Inside Your Mind

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters associated with the series; they all belong to J.K. Rowling, once again…

Author’s Note: Yea, let’s just say that senior year is not as relaxing as one might think. Thanks again for staying with me if you’re reading this lol. Enjoy!

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Chapter Twenty-One – On Love, In Sadness

Neither went to class that day.

Harry went back to the Gryffindor common room to behave in a manner befitting the angst of a teenager with a hero complex experiencing heartache in the manliest of fashions. This involved a vast amount of staring at the fire while vehemently insisting to the empty room that he didn’t care nearly as much as he thought he had and simultaneously cursing himself for not being able to save Draco from previous and future corrupting events. He seemed to forget the impassiveness and vainglory with which Malfoys accepted such corruption.

He was still unable to reach Draco through their evidently obstructed connection, though he kept pushing through the wall that clearly demonstrated the ample capacity of Draco’s stubbornness and the effectiveness of Snape’s Occlumency methods – and Harry’s mental imprint of Draco’s molten eyes during their encounters assured him that it was indeed partially pure stubbornness on Draco’s part. He had yet to succeed. By the time Hermione and Ron returned, ten hours after the meeting where Draco had been as unkind as, ironically, Snape had decided to no longer be, Harry was once again speaking aloud and the fire was rising, reminiscent of the night before.

Hermione rushed to him while Ron took a seat near them and watched. “Saying things out loud doesn’t necessarily make them true, you know.” Ron said this with his familiar ‘I’m not quite sure this is the right thing to say but I have to say something’ look almost successfully covering the glint of correctness and amusement in his eyes.

It had the desired effect. Harry raised his head to half-heartedly glare while trying to stop the corners of his mouth from lifting. Ron grinned and said, “I bet you’re sorry you made me ask Hermione out now.”

Harry actually laughed. “I became sorry about that when you began reminding me to wear gloves and a scarf a few weeks ago.” Ron reddened while Hermione beamed. She left Harry’s side to slide into her boyfriend’s lap happily.

Harry observed their gentle kiss with a mixture of wistfulness and resentment. Ron’s hand brushed a stray curl from Hermione’s cheek and rested there, evoking a soft smile to the lips that rested against his. They were the epitome of comfort, of trust, of true love. Both strong in their own ways, they completed each other, and it was blatantly apparent that they needed each other and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Harry sighed. This was the Draco he missed. The Draco who smiled, the Draco who allowed him to believe that just maybe he was meant for more than saving the wizarding world.

He laughed inwardly at this, at his fanciful fairytale. Draco wasn’t tenderness and happy endings and he wasn’t willing to be completed – Draco was arctic fire and jagged edges and uncertainty and Harry was pretty damn sure that he would never admit to needing Harry as much as Harry was trying to convince himself he didn’t need Draco.

Despite all of these truths, Harry was sure he’d never be more certain of anything than he was of Draco. The sheer paradoxical nature of his thoughts made him curse loudly and hit the couch in frustration.

The pair he was staring at jumped and broke apart quickly, both apologizing when they saw the look on his face.

“It’s not your fault Draco is a selfish bastard.” Harry tried a half smile, but it came out as a grimace.

He felt a flare of unfamiliar indignation rush through his veins and he laughed somewhat bitterly. So we’re back to the days where insulting each other is the only way to get a reaction. A flash of something less fierce and slightly more uncertain followed his sardonic response, only to be quickly retracted, and Harry momentarily hated himself for the involuntary softening of his demeanor.

Hermione and Ron exchanged worried glances. “What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked, her glow of happiness fading as her ever-present investigative nature took over.

Harry looked up. “Draco doesn’t like being insulted, evidently,” he replied in a voice of mockery tinted with pain.

Ron snorted. “Bit hypocritical of him, I’d say.”

“Ron…”

“What, Harry? Why are you defending him?”

“I don’t know. But it’s hard for me to hear.”

“That’s too bad,” Ron said matter-of-factly.

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed, placing a calming hand on his arm. Ron continued speaking anyway.

“You can’t ask me to forgive him for this. You can ask me to forgive him for anything he’s done to me in the past, but not for throwing you away like you’re not worth his time. I can’t see you like this and then say ‘Oh, Malfoy, he’s alright, a bit harsh but generally an alright bloke.’ Because he’s not. He’s selfish and cruel and above all, an idiot. And if you think that he still genuinely –”

“Stop, Ron!” Harry was standing and breathing harshly, and he headed for the boys’ dorm while muttering “You really have been dating Hermione for too long,” in a ridiculing voice that was just loud enough for the couple to hear.

