Disarming Draco

"Who would have thought- Gryffindor's sweetheart is quite the little killer," A low, amused voice sang out, sending chills over my body that felt like ice-cold water in my veins. "I'm almost impressed, Crimson."

The same tall, slender frame but unlike before he was now corded with lean muscle that his crisp white shirt did little to hide. The same silver hair, soft and silken, yet it seemed untamed, touched, no longer perfectly slicked back and moulded.

The same tilted lips and stormy grey eyes, yet now there was something darker there as if his mouth did more than just tease and taunt and hurt, like his eyes saw more, wanted more, was more- a boy turned into a man.

The Draco Malfoy I had seen last year was not the Draco Malfoy that stood before me now, he wasn't even truly the same Draco Malfoy I had seen back at Hogwarts just last month. No, it seemed that in a way Remus had been right, Draco Malfoy was dead- and he stood anew before us.

"The four of you doing alright?" Draco mused, cocking his head slightly, a lazy smile tilting his lips as he folded his arms across his chest and assessed us, "Looks like you've seen a ghost."

"Erin, wait-" Remus croaked, his hand lunging forward to grab me, but I was too fast for him, easily able to manoeuvre past his outstretched hand. "Don't-"

Draco grunted quietly as I slammed him against the doorframe, my left arm crossing over his chest and my wand pressing into his jugular, tilting his jaw upwards. His face scrunched and he laughed, laughed, cold and pleased, the sound sending shivers down my spine.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I hissed, my teeth baring as I glared down at him, not caring that he was taller or stronger, not caring that if he truly wanted, he could fight me off. "You tried to kill Dumbledore, you let those Death Eaters into Hogwarts, how dare you come here-"

"Careful, I don't think Saint Potter would approve of you killing me on your own doorstep," Draco tsked softly, his grey eyes dancing with amusement, and I could feel his heart beating gently under my palm, his hard body stiff under my touch. "It wouldn't be very Gryffindor of you."

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy," Harry snapped from behind me, and I didn't need to turn to know he had his wand raised, that Ron and Hermione did too- they would never trust Malfoy.

"You sure you can handle any more blood on those hands, Crimson?" Draco smirked, dismissing my wand at his throat with the kind of arrogance only he could muster.

"It's nothing compared to the blood on yours, Malfoy," I gritted back, ignoring the way his eyes brightened as I dug the end deeper into his skin, "Besides, in case you haven't noticed- red is my colour."

"Gryffindor red or Weasley red?" Draco coaxed, that familiar venom lacing his words as he stared pointedly at my auburn red locks that he mercilessly tormented me about for years. "Because, frankly, both are fucking-"

"Enough!"

My eyes lifted to that familiar sound of a wooden staff striking against the floor, not needing that snapping, furious voice to know who I would see- Alastor Moody.

"I said enough, Weasley," Moody repeated, slower, and the severity on his face made me scowl, that pit of anger in my chest worsening when Draco snorted, his face close enough to me that I felt his breath caress my cheek. "Let the boy go."

"You can't be serious?" Hermione demanded, her voice rising in pitch, a sure sign that she was outraged, that Draco's presence was making it hard to mask her emotions.

"Erin, listen to Alastor," Remus said from behind me, his gentle voice even softer now, as if trying to coax me off the edge of a cliff. I gritted my teeth at the words, at the direction, and without looking at Draco's pleased gaze, I yanked myself away and retreated.

I swallow down the protest clawing in my throat as I slowly inch back a few steps, my wand never lowering and my eyes not leaving Draco once. I stared as he locked his jaw, shrugging off the doorframe and fixing his crisp shirt with a bored indifference.

I felt a hand brush the nape of my back, and when I glanced over my shoulder, Harry stood there, not a single atom of anger left in his green eyes. I felt relief wash over me at the comforting touch, that no matter the differences, nothing could truly break us.

I heard a low snort, and when my eyes drifted back to Draco, he lifted a brow in mockery, and I could almost hear the vitriol he wanted to spew at us- the Golden Gang reunited at last.

