Draco signed the membership contract but didn't join the DA members during their lessons. He could somewhat grasp, however, what they were taught, since Potter kept him updated.

Since the DA was held during the day, when the other students had free slots in their schedules, Draco was able to go to bed every night without having to fear he'd be locked out of his own bedroom. Draco, on the other hand, was given his first lesson under the cover of night on a Sunday. And of course, the first thing Potter decided to teach him was the expiliarmus. Draco had wanted to laugh, really. He should have expected it. It was Potter's signature spell after all.

Needless to say, Draco was quite versed in that one. He could do it silently. He had spent his entire second year trying to beat Potter to it after his disastrous defeat in Lockhart's duelling club. And after Potter's story about Diggory's death in fourth year, Draco had clung to the idea that if only he could master the spell, he may stand a chance to survive the Dark Lord's grasp on his family. Sixth year, unarming Dumbledore, a nightmare.

You can imagine how he felt about that spell after it turned out to be the one that killed the Dark Lord in the end. The spell disarmed Draco in a completely different way.

That Draco didn't need to be taught the spell had Potter extremely flustered. "Yeah, well. I should known that one would be easy for you. You were never stupid." His gaze was concentrated on Draco's shaking hands though. Draco's grip on his wand was tight, turning his knuckles white. Thankfully, Potter didn't comment on it.

Draco just shrugged and waited for new instructions. Eventually, he took over the lesson as Potter failed to introduce him to ones he was incapable of doing. Draco had completely underestimated what an eight year gap would make for an impact on his spell work.

In the end, he decided to simply tell Potter which spells he had problems with. They eventually figured out Malfoy's current level and Potter helped him notice mispronunciations and mental blockades he had for certain spells. Draco struggled with attack spells. Imagine you had to direct a shock spell on the saviour of your generation. It was unthinkable, Draco couldn't even aim right. Once Potter assured him it was fine though, once Draco managed to hit him once and didn't see the entire world collapse around him, he got really enthusiastic to do it again.

In some ways, the training was exhausting, in other's, it was quite fun. It was fun stupefying Potter over and over again. Or pulling him upside down on his head. Or tying him up. The last one mostly because it was so easy to fluster Potter with it. Except that Potter kept telling him to do it again. It was bizarre.

Eventually, they ended up sparring with one another. Draco would admit that he lost most of the time. But it really was fun. Losing against Potter was a lot less terrifying than winning if he was being honest. If Potter were so easily defeated, then Draco wouldn't know what to do with himself.

That was how they spent the time. And perhaps it was the fact that he was older now, but time passed quicker than Draco could have anticipated. It was just one day after another. Each one filled with studying, playing around and repeat. Sooner than expected, Christmas came closer and thus, the night that Potter had his dream about Arthur Weasley. An event that Draco had completely forgotten about. He had suppressed most of his memories from these days and that came back to haunt him now. In his defence, it had been eleven years ago.

As Draco didn't live in the Slytherin dorms to hear the gossip, and didn't live with the Gryffindor's either, he only heard about it the morning after Potter and the Weasleys suddenly vanished, days before Christmas break was supposed to start.

Umbridge was amusingly livid, while Draco sat at the Gryffindor table and let Neville explain the situation to him. He said something about Potter's nightmare telling him about the attack on Mr. Weasley. Draco remembered learning about the story in vague letters from his father, the first time around. His father had refused to leave him in the dark at the time. At least not more than necessary. From his own perspective, he could only remember that Potter had suddenly disappeared and the Gryffindor's kept quiet about the how and why. Draco's eyes glassed over, as he finally understood the connection between this incident and Potter's nightmare. Draco had been a fool. He had wasted his time on his own defence, rather than teaching Potter to close off his mind. The Dark Lord had unhindered access to his brain, and -

His conversation with Neville that Draco had long lost trail off was suddenly interrupted as Severus Snape appeared right behind him.

"Mr. Malfoy. I would like to speak with you," he said surly while Draco shoved his morning egg around with his fork. The one that Neville had been trying to shove down his throat as he did every morning. Draco couldn't say he was very upset to be interrupted.

"How may I help you, Professor?," Draco asked warily without looking up.

"Don't be smart with me, Draco. Follow me."

That startled Draco. Was Severus mad? Now that was worrying. It almost made him regret leaving his breakfast behind. He followed Snape anyway because you didn't say 'no' to a teacher when he was mad at you, least of all Severus. Of course, Draco wouldn't leave without assuring Neville that he would be fine. Against Draco's expectations, Snape didn't lead him to his office in the dungeons but pushed him into the nearest empty classroom and scowled at him. "Where have you been!?"

