Dark Marked in Blood

A Story by Bekah B

A little HP fanfiction from FOREVER ago. It's the only one I ever finished. Originally it was 10 short chapters but I fused them into one long story. Enjoy.

Snape watched thin wisps of light shoot from the tip of Harry’s wand to block the Impedimentia curse he had attempted to hit him with. The rest of the class gasped as Snape’s curse broke easily through Harry’s shield, forcing Harry to hit the floor to avoid the curse.

“Wonderful, Potter, absolutely amazing! That was the worst Shield Charm I have seen preformed at Hogwarts. Ever.” Snape sneered and pushed his oily hair out of his stone-cold eyes. “Now, would someone competent like a try?” Having no takers, Snape walked angrily to his desk and informed the class they would have an essay on the proper creation of shields due the next time they met.

Hermione, on Harry’s right, was already scribbling notes and flipping through textbooks for information to shove into her essay. Ron, who was not even aware that there was an essay, was doodling what could have been a Quidditch match on the margin of his parchment. He only looked up when Harry elbowed him sharply in the side.

“What was that for?” Before Ron could say anything else, Harry slapped his hand onto Ron’s mouth and hushed him. Harry jerked his head toward the back right corner of the classroom, where Draco Malfoy sat staring down at his desk, his once neat, slick hair falling soft and ragged over his face.

Hermione leaned over Harry and said, “He’s been like that for a week or two now, not as sharp as he used to be. “ Before Harry could restate his famous theory, Hermione quickly added, “Which does not necessarily mean that he’s up to something! He could just be…um…taking hard classes this year.” She didn’t sound convinced. Harry tried to hold his tongue, but ended up whispering to Ron, “One of these days, I’ll prove it."

The truth was, as Harry, Ron and Hermione debated about Malfoy, he was in the back of the class eyeing them disdainfully, rather than examining the intricate workings of his desktop. He knew that Potter suspected him, which inevitably meant that both the blood traitor and the Mudblood had been introduced to the possibility.

But, the three Gryffindors in front of him were the least of Draco’s problems. He was beginning to understand that if he did not complete the task he had been given quickly and efficiently, he could kiss the luxury of being alive goodbye. Harry kept glancing over his shoulder, seemingly unaware that Draco knew he was being watched. Draco was now focusing on the portion of Harry’s scar that was visible under his sheet of dark hair. It was not fair. What had made Harry powerful enough to resist the wishes of the Dark Lord?

Draco tucked the strands of hair that had been obscuring his face behind his ears. The more he thought, the more his depression and fear turned to bitterness and anger. The next time he whipped his head around, Harry was surprised to find Draco’s pale eyes level with his own. Harry spun so quickly in the opposite direction that he nearly flew off of his chair and into Ron’s lap. Fortunately, Ron jumped back in time to avoid being used as a seat. The only drawback to this maneuver was that Harry ended up on the floor for the second time in one lesson.

Hermione shot Harry a guarded “I told you so” look before returning her nose to her texts. Ron started to laugh, but shut himself up hastily as Snape made his way to the side of their desk.

“Mr. Potter. You are disrupting my classroom! I should give you detention, but I would only be punishing myself. You will stay after class to give the room a good cleaning before you go. Is that clear?”

Harry mumbled, “Yes, sir.” In a defeated fashion and clumsily scrambled to his feet. Before he sat back down, he could not help but notice the smug grin that was washing over Malfoy’s drawn face.

“Brilliant, Harry. Very graceful.” Ron sniggered as the bell rang to signal that everyone besides Harry was free from Snape for the day. There was a massive shuffling as Harry’s fellow students grabbed their belongings and hustled out the door. Hermione scooped up her books and hurried out with the crowd, without so much as a sidelong glance at Harry.

Ron stayed a second or two later: just enough time to pat Harry on the back and give him a devilishly sympathetic smile. After Ron had retreated from the room, Harry could have sworn he heard a shout of, “Hermione, wait up!!” echo down the corridor. Harry shook his head, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. He closed his books and set to work on sanitizing Snape’s dank classroom with a lengthy sigh.

About fifteen minutes after Harry had begun his quest for cleanliness in Snape’s classroom, it was mercifully over. Though there were only a few less layers of dust caking the room than when he began, he believed he had succeeded in ridding the room of some of Snape’s dreariness. Snape, who had left a few minutes into Harry’s cleaning spree, had not been there to disagree with how and what he cleaned. Consequently, Harry picked up his books lightheartedly and set off for Gryffindor Tower in a much better mood than he had been in during class.

The corridors leading to the dungeon were unusually empty, even for this time of day, after classes and before dinner. The silence seemed ominous, but Harry paid it no mind because he had resolved to let nothing at Hogwarts ruin his mood.

It took him a second as he passed a side hall to register that there were heated voices coming from inside. Aware that this may (or may not) have held important information, Harry stopped behind the corner at the junction of the hallway to listen.

The corridor was dark, and both of the arguers were entirely distracted, so Harry ventured a split-second peek around the corner. The only light in the area was emanating from a wand pressed against a blond boy’s neck, eerily illuminating his face, but casting shadow on the one beside it.

Draco Malfoy was crying, his tears shimmering in the wand-light. The second figure was merely an outline against the blackness, but the crisp, dark robe that swept the floor, the sharp nose and stringy, black hair left no doubt in Harry’s mind that the wielder of the wand was Professor Snape. “Draco, I cannot cover for you much longer. He is getting impatient. You need to do it soon.”

“But, I don’t think I can. I don’t want…..I…”

“You have to. There is no option. Either it is your life or his. I know you. You value your life above all others.” Draco seemed to gain strength from this idea and nodded, “And why shouldn’t I? I’m a pureblood. A Slytherin. I will do it. I have to. For my father. For the Dark Lord.”

Harry’s eyes widened at Malfoy’s last words, and he almost gave away his position by letting out an involuntary gasp. So he was right: Malfoy was working for Voldemort. Snape put his wand away and stormed off through the other end of the hall. Malfoy slid down the wall and wrapped his arms around his knees and sat in stunned silence.

Harry pulled his wand out of his robe and pointed it at Malfoy. He whispered, “Incarcerus” and Malfoy was instantly bound by ropes that had seemingly erupted out of nowhere. He struggled against the ropes, but it was no use, as he could not reach his wand. “Who’s there? You had bloody well show yourself!” He bellowed down the corridor.

Stepping out solemnly, Harry ignored Draco’s hissing and struggling as he approached him. “I know. I know you’re a Death Eater. I heard you arguing with Snape.” Draco opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing as Harry’s wand inched closer to his face. Malfoy’s eyes hardened as he sized up every move that Harry made.

“Don’t meddle in what you don’t understand, Potter.” Harry shot out his free hand and grabbed Draco’s left wrist. “I understand perfectly, Malfoy. If I push back this sleeve, what will I see?”