"You told us he was dead," Ron sneered, and I watched Draco's eyes freeze over, steel masking his once amused expression. "He shouldn't be here."

"We were made to believe that Mr Malfoy had died, it was important that everyone heard it and that everyone believed it without a shadow of a doubt," Remus stated, his feet slow and methodical as he stepped before us, his hands behind his back as he moved, "Dumbledore intended it that way for a reason."

Silence- so thick and heavy, so suffocating, I felt my hand tremble from the exertion of keeping my wand raised, felt it falter as I stared.

"Dumbledore?" Harry echoed back in surprise, and the tremor in that one word, that name, made my heart clench. "Dumbledore faked Malfoy's death, he- why would he do that, why would he help him after Malfoy tried to kill him?"

"Mr Malfoy tried, yes, weak attempts made by a boy with no other choice, Dumbledore knew this, and planned for it," Moody stated roughly, and the breath rattled in my lungs as I glanced to Draco, head down, body so unnaturally still, and silent. "Dumbledore gave him a choice, and he chose correctly."

"I don't understand," I scowl, impatience heating my gaze, making the kitchen feel infinitely smaller, "You're being cryptic, just spit it out."

"Erin!" My mother hissed from behind me, scolding me, but I didn't acknowledge her, couldn't acknowledge her, not as the reality of everything came crumbling down.

"The night Dumbledore died, Draco had come to kill him, the Dark Lord commanded it. Harry, you had guessed this long before, and Dumbledore himself knew it too," Remus continued his face grave and when my eyes moved to Harry, I saw the memory flash in his eyes, saw sorrow seep into the green.

The memory of him leaving Dumbledore after they returned from the Crystal Cave, the memory that he hadn't been there to stop Snape, hadn't been there to save Dumbledore. He had left, oblivious to the fact his world, our world, would come crashing down not long after.

"That night Dumbledore gave Draco a choice, kill him and go down a path that he cannot return from," Remus raised his chin as if bracing himself, "Or lower his wand, fake his death, and join the Order."

"Join the Order?" Harry exclaimed, and this time my wand did falter, this time my hand faltered, "if you think that Malfoy can be fucking trusted then you've lost your mind!"

"This is going well; don't you think so?" Draco muttered drily, his dark eyes glancing over his shoulder with a leer as if to tell Moody 'I told you so'. Moody scowled, his expression unimpressed and irate at Draco's deadpanned stare and careless posture.

"This has to be a joke, surely?" I scoff, a bitter, humourless sound, but no one, not Remus, or Moody, not even my mother, laughs with me. "He's been working with the Dark Lord, he tried to murder Dumbledore, three fucking times, and now we're protecting him, we-we're letting him see our base?"

"Dumbledore believed in second chances, he trusted that Draco would make the right choice and knew he would be an asset to the Order- would you call him crazy, Harry?" Remus asked, and I didn't miss how Harry flinched, the comment hitting him head-on. "You are blinded by your hatred of Draco-"

"You said the exact same thing to Harry not more than six months ago, about Snape, do you remember?" I cut in sharply, not hiding the resentment in my eyes as I glared at Remus, "You said if Dumbledore trusted Snape, then so do you- how did that work out for him?"

"Erin, that's not fair," My mum mutters from behind me, and I can hear the disappointment in her tone at my words. Remus doesn't say anything, but I see the pain flash through his eyes, that familiar wound of grief and mourning and guilt burning as he stares at me.

"How many wolves dressed as lambs will we let into our home before learning our lesson?" I demand, ignoring the ache beginning to form in my jaw, the brutal attack from the earlier mission starting to take its toll. "How many more of us have to die?"

I pursed my lips as the silence dragged on, feeling my friends and brother at my side, knowing I was right, agreeing that I was right. I felt the familiar feel of eyes watching me, those two grey orbs burning into my skin, assessing every word, every move, every breath.