Ron was far from offended. The only thing he felt was the ferocity of Harry’s emotions toward a ruthless Slytherin who had ripped out his best friend’s heart along with his good sense. The redhead turned to his girlfriend, and in preemptive defense, said, “Don’t tell me not to say things like that. I can’t stand to see him – and Malfoy just doesn’t –”

Hermione silenced him with a kiss. She pulled away and looked at him with a gaze that displayed all of her intense intelligence. “I know, Ron. You are absolutely right.” She kissed him again while he stood in shock, and laughed at his surprised expression. “Now,” she said seriously, “I know for a fact that none of the girls are in the dorm right now.”

Ron blushed. “We’re not –” He cleared his throat. “We’re not going to go after him?”

Hermione sighed, and the hands that had been running up and down Ron’s arms paused. “Is there a point?” She kissed her boyfriend’s neck.

“No. No. Definitely not.”

Laughing, she pulled him up the stairs.

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The clouds that hung above what was now only Draco’s living room hadn’t changed their pitch-black oppressiveness for one second since Draco had returned to the room, directly after the meeting. The darkness was reflected in the shambles of what used to be a pristine, almost astonishing area. Somehow still soaking wet, the furniture was even darker than its natural black, and the water deepened the mahogany of both the whole desk and the ruined desk. Overall, the room had lost its incandescent glow that marked the brilliance of the pair that had once lived there as one. It was still breathtaking, but now tinged with a painful beauty instead of the complete luminous beauty it once held. The roaring fire added a touch of warmth and a world of anger to the sadness of the room.

Draco lay sprawled on the velvet couch, idly twirling his wand between fingers while staring fixedly at the magical sky above him. The air crackled around him, punctuated by the occasional thunder clap.

“Isn’t it against some sacred Malfoy code to sprawl yourself on furniture like that?” said an amused voice.

Draco turned his head to face Blaise. He hadn’t even heard the portrait open. “What?” he asked in a voice that conveyed his extreme annoyance at Blaise’s daring presence. Blaise ignored his tone, as per usual, and interpreted it as slight relief that he had indeed dared to come.

“A Malfoy shall not appear though relaxation is possible or acceptable.” Blaise said mockingly. Draco let himself smirk for a second.

Blaise returned his smirk and went to take a seat before looking down at the chair and thinking better of it. “So, Draco,” he said conversationally, “what the hell are you doing sitting on a soaking wet couch in this wreck of a room?”

“My robes have a charm to keep them dry.” Draco said, waving Blaise’s concerns aside.

“Alright…” Blaise said cautiously. “Why have you not fixed the rest of the room?”

“Dry the chair and sit, or leave, Blaise.”

Knowing that Draco was barely allowing him to stay, despite any relief he knew his friend might have felt at his presence, Blaise chose not to press the question and followed the blonde’s instructions.

“What happened at the meeting, Draco?”

“Voldemort found out about my relationship with Harry and used Crucio on Snape and my father,” Draco replied casually, his wand still spinning between his fingers.

To his credit, Blaise took the information in stride. “Are they alright?”

“Snape’s here and my father has to remain with Voldemort.”

“I’d say you’re taking this far too well, but last night was an example of the opposite.”

Draco sighed. “So you did come here to talk about that.”

“Draco, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I know that I’m doing the only thing that can be done.”

“Never took you for the heroic, self-sacrificing type, Malfoy.”

Draco laughed, and it wasn’t a kind laugh. “What exactly am I sacrificing here, Zabini?”

“Harry.”

“Not much of a loss,” he shot back disdainfully.

“That is a complete fucking lie, and you know it, Draco. He is the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Draco looked thrown for a second. “You don’t curse much, Zabini. It suits you.”

Blaise shook his head and stood, looking at the ground. “You’re being ridiculous, Draco.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” Blaise raised his head and let his eyes bore into Draco’s, their uncommon intensity catching him off guard. “Tell me, Malfoy. Do you honestly think that letting him go is going to save your family, your name; do you think it’s going to win this war?”