Draco thrashed against the ropes in an attempt to free himself from Harry’s grip. In the angriest, most piercing voice he could muster, he answered, “You will see fear.”

Taking this as an invitation, Harry retorted, “Mine?” before pushing back the edge of the dark sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark impeccably emblazoned on Draco’s marble-white skin. “Or yours?”

Draco set his jaw and refused to let Harry frighten him. “What is it that Voldemort wants you to do?” Harry asked, disgust dripping from his words like venom. Draco managed to yank his arm away and snarled, “None of your business, Potter. That is between me and my…Master. You tell anyone what you know, they die. Then you die.”

Harry tapped his wand on the ropes holding Draco prisoner and they began to peel away as he fired back, “We’ll see about that. Death Eater.”

“Half-blood.” Malfoy laughed as he took out his wand. Neither had the energy or the will, even in their anger to make this into a duel. They simply held their wands at the ready, eyes never leaving each other and slowly backed up to differing ends of the hallway. When they reached their opposing ends, they flung their wand arms out and to their sides, their robes flowing menacingly in the dead air, in a simultaneous curse and salute.

Malfoy turned sharply on his heel and strutted gracefully in the direction of the Slytherin common room. Harry turned and slipped his wand away before sprinting as fast as his legs would carry him. When he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady he had to lean on the wall as he panted, “Norwegian…*wheeze*…Ridgeback.”

The Fat Lady swung her portrait forward and Harry skidded in front of the fireplace where Hermione and Ron were attempting a homework session. Luckily, they were the only ones around because Harry’s entrance had been thoroughly disruptive. “Draco…is a Death…Eater.” Hermione began to raise her hand in protest, but Harry continued, “I saw…I saw the Dark Mark.”

The next morning, Harry woke with the sunlight streaming in through his window. He rolled over onto his feet, taking care to wake Ron before getting dressed. They met Hermione in the common room and quickly learned that none of them had fully recovered from the events of the night before.

They walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Hermione and Harry weren’t really hungry, but they sat and watched Ron shove assorted breakfast food into his mouth for nearly half an hour. “What?” said Ron through a mouthful of eggs, proceeding to spew little yellow bits all over his friends. Hermione brushed the little pieces from her robe and from the ends of her hair before snarling with furious sarcasm, “I don’t know, Ron, maybe it’s the fact that one of Voldemort’s supporters (and therefore someone that is trying to kill us) is sitting a few tables away and we can’t do a thing about it! Remember Voldemort, do you?”

The fork that Ron had been holding clattered to the floor. Ron had begun to lean over to pick it back up when he noticed that half of the Gryffindor table was staring at him and Hermione, eyes wide.

“Yeah, Hermione” he said with the same icy tone, “I think I do.” Unable to bear the hateful look that had crossed his face when he spoke her name, Hermione grabbed her books with a decided ‘huff’ and stormed out in the direction of their Charms class. Ron was not able to keep the defeat from his voice as he whispered, “but…Hermione” in the direction she had left.

Harry patted him on the back lightly and attempted to sound reassuring as he said, “Don’t let it bother you, mate, she’s just worried about you.” Lacking the strength to protest, Ron retrieved his fork from the cold stone floor and jabbed it violently into a sausage that Neville had made the mistake of not eating fast enough. Neville, who was taken aback by the sudden assault on his breakfast, glared at Ron but simply said, “I think we’ve all had enough. Better go before we’re late for Charms.”

All three of them got up without another word and marched toward the large doors at the end of the Great Hall. As they passed the Slytherin table, Ron could have sworn he saw Malfoy, his hair shockingly white against his deep green cloak, throw something at him.

His suspicions were confirmed when he felt a little piece of crumpled parchment hit his shoulder and fall to the floor.

He picked it up and flattened it in the palm of his hand, but quickly crumpled it again. On the parchment, Malfoy had drawn (or more likely: gotten one of his cronies to draw) a picture of Ron and Hermione kissing. There was a large blood-red X covering the picture. He had stopped walking as was staring down at the crumpled ball when he heard Neville and Harry yelling, “Come on, Ron!!” He snapped back into reality and shoved the parchment as far down in his pocket as it would go.

The three of them were a solemn sight as they entered the Charms classroom and found their seats. There were only a few people in the room: a spattering of tired Gryffindors and a few vicious-looking Slytherins. Hermione was sitting with her head on the desk, and if Harry hadn’t known better he would have thought she was sleeping. He sat quietly next to her, listening to the sound of her breathing.

Ron and Neville had taken the table next to them with slightly less ceremony and a bit more noise. Over the next few minutes, the remaining members of the class trickled in, followed closely by Professor Flitwick. Flitwick shuffled toward the front of the classroom, arms heavy laden with a vast array of musty scrolls and parchments.

After the bell rang (efficiently bringing Hermione’s head off the table) Flitwick dropped his scrolls onto his desk before hopping onto it himself. He sat with his little legs swinging in front of him, and every two seconds he was pushing a new tuft of white hair out of his eyes. “Hello, class. Today we will be practicing advanced Cheering Charms, as a supplement to yesterday’s lesson. If you would all find your partners and continue from where you left off, that would be wonderful. I will come around and check on you. If you have any questions, feel free to ask!” Flitwick hopped back off the desk and motioned for the students to begin charming one another.

The students begrudgingly moseyed from their seats and into different areas of the classroom, wands already pointed at their unfortunate partners. Before long, giggles could be heard floating about the room, and every so often a girl would sway in such a dangerous manner her partner (or the nearest boy) would have to run and catch her so she didn’t fall and crack her head on a table.

Draco was in his usual corner trading both insults and giggles with a broad, somewhat blank-expressional Slytherin. During a short break in his spell casting, he was graced with a horrible idea, but one that would be entertaining enough for him. When Professor Flitwick’s back was turned (as he was helping Neville with his incantation), Draco slyly pointed his wand at Hermione and mumbled, “Densaugeo”, a curse he had used on her before. He cracked a smile as her teeth began to grow.

To Draco’s utter amazement (and joy for that matter) his plan proved to be better than expected. Ron’s wand was pointed at Harry, but Hermione was right behind him. She turned in a furious stupor and shouted, “Ronald Weasley!” but it came out closer to Vonerld Feeshly through her growing teeth. “I hate you!! Petrificus Totalus!!”

Ron went stiff as a board and hit the floor. Harry stood in wonder before realizing that Ron could not have cursed Hermione: he had been halfway through a Cheering Charm at the time. He shouted, “Tarantallegra!” as he coolly aimed his wand at Malfoy.