"Mr Malfoy has proven Dumbledore right already, Weasley," Moody cut through the deathly silence with ease, his chin raised as he stepped forward. "Since the attack, Mr Malfoy has been our first point of contact- the location of prisoners, Voldemort's camps, the underground transport systems, the dark artefacts being weaponised. Mr Malfoy gave us all the information, including the transportation of hostages, you intercepted today."

I felt Harry stiffen beside me- surprised. I was too, but I wouldn't show it, wouldn't let them think that made it ok, wouldn't let them think that it even mattered.

"And how, exactly, did 'Mr Malfoy', achieve this?" I cock my head, spitting the ridiculous name and title mockingly as I eyed Draco and the simmering heat blazing under his sharp eyes. "Considering he was supposed to be dead."

"I have my ways, Weasley," Draco spoke, and if he was intimidated by the number of eyes on him, the wands at each side, he didn't show it. "Even the dead speak and hear."

"And why would you help The Order?" I demand, my eyes tapering "You despise us, you despise The Order and what we stand for, and up until that night, you were more than content working for Voldemort, more than happy to do his bidding- what changed?"

"I have my reasons," He shrugged nonchalantly, another non-answer, but the smirk he gave, the smallest tilt of his lips made me grit my teeth, hating that he knew exactly how to set me off.

"That's not good enough, Malfoy," Harry shook his head, his wand lowering marginally, though not for a second did he put it away, not for a second did he take his eyes off Draco. "We want to know why."

"I don't owe you a damn thing, Potter, not a single fucking thing," Draco snarled, and it was startling, how quickly he could slip from calm and collected to wrathful and cold, how quickly he was honed for violence. "My time with the Dark Lord was informative- you need intel and I have the means to get it."

"Draco's information has been accurate and reliable thus far," Remus added, looking firmly at Harry now, "If he wants to maintain the anonymity of his ways then he may."

"Fine, he wants to keep his moles secret, who cares-" I wave a dismissive hand, "But that doesn't change the fact that there isn't a moral bone in his body- he hates us, and his parents are loyal Death Eaters-"

"Parent."

I stop, the breath catching in my lungs at the single word, that cold, isolated, low, word, that seemed to drop the temperature in the room, seemed to make every single person pause.

"What?"

Draco didn't look at anyone, not a single person but me. I felt bare under his scrutiny, the storm thundering in his eyes making it impossible to even look away.

"Parent," Draco said again, spitting it out, and his rage now felt so different to all the times before, felt so raw. "I don't owe you anything, any of you, so take my fucking reports and be glad for them- because it's all you'll get from me."

I release a shaky breath as Draco turns, his body as hard as armour, the muscles in his back rippling with restraint and violence as he stalks way, not even Moody stopping him.

His footsteps pound against the floor, pound up the stairs, until they eventually fade, a slamming door the only sound that echoes back down to us- filling the silence of the kitchen.

***

"Oh, would you two stop fussing over me?" I scowl, half-amused, half-annoyed, my hands swatting away Ginny and Hermione from my sides, "A pair of bloody mother hens, the both of you."

"You were hurt, Erin, and you didn't say a damn word about it," Hermione narrowed her eyes at me, and I sheepishly took the blood-replenishing potion she handed me, knowing she was right to be annoyed. "You were battered and bruised and instead of telling anyone, you were slamming Malfoy against a wall."

"I would've paid good money to see that," Ginny grinned, settling beside Hermione on the plush carpet, her palms stretched forward to soak in the heat of the crackling log fire, "I wish I had been there."

"It was certainly a sight to behold," Hermione stated, and I didn't miss the slight tilt of her lip upward, not completely, not wanting me to think she approved of my violent outburst. "Draco Malfoy back from the dead, and Erin Weasley about to make him wish he hadn't been resurrected."

"You make it sound like I have anger issues," I frown, cringing as I bring the vial to my lips, and without waiting, I pour the whole thing into my mouth. Ginny snickers at the way my face scrunches as I force the bitter liquid down my throat.

"You do have anger issues, Erin," Harry says pointedly, settling into the sofa beside me and he laughs when I kick him with my foot, swatting at my fluffy sock half-heartedly. "Though I think Malfoy could make anyone have anger issues."

