Chapter 1
Hermione bit her lip, reconsidering her decision. The scroll in her hands and the crimson ribbon she would use to tie it to the owl’s leg taunted her, practically screaming all the reasons why this was a bad idea. A low hoot brought her back to reality, and she shook her doubts away, hands only slightly shaking as she tied a neat bow around the scroll. She handed the bird a treat, and it thanked her with a friendly nip before spreading its wings, black as night, and taking to the sky. She watched the eagle owl disappear into the dark clouds, and turned to walk back to the tent, doubts gnawing at her for the rest of the evening.
Draco Malfoy had been pacing all evening. He could not count how many times he had walked the length of his obscenely large bedroom, only knowing that it had been enough that his legs were shaking with tiredness. He had sent the owl off early in the afternoon, wanting to call it back as soon as it took off for its destination. He did not even know if it would be able to find its destination. After all, if the Dark Lord had not yet been able to find the trio, it was a far-fetched hope that the eagle owl would have any better luck. However, he had no other choice. Today had been his breaking point, and he was quite sure once the Dark Lord was told of his hesitancy to identify Potter… well. Draco couldn’t see himself living another minute after that.
His breath rattling, Draco collapsed on his bed, fighting to keep his slipping Occlumency mask in place. There would be time for grief later, he told himself scornfully. No time for such a weakness now. He ignored the voice in the back of his head that told him he’d been saying that since he was a small child and still had yet to let a hint of emotion express itself. At this moment his exhaustion overwhelmed him, and Draco fell back onto his bed, closing his eyes, shutting out the horrid reality of his life for just a few hours.
Draco was awoken by the tapping of an owl on the window at midnight. After fumbling with the latch, he snatched the owl inside and untied the letter as fast he could with uncontrollably shaking fingers. He released the bird, which left with an indignant hoot after deducing it would not receive a treat for carrying out its mission. A twinge of guilt hit him, but there would be time for treats later. Unrolling the parchment, Draco held his breath, eyes flying over the words on the page.
Malfoy,
I cannot offer you much, and I am hesitant to reveal my location. I suppose you are already aware we’ve been separated, as you were a close witness at the incident. I have resumed our activities from prior to the fiasco, and am highly confident in my ability to hide myself and my companions completely. I can offer you safety upon certain conditions, and this- there is a path to the Order’s victory. I suspect this to be your desired outcome as well – I can’t imagine You-Know-Who treating your family with mercy after tonight. If you are serious regarding your endeavour, meet me where we chatted after the Quidditch World Cup as soon as you receive this. I cannot offer you another opportunity without immeasurable risk. Please burn this letter upon arrival.
H
Draco sank back onto the bed. “Fucking hell,” he whispered to himself.
With the events of the day, he had entirely forgotten that Granger had been separated from Potter and Weasley in the chaos. She wasn’t even at a safe house, it sounded like. Safety upon certain conditions… The words echoed in Draco’s head. It wasn’t much. It wasn’t anything, really. She was telling him to meet her, unprotected, in the middle of a forest, and blindly trust that she would be able to offer him some form of shelter. To go was stupid. To remain was suicide.
“Incendio,” he spoke hollowly.
Draco watched as the letter floated to the ground, glowing embers consuming Granger’s words. Was he really considering such insanity? To leave the Manor without extensive questions asked, and for such a razor-thin opportunity of escape- it was impossible.
Unless… He sat bolt upright. There was a passageway not many knew about, behind an ugly bust of some long-lost Malfoy ancestor not far from Draco’s room. It would take him to an old garden shed, and there was a maintenance gate nearby- His mind raced, calculating his chances. If he were to be caught fleeing, it would surely be a drawn out, painful end. Possibly by Aunt Bella, he thought with a shudder, not wanting to imagine the torturous possibilities.
However, Draco dared to be optimistic about his odds. He had grown up in the Manor alone, mostly unsupervised, and doubted any of the other residents would have had the chance to explore it as thoroughly as he had given the short time they’d been here.
He could hardly believe what he was doing. He was hardly the impulsive type, yet here he was, risking his life on the assumption that none of the Death Eaters had discovered the extenf ot the Manor’s passages.
