Title: Spy Games
Author: Arsenic
Rating: PG
Fandom/Pairing: HP, HG/DM
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. I am borrowing their property without intent to profit from the loan.
Summary: Draco needs a way out. Hermione provides it.

For Feign, who requested this as part of FTV. Go her for helping the Kerry Campaign! As a side note, Feign is my sister. She's basically a mundane. So it means a lot a lot that she wanted me to write something for her. *blushes* Yay.

*

The first time Draco refused to do something Lucius told him to, he spent the afternoon in a haze of the sickening "freedom" of the Imperius. He was eight at the time. Lucius had brought back a wild kneazle and wanted to watch Draco "play" with it. Draco had once killed a bird by "playing" with it in the relative innocence (stupidity) of youth and driven by curiosity. He hadn't liked it. The bird kept trying to get away and making sounds, and Draco hadn't felt at all superior when it was finally dead, just relieved.

The Imperius allowed Draco a certain separation from the proceedings, certainly, even as his hands cut and twisted, his ears still caught the desperate mewling of the thing at his "mercy." What it didn't allow him was a chance to truly exercise that mercy, or Slytherin cunning, as Draco later much preferred to think of it.

Draco learned to obey because there was more room to maneuver in obeying. Draco truly thought that to be enough until Potter had to go be a hero once again and take Lucius out of the picture. As far as Draco was concerned, an un-Demented Azkaban was too good for Lucius, but it left Draco with bigger problems. The Dark Lord, for all his faults, wasn’t as easy to fool as Lucius. Stronger at Legilimancy and more casual about its use, the Dark Lord was a walking mental landmine.

While it had originally seemed to Draco that the best idea for survival was to stay mildly invisible, a pawn in the Dark Lord's lower ranks and then break rank if the tide began to turn toward the other side, the holes in that plan were beginning to be apparent. Namely, he wasn't sure he could make it that long.

Dumbledore would take him in, he knew, Dumbledore took in half-breeds and monsters and betrayers. Draco wasn't stupid though, he knew what Dumbledore did to those who owed him in some small (or large) way. It was entirely possible that Draco wouldn't be able to avoid becoming a pawn again, but he would prefer to try and avoid it as long as possible.

Snape was a thought. As far as Draco could tell the man wasn't an active Death Eater. That was, he didn't show up at the meetings. Lucius and him had far too good a relationship for Draco to be convinced though, and that seemed even more frightening than Dumbledore or the Dark Lord. At least with them, Draco knew what was on the agenda.

Fudge was very possibly working for the Dark Lord, so far as Draco could tell, and if he wasn't already, a little funding and that would change. Some of the Aurors were probably loyal to Dumbledore, but Draco could have no way of knowing which ones and besides, like McGonagall, if they even chose to try and believe him, they would turn him over to the Head of Proceedings right quick.

It took Draco a week to arrive at the conclusion he came to, one that literally made him wonder if it might not be easiest to just see if he could prod the Dark Lord into killing him quickly.

Potter's little triumvirate were the only people he could turn to.

It wasn't a foolproof plan, obviously. None of them were likely to believe him, and, as far as Draco could tell, he thought they might be getting left out of the loop a lot. The whole debacle at the Ministry smacked of incorrectly received information. Plus, there was the fact of them hating him and him not feeling real fondly toward them right back.

Despite this, Draco knew life was rarely ideal. Sometimes, if he wanted to avoid getting hit by an Imperio (or something vastly worse), he had to compromise and alleviate things of his own accord, hopefully without anyone noticing. So it was that he snuck out of the manor while Narcissa was meeting with a few of the Death Eaters who weren't incarcerated, presumably over how to take care of that particular situation.

He flew down to the post office in his town, paid for an unmarked owl, then sent the letter that he'd Spelled heavily to Compel Granger to figure out the encryption on it. While he'd only insulted her slightly less than the Weasel and considerably more than Potter, she was the smartest of the three, and Draco had the most confidence in her decision to at least hear him out.

He threw the owl into the air and hoped against hope that his confidence wasn't misplaced.

*

Granger sent the unmarked owl back to the post office with a note. The post office sent Draco word of its arrival and Draco picked it up while supposedly in town to find himself new dress robes. It was as heavily encrypted as his had been. When he finally managed to unravel all the coding he read, "Trophy Room after sorting feast. If you make it through the summer, I'll see you there."