"He's a right smarmy git, isn't he?" Ron mutters irately, tugging at the sleeves of his jumper as he plops onto the armchair at our side, his eyes dancing with hatred and the flames of the fire. "Did you hear him- telling us to be grateful for his reports, as if the frog was grateful to the scorpion after it fucking stung it?"

"Hermione, please stop telling Ron Muggle stories," I groan with a laugh, everyone but Ron matching my amusement, "I can't handle him casually mentioning another fable like it's normal conversation- I mean, who just randomly brings up the Scorpion and the Frog?"

"Piss off, Erin," My twin brother scowls, dismissing my teasing words with an exaggerated eye roll, "Y'know I'm right- Malfoy's a fucking snake and trusting him is a bad idea."

"We know, Ron," Hermione sighs, her face contemplative as she glances at him, "No one trusts Malfoy, I just don't understand why Dumbledore would, why Moody, Remus, Kingsley, why would any of them think this was a good idea?"

"Because he knows things," I say softly, running a hand through my slightly damp hair. It felt good to be clean, good to be without flakes of dried blood and aches and bruises, and good to feel like I wasn't burying myself in the weight of the mission. "As Moody said, Malfoy knows damn-near everything, he's giving us information that would normally take weeks to find, never mind the agents we would lose in the process."

"But we're just meant to trust his word? We're meant to just pray that when he says there are only three Death Eaters there will actually only be three Death Eaters?" Ron muses, shaking his head with a disgruntled sigh. "I don't like it."

"Nor do I," Harry agrees, pushing his newly repaired glasses up his nose, "They want to think he's changed, want to think he's on our side but he didn't seem any different to the bastard we've known all these years- if anything, he seems darker-"

"After the things he's done?" Ginny whispered, and I felt a knot lodge in my throat, "We've all heard the rumours, we've all seen the papers, it's Draco- right, we know it is?"

The rumours, the pictures, Merlin, the stories we had heard.

There was red on Malfoy's ledger, blood staining his hands, skeletons filling his closets, and darkness tainting his soul- more than anything any of us could comprehend.

For several months, after Sirius died, after Voldemort was found to be truly alive after Lucius Malfoy was sent to Azkaban, rumours began- of a certain silver-masked Death Eater, young, ruthless, promising and Voldemort's best man.

We'd heard stories through the grapevine, stories from people and in the papers of his abilities as a Legilimen, his skill as a dueller, and the fact that he was more than willing to complete the tasks none our age could do, would want to do.

Voldemort had taken a certain interest in the youth of Slytherin this past year, scouts speaking of him setting them tasks, missions, and challenges, all to identify the darkest, the most intelligent, the most cunning to join his ranks.

This certain Death Eater was known to be male, tall, slender, known from a prominent family and known to do what the Dark Lord asks- torture his way into the minds of captive hostages, raze through cities, towns, and villages like a storm, and there were no limits on the hurt he would cause along the way, no line drawn that he wouldn't cross.

No one had accused Malfoy, no one would dare, but somehow, it seemed to make sense, seemed to fit, seemed like all the clues pointed to him. Voldemort had his claws in Draco, deep enough that he moved him like a pawn.

"We don't know for a fact it's Malfoy-" Hermione winced at the look Harry and Ron threw her, the incredulity on their faces. "It just seems... wrong. I mean, he's only seventeen-"

"Malfoy hasn't been like the rest of us for a long time," I reply, not sure why the words tasted so wrong, why it felt hard to get the words out, "Since fourth year, since Voldemort returned, he's more than just a bully, it's like whatever darkness was there, to begin with, started to fester and rot."

"With a father like Lucius Malfoy, what do we expect?" Harry breathed and I pictured us back at the Department of Mysteries, back in the Death Chamber, facing off with Lucius and Bellatrix. "It's no wonder there's no life in his eyes, he's a fucking ghost."

I heard Harry's unspoken words, grateful his father was not like that, grateful none of ours were like that. But all I could think was how unfortunate it was that Draco's father was Lucius, how different it would be if he hadn't been raised by a Death Eater.