“What is the meaning of this?” Flitwick shrieked as he scuttled over to Harry. Harry began, “Malfoy cursed Hermione but Hermione thought it was Ron beacuse they were fighting but Ron was cheering me so he couldn’t have so she cursed him and I cursed Malfoy because he cursed Hermione but she thought…” “OKAY!!” Flitwick held up a hand in desperation, anything to avoid this already tiresome, redundant explanation. “Be that as it may, Mr. Potter, the four of you will be spending tonight with me, in detention.” He did not wait for the groans and protests, but quickly unpetrified Ron and allowed Draco to stop dancing (though the majority of the class had been enjoying it). He looked at Hermione and motioned her to the door. “Sorry, dear, but you’ll need to see Madam Pomfrey for that.” Without another word, Hermione raced out of the classroom and down the hall.

Upon arriving for their detention later that night, all four were in a dreary mood, despite the fact that Hermione’s teeth were normal-size again. Flitwick came bolting out of the closet in his classroom carrying more parchment than he had had during class. “Ah! I see you have all arrived. And on time! That is very much appreciated. Well, I have nothing for you all to do, so Professor Sprout has agreed to let you clean the trash from the Hogwarts gardens, which has not been done it ages. Believe me, your services are needed.” They followed Flitwick solemnly and wondered how dirty the gardens really were.

“Harry,” whispered Ron “Is Hermione still mad at me?” Without giving Harry a chance to try and answer, Hermione shuffled to Ron’s side. “Of course not, Ron. I just sort of….forgot….that you handle stress differently. You do care…I hope. Plus Harry told me it was Draco that cursed me, not you.”

“Thank goodness. You had me worried you were never going to talk to me again. Draco’s gonna get it.” Ron heaved a heavy sigh of relief, but stopped midway after Draco turned to glare, probably because he had heard his name. They followed Flitwick the rest of the way silently, hoping that time would move more quickly once they arrived.

Flitwick presented each of them with large black bags and a pair of ragged gloves, as well as pointing out a shovel leaning against a deteriorating wooden fence. “Alright. I’ll be back to collect you in three hours. I expect to see a considerable amount of progress when I return. Oh, and have fun!”

Harry glanced over the garden they had been placed in. Except for the bits of trash scattered around and the few dying plants, it was not a bad place. There were many different plants, all of them pushing their way into eachother’s boxes, some sprouting seeds, others displaying vibrant flowers. “Fun. Yeah, right.”

In one of the farther corners of the garden, Draco was brushing dust off a stone wall, obviously avoiding doing any actual work. Ron and Hermione were somehow managing to have fun in detention, and were picking up bits of trash in some sort of competition, which Ron was bound to lose. Harry flicked his wand out and managed to fill his bag with trash in a matter of a few seconds. “Cool. Problem solved.”

He left his bag of trash on a bench, and after stealing a reassuring glance at Ron and Hermione’s escapades, he swaggered over to Draco and slapped his hand on the now dirt-less wall. “So, Draco. Ready to talk yet, or do I have to force it out of you?”

Draco held Harry’s eyes angrily for a few seconds before dropping them to stare at the mossy ground. “I thought, Potter, that we had agreed never to speak of…this…again.” Harry held back a dark chuckle. “Oh, is that what you think our parting in the hall meant? You are sorely mistaken.” He threw Draco against the wall and held his arm pressed against his neck. “What are you up to?” Draco grabbed Harry’s shoulders and spun him around thumping his head against the stone. “Listen, Potter. I am not about to tell you what I am doing for the Dark Lord. And did you seriously expect me to?” He dropped his grip sharply before muttering, “You don’t know the Dark Lord like I do.”

Harry was shocked. “I….I don’t know Voldemort! Of course I know Voldemort, you git! He nearly killed me! He gave me some of his powers! I dueled him! HE POSSESSED ME!!! I can sense him all the time!! Who are you to tell me I don’t KNOW HIM!!?”

“But will he kill you if you fail? NO! But will he throw you in Azkaban if you deceive him? NO! Does he have complete power over you? No, I don’t think he does!” Draco had slid down the side of the wall and was staring wild-eyed at Harry. Harry stared at Draco in utter confusion for a moment before everything pieced itself together in his head. “Draco.” He said, in possibly the kindest tone he had ever spoken to Malfoy in, “You don’t want to be a Death Eater, do you? It wasn’t your choice.”

Draco smirked and replied bitterly, “Maybe I never wanted this, but it doesn’t matter now, whether it was my choice or not. I’ve been branded as evil. If I don’t stay that way, I’ll just be killed. So f**k off. Just stay out of my business, alright?”

From across the garden Harry heard Hermione scream.

Ron was shaking visibly and he had his hand pointed in the direction of a copse of trees near the edge of the garden. Draco and Harry looked at eachother before turning their heads in unison to see what all the ruckus was about. Emerging from the trees were three figures shrouded in black, white masks gleaming from the light of the torches they held in their hands. Death Eaters.

Harry didn’t move. Draco ran his hand through his hair in attempt to calm his nerves, but only succeeded in making himself more nervous. Hermione and Ron were crouched behind a bush, trying to stay out of the Death Eaters’ way.Knowing full well this untimely visit was his fault, Draco drew a deep breath and began walking toward the advancing figures. “Why are you here? How am I supposed to hide my identity when Death Eaters show up every time I get detention?” he spat sarcastically.

“We are not here about your detention, Malfoy. He has sent us to remind you, both of your duty and of your place.” The three of them laughed eerily, as if sharing some terrible joke. Draco nodded defiantly, “Consider me reminded. Good day.” All of the Death Eaters drew their wands and advanced on Draco. “Ah, not so fast. This is for motivation to get your job done. Crucio!”

Almost instantaneously, Draco was on the ground screaming and writhing in pain. Without thinking, Harry pointed his wand at the Death Eater, “Expelliarmus!” The masked figure was thrown back, startled, and Draco pushed himself slowly from the ground. “Potter, you really shouldn’t have done that.” “I know. I’m not even sure why I"” Harry was cut off by a beam of hot red light whizzing past his ear. “I see your point.”

Harry shot a short string of curses at the Death Eaters, giving Draco enough time to right himself and retrieve his wand. One of the Death Eaters had broken off and was making his way to Ron and Hermione, who were no longer behind the bush, but looking rather ready for a battle. Harry could not make out what they shouted, but their wands shot a curse simultaneously, emitting a bright blue flash, and rendering the offending wizard unconscious. Ron kicked him to make sure he was out before racing after Hermione, who had gone to help Harry and Draco.

Harry and Draco were back to back, each in s staring-meets-cursing competition with a different Death Eater. Ron sent a quick Blasting Charm to the wizard with his wand aimed at Draco, sending him flying. Draco nodded his gratitude before repaying the Death Eater with a Cruciatus Curse. See how he liked it. Hermione hurried to cast a shield over Harry as he attacked with a new curse, soon to become a favorite, “Sectumsempra!”

The figure stumbled backward as blood from an invisible wound began to pour from his chest. In a fit of rage, he screamed, “Crucio!” hitting Ron. Ron fell, which broke Draco’s concentration, and therefore the spell he had been drawing out. He scanned the situation for what his best move would be.