For a moment, Draco had to wonder if the Trophy Room was an oblique nod to his prank on Potter first year and if she actually had no intentions of helping him at all. He was pretty sure she was more subtle than that, however, and it wasn't as though he had all that many options.

He went, although not before Spelling himself to melt into the surroundings, just in case he was right about this being a hoax. It would make it easier to escape.

In the end, though, Granger was waiting there for him. Alone, which was better than he had hoped for. Her eyes found him immediately despite the spell and she motioned for him to sit down. He did. She said, "Apologize for all the shit you've done to me."

Carefully, he said, "I'm sorry for the grief I've caused to you and yours, Granger." He meant it, if only because it was making things tons more difficult for him now than they otherwise would have been, but sincerity could come in many forms.

Granger narrowed her eyes, but then said, "I suppose that'll have to do. Why me?"

"Because I thought you the most likely to help me without using me."

"For a Slytherin, you sometimes have an almost dangerous penchant for truth."

"Only when I feel I can get away with it."

Granger smiled at that. "Harry has been filtering his Occlumency lessons down to Ron and I. If I were able to teach you that skill, would you bring me information of his plans, or would you betray me?"

Draco thought the question over. With a skill like that it would be terrifyingly easy to go ahead with his original plan. It meant practically no possibility of losing everything he had ever known. Then again, he wasn't terribly fond of everything he had ever known, and here Granger was offering something completely new without any kind of guarantee that he was actually worth the offer. "I said I'd play for your side. I will. Only to a certain point, though. I came to you to keep myself safe."

Granger nodded. "Fair enough. We can't all be Gryffindors."

Draco spoke from instinct. "Thank all those who came before us."

Luckily, Granger didn't take too much offense. "You have to start by clearing your mind."

That took more effort than Draco would have guessed.

*

Granger was waiting for him in the Trophy Room after his first meeting of the year. None of the Death Eater's children were Marked yet, so they received their summons by owl. There had been a flurry of them above the Slytherin table this morning, but they had all seemed to be family owls or owls baring the Daily Prophet, as per normal, so it was hard to figure out anything based on that situation.

Draco was hungry and cold and exhausted. He'd Apparated illegally once outside the wards but was still forced to be careful about hiding his tracks. There was a considerable walk back from outside the Gates, and making sure he wasn't caught once inside the school's wards was tricky. Granger wordlessly held out a cup of tea to him. "There's food, too. I told the house elves I was having a romantic meet up. They're abuzz."

"I thought you were above using house elves."

Granger looked chagrined. "My mum suggested I try and work within the system."

Draco was curious as to what that meant, exactly, but too tired to pursue it. The tea was heating him, which was only intensifying the exhaustion. "You put something in this?"

"A mild heal-all, just in case. I've heard Voldemort can be a bit free with the cursing and the hexing, even among his followers."

Draco's entire torso was still hurting from the Laughter Hex that the Dark Lord had hit him with for giggling at what was evidently an inappropriate time. It took the energy to scold her for using the Dark Lord's name or presuming anything right out of him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Find out anything useful?"

He found it oddly kind that she wasn't allowing him to slip into the belief that they were anything more to each other than informant and informee, savior and well-played pawn. "Not to us. Dumbledore, maybe, if you can find some way to get the information to him without revealing me."

"Try me."

"He's planning a raid on some Muggle power plant. The odd thing is, I don't think He plans it to attack the Muggles. I think He wants something from the plant."

Granger bit at her lower lip. "All right. Any idea where this plant is?"

"North. Something about a liver? Or maybe a pool? Does that sound right?"

Granger smiled. "I think we have our city. I'm pretty sure there's several plants up there, we'll have to figure out which one, but for now, to bed with you."

Draco began gathering up the food. "I'll just take these back. The kitchens are on the way to the dungeon, anyway-"

Granger took the items from him. "You've had enough sneaking around and risk taking for one night."

Draco blinked at her.

"The Prefects bathroom should be free of anyone right now and I don’t think anyone could fault a Prefect for wanting to take a bath in private, do you?"

A bath sounded heavenly, warm and wonderful. Slowly, Draco shook his head.