"What-" I lick my lips, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa, "What did he mean when he said parent? He made it seem like-"

"Narcissa Malfoy's dead."

Ice-cold air seeps into my body, freezing my blood and bones, a kind of cold that even the fire couldn't warm.

Parent- he had said it so ruthlessly, so irately, he had shown more emotion in that one word than he had in years, and now I knew why.

His mother was dead.

"What?" Hermione breathed as if the air was caught in her lungs, and none of us, none of us seemed to be able to think straight, just staring wide-eyed at Ginny as she frowned. "How do you know that?"

"I overheard," Ginny explained, pulling her knees under her chin as if needing the comfort and support, "Moody brought Malfoy in this morning, just after the four of you left. Tonks and Remus came not long after- I heard Moody telling them about Narcissa's death, well, her murder more like."

"Malfoy's mum's dead?" The words tasted like ash on my tongue, and my skin felt raw like I was covered in blood all over again. "How?"

"I couldn't hear properly through the door, these wooden doors are so bloody thick," Ginny cleared her throat, and in the silence of the room it sounded so unbelievably loud, so harsh, "Moody said Voldemort killed her, that he had- he said he'd never seen anything like it before, her body, what remained..."

"Why would he do that?" Harry's face melted into a deep frown, melted into something vulnerable and deep, that this death was so different from the others, yet it was a death all the same. "Why would Voldemort kill Narcissa Malfoy, they worship him, they've always been loyal."

I shook my head, a haze starting to cover my brain- too many hours without sleep, too many hours fighting and bleeding and arguing and this seemed to be the final straw, the attack that hit too hard.

I didn't know Narcissa well, and barely saw her over the years- sometimes at Hogwarts, a few times at the Ministry when I was visiting my Dad, but besides that, Lucius was the first person I thought of when thinking of Draco's parents.

Lucius Malfoy who Draco seemed to be a carbon copy of, from the demeanour and character to the way he resembled him the older he got- the tall, towering height, the broad shoulders and narrow waist, and that cruel, cutting smirk.

But Draco's eyes, that storm of grey meeting an ocean of blue- those eyes were Narcissa's. The one thing that had been innocent about him had been those eyes, soft, wide, full of youth, they had been Narcissa's eyes.

I don't think I could say they were her eyes anymore, after what he had seen, and done, what he had become, they were no longer his mother's eyes.

"I don't know why," Ginny shrugged softly, and Hermione shuffled closer to her, the both of them huddling under the teddy blanket Hermione had across her lap.

"That must be why Malfoy accepted Dumbledore's help, right?" Harry considered, his green eyes sparking as he leaned forward, "If Voldemort killed his mother, then he must want revenge, he must hate-"

"No, Narcissa died three days after that night," Ginny cut in, her vibrant red hair pulling loose for the plait she had done, so stark against her pale skin. "Moody said Malfoy accepted Dumbledore's help in return for protection for him and his mother, that they would help the Order and then go into hiding, that had been the plan."

"But Voldemort killed her before the Order could get to her?" I asked, my voice meek now, the words soft coming past my lips, and something in my chest tightened when Ginny nodded.

"They'd taken a team into Malfoy Manor, to get Narcissa out, fake her death like they did Malfoy but," Ginny frowned, her head resting against Hermione's shoulder with a sigh, "They got there too late, she was already dead and-"

"Merlin, what else?" Ron grunted, looking uncomfortable- he had never been one to hear the gory details, to know the extent of the damage done.

"Malfoy was on that team, he'd gone on the mission too," Ginny spoke, and it felt like all the joy and life and serenity had been sucked from the room- like a Dementor had come and drained us all. "He was the one who found his mother, found the aftermath of what Voldemort had done to her."

"Merlin," Hermione gasped, a hand coming to her mouth, and it seemed we all shared that sentiment, all shared that visceral punch to the gut at the news.

He had gone to save his mother, to get her to safety but instead, he found her dead- more than dead, he found her ruined.

