Lucius walked up the stairs to the upper floor, deep in thought. He just learnt from his wife that Ronald Weasley was dead, and Bellatrix had obviously taken the liberty of spreading the news in front of Hermione. He had immediately rushed to her in the kitchen, as he could imagine how hard the news must have hit her - but Severus beat him to it. He didn't hear what they talked about, but the way Hermione leant against his chest, the way Severus put an arm around her shoulders, all that spoke volumes.

Were they really that close now? When did that happen? And how? How could Hermione forget what he had done to her? Or even forgive him? And how could she let Severus get so close to her, but not him? They were on the same side; the fronts were clear. What was her problem? He was Lucius Malfoy, he came from an old, traditional wizarding family, he had money and knowledge and power. Perhaps not to the same extent as before, but still more than the usual wizard. How could she prefer Severus to him?

Bellatrix's loud, exaggerated laughter rang out from downstairs, snapping him out of his thoughts. Lucius stopped on the landing, turned to the paintings on the wall, and looked up at the one of Abraxas, his father. His father looked back with his typical indulgent smile.

His father had been a schoolmate of Voldemort's, one of the first Death Eaters and a loyal companion to the end. But he had died before Voldemort had risen from the dead, he didn't know the man the Dark Lord had turned into. When he was young, his father had often told him about the genius that Tom Riddle had already shown in his school days, about the razor-sharp mind with which the future Voldemort could analyse any situation and turn it in his favour. And of his charm.

Would Abraxas Malfoy also follow the man who now walked the earth as Voldemort? Would he betray his father if he took part in the murder? Determined, Lucius continued on his way to the study. It didn't matter what his father thought, he had made up his mind. He had a duty to his son, who was still alive, not to his forefathers. It was up to him to secure the future of the Malfoy family, and he was certain that there could be no future for him or Draco under the Dark Lord.

And whatever his own future might be, whether Hermione Granger would give him a chance or not, all that would have to wait for the moment. Now it was important to concentrate on overthrowing the Dark Lord, everything else could, nay, had to wait. No matter how jealous he was, no matter how much he wanted to know what exactly was going on between Hermione and Severus, if he allowed himself to be distracted now, he would have no future at all.

oOoOoOo

"What are Horcruxes?"

Hermione looked up from the large bed in surprise. She followed Draco to his room after dinner, afraid of spending the night alone in her cubbyhole with Bellatrix Lestrange was in his house. At the same time, she didn't want to go to Lucius in her presence. Draco had no objection to her company.

"Why do you ask?" Hermione enquired in surprise. Didn't Draco always emphasis that he wanted nothing to do with anything?

"Curiosity. I've never heard the word before and, surprisingly, I couldn't find anything in father's library either," Draco explained as he sat down on the bed.

"Not surprising. Not only is it the darkest magic, it's almost forgotten. Which it really should be," she replied slowly. The interested expression didn't leave Draco's face and so she decided to be honest. "Okay, look. Horcruxes are objects, all sorts of things, sometimes even living beings. These objects carry a part of the soul of the wizard who created them."

"The soul?" Draco asked, puzzled.

"Correct," nodded Hermione, who couldn't help the way her lower lip began to tremble. Whenever she thought back to her Horcrux hunt with Harry and Ron, she felt a deep sadness. But she pulled herself together and continued, "When you kill a person, you can split off a part of your soul and bind it to an object. Or a living being."

"Has... has You-Know-Who done that?" Draco whispered, who by now looked as if he regretted asking about Horcruxes.

"Yes. And not just once," Hermione confirmed. "To our knowledge, he's created seven Horcruxes."

"Seven? Does that mean he has... split his soul seven times?" Draco exclaimed with an expression of horror."

"Yes."

"Why? What are they good for?"

Hermione looked to the side. "If you're killed, you won't die as long as there's a Horcrux somewhere with your soul. Vol- ... You-Know-Who was afraid of death more than anything. That's why he started creating Horcruxes as a student."

Draco looked at his hands silently until something seemed to occur to him. "Is that why he survived back then? When his curse reflected off Potter?"

"Yes."

"And now? How are you going to kill him while he has Horcruxes?"

A pained smile appeared on Hermione's lips. "There's only one left. All the others have ... Harry, Ron and I have destroyed them over the last year. That's why we didn't go to Hogwarts."

Shaking his head, Draco leaned against the back of his bed. His expression was unreadable when he finally said, "I had no idea. When I became a Death Eater, I had no idea what... what a monster he was. And that you ... I always thought all the stories about Potter and stuff were exaggerated. I couldn't imagine that ... that losers like Potter and Weasley and you as ... as a Mudblood could really do anything great," he muttered with a wry, sarcastic grin. "The reality is almost more unbelievable. You seem to know more about You-Know-Who than even his closest confidants."

"That's very probable. He's too suspicious to let even his closest followers in on this weakness."

"What's the last Horcrux?" Draco finally asked.

"His snake. Nagini."

"Oh. That's why you said living creatures can be Horcruxes too," he nodded slowly, "so it has to die first, right?"

"Right."

"Tell me..." Draco suddenly interjected, horrified. "Why are you talking about it so openly? Weren't you always afraid before that someone might be eavesdropping?"

"Not any more. Before, I didn't know how to categorise your father, he was the one who could have been eavesdropping. The danger no longer exists. Your mum obviously never eavesdropped, otherwise ... certain things would have gone differently. And your aunt never had the opportunity, nor did anyone else. It was always just your father I was afraid of."

Draco didn't look satisfied, but he let the subject drop. With one last glance at Hermione, he removed his trousers and shirt, slipped under the covers and folded his arms under his head. "Wednesday's going to be tense. I can't help but be scared. I hate being scared."