"Then straight back to your dorm for you, promise?"

Not entirely sure why he was promising this Gryffindor mudblood anything, Draco nodded.

She grinned. "Be seeing you."

To his complete confusion and despair, Draco hoped that was true.

*

Ginny Weasley was waiting for him after the next meeting and Draco nearly vomited with terror. Granger wasn’t supposed to have told. There wasn’t enough evidence that he was actually working for the Side of Good, Potter and Weasley would say something to someone who would say something to someone else, who would-

Weasley said, “I can hear you breathing, Malfoy. I’ve got food. Hermione couldn’t make it, Ron and Harry’ve been getting suspicious about where she goes on certain nights.”

Draco considered running. She’d hear the steps if she could hear his breathing, but it might be worth the risk. She was Potter’s girlfriend, practically one of his limbs. Granger had obviously sent her, though, even if Weasley was lying about everything else, nobody but Granger knew about these meetings. He was supposed to trust Granger. He had to trust her if this was to work at all. Draco pushed back the consideration (and accompanying dizziness) that this might not work. He crept out from his hiding place. “Weasley.”

Weasley handed him a roll. “Let’s start with this, Malfoy. My first loyalty is to Harry, you have to know that. But Hermione swears that loyalty to you is loyalty to Harry, and she’s nearly never wrong. In fact, I’m not sure I know of a time that she has been. Well, I heard she thought Professor Lupin was trying to kill Harry at one point, but then he actually kind of did, albeit unintentionally.”

Draco eyed her, took a bite, and said, “There’s no advantage in betraying you now. They would never forgive me, even if I gave them good reason to. It’s not a rational process, Death Eater Governing.”

“As sweet as that is, I’ve climbed into Tom Riddle’s metaphysical skin, I know better than to underestimate anything evil.”

Draco sighed. “There’s a difference between evil and being concerned with one’s own survival, Weasley.”

“If that was all this was, you wouldn’t be learning a skill that will most likely get you killed the moment anyone in that circle realizes. So tell me something I can believe.”

“It started… it started the way I said it did.”

Weasley frowned. “Nothing has changed.”

Draco wished that were true.

Weasley gasped. “Hermione. She believed you.”

Draco’s head shot up. “Weasley.” It was a warning, but one carefully calculated not to piss her off.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of telling her. She’d probably give you a chance.”

Draco could appreciate honest dislike. “Thanks for that.”

Weasley shook her head. “You learn anything?”

Draco was always learning.

*

Draco should have known something was wrong when the summons came at dinner with a warning to set off for the meeting immediately. He felt a flicker of insecurity at the fact that he seemed to be the only person receiving a call, but the Dark Lord didn’t want Dumbledore perceiving a pattern (which, if Granger was already reporting his findings, he surely had to be) so Draco figured this was a new way of going about things.

As careful as Draco had been, he could think of a million ways in which the Dark Lord could have discovered his treachery. Pansy was smarter than she liked anyone to believe and he wouldn’t have put it past her to have followed him one of the evenings when he was paying less attention than he should have. His Occlumency skills left a lot to be desired and though Draco was naturally good at keeping his thoughts masked, it was hardly out of the question that the Dark Lord would have been able to tap into his mind. Granger could have told someone (Weasley) who could have told someone else. The last seemed a little unlikely. Gryffindors were, overwhelmingly, not treacherous. Not unless the situation called for it. Then again, he couldn’t guarantee that they didn’t see this situation as calling for it.

Draco lucked out, however, and while Pansy had discovered that he was sneaking off, she hadn’t managed to follow him to his destinations. Draco carefully did not mentally thank all the wards he had erected around the Trophy Room after being alerted of each meeting. Draco spun some nonsense about Student Recruiting Sessions and named off a few Ravenclaws who would probably end up being Called anyway. MacNair, who was playing the Dark Lord’s foremost henchman that evening, threw a Cruciatus at Draco for withholding information from his betters. Draco waited until the agonizing wrench of his innards calmed to rise from the floor and thank the Dark Lord for caring so much about his extracurricular activities. Then he sat out the rest of the meeting.

His way back to Hogwarts was slower than usual that evening. He hadn’t had time to get a signal off to Granger telling her he was leaving, so it would just have to wait for the next evening. Probably safer anyway.