Draco blinked. "I don't recall we had an appointment."

"This is not a game, Draco. McGonagall informed me to get you last night. You were to accompany Potter and the others!"

Draco's eyes widened in surprise. "What? Why? I have nothing to do with them!"

"You do," snarled Snape without explaining what he meant by that. "But when I talked with your dormmates, I was informed that you haven't slept in your own bed since the very beginning of term! They had no idea where you were and I couldn't find you!" He sounded, in Snape's snarkish, emoish way, overly concerned. It was in the tone, the way he blinked a tad more often than usual, and of course the fact that he had called Draco by his first name.

"I had a falling out with my roommates," Draco explained weakly.

"Where have you been staying?"

"I can't tell you that," Draco said, instantly thinking of the DA and how he couldn't afford to have them lose the room, and frowned as he felt the familiar prodding in his mind. He pushed it away. "I told you not to search my mind, Professor. If it somehow helps, I am safe where I've been staying. I promise!"

"You will understand that after recent events, I cannot accept this. Leaving you unsupervised when you drink poison in my classroom is hardly reassuring!"

"That's inaccurate, Professor. Longbottom, Potter, Weasley and Granger know where I'm staying. If you ever need me, ask them and they will get me. I can ask Granger to read me goodnight stories, too, if that makes you feel better." The last part came out a bit harsher than necessary. He shouldn't be testing Snape but he couldn't help it. He stayed in the room of requirements because he felt safe there. Staying with the other Slytherins, now that they hated him, would surely increase his self harming tendencies.

"Mr. Malfoy, this is not the time for sarcasm." Snape covered his face with one hand. "We will discuss this later. My point is that you were to stay the Christmas holidays with Potter and the Weasleys. I have discussed your... concerns... with Professor Dumbledore. And he agrees that under these circumstances, you need another place to stay."

Draco opened his mouth, then closed it. Somehow, that was touching. Snape had actually tried to find a way to help him. Although it escaped him why they should put him in one room with the Weasleys, relieved tears dwelled up in Draco's eyes and for a moment he had the insane urge to hug this man. He hadn't expected Severus to offer him a place to stay at all. He had expected him to either turn out to be the Death Eater he would later claim to be and force him to go home, or prove he was truly a spy for Dumbledore and sent Draco home to keep his disguise. To think Severus had found an alternative solution... Draco still knew that a hug would be overkill in this situation, so he forced down the urge. "Thank you, Professor."

Snape's mouth twitched in clear discomfort. "I have informed your parents that it was your wish to stay in Hogwarts so you could focus more on studying. We will find an alternative for summer break. Think of this as a trial run. However, since the others have left right under her nose, Umbridge is relentless in keeping everyone else in the castle. You will have no choice but to wait until Christmas break officially starts."

Draco nodded and watched as Professor Snape turned around, his cape waving after him as he marched out the room. He left him behind without waiting for another comment. Draco closed his eyes. Damn, he hadn't felt this cared for in years. A few tears actually did spill after Snape left. He angrily wiped them away. Perhaps the man had sensed it and left because of them. Either way, Draco was relieved.

Who would have thought that Snape actually had a heart? Well, Draco had before he himself had started to distrust him. And Potter had after the betrayal. Draco's expression fell. There was more going on with that man. Finally, he believed he could see it.

Draco dropped into Grimmauld place on the first day of Christmas break. And drop in he did.

Snape had apparated him there the dead of night. It was the only way that Umbridge wouldn't be able to locate them. Not that she had any reason to believe that a Malfoy would spend his sacred holidays at a shabby place such as this. That said, she had grown to be more suspicious of him. Though, as Draco avoided her, she had mostly left him alone.

It reminded him a little bit of his first year in Hogwarts. Normally, Draco had intended to spend every holiday with his parents if he could. But that very first Christmas, his father had still believed that Draco could be friends with Potter. Get on his good side. That's why he had insisted Draco stayed. It hadn't occurred to Draco until after his first summer break that his father was disappointed that Draco had failed to reach out to the boy who lived.

When Draco opened his eyes, he took in a complete barrack of a place. This was surely not the Burrow, it was too dark for that. Draco had really expected to just be dropped off at the Weasley home. No, this was something else. Draco vaguely remembered his father secretly informing him that this had been a hideout for Potter during what would have been their seventh year. This... this was the Black estate. Draco recognised it from the runes engraved in the doorframe that looked so similar to the ones at the manor. So that's why Snape had sent him here... This place was still, somehow, family.