It was almost sickening, that the hatred I felt for Draco, for his family, suddenly felt like a spec in comparison to the sadness I felt for them right now- another victim, another casualty, another tragedy at Voldemort's hands.

"That's awful," I choke out, and my eyes seem to draw over to the fire, letting every crack, pop, and ember spark inside me, letting it settle the throbbing that seemed to be overtaking every inch of me.

"Yeah, it's fucked up," Ron cut in gruffly, and like usual, he had no tact, no care, just bulldozing straight through the tension with his words, "But that doesn't mean I trust him, doesn't make me believe a single word that comes out of his mouth-"

"Merlin, Ron!" Hermione scolds, her eyes tapering as she glances sharply at him, "Have some compassion, his mother was murdered, and he found her-"

"Oh, give me a break, it's bloody Malfoy we're talking about here, not the Easter Bunny!" Ron defends, lurching forward to lean on his knees, "Harry lost both his parents because of Voldemort and the Malfoys worshipped him. It's horrible what happened to her, yes, but forgive me if I don't weep for him, considering all the shit he has done, the blood on his hands- people don't just change, you can't just erase the past."

"I've killed, Ron, how would you feel if someone said I deserved to have the people I love die because of the things I've done?" I hiss, and the shaking in my voice makes him stop, makes him furrow his brows, his face falling.

"It's not the same thing-" He tried to argue, weakly, but I just scoffed, shaking my head.

"It is the same, you just can't see it because I'm your sister and you love me and he's Malfoy," I pinch my eyes shut for a moment, breathing in harshly through my nose, "He's done horrible things, and he's a horrible person but no one deserves that, no one."

"Erin's right, we aren't like them, every death has to matter, every loss has to mean something regardless of who it is," Harry says, and I can see the conflict in his eyes, see the burden of this weighing him down. "But Ron's right too- Voldemort might have killed his mum, but Lucius is still a Death Eater, Malfoy was a Death Eater, and with all the things he's done, how do we trust him?"

"Remus said that Malfoy could have told them half of what he did and they would have fulfilled their end of the bargain and let him disappear," Ginny continues, and I see the contemplation in her eyes, "He chose to tell them everything, and use his inside contacts to find out more- he's actively working with The Order, he didn't have to, he didn't have to stay- doesn't that count for something?"

"Trust is hard to come by these days, and after Snape, I'm surprised The Order is so blindly willing to trust Malfoy," I muse, and I don't miss how Harry's face darkens at the mention of Snape, his face twisting with anger. "But, without Malfoy, we wouldn't have the intel we do, we wouldn't have saved all those people- I don't like him or trust him, but I think that we need him."

"If Malfoy is who we think he is if those rumours are true, then he's seen and heard more than we could ever hope for," Hermione continues, nodding to me in agreement, "If they think he's dead, all of that information, all those plans, are still viable."

"So don't trust him, don't even like him," Ginny said, half-shrugging, "Just work with him."

"I've still got a bad feeling about this," Ron huffs, his face pulled into a grimace as he leans back, staring coldly at the fire. But when I look at Harry, he sighs, hesitantly nodding at me in agreement.

"Dumbledore helped Malfoy for a reason, he faked his death that night and hid him with the Order for a reason," Harry said, his hand coming up to rub at his tired face, "We don't trust him, we don't get complacent with him, but we do move forward, we don't really have a choice."

"Working with Malfoy," I confirm, nodding my head as I settle back into the cushions, "We can do that."

***

"You're coming with us to the Burrow, Mr Malfoy," Moody growled, his voice hushed yet fierce and I instinctively slowed my footsteps on the stairs, shielding my candle's flame to block out the light, my ears straining to hear as I gaze up at the bannister.

"I don't give a damn about some wedding," Draco hissed, and I could picture the look on his face, that arrogant, twisted scowl he perfected at Merlin only knows how young. "I'm meant to be dead; I hardly think gallivanting around at a party is smart, besides, any reports I have can be delivered-"

"There are no viable lines of communication, none safe enough to risk exposing that you are alive," Remus explains calmly, and it was bizarre, the oxymoron of the two men- good cop, and bad cop, working together to keep Malfoy in line. "It isn't about you attending the wedding, the matter stands that we need you hidden and safe, somewhere that The Order may properly protect you."