Draco had made it safely back to the dungeons when he tripped over…nothing. He shook his head and blamed it on exhaustion and the aftereffects of the Cruciatus. Until the nothing tugged at his hand, whispered a curt, “sh,” and pulled him along.

At the kitchens, Granger unveiled herself. Draco asked, “Where the hell does a Muggle-born come across an invisibility cloak?”

“I’m borrowing it, and no, you can’t know anything else.”

“How did you know I was out?”

“I put a small Tracking Charm on you at our first meeting, just in case.”

“You think I’m double-playing you.”

“I think you just went to a Death Eater meeting without mentioning it to me.”

A house elf brought them two tea trays, filled with far more food than Draco remembered being served at dinner. Then again, he hadn’t been very hungry at that time. He poured himself some tea. His hand shook slightly. “It was last minute. Pansy found out I’d been going somewhere that wasn’t the dungeons after meetings.”

“That what the shaking’s about? They mess with you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Not what I asked, but I’ll let it go for the moment. So, if they called you there to determine what’s happening, then I suspect they were a bit mum on the other issues, yeah?”

“It may take a bit to regain confidence, but I’m pretty sure it’s not going to be a problem.”

“And you’re sure you…”

“I’m still yours, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Granger just looked at him intently. He said, “You took me to the kitchens even though you thought I might have betrayed you. He had his goon torture me. See why I might have good reason to continue my allegiance?”

“Honestly, I just felt like the house elves might be good back up, in case I was wrong about you.”

Draco considered that for a few seconds before smiling. “Somehow, even that reassures me.”

*

Most of the time, when Draco would find her in the Trophy Room, or any of the alternate meeting places that they slowly worked out between the three (Weasley was a regular at this point) of them, there would be food offered and then questions about what had gone on, and if Granger was the one meeting up with him, she’d make sure he made it back to his dorms safely. Sometimes, though, when Granger was waiting for him, she would pour him tea and say, “Look, you’ll find a way to get me the information tomorrow, right?”

It was risky, much easier to just tell her then, but he never said no. He always said, “I’ll have thought it through better by then as well.”

Then she smiled and took a biscuit for herself. “Transfigurations is killing me lately, but if you tell anyone I’ll hex you with several that I’ve created. It’ll take you forever to get them undone.”

Draco shook his head. “Arithmancy for me. I’m just not much for the subject. Unfortunately, Lucius is a regular genius with it.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Class?”

Granger nodded and leaned in ever so slightly. Her hair was falling around her face and her smile was kind and Draco did not think “wow, pretty.” Instead, he sipped at his tea and said, “Transfigurations. Don’t tell McGonagall. Or Snape, for that matter. I think he grades me so well on account of House, Family, and the assumption that I’m head over for his subject.”

Granger smiled. “To be honest, I rather like it. Not as much as Charms, but rather a lot all the same. Even if he is a prat, which makes the class rather difficult. Mm, I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t let him know he gets to me. I’m working hard to keep that a secret.”

“You’re getting better.”

“Really? Or are you just saying that because I hold your life in the palm of my hand?”

Draco was saying it because he liked the way she looked when there was anger just beneath the surface, like she could breathe fire, but it was her choice to hold back, mostly because that meant the power was still hers. Snape always looked like he was biding his time before she let go, but she hadn’t yet and the longer she waited the more mystified (and secretly respectful) Snape became. “No, better. He still notices that it’s going on, but…everything takes time.”

“Not you. You just up and switched sides one day.”

“You missed the prelude.”

“What’d it look like?”

Draco almost said my life. He settled for, “The Death Eaters. It’s different than the rhetoric.”

Granger watched him intently for a bit after that. “I’m glad you bothered to trust me.”

“I’m rather glad you returned the favor.”

Granger didn’t seem entirely sure what to say to that.

*

"How do you go on being in love with someone when you know their chances of surviving the next year are next to none?" Draco asked Weasley after unloading about the "Let's Plan Potter's Death" party from which he'd just come.

Weasley looked a bit pale. "How do you go on knowing that one misstep could cause you to go before that someone?"

"I do the Slytherin thing and assume that I am obviously immortal."

"How is that going to help if they just decide to torture you for the rest of eternity?"