Hermione was spinning swiftly to Blast the Death Eater he had just left, before he could get back to his feet. The bleeding Death Eater raised his wand once again, aimed this time at Hermione’s back. Harry and Ron saw the man raise his wand, but neither was in a position to do anything at all to stop it. It seemed at though time stood still.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

The green light rocketed from the tip of his wand in Hermione’s direction, followed by Draco’s scream, “GRANGER!!! Behind you!!!” She turned quickly; just enough to catch a glimpse of the emerald light before it hit.

Harry and Ron spun around as soon as they heard the thump of a body hitting the ground. They were quite surprised to see Hermione standing, gawking at Draco’s limp body. “He…he cast a shield. But…the curse…it caught the tip of his wand…” she stuttered before bursting into tears. Harry left Ron to deal with the one Death Eater still standing and went over to Hermione. “Wait. The curse didn’t actually hit him? It just hit his wand?” Harry asked as he knelt to inspect Draco’s body. Hermione squeaked, “Just his wand” as another rush of tears flowed down her cheeks.

Ron had managed to tie the remaining Death Eater to a tree, and with a quick “Accio wand” had effectively ended the battle. As soon as he was sure the Death Eaters were no longer a problem, he rushed over to the others. “Is he…?” His voice trailed off, unable to speak his question. Harry looked up at him; a single tear fell from his sharp green eyes. “Amazingly, I don’t think so. The curse only hit his wand. He’s definitely unconscious, though.”

Hermione returned to her usual objective self and said, “Hurry, we have to get him to Madam Pomfrey!” Harry and Ron nodded in agreement. Ron handed Hermione the wand he had taken from the Death Eater and stationed himself next to Draco’s legs. Harry began to lift him by the shoulders, so Ron picked him up at the ankles. It took them a few minutes (as they were walking slowly and awkwardly) to reach the front door. Hermione had to yank the door with all her strength to get it open.

Once they were inside Harry instructed, “Hermione, run and get Madam Pomfrey! Fast!” As she sprinted up the staircase, he yelled after her, “Then get Dumbledore!” Hermione didn’t stop running until she was panting in front of Madam Pomfrey, who was telling her to “breathe” and “Slow down, dear, tell me what’s wrong.” After she caught her breath, Hermione explained dramatically, “We were in detention in the gardens. There were Death Eaters! We fought them off, but Draco…he needs you! NOW!” Madam Pomfrey’s eyes widened and she dropped the clipboard she had been holding. “Alright, dear, I’ll be right down with a stretcher.”

Hermione didn’t wait for Madam Pomfrey (there was no need) and bolted through some corridors, up a few flights of stairs and through some more corridors, paying no mind to the bystanders giving her berating glances as she breezed past them. She skidded to a stop in front of the entrance to Dumbledore’s office and realized she had no idea what the password was. She pounded the door frantically and screamed, “Professor Dumbledore!” and “Headmaster!” at the top of her lungs.

Dumbledore practically jumped out of his desk and to the door, finding a distraught Miss Granger virtually falling into his office. “What is it? What’s wrong, Miss Granger?” Hermione wiped new tears from her face and wailed, “Death Eaters! We fought them, but…Draco…the Killing Curse! He’s alive, but I think he’s dying! Harry and Ron brought him to Madam Pomfrey!” She handed Dumbledore the wand that Ron had taken from the Death Eater he tied to the tree. Dumbledore took one look at the wand and charged the door, Hermione tearing behind him.

In the Hospital Wing, Dumbledore and Hermione found Madam Pomfrey poring over the bed where Draco now lay, administering a large assortment of potions and medicines. Dumbledore quickly checked over Harry and Ron, but once he was assured they were in good health (apart from a colorful variety of cuts and bruises) he move to Draco’s side. He placed his hands on Draco’s forehead and mumbled, “Astonishing. The curse didn’t hit him directly then? Just his wand?” Hermione shook her head. “No it didn’t hit him directly. He saved my life.”

Dumbledore’s eyes softened and he walked over to Hermione, taking her face in his hands. “Lucky for all of us he had his wand then, isn’t it? You need not worry about Mr. Malfoy. He should be recovered in a few days.”

Harry was sprawled across a dark red couch, staring intently at the ceiling of the Gryffindor common room. Ron sat on the floor with his back against the arm of the couch, leaning his head on his hands. Hermione was perched on the arm of the couch, messing with the hem of her robe as a distraction. The common room had long since been vacated, leaving only the three of them and the last embers of the dying fire.

Hermione, the first one to talk in nearly an hour, mused, “He’ll be alright, won’t he? I mean, Dumbledore said not to worry.” Ron raised his head and eyed Hermione cautiously, “You keep telling yourself that, kid, and maybe he’ll make it through the night.”

Hermione stood up defensively, causing Harry to roll onto his side and mumble, “He’s right. It was a killing curse, Hermione. It’ll be lucky if he ever comes out of his coma.” Hermione dropped to the floor and kept her eyes fixed on the bottom of the couch. “SHUT UP, Harry! Don’t you think I know that? That curse was meant for me.”

Harry pushed himself up on the couch and sat cross-legged as he said, “You know, Hermione, Draco may not be as bad as I always made him out to be.” Ron shot back, “Yeah, for a jerk, a Slytherin and a Death Eater, he’s not bad at all.”

“Look, Ron, I didn’t get a chance to tell you, okay. We were too busy trying not to die back there in detention. Draco isn’t a Death Eater by choice. He’s being forced to work for Voldemort; no doubt it’s his father’s fault, too.” Harry explained. Ron jumped and looked up at Harry, questioning, “Bloody hell! Did I just hear Harry Potter defending Draco Malfoy? And the sad part is, I’m inclined to believe you, too.”

“So am I,” Hermione said, “We have to do something about Draco. We can’t just let Voldemort have him!” Ron spun around and situated himself so that the three of them were sitting in a makeshift circle and sighed, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Hermione’s right. We can’t just let You-Know-Who have him. He did just save Hermione’s life.”

The next hour consisted of someone bringing up a plan, someone else shooting it down and bringing up their own plan, which was in turn shot down and so on and so forth until the three Gryffindors were out of breath, energy, and ideas. Hermione sighed and fell back onto the floor with a squeak, sending Ron and Harry into fits of hysterical laughter. Just as Hermione had gotten up to straighten herself, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung away from the wall without warning; Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore stood in the doorway.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger. It is encouraging to see that you are all willing to sacrifice your own sleep worrying about Mr. Malfoy, but I assure you, there is no need, and it would be beneficial for you to get some rest, as it has been a long night. Mr. Malfoy is now awake, and aside from some slight disorientation and muscle pain, seems to be perfectly alright. And, if you don’t mind, I would prefer this ‘situation’ be kept private, as I do not want to catapult the entire school into chaos.” Dumbledore winked at Harry as he about-faced and glided back down the hall.