“I never asked to be a part of this war,” Draco replied, standing while his eyes darkened and the air became louder with the cracks of magic around him. His wand was now clenched in a fist with white knuckles.

“Did any of us ask for this?” Blaise shot back, as cold as Draco had ever heard him. He wasn’t intimidated easily, but Blaise’s stinging tone made him shiver. “More importantly, Draco, did Harry? Did he ask to be a hero he doesn’t think he can be, and then to have the one person that makes him feel as though he can do any of this leave him, just like he thinks everyone will? Did he ask to endanger everything and everyone around him and to lose any semblance of hope that he might come out of this normal?”

“Why are you pretending you know how Harry feels, Blaise?” Draco hissed. “I’m the one inside his head, not you. Where are you coming up with all of this?”

Blaise just stared him sadly, the fire in his eyes dying as concern and understanding took over. “Don’t do this, Draco. You don’t have to.”

Draco’s eyes flashed and seemed to burn and the thunder clapped once more. Blaise took a step back, pretty sure he had just spoken his death wish when a soft voice distracted Draco and saved him from what he was sure would have been a fiery fate induced by indoor lightning.

“He’s right, Malfoy.”

Draco turned slowly to Hermione. “Why is everyone suddenly feeling the need to discuss this with me?” he asked in a perfectly controlled voice.

“Because you’re making a huge mistake,” Hermione said matter-of-factly.

Turning to fling himself back onto the couch and ignore them until they took the hint and left, Draco said dramatically, “Well, thank you, Granger, for clearing that up. I hadn’t realized, but your words of wisdom have shown me the error of my ways.” Once on the couch, he looked her up down. His wand was being twirled once again. “Clothes all in disarray, hair all over the place – not that that’s much different than normal, though, I suppose - Granger, just what have you and Weasley been up to?”

Hermione blushed but forged ahead. “You’re being ridiculous, Malfoy.”

“A fine sentiment, I’m sure, but Zabini has already kindly pointed that out to me. Try again, Granger.”

“Alright then,” she said calmly. “The bond could help us win the war.”

“We can use the bond without being together.” Draco replied angrily, standing again and pocketing his wand. Hermione looked smug at finally getting a reaction from the collected Slytherin. “According to the book and to Dumbledore, we can be great without being in love.”

Hermione leveled him with a hard stare. “If you push him away, you won’t have a chance to be either.”

“Who said I wanted one?”

“For years, you’ve fought with Harry because of your jealousy of everything he is, everything he has that you don’t, which is basically the sincere versus the material.” Draco sneered. Hermione ignored him. “Well, here’s your shot, Malfoy. You’ve been jealous of his savior status?” - she held up a hand as Draco opened his mouth - “and don’t try to tell me that you’re not” – Draco actually listened and shut it again – “You can be just as great. You’ve been jealous of the fact that he cares about Ron and me? Of our place in his life? Well, guess what, Malfoy,” she said bitterly. “You win. You finally win. You get to be close to him in a way that we never can. And as insane as this might sound, I see it. I really do. I see why you two are meant for each other, what you two are to each other and what you’ve always been. We all do.”

She fell silent and colored again, aware that she had been ranting just a bit. Draco was actually silent, and he looked at Blaise’s reaction to Hermione’s words. The intense anger, frustration, and sadness he had seen in Hermione’s face was mirrored in Blaise’s and he stared into his friend’s dark eyes, but Blaise didn’t turn away.

Draco hated it when other people thought they were right, because that meant that they thought he was wrong, and he hated it even more when people thought he was wrong. He especially hated it when other people were so convinced that they were right that Draco himself began to wonder if they were. Draco was unwilling to reconsider his own decisions. It was as simple as that.

So he did the only thing he could think of. He left.

Blaise and Hermione sighed in unison before turning to the disaster of a room in front of them. Blaise’s deep brown eyes met Hermione’s light brown ones and they took out their wands, silently deciding to fix the devastation in front of them.

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Draco wasn’t entirely sure what had prompted him to just leave like that. It certainly wasn’t acceptable Malfoy behavior, as it definitely showed a loss of control. A Malfoy would never leave in the middle of a conversation. Then again, a Malfoy would have never let Zabini and Granger gain the upper hand by reacting to any of their words in the first place.