Draco had to concede that this was a flaw in the logic. "I do the not-so-Slytherin thing and try to not to think about it for the most part."

"And by not-so-Slytherin, you mean Gryffindor?" She asked pointedly.

Draco wondered if he could ignore the obvious truth every time he touched another person in what was supposed to be love. Then again, it didn't seem that much larger than ignoring it as it pertained to himself, so it was possible that Weasley had just won this round. "Then how can you be here, listening to this?"

"I won't refuse him the best chance he has out of some misguided stubbornness on my part. You bring information. That information gives him more of a chance. I don't prefer peace of mind to the actual possibility of survival. It's not just him I have wagered in this war, Malfoy."

Seeing as how Draco was the only thing that Draco was allowed to have wagered anymore, it seemed odd that there could be more than one person dangling over the precipice that was the Dark Lord, but to Weasley, there were obviously many. Draco ignored the niggling sense that he wasn't the only person he was fighting for anymore, that there might be someone else. Pretty brown curls and infectious laughter didn’t make her any less of a mudblood. It didn't.

Draco was fighting for the mudbloods.

The six words, laid out in his brain like ink on parchment, caught him short. Weasley must have noticed something because she frowned. "Malfoy?"

Draco waved his hand negligently. "Long evening. I think I'll head back to my dorm."

Weasley put a hand tentatively on his arm. "Mal- Draco."

Draco looked at her, but didn’t say anything he should have, such as pointing out that she had no right to familiarity. She evidently did. It meant that he possibly did as well. He tried it out. "Ginny."

"Sometimes it's more than not thinking about it. Sometimes it has to be about faith."

Draco shook his head.

"I know, but… We have it for you. Hermione and I."

Draco said, "Gryffindors," and for the first time in his life, didn't mean it as an insult.

*

One of Draco's least favorite things about the Dark Lord (and it was one on a long list) was his tendency to try out spells created by Death Eaters talented at that sort of thing on his minions, er, loyal followers. Draco understood the logic behind it (and at times, the Dark Lord was frighteningly logical.) The test killed the metaphoric two birds. The Dark Lord got to see if the spell actually worked, and tested the loyalty of whatever servant he was inflicting it upon at the same time.

Luckily, for the most part, the Dark Lord only ever used the Death Eaters who didn't have to return to Hogwarts, AKA the Bastion of Dumbledore and His Army of Sycophants. Every once in awhile, though, when He was feeling testy or uneasy or blue in that way that only Dark Lords can, He would pick one of the students.

Millicent was a favorite, since nobody seemed to much care what kind of condition she was in. Draco'd had Granger find out that Millicent was adopted, and not really what her parents had been hoping for. Millicent's papers evidently proved her as a pureblood, but that didn't really mean much in pureblood society. Unless a person had the originating parents to go with the papers, they were meaningless. It meant that Millicent basically held the same status as a Muggle-born, but without the stigma. Draco had been working on trying to help Millicent out in little ways, ways that nobody, least of all Millicent herself, would notice. It seemed like something that someone on the side of the Sycophants would do.

Also, Granger, who had figured it out on her own, seemed to find it sweet.

Draco had given up trying to pretend that part didn’t matter.

One night, though, in the dead of February in some drafty old manor that Draco was unfamiliar with, the Dark Lord decided that Draco would be a perfect test subject. It put Draco on edge more that the Dark Lord chose him, indicating some type of displeasure that He would only reveal when He saw fit, than the fact that Draco never knew what these new spells were bound to do.

Draco got lucky (as lucky as one gets, at least) in that the spell evidently worked the way it was supposed to. Failed experiments tended to be messy if not fatal.

He was less lucky in the fact that the spell was supposed to cause slow internal damage.

When the Dark Lord was done enjoying the spectacle, and allowed a Finite Incantatum, Draco licked the blood on his lips away, swallowed and said, "Thank you, my Lord, for allowing me this honor."

The Dark Lord smirked. "My pleasure, I assure you."

Draco didn't doubt it for a second. He made himself stand up, stay standing for the rest of the meeting, walk carefully back with his Housemates, and accompany them to the dorms. It was only when he was positive that he was in the clear that he slowly made his way to the Trophy Room.