McGonagall stiffly added, “And ten points to Gryffindor for each of you for your brave and timely if not extremely rash responses to danger,” before she sped off after Dumbledore.

Hermione exclaimed, “See! I told you he’d be fine! Now the problem is…what do we do about Voldemort?” Harry laughed, his eyes lighting up as a thought came to him, “We do what we’ve always done. We wait for the opportune moment to present itself, and somehow, we miraculously defeat Voldemort yet again, and simply state that Malfoy works for us now. As for that Dark Mark of his, I’ll see what I can do, but those things are permanent. The next time we meet Voldemort, we fight for Draco…….did I just say that?”

Meanwhile, in the Hospital Wing, Draco lay drenched in sweat, but awake and quite snappy. Now that she was sure he would make a full recovery, Madam Pomfrey was searching frantically for a strong sleeping draught that would let him rest comfortably until he healed.

As Madam Pomfrey was administering the draught to a very irritated Draco, Dumbledore returned, watching the boy in a nearly grandfatherly way. Within minutes the bitter expression had faded from Draco’s face entirely, leaving him sleeping peacefully amidst a tangle of cotton sheets, wreathed in a halo of still damp blond hair.

Dumbledore tore his eyes from Draco’s sleeping form to look at Madam Pomfrey. He chuckled approvingly and spoke, sounding almost in awe, “In all my years, Poppy, I have never witnessed such uninhibited, selfless bravery from a Slytherin. I am beginning to realize the true duality of the world. Light and dark can mix astoundingly well within the same individual. The trouble with being a wizard is that nothing is ever as it seems.”

Dumbledore lightly wiped the back of his hand across Draco’s forearm, and though it seemed a casual gesture, it was anything but. Madam Pomfrey smiled as she laid a cold cloth on Draco’s forehead and left Dumbledore seated in the chair at his bedside.

Over the following days, Draco gradually regained his strength (and with it his animosity for everyone and everything). A mere three days after the Death Eater attack, Madam Pomfrey was more than willing to vouch for his health and was planning to release him from the hospital wing the next day.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had come to check on him daily, but they were continuously met with snide remarks and icy glances. Dumbledore had not been down to the hospital wing since his uneasy visit that first night, but he maintained that he would speak with the young wizard once he was let out of Madam Pomfrey’s care.

The sun rose swiftly the following morning, bathing the hospital wing in a soft, golden light at an early hour. Whether it was because of this or because of his eagerness to reclaim his normal schedule, Draco woke in a decidedly foul mood, even for him. After a barrage of complaints and assurances that he was in good health, Madam Pomfrey obliged Draco and signed the release to allow him about his daily business.

The beginning of the day sped quickly by him in a jumble of handshakes and nods from his fellow Slytherins, glad to see him unscathed, but he surprised himself when he found he was entirely unwilling to speak of the attack. For a multitude of reasons.

Just his luck that his last class that day was DADA, the class that he blamed, in a roundabout way, for the dilemma he found himself in with Potter and his friends. He walked haughtily into Snape’s classroom and Snape flashed him an unreadable glance: a sick mixture of surprise, confusion, spite and warning. He proceeded to snap at him to take his seat.

Draco sank into the chair in the corner and attempted to use Snape’s lesson as a distraction for his troubled mind. As he was not the least bit interested in the ‘effects of the Unforgiveables on non-human entities’ this worked extremely well. For about ten minutes. He made the mistake of scanning the classroom, and his gaze fell on Harry, who sat quietly jotting down inadequate notes.

The Boy-Who-Lived had not spoken to him since he left the hospital wing. Perhaps he felt as if his debt of gratitude and concern was paid; it would be for the best. Draco didn’t need a gaggle of nosy Gryffindors butting into his already highly sensitive affairs. Besides, as much as he despised the group, he did not want their blood on his hands.

This time, Hermione was the one to turn around and catch his hard eyes fixed in their direction, but where Draco had expected strained tolerance or even hatred, he only found a caring smile, and what could have been thankfulness. In turn, where Hermione had expected at least acknowledgement of her smile, she found only cold, vicious resistance. She spun back around and not another Gryffindor so much as looked at Draco for the rest of the lesson.

As soon as the bell rang the entire class bounded from their tables, eager to rid themselves of Snape’s presence. Draco, who was in no mood to go anywhere speedily hung back. Snape sidled up next to him, robes flowing menacingly behind him. His voice was almost velvety as he said, “Mr. Malfoy, the Headmaster would like to speak with you in his office. No doubt he wishes to make sure you are healthy.” Draco knew what Snape was implying. He also knew those words held a thinly veiled threat and a strong promise.

Draco bustled out the door, preparing himself to slink off to Dumbledore’s office, but he rounded a corner too sharply and ran face first into Ron Weasley, who was of course with Potter and Granger. “Watch where you’re going, Weasel” he snapped, before making a beeline for the end of the hallway.

“Malfoy!!” Hermione yelled after him, “We thought…” she faltered.

“You thought what? You thought we were buddies now that we almost died together? Oh, please, spare me the sentimentality! It doesn’t suit you. You don’t know what I’ve become!” He stormed off without a glance backward.

Ron muttered, only half joking, “Well, apparently he’s become a Death Eater.” He looked over to Harry who gave him the only response he could muster, “This changes nothing.”

Draco stomped down a number of corridors in the direction of the Headmaster’s office. Why were they always interfering? Couldn’t they just let him be? He had enough to worry about without Potter and his friends right behind him all the time. Sooner or later, following him around was going to get them killed.

He reached the entrance to the office and used the password Professor Snape had given him for such an occasion, “Chocolate frogs”. The door spiraled up and open and Draco alighted the stairs to the office. Dumbledore sat serenely at his desk and eyed Draco as he waltzed in. “Mr. Malfoy, I see you got my message. Do sit down. It’s so wonderful to see you up and about after such an ordeal.”

Draco sat in a maroon armchair facing the Headmaster’s desk and glimpsed around the room with guarded suspicion. He fingered the wand in his pocket, trying to decide when to make his move. Dumbledore caught this poorly covered movement and his expression changed. His eyes no longer twinkled, but a dull, sad blue appeared.

“As much as I care for your health, that is not why I have asked you here today. You should not be naïve enough to believe I am oblivious to the happenings within Hogwarts. With that said, Draco, do what you came to do.” Draco’s eyes widened in amazement as Dumbledore drew his wand from the folds of his robes and stood with it at the ready.

This was his chance; it was Dumbledore’s life or his own. Draco was capable of mercy. The Dark Lord was not.

