CHAPTER 9

Draco has been walking in silence since the moment we left the common room to ditch our first Astronomy class of the semester, and I can hardly stand my desperate need to know where he's taking me. We're almost to the fourth floor, and yet he still has not said a thing about our destination other than "you'll love it."

But that is simply not good enough for me because it does nothing to squelch my many occasions already, I've had to restrain myself from literally begging to know where he's taking me, and I almost think he knows this because he simply continues trying to make it harder for me to contain my curiosity. He keeps saying things like "you'll never believe where we're going" or "my father told me about it" or "I'll be surprised if you've ever been there before, given what you've told me already."

A strange paranoia creeps up in my chest. Snape seems positive someone tried to kill me, and Draco was literally right beside me when the curse hit me.

What if he had something to do with it?

What if Lucius Malfoy told him about all the trouble I caused?

What if he's dragging me off somewhere to kill me?

Stop it, I tell myself. Lucius Malfoy would not have told his son to kill you. Stop being ridiculous. If he fears Voldemort's wrath at all, he simply would not tell Draco to kill you. That's the easiest way for Draco to wind up dead, and Malfoy wouldn't want his son dying.

Trying to dispel these thoughts from my mind, I give his hand a slight squeeze. "Come on, Draco," I try again, "just tell me where we're going."

"You've never heard of it anyway," he says. "Even if I'll tell you, you'll have no idea what I'm talking about."

I frown at him and step closer, closing the small gap that had been between us. "How much farther?" I whisper.

"Not far now," he whispers back.

"Why are we whispering?" I question, keeping my voice just as quiet as before.

"I don't know," his voice is still very soft, very breathy, "I was just following your lead."

I ask him normally, "So, am I going to enjoy this mystery place?"

His voice is still a whisper when he answers, "Yes. Why aren't we whispering anymore? You should really make up your mind."

"I'm a fickle person; I can't help it," I whisper back.

"Now you're back to your whisper voice," he says, still just as quiet as he was moments ago. "You're going to give me whiplash."

"Then you will probably have deserved it."

He grins at me but does not reply as we ascend the steps to the seventh floor. "Closer than ever now." He has finally stopped talking in a hushed tone.

We stop in front of a stone wall. "What is this?" I ask. "There's nothing here . . ."

"Give me a moment." A few seconds later, a large door appears in the wall. "This is the Room of Requirement."

"And what do you require at the moment?"

He flashes his white teeth at me. "A place to spend time with a pretty girl." He begins frantically looking up and down the corridor. "I wonder when she's going to get here . . ." I nudge against him, laughing. "Shall we?"

"Yes, please."

We enter a room filled with soft light cast by candles floating up and down slowly around the perimeter. In the center of the room sits a lone table covered with a white tablecloth and flanked by two cushioned chairs.

"So you didn't set a trap for me here where you can kill me?" I ask lightly, a smile on my face despite the paranoia in the back of my head.

He frowns at me. "I wouldn't dream of it."

The son of a Death Eater does not want to kill me. Does he know anything about who I am? Did Malfoy and Narcissa really just let their son waltz into Hogwarts alongside me without telling him anything about me? Would they not want him to be aware that someone important to Voldemort's plans will be at Hogwarts with him? Why wouldn't they tell him? Especially since Snape said my presence would present an increased risk for the well-being of Hogwarts students. Or did they tell him, and he's trying to weasel his way into my life in hopes that Voldemort will reward him for making my time at Hogwarts bearable?

If Draco does know that Voldemort has plans for me, he certainly cannot know what those plans are. He would likely avoid taking me on quiet—romantic?—excursions through Hogwarts if he knew what the Dark Lord wants from me. Would he avoid me altogether? See me as tainted by the fate that awaits me?

I'm afraid to know the answer. This is the first friendship I have had in five years, and to jeopardize it by explaining the role I will eventually play seems foolish. People might be able to accept Harry Potter's role in Voldemort's rise to power because he is a foil to the Dark Lord. A girl who has to bear him a child has a different connotation.

"Do you like it?" Draco asks, nervousness in his voice and eyes. "I can make the room to rearrange—"

Excited at the prospect of putting those thoughts behind me and enjoying my time here, I simply say, "It's perfect. So what'd you have in mind?"

Draco motions for me to walk with him to the table, and I happily oblige. As we sit, he looks at his watch and says, "We've got nearly an hour." Then he produces two bottles from somewhere in his robes. "Do you like butterbeer?"

My mouth waters immediately. "Absolutely."