"I can protect myself; I have been protecting myself," Draco laughed, a bitter, hollow laugh that sounded more self-deprecating, crueller than I would have thought. I levelled the sounds of my breathing as I tried to peak through the gaps of wood, hoping to see the violent expression I knew was etched onto his face. "This is-"

"This is not up for discussion, Mr Malfoy," Moody said, commanded really, and the tension in the air could've been cut through with a knife, "We're well aware of your capabilities and skill as a Wizard, you more than proved it working with the Dark Lord. But we will not risk the lives of hundreds and the chance of ending this war because you wish to wallow in self-isolation."

I sucked in a sharp breath at Moody's insinuation- Draco had been more than capable and talented at Hogwarts, but after? With Voldemort, he was more than that, so much more, and Moody seemed to know all about it.

It was confusing, how Draco could have done those things, completed all those horrific tasks and yet when faced with killing Dumbledore, when at the precipice of gaining all of the Dark Lord's favour, he chooses to side with the enemy instead.

At first, I thought it was cowardice, but I don't think Draco had truly feared anything in years. Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe he grew tired of being Voldemort's right hand, but even that felt unlikely. Something else gnawed in me, something much colder and much sadder- that he wanted to save his mother because killing Dumbledore would put a target on his back, but also hers.

"Eavesdropping again, Erin?"

I expel a huge breath in surprise as Remus and Moody appear on the steps before me, their own candlelight bright and roaring, highlighting every inch of surprise on my face. I see silver strands of hair peeking out from behind their tall frames, but I ignore it as I quirk a brow at them.

"It's good practice for being discreet on missions," I smirk, Remus's face lighting at my teasing words, even Moody's lip seems to tilt marginally at the corner. "Besides, it's hardly eavesdropping if you're having the conversation out on the landing for anyone to overhear."

"Smart ass," Moody snorted, and the sound was the closest thing to a laugh I had heard from him. "Off you go then, it's late and tomorrow is another long day, Weasley."

I grin as Remus and Moody trudge past me, Moody grumbling with every uneven step down the seemingly never-ending stairs.

My smile is quick to vanish as I turn though, and even in the darkness of the corridor, with only my one candle as light, Draco's eyes, a sea of blue and grey tides, blaze like an electric current before me.

He stood silently, immovable, his large hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, the arms of his shirt rolled up to reveal marble skin, corded muscle, and strong veins. He hadn't changed yet, but he wasn't in pristine condition anymore- not with his shirt half-untucked, his hair ruffled, and the top buttons undone, revealing pale skin and a thin silver chain.

"I know why I'm staring at you," He mutters, the timbre low and gravelly, and it rushes over my skin like water, "But why are you staring at me?" He cocks his head, a methodical, feline sort of movement that makes it feel like a predator cornering prey.

"Why are you staring at me?" I raise my chin, ignoring his question, and the way his lip tilts and he casually leans back against the wall makes me grit my teeth, like this was normal, like this was all fun and games to him.

"I'm not used to seeing you without the blood and bruises and cuts, Crimson," Draco states simply, his eyes boring across my figure, and it felt as invasive as if his hands were exploring me. "I think I preferred the killer version of you, much more interesting."

He was mocking me, that much was clear, goading me to try and get a reaction, and under any other circumstances it would have worked- but not now.

It was strange, for him to still be that god-awful bastard who had ruined so many things for me over the years, to have been such a storm cloud throughout Hogwarts- and yet, now all I could see was a boy who lost his mother.

"Stop fucking looking at me like that, Weasley," All hint of teasing was gone, and the way his canines were exposed, highlighted by the flickers of burning candlelight, made me think he could have torn my throat out with his teeth right now, that's how angry he was.

