's gathering his troops," Draco said. "He's sent emissaries to the vampires, werewolves, Dementors—any sentient Dark creature that can think for itself. In the last war, they naturally aligned with him because he brought death and chaos. But this time, he's offering alliances—real alliances. He's promising them prey for their cooperation. Muggles, to be exact."
Ron felt the blood drain from his face as Hermione visibly paled beside him.
"He's going to allow them to feed on Muggles?" Hermione hissed, horror etched into every syllable. "That's—aside from being a war crime—that'll break the Statute! The entire Wizarding World will be exposed!"
"Yeah, that's the plan," Draco said bluntly.
"...What?" Harry's disbelief hung heavy in the air.
Draco leaned back slightly, arms crossed. "As insane as he is, it's actually a good plan. If we're exposed, the ICW will wash their hands of Britain. They'll be too busy dealing with chaos worldwide to stop the Dark Lord from taking over here. And the Muggles? They're not going to react kindly when they find out we've been obliviating, mind-controlling, and cursing them for centuries. They'll fight back—hard. And suddenly, Light wizards will face a choice: stand with the Muggles and fight their own kind, or flee. Either way, Voldemort wins."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Ron swallowed hard.
"But…even if we do have to fight Muggles and Death Eaters, won't the Death Eaters still be the bigger threat? I mean, we can just…stun the Muggles, right?"
Three pairs of eyes turned to him, disbelieving, but it was Hermione who got at him first, righteous fury in her voice as she lectured, "Ron! I know that you don't know that much about Muggles but you can't seriously believe that a Wizard can cast faster than a Muggle can fire a-"
Hermione's face shifted from shock to realization.
"Oh my God," she whispered. "Ron, you…you don't know what a gun is."
"Not just guns," Harry added, voice hollow. "Grenades. Tanks. Fighter planes. Satellites. They've got weapons that can level cities, Ron. Entire cities."
Ron stared at them blankly, the unfamiliar words echoing in his ears. Reluctantly, he turned to Draco, the only other person in the room who knew what the two of them were going on about, but would actually explain in a way he understood.
"What are they talking about?"
Draco's expression was unusually serious. "Weasley, nearly every spell we've created? The Muggles have machines that can replicate them. Healing, transportation, stealth, transfiguration—that's our edge. But spells like Bombarda, Incendio, Aguamenti, and even the Killing Curse? They've got weapons that can do all of that, and on a massive scale. Fiendfyre? They've got napalm. Protego Diabolica? They've got bunker busters. Wizards have been hiding so long, we've forgotten that Muggles moved on without us. If it came down to open war, I'm not so sure we'd win in a direct confrontation. Add in our ignorance on who the Muggle leaders are, how their military operates, the strength of their technology, and the way they have us outnumbered five to one…well, it becomes a massacre."
Ron felt something cold settle in his chest. "No. That—Muggles, they—they can't. They're harmless. They try to replicate magic, but it's not real. That's what Mum and Dad said—they can't do what we can do."
It was something that his mother and father had told him constantly; that he couldn't play with Muggle children, because he might hurt them on accident. That he couldn't use his magic against Muggles, because they couldn't defend themselves against magic in any way. That the reason why Wizards hid away from Muggles was to make sure they didn't become lazy and start relying on them for every problem.
But…if all of that was true…why hadn't Wizardkind just…started ruling the world? He didn't want to, of course, but the thoughts wouldn't leave his head. If wizards were heads and shoulders above Muggles, why hadn't they just taken over the Muggle World? Back in the old days, long before he was born, he knew that wizards of those times probably took the Malfoy's side of things rather than Dumbledores. So what had stopped them from just taking over and ruling the muggles, cursing them into subjugation as they had with the centaurs, the goblins, the giants, and basically every foe that Wizards had faced?
He didn't like how much his thoughts made him sound like Malfoy…or at least, the old Malfoy.
Draco's voice cut through the silence. "He's not entirely wrong, though. After the first wave of slaughter, wizards would figure out that the metal sticks kill people, and start hiding better, start learning more about the enemy. The real deciding factor in a war like that would be the Muggleborn, if they decided to side with Wizardkind, which has never been all that great to them, or to the Muggles, who will undoubtedly treat them with suspicion from Day One."
He shook his head. "But that plan isn't The Dark Lord's focus yet. That's his endgame. Right now, he's focused on taking over the Ministry. Once he controls that, he can start paving the road for everything else."
Hermione exhaled slowly. "Right. If the Headmaster stops him before then, we'll be okay. That's the plan. That's the hope."
Draco snorted. "You've got a lot of faith in a man who's technically never killed anyone. Don't get me wrong, Death Eaters are terrified of Dumbledore because he will fuck them up magically in ways they didn't know existed. But the Dark Lord? They fear him, because death and torture are the only outcomes with him."