He opens both bottles, waves his wand over them, and hands them to me. To my surprise, the bottles are warm, and my heart quickens with excitement. Who knew coming to Hogwarts would provide so many wonderful opportunities for the types of treats I used to dream about? "So . . . how did you know about this place, and what do you mean you could have it rearranged?"

"My father has told me stories about the room from his days at Hogwarts. This—the Room of Requirement—will take on the whatever properties you want it to. It can used for anything, really. I've hidden things here before—in those cases, the whole room is a maze of artifacts and trash from centuries worth of students. The Room of Requirement is one of the many Hogwarts mysteries to be discovered."

"Do all of the students know about?"

"No, at least not in Slytherin. I hinted at it a couple of times to a few of them, and none of them seemed to have any clue what I was talking about. So it can be our secret."

I grin at him, and we both take a sip of our drinks.

"So, what did Professor Snape really want to talk to you about?" Draco asks. At my choking on the butterbeer, he adds, "Yes, I knew it was a lie but didn't want to push you for answers in the common room, not with all of those prying ears around."

"Well," I say, choosing my words very carefully, "he . . . he told me that they found Karkaroff," which is a complete lie, but as Voldemort will likely kill him soon anyway, it at least won't be a lie for too long. "He was dead."

Draco reaches across the table and takes my hand comfortingly. "I never asked you . . . were you close to him? I know during the Triwizard Tournament he really only seemed to care about Krum."

"No, not really," I answer, which is only half of a lie. I'm not, nor have I ever been, close to Karkaroff. Not because he only cared about Krum but because I never knew him. Draco pulls his hand back. "So what exactly did your father say about the Room of Requirement?"

"Just that he stumbled across it while he attended Hogwarts. They used to hide things in here and have meetings away from some of nosier Housemates."

"So he attended Hogwarts?" With all the complaints about the place, I would have assumed Draco's parents had had nothing to do with Hogwarts until Draco needed to attend.

"Oh, yes, both of my parents went to Hogwarts. Both were Slytherins. That's how they met, actually. My father was a prefect."

"You're one too, right?"

"Yes." Pride floods his voice. "My parents were thrilled. But it was no surprise. Snape has always been close to my family. He came to Hogwarts when my father was a prefect, so my father kind of took him under his wing, you know? Helped steer him in the right direction." While I say nothing, I wonder if Draco has pieced together the fact that Snape was and is a Death Eater, that it wasn't just rumors claiming so. Does he know that Snape was just recently at the manor and that he is actively working for Voldemort again? "So what do you know about your parents? You were interrupted earlier."

"Well, somehow I have this feeling that they were Slytherins, like us. I don't know what happened to my father after he abandoned us, but I know that my mother died in Azkaban. I don't know why she was there . . ." I drift off, not wanting to talk too much about how both of my parents abandoned me for their own selfish reasons. "I grew up in an orphanage after my great-uncle deposited me there because he felt that he couldn't handle raising me. I escaped when I found out I was a witch. Taught myself magic until a witch found me and took me to Durmstrang. Not long after we arrived here after fleeing when Karkaroff disappeared, she was killed by Death Eaters." Mrs. Stoico's scream of pain echoes in my head, and I close my eyes to try to force it away. Draco frowns. "And that's that. Back on my own again. But Hogwarts provided a loan for my books and supplies, so I'll mange." I shrug noncommittally, feeling ashamed for lying to him but willing to analyze why.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he says, sounding genuine.

"Don't be. I hardly knew her. Lived at Durmstrang most of the year and only spent a couple of months with her in the summers." Uncomfortable heat rises in my neck, a voice in the back of my head scolding me severely for my continuous lies. I change the subject. "So how did you almost die in Care of Magical Creatures?"

He smiles and begins his story, his voice full of humor and exaggerated dramaticism, "It was a normal day in third year. Little Draco and his friends were wasting their time in the oaf's class as we were forced to do far too often. Only this time was different. This time it was dangerous. Then again, the half-breed's class was always dangerous. We were standing around, watching while the half-wit tried explaining to us the devil creature that is a hippogriff. This particular one had a name: Buckbeak." He raises his eyebrows theatrically. "Little Draco was simply asking the monster—'monster' here meaning the professor, of course—how to approach the creature when Harry Potter, the Demon Who Lived, possessed a hippogriff to charge at me and knock me down. Pinned down and helpless, I could do nothing as the beast's eyes flared red. Its hoof slammed into me, trying to rip me open, while Potter and his friends laughed." He takes a deep breath before lifting the butterbeer to his lips. "I could have been killed had my friends not batted the beast away."