"Like what?" I breathe, trying to force the indifference and hatred back into my gaze, back into my heart, but somehow, it felt harder. It was easier to hate him when he had everything and when he had never suffered or felt loss, but now, in a way, he was like us.

"Like you fucking pity me, as if I'm suddenly as broken as the rest of you," Draco gritted out, taking a few predatory steps forward, his long legs and the short distance making him seem supernaturally fast. I steeled my spine as he stopped an inch from me, so close I smelt the mint on his breath.

So close that the candle nearly touched him, so close I could make out several different hues of grey and blue in his eyes, the hue of sadness, of anger, of vengeance, and sorrow.

"I heard about your mother, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't say another fucking word," A warning, a clear-cut warning spat with every dangerously low word. The way his eyes flashed, and my back hit the railing as his hands came to lock on either side of me, I knew it was my only warning. "Cry over your own fucking dead, Merlin knows there are far more of them."

Red, hot fury burst like fireworks across my gaze and with every harsh breath I inhaled and exhaled, my chest brushed him, and I felt him stiffen under the contact- but he didn't pull away, didn't stop towering over me.

"You're disgusting, you can't even take one simple word of kindness, can you?" I scoff, and the sadness washes away, and I let every inch of revulsion and loathing burn in my gaze. "I don't care what Dumbledore thought, there is nothing redeemable about you, nothing."

"I know," He smiled, and his face and body inched closer, his warmth and touch inched closer until I was pressed against the railing, and I could count the freckles across his nose. "But what would your precious Dumbledore say if he saw what you had become? Would he think you're redeemable after all you've done- your soul is almost as dark as mine, Crimson."

Crimson.

How I hated that fucking nickname, how I hated how it rolled off his tongue, how it purred from his pink lips, how he had tortured me with it for seven years- forever the wound he would pick and pick and pick at until it bled.

"Don't fucking call me that, and don't ever compare me to you," My jaw locks, ignoring the way his eyes trace over my face, intrigue and thrill and coldness gleaming in them- so dead yet so alive. "I might have blood on my hands, but I kill because I have to not because I want to. The blood on your hands is the blood of innocents, lives lost because of your actions, not that you even fucking care."

"And here Moody was thinking you'd all embrace me with open arms," He scoffed, a mocking leer on his face as he sarcastically drawled the words down at me, "I'm here aren't I; doesn't that prove anything?"

He wasn't being serious, the exact opposite- he was toying with me, because he knew it mattered, knew I cared, and he knew how much I despised that he didn't care.

"We fight because we believe in the cause, we want people to be free, and we care about who lives and who dies," I raise my chin, forcing our faces together as I say every word. The candle's wax burns against my fingers, but I don't move away. "You're here for you and only you, Malfoy."

"Doesn't that self-righteous Gryffindor bullshit ever get exhausting?" He mused softly, his nose brushing mine, a phantom touch, and I had to dig my nails into my palms, to not viscerally shiver from it. "Surely even the heroes get tired too?"

"Mock us all you want, Malfoy," I scowl, rearing my head away from his to create some distance, create some space, so I can think, breathe, so I can properly hate him without getting distracted by the fact his mouth is inches from mine.

"I don't care why you're here, as long as you do your damn job," He smirks, licking his lips slowly, and I know he notices when my eyes shift down, seems to find it amusing. I grit my teeth, locking my gaze on his and letting it burn with every emotion I feel. "But I promise you- if someone gets hurt because of you or if you fuck us over, I will ruin you in ways that even Voldemort couldn't stomach."

"Oh, Crimson," Draco sighed, something unfamiliar gleaming in his eyes as he pulled back, slowly running his ringed hands across my waist with every step he retreated, those eyes never once leaving mine. "You think you're nothing like me, until one day, you'll wake up and suddenly, you're worse."

I glare daggers into his back as he turns and stalks away, hands tucked into his slacks, shirt morphing perfectly to every muscle and ridge of his back, and leather shoes tapping with every sure step he takes.

I glare until he reaches his room, until he steps inside, until he slams it shut behind him.

I glare at that door longer than I should.