Draco tried to hold in his breath at the sight of this dump. Entering the place alone felt like visiting a rotten graveyard. It didn't look like anyone had lived here in at least a decade. Especially when it turned out they had to use blood at the front door to even be let in. Not even Malfoy manor was that old fashioned and macabre.

Draco was used to death and pain, but the sight and smell of the place triggered some awful memories. He was 80% sure that he would soon discover that the walls were painted with dried blood rather than paint. Or perhaps the colour was actually green and so greyed out over the years that he only saw shadows in them? Draco wasn't sure, but he could feel how cold this place was. Inviting was something else entirely. And he was to meet Potter and the Weasley's HERE? Had Snape just taken him out to sacrifice him to the Dark Lord?

Snape motioned him to be quiet and lead him into the kitchen of Grimmauld place, where, much to Draco's immediate relief, no other than Molly Weasley and a shit ton of her sons were sitting quietly at the table. Of course not without her only daughter, Potter himself, and both Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.

Of course Draco recognised them all. The red hair pretty much screamed Weasley. On top of that, he had seen their faces in the daily prophet all the time in the future. Remus Lupin used to teach him in third year and who on earth wouldn't recognise Sirius Black from the wanted posters?

And despite that. Despite knowing these people were his heroes, or perhaps because he knew they were his heroes, anxiety took over his mind and he hid behind Snape.

Sirius Black may be his cousin once or twice removed, and not actually a murderer, despite all the propaganda against him, but if Draco's father was right and Sirius hated his own bloodline, then Draco was definitely not welcome here.

Look, he had never denied that he was a coward, alright? Instead of fighting the duel against Potter and Weasley in first grade, he had snitched on them. In second grade, he had locked himself in the Slytherin dorm, despite having been certain that the heir of Slytherin wouldn't kill purebloods. Later it turned out that Slytherin's monster had been a mindless creature whom you only needed to look at to die. And the person it had dragged into the chamber had been a Weasley. Albeit considered blood traitors, they were still purebloods. In third grade, he had run from Hermione Granger for punching him in the face. In fourth grade, his greatest threat had been to be turned into a ferret and he had still run from Mad-Eye Moody whenever he'd seen him, or rather the copy cat Barty Crouch Junior. In fifth year, he had been one of the leaders of Umbridge's inquisition and still gotten quite the curse from Ginny Weasley in the face. Sixth year had been a fearsome disaster and seventh year still haunted his brain like an ax murderer. Draco was many things. Brave was not one of them.

"What the hell is Malfoy doing here?," asked one of the Weasley twins. Draco could never tell them apart. Though he did know the one with the missing ear survived after the war. They both looked pretty two-eared to him right now.

"Professor Snape, what is the meaning of this?," asked Molly Weasley and that was Draco's tell that neither Snape nor Dumbledore seemed to have informed any of them that he was meant to stay. Perhaps Draco should just go live in a dumpster. There, he'd at least be save from those glares.

Shame filled his face, until Black scoffed at him, proving that at least one of them hadn't been left in the dark. "It's fine. Dumbledore told me to take him in. He's staying... That is, If he behaves."

"Believe me, I take no pleasure in handing over my godson to either of you. But Dumbledore insisted." Draco looked up at Snape, not sure if he could trust those words. If Snape really didn't want him here, he'd have locked him in the Slytherin dungeons for sure.

"He's mad," Draco heard Ronald Weasley say. "Everyone's turned mad. Why is Malfoy EVERYWHERE we are?" He looked at Harry as if that was his cue to agree and start discussing Malfoy's evil plans. It seemed they did this often. Planning and guessing what Draco was up to, that is. Harry had done this in Draco's sixth year as well. Although it hadn't looked like his friends had been supporting him at the time.

Draco's eyes fixed on the chosen one, partly confused and oddly relieved to see him here. Naturally, Draco had known he would be here. Still. At the same time, seeing him felt like intruding on Potter's private life. His family. Even though Draco was more related to the people living in this house than Potter ever would be.

Harry just rolled his eyes at Ronald. "It's alright. I don't mind him being here."

Draco's eye twitched. In his mind, he could already hear himself making an argument out of this. Something along the lines of: 'And what makes you the authority on my whereabouts?,' entered his mind. But he swallowed his pride. It was just an old habit resurfacing, because Draco didn't want Potter be the one to decide where he could stay and where he couldn't. That's why he hadn't taken the wand back. That's why he had returned to the manor to hide, instead of letting Potter drag him into the spotlight and become the Death Eater who turned sides. Draco could have been rehabilitated. He had refused.