This story is so obviously a lie—albeit, one that has entertained me—that I don't even know what to say besides, "What happened next?"

"They actually blamed me! My father tried to get the creature executed, but Potter and his friends found a way to set it free. The creature who tried to kill me is lurking out there somewhere . . . So that's the story of when I was a victim who was blamed for what happened to me. Tell me one of yours."

I look down at my hands. "None of mine are as humorous as yours."

Draco is quiet for a moment before saying, "You don't have to talk about them if you don't want to."

"How about this: I promise to tell you one day if you don't make me pay you back for this butterbeer."

He grins. "I will take that deal."

We both finish our butterbeers and push them aside. "Well," he says, "I would take you to explore more of the castle, but I'm afraid we're low on time."

"That's fine," I say cheerily. "I've enjoyed just being out of class and out of the crowd of Slytherins in the common room."

"It's been nice," he agrees. We head for the exit and re-enter the corridor. With any luck, we won't run into our classmates on the way back to the dungeon.

"If your parents hate Hogwarts so much, why didn't they send you elsewhere?"

"Believe me, my father wanted me to go to Durmstrang, but my mother was firmly against me being that far from her." He sighs. "Just think about it, we could have met years ago had my mother let me go to Durmstrang. Then I could have avoided the Weasleys, the Mudblood, and Potter." Poor, misguided Draco. Again, a twinge of guilt pulls at my chest for lying to him. Seeing as I so rarely have a reason to tell anyone the truth about my past anyway, I do not understand why it bothers me so much now. "I'm glad you had the idea to skip Astronomy."

"And I'm glad you thought to go to the Room of Requirement. Just think, we could've been up on the tower shivering instead of enjoying a nice, warm butterbeer."

The door to the Room of Requirement disappears while we stand there. Draco reaches down and takes my hand again, watching me closely, then leads me away from the room and toward the stairs. Halfway down the spiral staircase, he stops me and looks at me earnestly. "I really did have a nice time."

"Me too."

His free hand reaches up and caresses my cheek. For a second, I think he's going to kiss me, but a loud bang echoes up the stairwell, startling both of us and ruining the moment. We continue on our way.

Luckily, we arrive back at the Slytherin Dungeon before most of our Astronomy class has returned, meaning there aren't many people in the common room. Draco pulls me into a warm embrace, and though suddenly shocked and unsure if he trustworthy or if he's trying to get in my good graces as a way to earn favor with Voldemort, I wrap my arms around him and bury my head into the crook of his neck. "Goodnight," he whispers in my ear.

"Goodnight." He releases me, and we go our separate ways, Draco to the fifth-year boys' dormitory and me to the fifth-year girls' dormitory. Perhaps, if I can tamp down the paranoia, my duration at Hogwarts will not be as dreadful as I first imagined.

I briskly ready myself for bed, hop onto the mattress, pull the covers over me, and close the curtains around me, blocking myself from the others when they return.

The next morning flies by, and soon enough, I'm sitting in the Great Hall next to Draco, our hands locked together under the table as we eat our breakfast. Pansy's eyes continuously flutter to us, growing more bitter with each passing second. "Where were you during Astronomy last night?"

I look surprised as I say to Draco, "You weren't in class last night?"

His face drops. "No . . . I . . . I skipped. I was with Professor Snape. There was some—er—things I needed to talk to him about."

Pansy frowns at him. "You're lying." Then she looks at me with piercing eyes. "Where were you?"

"Hospital wing," I say smoothly, having already been prepared for Pansy's interrogation and realizing now that I should have given Draco some kind of warning. Oh well. "Madam Pomfrey wanted to check on me, make sure I'm okay. I was in there all day on Tuesday, you know."

Her eyes dart back to Draco. "Are you sure that that's not where you were, Draco?"

"Positive," he answers quickly. Pansy doesn't seem satisfied, and she gets and storms from the Great Hall, pointedly refusing to look back at us as she leaves.

Our only classes today are Potions, Arithmancy—well, Draco and the rest of his friends have Divination at some point—and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Potions is our first class, but it doesn't start for nearly half an hour. "So anyway," Draco says, turning to me, "the Quidditch tryouts are Saturday. You should come by."

"I might just do that. What position are you?" The only time I have ever paid much attention to Quidditch was when there was literally no other form of entertainment, but at least now I have a basic idea of what Quidditch is and how to play it.

"Seeker," he says proudly. "Crabbe and Goyle are going to try to be Beaters."

Crabbe and Goyle cheer like they know they already have the position, as if they know the captain wouldn't dare to give the position to anyone other than Draco's friends.