Draco pulled out his wand and stood, staring sharply into Dumbledore’s eyes and hissed, “You underestimate me, Headmaster.” “Do I? The ability to kill without provocation, without purpose, that is the mark of a true Death Eater, not the brand on your arm. You are no slave. To kill the innocent, to kill me, you throw your life away trying to save it. Once I am dead, you will be among the greatest of Voldemort’s ranks, will you not?”

Draco jammed the tip of his wand into the side of Dumbledore’s neck and breathed, “I have no wish to call myself a Death Eater. All I want is to live another day!” Dumbledore sighed and responded hoarsely, “Yet, isn’t it better to die a hero than live a coward?” Draco and Dumbledore stood an immeasurable time, locked in eachother’s gazes, unmoving.

In his pale, shaking hands, Draco’s wand wavered. He let out a primal scream, turned, and bolted from the office leaving Dumbledore stunned, but smiling gloomily. Draco wasn’t sure where he was going, though it mattered little. The Dark Lord would find him if he so desired. He ran blindly and passionately until he reached the edge of the forest.

Perfect, he thought if I die here, no one will here me scream. Dumbledore would think him a hero.

Hermione sat at the window seat, gazing out over the open field next to the castle, down to Hagrid’s house. Harry and Ron were in their room, supposedly studying for their Potions exam. The Tower was relatively silent, and much more peaceful than usual. Just as she was about to get up, Hermione caught a flash of movement across the field. All she saw was a streak of blond hair as Draco jetted toward the forest. She jumped up and banged on the dormitory door.

“Harry! Ron! Get out here! Malfoy’s just run into the forest and I think something’s wrong!” There was shuffling behind the door and Harry opened it a second later. His hair was sticking out in all directions and he was missing his glasses, but a look of concern was evident on his face.

“The forest?” he asked. Hermione nodded, grabbed her robes, and rushed to wait for them at the door. Ron was reluctant to wake up, but he eventually rolled himself out of bed and dressed.

“I don’t understand why we keep risking our necks for Malfoy when the stupid git doesn’t even want our help,” Ron mumbled under his breath as he pulled on his shoes.

Harry sighed as he rummaged through his trunk in search of the Marauder’s Map. “Oh, come on, Ron. He’s not that horrible.” He picked up the map and jammed it into his pocket as they scrambled to catch up with Hermione. She led them quickly down the stairs and onto the lawn.

“Hey, Harry, check the map. We can’t afford to go the wrong direction from here. He was headed by Hagrid’s when I saw him,” Hermione said. So, Harry pulled the map from his pocket and unfolded it. A little red dot labeled Draco Malfoy blinked just past the label for Hagrid’s house. It was moving toward the center of the forest at a biting pace.

Luckily, according to the map, that section of the forest was empty, at least of anyone who would produce a blinking dot. Hermione yanked the map from Harry’s hand and started running toward the trees. “HERMIONE!” Ron yelled, but she kept going. Ron exchanged a fast glance with Harry before they chased after her. She ran through the trees, not stopping even when a branch cut the side of her cheek. Harry and Ron trailed behind at a less tragic pace, but kept her in their sight.

By the time Hermione reached the small, three or four foot clearing where the map said Draco had stopped, she was breathing heavily and her frizzier than normal hair was sticking to her face. She had inadvertently wiped the blood on her cheek down across her chin. She snapped a twig as she stepped through the edge of the clearing.

“Granger, you shouldn’t be here,” Draco said dryly. He was sitting on a large rock in the center of the clearing with his head in his hands. He hadn’t even looked up.

“How did you know it was me?” Hermione asked as she sat down next to him on the rock.

“Who else is stalking me?” He laughed sardonically into his palms. For a minute the only noise that could be heard was Harry and Ron schlepping through the underbrush. Draco finally lifted his head, only to catch Hermione staring at him.

“Really. You should go. I came out here to get what I deserve, and the last thing I need is to get blamed for the death of the Golden Boy and his posse,” He spoke angrily, but he was obviously sincere.

“And what is it you think you deserve, Draco? Enlighten me.” Hermione said, not willing to give up just yet. He watched her carefully for a moment and replied, “I’m a traitor. To any and every cause. I’m not good, I’m not bad…I’m just not anything. If the Dark Lord wishes to put me out of my misery, I suppose it’s my own gain. Hermione, I tried to kill Dumbledore. Dumbledore. And I failed.”

His sleeves were down, but Hermione could see Draco’s eyes boring into his left arm. Quietly, she reached out and put her hand on his. His cold eyes snapped from the dark fabric on his arm to Hermione’s warm gaze. He pulled his hand away and stood.

Ron and Harry came crashing into the clearing, raising enough noise to wake all of England and stopped dead in their tracks as they intruded into an extremely awkward silence. Draco glanced at them once, but paid no attention to them afterward. Hermione walked over and told them what Draco had done.

“Well, mate, it seems we’ve got a bit of a predicament,” Ron commented as he situated himself on the rock. “What do you suppose we do? Hermione doesn’t have any ideas for once, and don’t even bother asking me.

“Do? DO? You don’t do anything. We don’t do anything. There is no ‘we’! There is ME. I, Draco Malfoy, got myself into this, and damn it all to hell, I’ll deal with it myself. I don’t need your help. I don’t need your charity. And I certainly don’t need your friendship. So, get out.” Draco’s voice was a low growl, and when he turned around, his wand was drawn, hanging threateningly close to Harry. Hermione moved in front of Harry and Ron got up and moved out of the path of the wand.

“So it comes to this, Draco. You want us to just walk away knowing you may not survive the night? Sorry, but that’s not how we operate,” Harry gave him a wry smile. A quick ‘Expelliarmus’ rendered Draco decidedly angrier, but much less dangerous. “You are not dying tonight. Whether you like it or not. If Voldemort chooses to show up, we will be here with you, waiting. In the meantime, we should probably have a plan.”

Draco looked quizzically at Hermione, who shrugged, indicating she had no idea what this plan would entail. He paced between the edges of the clearing with a dark scowl, but he made no attempts to run, or even to retrieve his wand. Ron watched him fuming and simply shook his head.

Harry handed Draco’s wand to Hermione and went to retrieve the Marauder’s Map from next to the rock. He scanned it again, but so far they were the only people in that part of the woods. He placed it on the rock and motioned for the others to join him. Ron appeared next to him in a matter of seconds. Hermione started to walk over, but doubled back. She grabbed Draco by the sleeve and dragged him over. When they had reached Harry and Ron, he shook her off with a sharp twist of his arm. As he looked at the map, it was easy to tell that the cogs in Harry’s brain were starting to move. He put his finger on the clearing they were in and said, “So here’s what we’re gonna do…”

“Draco, as far as I’m concerned, you’re with us. And if Voldemort decides to come and claim you, he’ll have to go through us,” Harry said, eyes gleaming.

Draco glared at him a moment before responding, “Yeah, because the Dark Lord is definitely scared of you and your little friends.”