Hermione did the same and snuggled under the covers on her side of the bed, resting her head on her arm. "Being scared is completely normal. I was always scared too, all last year. Whenever we were in battle. I completely understand you and I can also understand that fear paralyses you and that's why you want to stay out of it. I really do. That's all right."

"Granger!" Draco growled, turning to her with a scowl on his face. "You're insufferable. Do you know how annoying it is when you constantly sympathise with everything? It's unbearable!"

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "What?"

"Have you ever thought about how the other person feels when you're like that?"

"Of course! I always try to empathise, that's why... that's why I say I understand!" Hermione returned, confused, but Draco just shook his head, snorting.

"Rubbish. Do you know what you're really doing by being so understanding? You're depriving the others of the opportunity to defend themselves!" he declared angrily. "Not only are you an insufferable know-it-all, but you always make yourself out to be a morally superior person. YOU sympathise with the weaknesses of others, while YOU have no such weaknesses. Do you know how frustrating that is? In the end, you're always the one who comes out the moral victor!"

The words just spilled out, Hermione could see that Draco was talking himself into a rage and although she didn't understand what he wanted from her, she couldn't help but listen with her mouth open.

"Not only are you showing that you're better than me, you're taking away any chance I have of countering that. It's ... it's unbearable. You're ... so perfect that it's exhausting. No one wants to hear that it's okay to be weak! Especially not from someone who's so perfect himself!" Draco continued, before pausing to catch his breath.

"Draco..." whispered Hermione, shocked, "I didn't realise you thought like that. Are you seriously accusing me of sympathising with you and not reacting with... contempt?"

"Yes!" he hissed. "That's exactly what I do! Can't you understand that you're only making things worse? It's like you're not only better than me, but you're rubbing it in!"

Hermione looked at him, dumb-founded. She didn't know what to say, Draco suddenly seemed so upset. They both stared at each other in silence for a few moments, then Draco let himself fall back into his pillow.

"Forget it, Granger," he snorted, "you'll never understand. You're making me feel inferior and I don't like that. Nobody likes that. But you probably don't even do it on purpose. You're just like that. You didn't realise at Hogwarts how annoying it was that you had an answer to every question and were always eager to answer. I guess you're just like that."

Without giving her a chance to respond, he turned his back to her and closed his eyes. Hermione was left confused and unhappy. All she wanted was for everyone to feel good. What was so bad about telling them that it was okay to be scared or to make mistakes? She just didn't understand it. Still, she couldn't help but sympathise with Draco now more than ever. She liked him. And she was sure that he only told her all those things because he had grown to like her too. He wouldn't bother addressing negative behaviour in her if she meant nothing to him.

They had actually become friends in the end.

oOoOoOo

Draco was sure he had never been so nervous or scared in his life. All the Death Eaters were gathered in the great dining hall. Voldemort sat at the head of the table, Snape sat to his left, Bellatrix to his right, followed by his mum and dad. He knew by now from Hermione that the beginning of Voldemort's speech would be the cue for Snape and his father. First, his father would kill the snake, and only a breath later, Snape would turn his wand on Voldemort. No one knew what would happen then, but he had decided to take cover immediately and, if possible, get Granger to safety as well. Surely the other Death Eaters wouldn't just keep quiet and react calmly to the death of their leader.

But there was a problem. Nagini was not there. Draco saw Voldemort whisper something to his snake and it went into the small parlour behind the dining room. How was his father supposed to kill the snake now? It was impossible for him to leave the table, after all, he was more or less the host.

Draco looked around the crowd in despair. He was one of those who had no place at the table, but stood in the crowd of less important Death Eaters. No one seemed to notice that he was there. Only Hermione glanced at him briefly. Now she was standing in a corner, pale as a ghost, scanning the hall with her eyes. She also noticed that Nagini was missing. He quickly looked over at Snape, but he seemed completely unaffected. He couldn't see how his father reacted as he was sitting with his back to him.

The plan had failed. Voldemort had thrown a spanner in the works.

No. He couldn't let that happen. He didn't want this anymore. He wanted Voldemort to die. HE finally wanted to be free again.

Determined, he grabbed his wand and inched his way behind the crowd of standing Death Eaters towards the door. No one would notice him, no one would register his absence. A quick spell and the snake would be dead before it knew what hit it. What was going to happen? Afterwards, he could always hide somewhere in the house and wait until the fight was over.

He had to want it. He had to really want to kill the snake, otherwise the spell wouldn't work. Draco stood still, trembling. He wanted it. He wanted to kill it. He knew what was at stake. He had never used the death curse before, but now it had to work on the first try. He didn't want to interfere, always emphasised to Hermione that he wouldn't risk his life for her. But now he had no choice, if he didn't do it, no one else could. And at least he wasn't taking any risk of killing a mere snake. He took a deep breath, then slipped through the crack in the door.

He spotted Nagini immediately; she was curled up in front of the fireplace, obviously enjoying the warmth of the fire.

"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted without hesitation. The snake had no time to be surprised, it was dead on the spot. Breathing heavily, Draco lowered his wand. He had done it. Now he just had to make sure that Snape or his father noticed.

"You!" he suddenly heard a deep voice behind him. Horrified, he turned round. Fenrir Greyback was standing in front of him, a wand in his hand, his eyes full of hatred. Ice-cold fear spread through Draco's stomach as he gazed helplessly at the repulsive man in front of him. Unable to move, he followed Greyback's every move. He miscalculated. He should have expected that Voldemort would not leave his snake alone. A tremor gripped his body as realisation of the gravity of his mistake slowly trickled into his brain.

"You of all people!" the werewolf hissed. He raised his wand and the last thing Draco saw was a green light.