Granger's eyes flickered to him the second he made it past the door and watched intently as he made his way slowly across the room. The Dark Lord had made sure that he was Healed, but that kind of damage left the victim sore inside, regardless.

Granger waited a beat after he had settled on the bench next to her. "Maybe we should tell Dumbledore."

"It wouldn't change anything. Only who I was reporting to and how much risk I was taking. If you don’t mind, I'd prefer status quo."

Granger put her hand to his stomach. "You look-"

"I'll survive."

Granger kissed him. "But I want you to live."

Draco ached in a way that had nothing to do with brand-new curses.

*

Granger smuggled him into the kitchens again after one of the less grueling meetings. "I'm not really supposed to know this, so it's deeply mum that you're in possession of this information."

Draco frowned. Up until now it was always him giving information, her receiving. "How did you come into knowing such off-limits news?"

"Bribed Fred and George. They're of age, so."

Draco thought about asking what she had used as a bribe. He thought better of it. "Tell me, then."

"Dumbledore's figured out what Voldemort is doing at all these plants."

Draco's ears perked up. The Dark Lord told them about the madness, not the method behind it. "And?"

"Evidently he's found a way to mutate electricity into a magical substance. He's," Granger tapped her finger against a counter and thought, "rewiring the plants to provide a surge at a given time."

Four plants had been hit so far. Draco knew nothing about electricity, but he had to imagine a decent amount was already rewired. "What's the plan to stop it?"

"The bribe didn't extend that far." Granger sighed. "Fred and George did reassure me it was being taken care of. I can only imagine that they're going back in and undoing what was done. That probably takes someone who's good at things like working magical problems backwards."

"Bill Weasley could probably do it. Ginny says he's a curse-breaker. And Aurors are trained to handle that sort of thing. Is my cousin one of your ranks, or does she just show up a lot?"

"Cousin?"

"Nymphadora. Tonks," he added, remembering her aversion to her first name. It had been awhile since they'd spoken. Before her family had basically been renounced.

Granger didn't say anything, which was as good as a yes. Instead, she told him, "I think Dumbledore suspects. He's torn between you and Bulstrode."

Draco thought the latter was only a matter of time. He gave the old man points for intuition. Or, at the very least, clever observing tactics. "Let him suspect. So long as he doesn't act on it, all's well."

"He will."

Draco could only handle so many problems at one time. "I'll handle it when it happens."

"I'll try and find a way to prevent it."

"Granger-" There was nothing really to say, though, so Draco leaned over and kissed her. He had planned on pulling back the way she had. Draco was starting to realize just how rarely his plans went the way he expected them to.

When they finally separated, a bit by mutual decision, a bit by mutual asphyxiation, Granger said, "That didn't really dissuade me from anything."

Draco said, "I'm going to bed."

*

The Dark Lord was not happy.

That was something of an understatement, but Draco was feeling a bit panicky at the moment and didn't really have time to search for better adjectives.

Unsurprisingly, He suspected Millicent of the betrayal, and unless Draco did something she was going to be very dead. Draco doubted it would be quick, clean, and glow of a nice neon green, either.

Draco did the only thing he could think of through a haze of panic. He pushed her out of the way, and asked the Dark Lord, "Do you really think a Bulstrode could pull something like this off?"

Then, while the Dark Lord was thinking about that, Draco whipped around to Millicent and mouthed, "Go. Help."

She ran. Millicent was quicker than almost anyone knew. She made it just past the wards the Dark Lord had erected and popped out of sight. The Dark Lord sent Rookwood after her, but Draco wasn't worried. Millicent knew how to get into and out of the school undetected better than any Death Eater. It was one of the advantages of being called to secret meetings regularly.

The Dark Lord said, "So then, it’s you who betrayed my plans, Malfoy Junior."

Draco bowed in mock graciousness. "At your service."

"Oh no, I believe I'm at yours." The Dark Lord's wand flickered into sight (along with that of six of his followers). Draco was able to get off one or two adequately placed curses before a powerful Expelliarmus hit him. It was the first of a long string of magical attacks to collide with his person, and Draco lost track after awhile. To distract himself from the pain of the various slow-acting tortures they were playing around with (actually Draco was pretty sure it was only the Dark Lord after the first volley), Draco thought, "Granger's coming. She is."