Draco sighed – that was exactly the problem. Lately, the undisputed and precise lines that dictated his life as a Malfoy, as a Slytherin, were becoming more clouded and shaken with every day that passed. His father was quite possibly choosing to defect, his own mother had kidnapped Harry Potter, and his brain could not stop relaying image after image of Harry’s body under his through his mind. The world no longer normal in Draco’s mind. It had been so easy before – Well, Draco amended, not exactly easy. It was...familiar. It was known.

His feet had carried him to the Astronomy Tower while his mind wandered, and he blinked in surprise. He hadn’t come here since September, when this whole thing with Harry had begun. In previous years, he had gone there when he couldn’t think or breathe in the confining corners of the Slytherin territory. He hadn’t known he would come here, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he entered. The place still had a slight calming effect on him, and he went straight to the window to stare at the beautiful view of the Quidditch pitch in the darkness as he had consistently done in all his visits to the spot.

As he leaned against the open window frame, his thoughts wandered again. Draco had never bothered trying to convince himself that the actions that were expected of him in this war didn’t scare him. He knew of the horrifying things his father had done – Lucius had told him these things as bedtime stories when he was younger and then left him to fend of the nightmares for himself. When Draco had complained, Lucius had looked at him sternly and said, “You will learn to deal with these things on your own, Draco. That is how it must be.” He had continued to ignore Draco’s cries in the night.

Draco had learned to stay quiet; he had learned to witness these events in his mind with a cold detachment, without allowing himself to have any feelings about the destruction he knew of.

So what he might have to do in the war scared Draco. He could deal with that because he knew he could hide what he was and do it anyway. This sounded cold and manipulative to the world, and Draco knew that. But it was survival in his home, in his House. There was no other option.

Until there was.

It was the option of something more that threw Draco. The option of a world so radically different from the one he had been promised since birth sent Draco spinning so far into confusion that he didn’t know where to start looking for solid ground.

Something dashed across the rapidly darkening night sky and Draco squinted to get a better look. As he concentrated on discerning who the figure was, his guard slipped and he felt the pure joy of flying run though his body. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Of course the figure was Harry. Of course, today of all days, he would be staring out of a window watching Potter fly.

He loved watching Harry fly. And so he did. He watched the boy of his dreams, nightmares and fantasies, tear through the sky along with the stars, so clearly belonging high above the school, above them all.

Draco could only be thankful that he was good at hiding his mind from Harry. It made Draco more tired than he could ever remembering being in his life, but that was alright. As long as he could do it, he could live with the side effects. Earlier, when he had lost those precious moments to Harry’s mind, to his own pain as well as Harry’s, he synchronically fought against it and savored it. Draco wasn’t fighting the strength of what he felt as Harry was. Draco had never been good at lying to himself, but he had always been superior at lying to others. So he relied on the latter and allowed himself not to lose what he had inside, the remnants of his heart that would get him through the war and the school year.

Draco resented the others’ assumption that he was trying to be a hero. He was only trying to keep them both alive. He hadn’t mean to write off their relationship forever, but he had the feeling that in this situation, there wasn’t going to be much room for apologies and second chances. By now, he had figured that he didn’t fix this soon, he would lose any and all future chances for them. Harry had always seemed like an all-or-nothing person; Draco suspected this was why he almost got killed all the time. Draco would end up in one of two situations – Harry would care so fiercely that he would never let Draco go completely and when the time came, he would have him back; or, Harry would be so disappointed that Draco would fade into Malfoy once again.

He felt that everyone but him was lacking a view of the big picture: Voldemort wouldn’t hesitate to use their relationship as a means of shameless exploitation, as a definite route to Harry.

Draco had already decided with a will of steel that he would not allow their relationship to be turned into this. The temptation to fulfill what he used to think of as his destiny as both a Slytherin and a Malfoy would be too great if he was faced with it; he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to leave everything behind, despite the backless faith that Harry seemed to have in him.

He was extremely lucky that Harry hadn’t seen him yet, but he still couldn’t bring himself to move. Harry always captivated him, and as he watched Harry vent his anger out on the sky, he felt his own anger and frustration return. All of his fury swelled up at once, overtaking his mood of quiet contemplation, and the air grew thicker around him just as a voice broke his thoughts.

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” Theodore Nott said conversationally, coming to stand next to Draco.