Decision made, Draco summoned a rucksack from across the room and threw into it a few random clothing items laying on his bed, a couple Galleons, and, as an afterthought, the spellbooks strewn across the nightstand. Still barely believing the choice he was making, he looked around his room one last time. Mother would have scolded you for the mess, chided an unwelcome voice in his head. Swallowing back a lump in his throat and strengthening his resolve, Draco turned resolutely away from the scene, fighting to keep his focus on the task at hand.
After carefully listening for others in the vicinity, Draco tapped his wand against the bust’s wispy mustache.
“Ouverti sentier,” he whispered hoarsely. The bust turned to smoke, and Draco silently passed through it, closing the passage upon his entrance. He hurried along the dark stone corridor, using his hand to trace the rough wall. He did not dare light his wand, not wanting to risk a glimmer of light becoming visible through an abandoned garden shed window.
Upon reaching the garden shed and peering out the windows for signs of patrolling Death Eaters, Draco gave himself one last chance to reconsider his options. You’re about to throw your legacy out the window, spat one part of his mind. You’re a Slytherin. You’re a Malfoy. This is where you belong, not consorting with Mudbloods and blood traitors,” it reasoned.
But another part of him flinched at the thought of the word Mudblood.
After all he had witnessed at the Manor the past few months, Draco had seen plenty of blood spilt. Purebloods, halfbloods, Muggleborns… none of it mattered when the Dark Lord was angered. It all ran together, anguished screams and cruel laughter fading into eventual silence and a pool of crimson when Draco dared a glance around the corner. None of it ran brighter than the rest.
She beat you in every test, Draco reminded himself sternly. If anyone can hide you, she can. It didn’t matter that to rely on her was to go against everything he had been raised to believe. He wanted to survive, and she was his path to survival. That’s what this was all about when it came down to it, he thought. He didn’t particularly fancy going head to head with the Dark Lord, but was intelligent enough to know the time had come to remove himself from harm’s way. The Trio had escaped Voldemort’s clutches yet again and disappeared despite his best efforts, and if that wasn’t a sign of the tide of the war changing, Draco didn’t know what was. Plus, he reassured himself, They aren’t going to kill you the next time they lay eyes on you. Most likely.
Again, he had to push thoughts of his mother from his mind.
Draco pulled the hood of his cloak over his white-blond hair, cast a quick Disillusionment charm on himself, and stepped out into the frigid night air. He cursed the presence of the frost on the grass, which made for an annoyingly loud crunch every time he took a step, and swiftly took off for the nearby gate. He was about to open it when he heard voices approaching from a path to his left.
“...Don’t think Bellatrix will be too pleased about that. Crazy bitch she is, I pity the others confined to the house. Shame about Narcissa, though, it’ll be like all hell broke loose when Lucius hears, I bet. Me personally, I’ll be staying far away from him meself.” It was a Snatcher Draco didn’t know by name. You could beat a Snatcher if you had to fight one, he thought with relief. At least it wasn’t any of the ruthless higher-ups.
The reply came, a raspy chuckle. “I say better off dead. Never lifted her pinky finger for the Dark Lord, Narcissa. Lucius is useful enough where he’s at for now, but the lot of them are snakes. Wouldn’t stop at nothing to survive, none of them. I don’t suppose you’ve heard, but the Dark Lord still isn’t happy they weaselled out of Azkaban for all those years. All rumours now, but they say he’s going to make an example out of them once he’s got Potter. If you ask me, Narcissa got the better end of the deal.” This voice belonged to Yaxley, and Draco froze.
White hot rage mixed with fear pulsated throughout his veins as he listened to the man speak. If he got caught now, Draco was fucked. Yaxley wouldn’t hesitate to rat him out and use Unforgivables on him before marching him back inside and presenting him to Bellatrix as a coward. He could practically see her wide smile as she contemplated the most fun way to torture him. Fortunately, the voices began to move away, and Draco slipped through the gate and off the grounds. Outside of the protective enchantments, no one heard the loud crack as he Apparated away for the last time.