Hermione's lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't argue.
"What's he looking for in the Ministry?" she asked. "The Order said he's after some kind of weapon. Do you know what it is?"
Draco hesitated. For a fraction of a second, his expression froze—then smoothed over. "No clue. But it's in the Department of Mysteries, and that's bad enough. That place is a graveyard of forbidden spells, rituals, and magical weapons. Whatever he's after, it's either old, powerful, deadly—or all three."
Harry frowned. "Hermione, what could it be? Anything come to mind?"
She rubbed her temples. "The possibilities are endless. There have been swords that were said to cut through time and space, staffs that increased a wizard's power tenfold, rituals that bring back armies of the dead…but as far as I know, the strongest weapon in the Wizarding World has always been the wand. Everything was just used as a supplement to wandwork."
Hermione looked absolutely miserable as she spoke, and Ron could understand why; Hermione's love of books was a curse rather than a blessing here. She could probably make a list of everything that You-Know-Who could probably want to use, but that wouldn't let them find out what it was before he got it.
Think Ron. You're a wizard; you've heard the stories of damn near every sick thing he's done and even helped stop some of them with your friends. What could he want from a dusty old place like the Department of Mysteries? Dad would probably know, but he won't tell us. We have to figure it out ourselves. What is something that Voldemort has been wanting for so long that he'd consider infiltrating the Ministry for it?
Ron chewed on his lip. "What if it's…another way to be immortal?"
Harry shook his head. "Why bother? He already has multiple ways to come back from the dead: Possessing Professor Quirrell, that weird Diary that possessed Ginny, the messed ritual Wormtail did—why go after something else?"
"But he needed help for those. And from what I've heard, and what you've told us, that's the sort of thing that You-Know-Who hates; relying on others," Ron countered. "That's not real immortality, not the way legends talk about it. If he needs someone to bring him back every time he dies, he's not truly immortal. He's just really good at nearly not dying."
Hermione's eyes lit up. "That's…not a bad point. His first attempt at immortality was through the Sorcerer's Stone. There's a pattern here. He's never stopped chasing the idea of perfection—perfect immortality, invulnerability…something that would make him truly untouchable. I'd have to double-check, but Wizards and Witches have constantly claimed to come back in various forms of reincarnations and resurrections throughout the ages. A perfected form of Immortality, or to bypass injury entirely…yeah, I can see that appealing to someone like him."
Oh. He hadn't really expected the two of them to take his side on this thing, especially not with how Harry had initially dismissed him, but the two of them looked like they were warming up to the idea. It made a swell of pride rise in his chest. He liked this, being useful, and being able to help in a tangible way. Yeah, he wasn't Bill with his warding skills, Charlie with his strength, the Twins with their tools, Ginny with her viciousness, or even Percy with his logic and knowledge, but he could still be useful to this. He could still matter to his friends.
But of course, Malfoy had to speak up.
"Let's not fixate on that idea. If we lock onto one theory, we'll be blindsided if he goes after something else. Weapon, immortality, knowledge—it doesn't matter. We have to be ready for anything."
The two of them nodded in agreement, and despite Ron acknowledging it was a good idea, he still couldn't help but feel a brief flare of hate for Malfoy's apparent dismissal.
"Right," Harry said quietly. "Let's move on."
"How useful is wandless magic in combat?" Harry asked eagerly. From what Hermione and Ron had told him, wandless magic was supposed to be a game-changer—spells cast on a whim, magic that couldn't be traced by the Ministry, and a style of fighting no wizard was truly prepared to counter unless they had attended that Nigerian magic school.
So he was fairly disappointed by Draco's response.
"It's essentially a souped-up parlor trick," Draco said bluntly. "It's an incredibly useful trick to have in your pocket, but make no mistake—it's better as an ace in the hole rather than a main style of combat."
"But I thought you said only powerful wizards could use it!" Harry said, frustration bubbling up. He'd been putting a lot of stock into wandless magic as a way to fight Voldemort, but once again, the harsh realities of the magical world seemed determined to remind him there was no easy path to power.
Draco shrugged. "Yeah, powerful wizards can use it… but they still use wands because wands are superior. Minor spells are doable wandlessly—Lumos, Summoning, Banishing, and even your precious Expelliarmus. But heavy spells? Protego, the Patronus, Unforgivables, complex Transfiguration, or high-level Charms? You'll be lucky to get a spark for your trouble. Learning a useful wandless spell is like carrying a single Get-Out-Of-Azkaban-Free card. It'll work, and it'll shock the hell out of everyone—but you'll probably only pull it off once."
He smirked faintly. "I've managed four because I'm just that good, but if you're smart, you'll focus on two useful ones and master them. Oh, and stick to Traditional spells—they're easier to manage without a wand than the Modern ones."