As he stiffly turned to face Nott with a glare so scorching it could have lit the room on fire - and probably would have if it wasn’t for Draco’s tight control, judging on the magic that once again crackled around Draco – Draco dimly realized, in some rational part of his brain that wasn’t consumed by a rage so red Draco was sure he was seeing Nott’s blood, that he really should become more aware of the entrances to the various rooms he spent time in.

Had Draco been less intelligent, had he had less insight into the Slytherin mind, he might have followed his burning instinct to torture Nott in many very illegal ways. As it was, Draco simply returned Nott’s greeting with a nod and set his mind to work. He offered a slight smile as an apology for his initial glare, letting it be taken as pure annoyance at being interrupted and turned to face the outdoors again.

Nott was still wandering the halls, meaning Dumbledore hadn’t confronted him about the Narcissa incident. There must be a reason he – Wait.

How had Nott even come into contact with Narcissa? She rarely talked to the school friends he did have, and Nott wasn’t even of them. The Malfoys were not particularly close with the Notts – so why Nott? And how?

Oh God. Draco had to lean on the window frame more securely. Lucius. Narcissa told him she needed a student contact at Hogwarts for something and he gave her Nott. It wasn’t that Lucius was senseless or thoughtless – Draco was sure that the bizarreness of his mother’s request had occurred to Lucius – but Lucius was useless at saying no to her. So she got Nott because Lucius would never give her Draco. But why would Lucius even consider Nott?

This time Draco had to cough to cover the slight gasp at the sudden clearness of Nott’s position. He chose a side. Draco turned to face his fellow Slytherin, someone he was sure would be a Death Eater before the year was through. His inner Slytherin prevented him from bringing any of this to the surface - he was sure there was a reason Nott had approached him. He turned his body to face the brunette next to him.

“Can I help you with something, Nott?”

Nott eyed him up and down shamelessly. “I don’t know, Draco. Can you?” He turned so that his body paralleled Draco’s and he took a step closer.

Draco’s eyes widened. Oh. He glanced quickly into Theodore’s gleaming eyes to gauge their sincerity and possible ulterior motives, but he could only discern arousal in the other boy. Before stepping away in disgust, he assessed the situation. If he could stand touching this bastard, he might actually learn something useful. In truth, Nott was far from unattractive, and a quick scan of Nott’s body assured him that he would definitely be able to pretend.

Decision made, Draco allowed his hand to travel down Nott’s arm and brush his hip. He smirked at the prominent shiver he felt run through the other’s body. “Do you doubt my abilities, Nott?”

Nott swallowed, eyes glued to the curve of Draco’s throat in the moonlight, and he stepped closer until he was only a few inches from Draco. “Not at all,” he said hoarsely.

Draco smiled victoriously. “Then lead the way.”

When Nott stepped in front of him and they left the Astronomy Tower, Draco allowed himself to take a deep breath while he wondered just how he would keep his mind from Harry’s during this.

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All Harry saw was Draco and Theodore Nott, staring at each other in the moonlight. It didn’t matter what he looked at after that. For the rest of the evening, that image stayed plastered in his mind.

A part of Harry asserted that Draco could feel nothing for the other Slytherin. Another insisted that there must be some reason, that Draco was just a damn good actor. A third argued that Draco had no reason to act that way towards Nott and could not come up with one possibly ulterior motive that Draco might have. A fourth reiterated the consistent idea that he needed to stop thinking about it all.

Needless to say, Harry was conflicted.

But he was angry. Definitely angry. Fly though the sky at breakneck speed angry, accidentally light the tip of his broom on fire with his hands while flying angry, shatter the window in the Gryffindor boys’ dorm angry.

He landed hard in the room before deciding that it was time to take his stuff out of his temporary home with Draco.

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Draco and Theodore lay in the older Slytherin’s bed, both breathing heavily. Draco felt ashamed and guilty and very much like the bastard he was so often called – and the pain pulsed deeper as he remembered Harry’s casual use of the term in reference to him.

He couldn’t think of Harry. He had felt the intense anger the other had felt an hour or so before, his fear of breaking down his own wall prevented him from seeing its cause. He sighed. These thoughts would get him nowhere. Shoving them aside, he returned to his current conquest.

“Nott, tell me,” he said in a casual tone, “How are things going on our side?”

Nott looked confused and slightly shaken. “What are you talking about, our side? Aren’t you with Harry?”

Draco sneered. “I’m a Slytherin, Nott, and a Malfoy nonetheless. Would I ever betray this side?”