He blacked out somewhere during the litany.

He woke up firmly expecting to be dead. There was no boat man waiting to take him across, though, just a fluffy white bed, the sounds of Madame Pomfrey bustling around and Millicent, looking as though she'd possibly been crying.

"Slytherin's don't cry," Draco croaked.

"Bugger off Malfoy, you died saving my life."

Draco looked around carefully. "Then if this is the afterlife, what are you doing here?"

"You're not dead anymore. Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore did something. I don't think you were very dead to begin with, just a little dead."

"Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Temporary reprieve. Dumbledore used the information of where the Dark Lord was, surrounded by only a few of his Death Eaters, to take care of the problem. Er, Potter finished Voldemort. How deep are you in with them, anyhow?"

Draco's head swam. "What does Potter have to do with anything? What exactly did you do?"

"Went to the Headmaster, of course. But evidently there was some prophecy about Potter, so he had to be the one to finish Him off. Dumbledore said Granger had an informant who had been helping her to figure out how that was possible- Was that you?"

Draco shook his head. "I mean, I was an informant, but I mostly just told her what went on at the meetings. We never talked about Potter."

"Maybe she inferred. She's a bit brainy."

Draco didn't say anything.

"She's been asking about you. Caused a huge row between her and her little gang. Ginny Weasley bloody well stepped up for you, of all people. Called you Draco." Millicent sounded lost.

Draco looked down at his body, mostly unmarked but sore and useless all the same. "It went beyond Slytherin and Gryffindor, Millicent."

"I wish you'd told me. I would've helped. I didn't know there were any options."

"I'm glad I didn't. Who would've been available to save my arse?"

Millicent bit her lip. "You ought'nt to've done what you did. Saving me, and all. That was a stupid risk."

Draco's strong point wasn't reassurance or compassion, so all he said was, "You better make it worth it."

"A life debt, of course."

"That wasn't what I meant."

"Do you always want what other people can't give you?"

Draco cracked the most arrogant smile he could summon.

*

The next time he woke up, Ginny was sitting on the edge of his bed, her legs dangling off the side, talking to Granger who was sitting in the chair that Millicent had last occupied.

Granger noticed his waking first. Her hand somehow managed to find his. (Draco was impressed, for his part, he had no idea where his hands were.) "Hullo."

Draco thought about that. "Hullo." He looked at Ginny. "Potter?"

Ginny waved a hand. "Few scratches. I like the resilient ones."

Gryffindors were notorious for underplaying their injuries, but if she was being this casual it probably meant that Potter would survive. Granger said, "We were a bit more concerned with you."

Draco would bet Potter and Weasley just loved that. The thought warmed him on the inside. He smiled at Granger. "He's really dead?"

Granger nodded. "Both Dumbledore and Snape are saying so."

"Snape really was…"

"Hard to believe, I know," Ginny said. Draco wanted to tell her that it wasn't all that much of a stretch, but he sensed that was yet another House divide that would remain unbridged.

"He's very proud of you," Granger said, quietly. Draco wondered how she knew. Snape wouldn't have told her. Draco wasn't even sure how she had any idea that mattered to him. The possibilities he had come up with for her odd omniscience in situations like this before were either that she had more of an inner eye than anyone gave her credit for, or that that was just what being really smart was like.

Ginny got up and kissed Draco on the forehead. She grinned at what he knew must have been a look of complete shock. People didn't casually kiss Malfoys. Not even Malfoys casually kissed Malfoys, so far as Draco knew. She said, "I'm off to go check on mine. Be seeing you."

Granger watched her go. "She can be surprisingly tactful, coming from the family she does."

Draco didn't say anything. He was still processing the feeling of lips on his forehead.

"Draco."

Draco mentally shook himself. "Granger?"

"I have a first name, you know." She looked concern, as though he might actually have missed this information.

"Hermione."

"That's the one." She took a deep breath. "I was proud of you too. Am. Am proud."

It scared Draco to find that meant more than Snape's being proud. "I'm done being brave."

"You've earned a respite."

Despite his words of a second before, Draco gathered up his courage one last time. "I want something else."

Hermione brought his hand up to her mouth, still entwined in hers. She kissed each of the knuckles, one by one. "You've earned that too."