Hermione piped in, “But look at the facts. Harry has beaten him a few times over. And there are four of us this time as opposed to just Harry. Right, Ron?”

Ron sat, staring at the rock in the center of the clearing with renewed purpose. This was one argument he wasn’t about to get in the middle of. They had been through plan after plan for nearly half an hour, and the only one they could settle on was the same one they always used. Lots of dumb luck. And if that’s what they were using, then they were probably going to need it.

“Fine. You know what? I’m done trying to call you and your guard dogs off, Potter. Get yourselves killed if you really want, but it’s not my fault anymore. You want to know why I’m running? I’m supposed to kill Dumbledore. And I can’t. So I have to die instead. I told you to haul a*s out of here, but you don’t ever listen, do you?” Draco shot as he began pacing around the clearing again.

Harry, Ron and Hermione all bit back gasps of shock, but exchanged concerned glances while Draco wasn’t looking.

“I’m tired of just waiting around. I hate waiting for bad things to happen, especially when I know I can’t avoid them. We should at least prepare ourselves, guys. We’re just….milling,” Hermione said under her breath. To show that she was serious, she strode over and made a spectacle about giving Draco’s wand back. Draco took it and nodded sharply, tucking it into the folds of his robe without a noise.

Harry kicked up dust with the sides of his shoes as he leaned on the center rock. He took one last glance at the Marauder’s Map before he pulled out his wand, tapped it and whispered, “Mischief managed.” He folded it up and slipped it into his pocket. Ron watched him questioningly and stood up, positioning himself at Harry’s side. “Well, she can’t always be wrong. You-Know-Who isn’t gonna let Draco go. Not if what he told us about Dumbledore is true. And don’t we need the map?”

“No,” Harry responded, “If we see them coming, we’ll be prepared, but if we don’t see them coming, Draco is less likely to run.”

From the other side of the clearing, Draco spat, “I’m not running anymore. Though you should be. It will probably be more than just the Dark Lord. His top Death Eaters have it out for me, too….” Draco stopped talking as an angry look grew on his face and reached up to his cold eyes.

Hermione grabbed his hand, but this time she wouldn’t let him shake her off. She whispered, “Including your father?” in his direction, soft enough that Ron and Harry couldn’t hear. He pulled away, still unable to free his arm from her grasp and mumbled back, “Most likely.”

Just as Hermione let Draco’s hand go, there was a huge clatter about twenty yards from the clearing that sounded like a number of trees had been decimated. It was actually the sound of five or six people apparating into the middle of the Forbidden Forest. They shuffled through the underbrush without attempting to hide their presence.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco drew their wands and stood at the ready next to the rock, as far from the edges of the clearing as they could manage. Harry, who was to Draco’s right, was glaring into the trees, trying to spot the oncoming Death Eaters. It didn’t take him very long.

Five tall, dark figures, robed in black and shielded by silver masks entered the clearing, wands dangerously positioned at their chests. Before they could process this sight, a sixth figure emerged from the shadowy treeline. Voldemort’s face was contorted in a mix of anger and amusement. His robes were flowing behind him and sweeping at the leaves on the ground. He glided through the line of Death Eaters and stopped about three feet from Harry and Draco. Hermione and Ron closed in toward them as well.

“Well, what do we have here? Harry Potter. I feel like we’ve done this before,” Voldemort said, his thin, pale lips drawing into a smile, “And Draco Malfoy. The traitor to his cause. A walking waste of pure blood if you ask me. Couldn’t bring yourself to finish one small task, could you?”

Draco growled under his breath and snapped, “Only because I never wanted to work for you in the first place!” He pointed his wand directly at Voldemort.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Malfoy. I would hate to have to kill you before I’m done talking to you. It’s quite counterproductive,” Voldemort said as he turned to the nearest Death Eater and nodded.

“Expelliarmus!” The sudden curse from the Death Eater caught Draco off guard and his wand was thrown across the clearing and he tripped over the rock.

Hermione leaned down to help him up, but he waved her off.

“Mudblood, he can get himself up. At least I think he’s capable of that,” Voldemort laughed as Hermione turned back to face him and let Draco scrabble up off the ground by himself.

When Draco had regained his composure, he strode to the other side of the clearing, retrieved his wand and took his place next to Harry. It was Harry who spoke next, “Draco is not a Death Eater, and you know it. If you’re going to force it on him, you’ll have to go through me,” he swept his hand through the front of his hair, giving Voldemort a meaningful glimpse of the scar on his forehead.

“Crucio,” Voldemort said quietly, in a measured voice, with his wand pointed straight at Harry. Harry fell, but not violently and his screams were small as he attempted to repel the curse. Two of the Death Eaters advanced on Draco. The one in front held up his hand and the other fell back.

Lucius Malfoy descended on his son like a raptor on roadkill. Without even speaking, he brought Draco to his knees. He was shaking and tears clouded his vision. Lucius raised his wand hand held it in front of Draco’s eyes as he said, “It’s sad, you know, that the Dark Lord wishes to finish you himself. I would do it gladly. You are no son of mine. Crucio!”

Pain shot through Draco’s body like fire. This was the worst he had ever felt the Cruciatus Curse and it hurt so bad it felt like his soul was being torn from his body.

Next to him, Ron and Hermione stood helplessly watching both Draco and Harry in pain. Unexpectedly, Harry finally got a handle on the curse he was fighting and threw it off, much to Voldemort’s surprise. He resurfaced, panting, and only marginally worse for wear. He heard Draco’s screams and turned his dirt-streaked face to Ron and Hermione. He breathed, “Now!”

The entire clearing deteriorated into flashes of light, shouts and bloodcurdling screams.

Harry sent a string of curses at the Death Eater advancing on him and Ron. Hermione was busy spinning her way around the rock to shield Draco. Ron sent an Expelliarmus at Lucius Malfoy just as Hermione reached Draco. His wand went clattering into the trees and he went chasing after it. Before he could reach it, Hermione hit him with a Binding Charm that satisfactorily attached him to a tree.

Two other Death Eaters were incapacitated at this point. One was unconscious and bleeding from his abdomen (likely Harry’s doing) and the other was covered in plantlike ropes and Ron had his wand.

Draco stood, and as he did so attacked an advancing Death Eater with a Blood Boiling curse. Hermione nodded to him before she turned and found herself just inches from Voldemort’s gleaming eyes. His breathing was measured as he clasped a hand onto her shoulder. He pulled his wand back over his own shoulder, then threw it forward as he shouted “Mobilicorpus!”

Hermione, wide-eyed, was lifted from the ground and chucked at a dangerous speed into one of the closest trees. There was a sickening crunch as her elbow hit first, no doubt shattering in the process. The rest of her body hit a split second later, issuing another unfortunate noise and knocking her out completely. Ron, who was closest when this happened, was already limping. He turned with the intention of cursing the Dark Lord, but met with a bright red light from another Death Eater before he got the chance.