Harry frowned. "Traditional spells? What does that mean? I've never heard of that before."
From Ron's bewildered expression, it was clear he was just as lost.
Thank Merlin for Hermione.
The bushy-haired witch straightened slightly, her voice taking on that crisp, lecture-like quality she always had when she was about to share something from a particularly obscure book.
"There are two major categories of spells: Traditional Spells and Modern Spells."
Hermione's tone was confident as she explained. "Traditional Spells are the oldest magic we have. They interact with the environment—conjuring water, producing air, summoning fire, Summoning and Banishing objects, Diffindo, Reparo. Essentially, most Charms and Transfigurations fall into this category. These were the first proper spells our ancestors developed when wands were created, and they were used in ancient magical wars."
She paused briefly before continuing, "Modern Spells, on the other hand, are what you'd think of when you see bright jets of light flying across a battlefield. Stunning Spells, Expelliarmus, Rictusempra, even the Avada Kedavra—all Modern Spells. They're faster, more precise, and easier to cast under pressure, but Traditional Spells are usually more powerful and have broader effects."
Draco inclined his head slightly, almost as if to acknowledge her explanation. "Exactly. Traditional spells are foundation-level magic. They interact with the world around you and have deeper ties to magic itself, which makes them more flexible in wandless casting. You can still use Modern spells, but it'll be harder for you, and take a lot more effort. But don't get your hopes up, Potter. Even with the best training possible, you'll only manage a handful of them without a wand. So pick carefully."
Harry exchanged a glance with Hermione and Ron, his mind already racing. Wandless magic might not be the key to victory he'd hoped for—but it was still a key. And Harry Potter wasn't one to leave any door locked if he could help it.
As for the spells he wanted to learn…Expilliarmus was definitely on that list. The ability to deprive an opponent of their wand was just too strong to pass up. Even if it was harder for him to learn, he'd still put in the time and effort to master it. As for the second…Accio. It was a spell he was intimately familiar with, and one he could do under pressure. Plus, if he ever got disarmed, he could just summon his wand back into his hand, which meant that he would never truly be unarmed.
"When do we start learning that? Wandless Magic?" Harry asked. "I want to get started on it as soon as possible."
"I have some notes with me, detailing every step you need to go through to truly master a spell to the point you can do it wandlessly."
Malfoy reached into his robes, and brought out a wad of parchment that he handed to Hermione, who snatched it from his hands with greedy eyes.
"I've dumbed it down enough that even you and the Weasel should be able to decipher them, but just in case, I'll give them to the only one amongst you who actually has a brain."
The twin middle fingers that Harry and Ron threw up in unison showed that the two of them, despite being behind Hermione, would always be on the same page.
Hermione was satisfied.
This was way more information than she'd ever thought they'd get. When Malfoy told them he had intel on the Death Eaters, she'd assumed it would be scraps—just names, vague locations, fragmented details they'd have to stitch together into something useful.
But this was solid, actionable information. They knew Voldemort's plans—his actual plans. Sure, they didn't know what the weapon was, but they knew where it was, and that made all the difference.
And Draco's notes… they were extraordinary. Detailed, methodical, and clear, they provided step-by-step instructions on mastering a spell to the point of wandless casting.
First, you removed the incantation. Silent casting.
Then, you removed the wand movement. No unnecessary flourishes—just focus, point, and cast.
Once you'd mastered the nonverbal and gestureless versions, then you could start attempting the spell wandlessly.
It would take weeks, maybe months, to get to the final stage, but it was brilliantly straightforward. Even more impressive was Draco's observation that once you mastered a spell wandlessly, using it with the incantation and gestures would result in roughly a fifty-seven percent increase in power.
It was brilliant. Hermione couldn't stop herself from wondering: Who taught him this? What book did he get these notes from? Because this was some of the most informative material she'd ever seen from a fellow student.
"Alright, any more questions?" Draco asked, glancing down at his watch. "We haven't got much time before Filch starts prowling down here."
"I've got a question," Ron said, his voice deceptively calm. "When You-Know-Who stops hiding and everything goes to hell… what exactly are you going to do?"
"Ron," Harry said warningly. "He's already done enough—this session alone proves that."
"Sure, sure, but that's easy to say now, when everything's quiet, when we're just gathering our forces and building our strength." Ron's voice was sharper now, his blue eyes locked on Draco. "I want to know what Malfoy plans to do when You-Know-Who comes out in full force. Because this is exactly what Snuffles warned us about—that he'd be a wand for Him half the time, and a wand for us the other half. We're the ones who'll actually be in danger, while he gets to lounge around in his bloody mansion while the world burns. How's he going to keep passing us little tidbits of information when he's surrounded by Death Eaters? And how do we know he's not just playing both sides to worm his way to whoever wins?"