"Well. Not like it matters much," Mrs. Weasley sighed and waved Malfoy to come in. "One mouth more or less to feed..." She looked sour though. And hey, Draco didn't eat enough to be a liability, he could surely live off of scraps, right?

"The young Malfoy isn't the only reason I am here. I would like to speak with Mr. Potter for a moment," said Snape, surprising them all.

Curiously, Draco looked at his godfather, then moved out of the way as Potter got up and joined him. When Black wanted to protest, Potter sent him a glance. "I'll be fine." Then, they left. Probably to another moulded corner in the house.

Of course, that didn't stop Black from protesting against it. He called Snape "Snivelus" behind his back. A nickname that made Draco feel both upset on behalf of his godfather... and envious on the creativity on the name. All Draco had ever come up with were titles and phrases like "Weasley is our king" and "Potter stinks". He had put a lot of effort into those, but 'Snivelus' had a ring to it that 'King Weasley' would never have. God damn it, Draco had been such an idiot as a child. He couldn't even insult people right.

All in all, they acted a lot calmer than Draco had expected to, to be completely honest. Mr. Weasley's condition must be making them uncomfortable and easy to accept new challenges. Perhaps Potter was glad to focus on something other than his prophetic nightmare. Maybe the Weasley's were happy to have something to be upset about that they could control. Or, they had gotten the News that Mr. Weasley would survive and were therefore happy for a distraction.

With his godfather and Potter gone, Draco suddenly felt all alone in the kitchen, all eyes now on him. Draco let his gaze rest on Sirius Black who looked an uncomfortable lot like Draco's aunt. Just better combed and a lot less insane.

"So, you are Narzissa's son," Sirius stated and Draco felt defenceless against his glare. He was on full display, in front of people who all had more than enough reason to hate him. And they didn't even know the worst of it.

"You're Sirius Black," he replied with as much confidence as he could muster. He had never met his own grandparents and therefore didn't really feel like calling him 'Walburga's son'. Not even for argument's sake. He should have. Shown dominance. Like the Alpha male he was. Had Draco mentioned that he turned silly when he was nervous?

"You don't seem very happy to see me. What, I thought your family is very keen on their Death Eater reputation. Shouldn't you be glad there is one of your kind here?" Black's voice was cold and hostile. As hostile as he had been to Snape. Draco flinched.

"Sirius!," Remus held him back. "He's just a kid."

Draco wasn't. Not really. In fact, he couldn't be much younger than Lupin himself. "You do look a little like Bellatrix," Draco answered honestly, grabbing his left arm tight on instinct. Just the same, he got his mind walls up. Not that that made him feel any safer. If Sirius Black was anything like his cousin, then Draco needed all the defences he could bring up. That said, he was also suicidal and therefore said the stupidest things. The scare in his eyes must not have been evident, because Sirius looked affronted, if not insulted.

"I look NOTHING like her! She's a manic lunatic!"

Draco flinched at the noise. His father never got loud when angry. He only hissed. Snape too, kept his voice levelled when angry. The sudden Volume overwhelmed him a bit.

"Sirius! I mean it! You're scaring him."

Unfortunately, that had the Gryffindors, who were witnesses to this conversation, openly amused at his expense. Amusement would usually be fine. Except Arthur Weasley was still in the hospital and none of them should look so amused. It reminded Draco too much of his home. Like it often was, the trigger could be found in the subtile, unexpected parallels of his surroundings.

Their faces twisted into mad ones. Like a shadow of the past lay over of them. Yes, they were the heroes of Draco's past, but they were also the people who fought and killed his friends. He trusted them, trusted that they made the right choices, but what if Draco was trusting the wrong people again? He had been a fool to trust his own parents. How could he trust these strangers?He began to hyperventilate as their laughter shifted. They turned into Bellatrix's smile. The kind that loved to see people suffer. Loved seeing abuse and pain inflicted on people. Who considered punishment of the Dark Lord as a blessing, not the curses that they were. Draco's breathing was getting heavier as he stepped back. If not that, then they'd love to see HIM suffer. Him and his family and his friends.

"Mr. Malfoy -" Remus Lupin had no reason to be kind. It had been Draco's father who had first complained he was a werewolf. The reason why he lost his job was Draco. It added guilt to the wound and made the shadows darker. Draco stepped back, reading himself to either fight or escape from here.

There were far too many enemies in this room.