From across the clearing, Draco shouted, “Reducto!” at the Death Eater holding Ron down. He fell with a strong thump, but Ron remained on the ground with him.

Voldemort and the last Death Eater circled around and backed both Draco and Harry into the rock. They stood next to each other, breathing heavily into the tense silence. Draco’s head was throbbing, he had cuts up both of his arms and a thick purple bruise would soon be developing in the vicinity of his left kidney. Harry, who wasn’t much better off, had blood running freely from a gash on his collarbone and was swiftly losing the ability to see straight.

“Did you really expect to win, Potter?” Voldemort chuckled with cold satisfaction. “I look forward to this.” He nodded at the Death Eater who sent the Cruciatus Curse spinning at Harry. It hit him square in the chest, knocking his breath from his body and pulling him to his knees. He tried to fight it as he had before, but he was exhausted. He was in pain, but he blocked it, focusing on any curse he could send in retaliation, but the Death Eater simply plucked his wand from his hand, leaving him screaming and defenseless.

Draco watched, but his wand was frozen in place as the Dark Lard strode to face him. “Malfoy, Malfoy. You did this to yourself, I hope you know. I can hardly be blamed for exacting revenge. It’s the way of the world. So you will scream. And you will die with Potter’s screams in your ears.”

“Crucio!!” Draco hit the ground with vicious force, a shriek of pain caught in his throat. Next to him, Harry was screaming as well, but only every so often. Draco allowed himself the small hope that Harry would be strong enough to throw off the curse again.

A few minutes passed, though they seemed like hours, and the tears running across Draco’s face mirrored the pain that was shredding him alive. Then it stopped.

Harry heard Draco’s screams become silent through the buzzing in his own head. Worried, he managed to push the curse off farther than it had been, but he still felt it.

As he listened, Voldemort spoke quietly, like velvet, “Enough. You aren’t worth this much time. Avada Kedavra!”

Harry, with all the strength he could muster, threw himself sideways, directly on top of Draco as the green light shot from Voldemort’s wand. The Dark Lord’s face contorted as he saw Harry fall. The curse hit Harry, and he felt it shiver though his veins and slowly dissipate. As it dissipated, he felt it push forward with a whirlwind and slam Voldemort in the hollow of his stomach.

The Dark Lord screamed a mix of terror and fury, and just like that, he was gone. The last Death Eater scrambled from the clearing, leaving his comrades to fend for themselves should they ever wake up.

Harry sighed and slowly rolled off of Draco. Draco was shaking, but he sat up and scanned the devastation laid out around him. For nearly fifteen minutes they sat in the grass, silently listening to their racing hearts. Eventually, Hermione stirred, drawing their attention to the present.

After methodically raising himself off the ground, Harry started to walk toward Hermione and Ron. As he got up, Draco asked softly, “How did you know that was going to work?”

Harry sighed, “I didn’t.”

Hermione rustled in the grass, making an attempt to sit up. Fire shot through her right arm as she shifted and she hissed in pain. She noted that Harry was coming toward her, but closed her eyes and laid her head back in the grass anyway.

“Hermione. Hermione,” Harry said as he lightly tapped on her good arm.

She moaned and waved him off. Instead of leaving, he latched an arm around her waist and pulled her up, holding on to her until he was sure she wasn’t going to collapse. She put a hand on her head, as if searching for injuries and mumbled, “What, Harry….Ron?....Where’s Draco? How did…”

“Shh. Don’t worry about it. We’ll all be fine,” Harry said as he guided her over to the rock, next to where Draco was still shivering in the grass. She sat down and put her head in her hands. Draco turned to look at her, then leaned his head onto the rock beside her thigh. Feeling his shift, she dropped her hands to her lap, eyeing him back. He was bleeding from a small cut above his eyebrow, and a strand of blond hair was sticking to it. Hermione reached over and brushed the hair out of his face. He said nothing.

Harry moved over to Ron, who was still out cold. He leaned in close and heard short, raspy breaths. Satisfied that his best friend was still alive, he carefully rolled Ron onto his back. There were bruises covering his neck, blackening his usually pale skin. Apparently it was a wonder he was still breathing.

He sat in the grass next to Ron before saying, “I don’t want to move him before he wakes up. You guys want to wait with me? You don’t have to.”

“We’ll stay,” Draco said in a hoarse voice.

Harry slid his gaze to Hermione, who nodded in agreement.

Now that Hermione was conscious, she was probably in the best shape of the four of them, save for a deep slice across her palm and the inability to mover her other arm. She was in the best shape mentally, anyway. Draco caught a glimpse of it and pulled her hand toward him. The blood was still flowing freely, despite her clenched fist. As he held her hand above his lap, a few thick drops spilled onto his arm, mixing with the blood from his own lacerations and slid toward his wrist, tracing though the Dark Mark.

“Potter,” Draco whispered, “Get over here.”

Harry stared at him quizzically for a second, but got up to inspect Draco’s outstretched arm. The line of blood that cut through the center had been darkened by the magical ink it had smudged. Without prompting, Hermione wiped her injured hand across the Mark. The blood smeared, and the ink went with it. She rubbed at it until there was nothing but a coat of deep maroon covering Draco’s arm. Harry watched silently, and Ron was altogether forgotten.

“Blood magic. Like Harry’s mom. You saved my life, so my blood could destroy your Dark Mark. No true Death Eater would have done what you did. This just proves it,” Hermione said, her eyes still fixed on Draco’s arm.

Draco turned to Harry, “He’ll be back, won’t he?”

Harry nodded, “I’m sure. And soon, too, but"“ he was cut off by a groan from across the clearing. Ron was finally awake. He sat up slowly, a look of confusion crossing his face when he saw the others. He stood up shakily, glanced at the four bodies strewn about, then locked his gaze on Draco’s arm.

“What in bloody hell….” He started, but couldn’t finish.

“My thoughts exactly,” Draco mumbled as he stuffed his wand in his pocket and struggled to stand. He started toward the edge of the clearing, heading for Hogwarts. Hermione began to scramble after him, but Harry shook his head.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Ron called after him.

“If only, Weasel, if only,” he yelled back.

“We’re going to go right back to hating each other, aren’t we?” Hermione asked as she ran her fingers over her bleeding palm.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s better that way,” Harry said.

Hermione held her arm close to her body as she got up. Ron offered her his shoulder, but Harry, who had neither a broken bone nor a visible limp, shoved himself in between them to support them.

“This is gonna be hard to explain to Dumbledore,” Ron said conversationally, “And despite everything, I’m apparently still a weasel.”

“I’m still a Mudblood,” Hermione chimed in.

“I’m still the Golden Boy that Malfoy will continue to harass,” Harry added.

Ron stopped short and smiled at Harry and Hermione, shaking his head. “All is well with the world then, because Malfoy’s still a malicious little b***h.”