Understanding bloomed on the other boy’s face. “So you’re only with Potter to...?”

Draco merely smiled, as if sharing a secret. “A secret should remain unspoken, Theodore. Do not repeat what I have revealed to you. If you do, I guarantee that you will regret letting me trust you,” he said calmly. “Let’s just say that being a Malfoy has allowed me the teaching of a very colorful array of very painful, creative curses.” He smirked cruelly.

Nott nodded, a hint of fear showing in his eyes. Draco smiled again. “Good. So you are in line to be a Death Eater, are you not?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know of any interesting plans? My father has been rather busy and has yet to inform me of current schemes. I’m sure I will receive a letter soon, but why wait when I have such a reliable source right here in bed?” He ran a hand down Nott’s thigh, and the boy gulped.

“Well…” he said, hesitating.

“Yes?”

“They’ve been working on a new transportation method, a way to Apparate of sorts. Undetectable, and obviously a way that the Hogwarts wards will allow.”

“How do they know if what they’ve got will get them past the wards?”

“They’ve recreated the wards.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “They’re changing Apparation to include the wards’ specifications in the charm. The obstacles of the wards will then seem normal to the Apparation spell, allowing them to get through. Add a cloaking charm, and they’ll be able to get through.”

Nott was nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, exactly. It’s taken them months to figure out how to change the charm, but they’ve finally done it! It’s incredible, Draco.”

Draco was lucky he was naturally pale, because if he wasn’t, his complexion would have given his horror away. “When are they testing it? When are they coming here?” he asked in a rushed, low voice.

Nott turned so that his excited eyes locked with Draco’s cool ones. “A week from Saturday.”

“Are you sure?”

“They just finalized the plans at the last meeting.” He leaned in to grasp at Draco, his excited state quickly turned to lust, spurred on by the dark’s promise of greatness for him.

Draco allowed his touch, and returned it, hoping to end the encounter as soon as possible.

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Draco left Nott sleeping soundly in his bed and headed straight for Dumbledore. In his quick stride, he nearly collided with Hermione, who was headed in the same direction.

She glared at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Not again.”

“Harry is storming around, muttering something about evil Slytherins and he’s broken every breakable thing in the Gryffindor common room –”

“I get it, Granger. I am a horrible person. Don’t trust Malfoys. Don’t trust Slytherins. Oh, the terrible things I’ve done to Potter. Oh, and I’m being ridiculous. Have I covered it all, Granger? I don’t have time for you right now, so why don’t you take your know-it-all self back to Harry to comfort him and fix everything the big, bad Draco Malfoy has done.”

Hermione stared at him, and they both stopped when they reached Dumbledore’s door. “I don’t know why you people think I have the power to break Harry.” He looked at her coldly. “There is no longer a reason for us to be talking.” He entered, leaving her wide-eyed outside.

Draco didn’t wait to be invited up. He entered Dumbledore’s office without knocking, interrupting a meeting between Severus, Remus, and Dumbledore.

Snape looked outraged, Remus just smiled, and Dumbeldore said, “How can I help you, Mr. Malfoy?”

“A week from Saturday. We have twelve days.”

“Mr. Malfoy, what are you speaking of?” Snape drawled. Draco turned on him, surprised. “You don’t know? – Oh, Merlin. They decided after you left. He doesn’t trust you as much anymore.”

“Mr. Malfoy, calm down.” Dumbledore said in a soothing voice.

“Do you know about the alteration of the Apparation spell?”

“Yes, Draco, we do.”

“They’ve finished. They recreated the wards to test it and they’ve finished. They’re coming a week from Saturday. Hence, we have twelve days.”

There was a stunned silence.

Dumbledore’s voice, strong as ever, breaking the strained tension that blanketed the room.

“Call everyone here, Remus.”

The werewolf nodded somberly

“Draco.” Dumbledore turned to the boy whose breathing had finally returned to normal. “Go get Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Zabini, please.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “Professor, you can’t make me –”

Dumbledore’s gaze left no room for argument. “You chose this situation, Draco. It is not relevant to the matter at hand. Go get them.”

Draco’s only choice was to nod and leave the room.

Severus leveled the remaining occupants of the room with a hard stare. “I don’t think we’re ready for this.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not significant, Severus,” Dumbledore replied. “This is the beginning of the end of an era.”