Ron sneered. "It's what your Mommy and Daddy did, after all. Or maybe you'll take after dear Auntie Bella and actually dirty your hands."
Hermione's stomach turned at Ron's words. She understood his wariness, but Draco had proven himself—over and over. This wasn't fair. She opened her mouth to defend him, but Draco beat her to it.
"Excuse me?" Draco's voice was like ice. "Do you know what I'll be losing when this war starts?"
"Nothing," Ron said flatly. "Same as last war."
Draco stepped forward, his pale face twisting with raw anger. "Every time I think I've measured the depths of your idiocy, Weasley, you find a way to impress me."
Harry and Hermione exchanged uneasy glances. Ron was their friend, through thick and thin, but neither of them could really defend this; he'd crossed a line.
Draco continued, his voice low and sharp. "As far as the other Slytherins are concerned, I'm already a blood traitor. My only saving grace is that my parents haven't found out yet. But mark my words, by the end of this year, they will. I'll be disowned. Do you understand what that means? I won't have a home. I won't have a family. The wealth and power I grew up with? Locked away, forever. Everyone I've ever cared about will either be hunting me or turning their backs on me. There'll be a bounty on my head larger than your family's Gringotts account has ever seen in seven generations."
He took another step closer, his voice trembling with fury. "I am the only one here who's going to lose everything. You think this is easy for me? You think I have nothing on the line? You're not the one rejecting everything you've been raised to believe, Weasley. You're not the one risking your life just by having this conversation. You think you're a hero because your family will always love you, always stand by you. You don't know what it's like to stand alone."
Ron's face twisted—anger, guilt, and something like shame flickered across his features.
Draco leaned in closer, his voice now quiet but venomous. "You're not noble, Weasley. You're comfortable. And that's not the same thing as brave."
"Alright you two, that's enough," Harry said, trying to defuse the situation. "Don't do something that you'll regret."
Ron's wand hand twitched, his voice low and tight. "Back up, Malfoy. Now."
Draco sneered, his lip curling. "Why? Can't stand hearing the truth? You act so bloody righteous, but you've turned your back on your friends before. More than once. It wouldn't surprise me if you ended up the next Wormtail—"
"ENOUGH!" Harry roared, his wand sparking with raw magic.
The air crackled with energy—sharp, heavy, suffocating. Draco froze, Ron flinched, and even Hermione's breath caught in her throat.
Harry took a slow, measured breath, and the pressure in the air began to fade.
"Draco," Harry said softly, his voice steady but firm. "Look… I can't thank you enough for this. I know you're risking everything by helping us. And I know it's not fair that Ron said those things."
Draco's shoulders relaxed slightly, though his pale face was still drawn tight with tension.
Harry turned to Ron next, his emerald eyes hard. "And you, Ron… I know you're scared. We all are. But if we start turning on each other now, we're as good as dead. Draco's helping us. We need to trust that."
The silence was heavy. Finally, Ron nodded stiffly, shoving his wand back into his pocket.
Draco sighed and ran a hand through his platinum hair. "Look, we're wasting time. You've got my notes. Use them. And for Merlin's sake, don't screw this up. I'm burning a fair amount of Galleons and goodwill for this shitshow."
With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the dungeon, leaving the three of them standing there in silence.
Hermione finally spoke, her voice hesitant. "We need to stick together. All of us."
Harry nodded. "Look, I understand being hesitant about trusting Draco. But mate, you've got to admit that Malfoy is the only one who's actually helping us right now. We got more info than what Snuffles and Lupin told us that night at Headquarters. If we get this info to Dumbdore or Snuffles or even your dad, it'll put the Order ahead."
Harry put his hand on his friend's shoulder, gently squeezing it.
"We have to trust him. For better or for worse."
Hermione could see the indecision on Ron's face and the regret. But in the end, the red-haired boy just shrugged and muttered, "Whatever."
As they walked back towards Gryffindor Tower, Hermione couldn't help but feel the weight of Draco's words lingering in the air behind them.
He really was giving up everything to help them. The very least they could do was trust him as much as he seemed to trust them.
Draco let out a sigh of relief as he rounded the corner and let his back hit the wall.
That…had been too close. He could actively feel Felix slipping away from him, the haze of knowledge and confidence fading from his mind and body. But he had gotten the main objectives done. Harry and Hermione now trusted him the same way they would trust any Gryffindor.
Ron…he didn't really care about him. The kid was as ordinary as it got, and he had nothing to offer him, aside from access to the more skilled Weaselys. The aggression the kid had against him was annoying, but if it came down to it, he could just wait for the next fuck up Ron did, and then swoop in and take his place.
He doubted it'd get that far though. Still, it was something to keep in mind.
"Halfway there," he whispered to himself. "I'm halfway there…"