"How long have you been on the Quidditch team?" I ask him.

"Since my second year. I would have made it on the team my first year, but there are rules against it." Then he adds bitterly, "Of course, that didn't stop them from bending the rules for Potter."

"Would you expect any less?" Crabbe growls. "Honestly, Dumbledore would allow him to do just about anything. As if he's something special. He got lucky against You-Know-Who. A baby defeating the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time? Please. Hufflepuff stands a better chance of winning Quidditch Cup."

I imagine this is some sort of insult to Hufflepuff, because everyone around Crabbe begins laughing. "Dumbledore just treats Potter with special privileges because he pities him. But it's not like he's the only student in Hogwarts who doesn't have a family," Draco says.

I silently thank Goyle when he steers the conversation back to Quidditch, which distracts the Slytherins around me so thoroughly I can keep quiet and too myself. While Draco probably didn't mean anything against me by his last comment, I simply don't feel like speaking anymore because of it.

Shortly after this, we head back to the dungeons for Snape's class. Draco and I are again holding hands, and I silently hope Snape sees—I could use a good laugh, and I'm sure seeing Draco and me together will make him nervous because he'd likely worry that I've told Draco about Voldemort's plan. Would Voldemort punish Snape if he found out that I have been telling people about my duty right under Snape's nose? Would I really be against Snape being punished? He's just some son of a bitch who doesn't think my life matters, so why should I be concerned for his?

To my great amusement, when we walk into Snape's classroom, his eyes land on my hand, which is still in Draco's. I smirk at him, but his only response is to clench is teeth together and glare, a well-controlled anger in eyes that fades moments after Draco and I take our seats in the front.

It's not until Snape puts the instructions for today's potion up on the board and tells us to begin that I realize just how dangerous it could be to torment him like this. What if Snape informs Voldemort that his broodmare seems to have started a relationship with someone? Would he do that? If Lucius Malfoy and Snape truly respect each other, I don't think Snape would allow Draco to be put into that kind of danger. Or would he? I don't know. Would Snape be blamed for not putting a stop to it? Or would he be commended for giving over this information? Perhaps messing with Snape was not the best idea I've had.

I turn my full attention back to my cauldron. Today is a Wit-Sharpening Potion. If I make it correctly, I should really try to take some before making any rash decisions about Snape. Might help me stay out of trouble.

At the end of the period, once I've taken my vial up to Snape's desk and gathered my things at the table, Draco says, "I guess I'll see you for lunch then. You have Arithmancy, right?"

"Yeah."

"So I'll see you at lunch then," he says with a smile. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I promise. I'll see you later, okay?" We part ways.

I walk over to Hermione in the Arithmancy room. "Hi," I say to her.

"I saw Draco have to carry out of Umbridge's class. What happened?"

"Long story short, my insides were ripped by a stray curse." A smile comes unbidden to my face as her eyes widen and her mouth drops slightly agape at my casual tone. "It's not as bad as it sounds."

"It sounds pretty terrible. You're fine now?"

"Yeah, Madam Pomfrey took care of everything."

Hermione taps her quill on the desk, and though it's clear she wants to ask something, I refuse to acknowledge it until she makes a decision. Suddenly, she blurts, "What exactly happened between you and Snape?"

"What do you mean? Nothing happened."

"I've never seen him hate a Slytherin, but I can tell he doesn't like you. I saw his face when you walked in the Potions room today and when you turned in your work. Harry and Ron saw it, too. They're pestering me to find out what happened . . . So . . . if you wouldn't mind, I'd love to know."

Having been dying to tell someone, I can't bring myself to say no. Besides, with how Snape treats Harry, Ron, and Hermione, they more than anyone would appreciate the story. Harry has been through a lot, and it would do him some good to have a nice anecdote about Snape. "You can only tell Harry and Ron," I preface. "I could get in some serious trouble if this spreads. Got it?"

"Of course," she agrees, obviously ecstatic.

I recount my fight with Snape, starting with my destroying the Slytherin common room and ending with McGonagall's valiant rescue. Hermione listens intently, even laughing quite loudly at some points, particularly the lie I told McGonagall to escape Snape. When I finish, all she says is, "That explains so much."

"I don't think I'd be here now if McGonagall hadn't arrived and saved me," I laugh.

We spend the next few minutes discussing Umbridge. It seems we both hate her, which she finds surprising because most of the Slytherins are fine with the pink-obsessed professor. When Professor Vector calls for silence, we turn our attention to taking notes.