"Remus, I think you need to back off. Draco, dear. You don't look well." Suddenly, Molly Weasley was fussing over him and the worry made Draco back away further into a corner. No way was that real kindness in her voice. No fucking way. No one ever showed him kindness, except for his mother. And look where that had gotten him! Where that had gotten HER. Kindness was a manipulation tactic. Kindness was far more dangerous than any spell.

"Malfoy?," now Ronald Weasley walked over. He looked worried, as if he had recognised the pattern. Perhaps he had. "Hey, Malfoy!" He whacked him on the head.

Molly immediately scolded him.

Draco took a deep breath, shaking himself out of it. The faces returned to normal when he blinked and steadied his breath. The slap had disrupted his spiralling thought. Weasley waited as if expecting to be hit back, even though his mom had already taken care of that. But Draco was too grateful to want revenge. "Sorry, I..." He took another deep breath and counted to four. He put a hand on the wall to feel the cold and focus on it for a while. "Give me a moment." He repeated the same sentiment a couple of times, breathing in and out. He had held his breath so long that his vision was swimming. He had to trust they would let him calm down. He had to trust they wouldn't make any more fun of him.

"The fuck is wrong with him?," asked the youngest one. The girl. Guinevra Weasley. Later Ginny Potter. How could he forget.

Draco ignored her. "I'm sorry for imposing on you all," he finally said and straightened himself. "I know this is neither the time nor the place for me to drop by. Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape seemed to think it would be better for me to stay here." He didn't dare look at Black but the context made it clear whom he was talking to. "As you pointed out, my father is a Death Eater. And I cannot go back, knowing the Dark Lord may knock at our door any day now. I asked for a place to stay over the summer. I didn't think I'd come here of all places, especially now when I could still be in school." It was all he managed to say, when he felt his nails piercing the fabric of his shirt into his skin where his heartbeat raged against his ribcage.

The room fell completely silent.

"Hold on. You're Snape's GODSON?" Of course that was what Ronald would focus on. Albeit a bit late. That had taken a long time to click in his head. Wow.

"Are you missing the point that he's admitting that his father serves You Know Who, Ronald?" That was Molly's voice.

Sirius seemed to have other, more pressing concerns as he ignored the both of them. "You haven't pointed out that he calls him the Dark Lord." In fact, his eyes narrowing, as distrusting of Draco as Draco was of him. "So, boy, your father just decided it would be good to get you to safety, while he runs around with his murder buddies? Or is it so you can show them the best way into my house? Found a way to trick good old Dumbledore, huh? Playing the innocent kid? Or are you here to find out if I really am one of you! Just to be clear, I would NEVER follow Voldemort. I'd rather die."

Before sixth year could crash all over him, Draco went numb. Draco faced him with hollow eyes. And while he had no idea what Dumbledore was thinking, he couldn't let the obvious wrongs of that argument stand. "I know that. I was the one who asked for a new place to stay. I didn't even talk to Dumbledore. I asked Severus for help."

Again, a pause followed.

"Sirius, Dumbledore allowed this!" Remus tried. "And so did you."

"Why?" Black's eyes were still directed at Draco, ignored Lupin.

Draco stared at him. What stupid ass question was that? "Because I'm fucking terrified!" It was the first time Draco said it out loud and he barked it out with so much emotion, it had Sirius shut up for a moment. Draco's voice had broken in the middle of that sentence, as did Draco's resolve as tears once again gathered in his eyes.

However, it was but a moment before Black scoffed. Draco was suddenly reminded that this man, despite his heritage, had never been a Slytherin. "Well, you should face that motherfucker and punch him in the face, then. If you think he'll show up at your place, use your advantage. Rather die fighting him, than serving him." He pushed out his chest and Draco had no doubt that this man would do exactly as he said.

Draco stared at him with something between a glare and terror. "I'm not a bloody Griffindor, Black!" It was getting too much. The accusation hit too close to home. He KNEW he should be doing that. It had even crossed his mind a couple times. But there was no way someone as powerless as DRACO would have a chance to defeat the Dark Lord! All on his own, to boot. "I don't go around punching people to prove a point! I don't head first into danger, because it's the bloody heroic thing to do!" He quivered at the many eyes on him. "I just can't." It was merely a whisper. Draco felt his lip tremble and he walked back out into the hallway in an attempt to get away from so many judging glances. It had been a mistake to come here.

He could hear Sirius standing up, shoving his chair away hard. But Remus Lupin's voice seemed to stop him. "Let him. He clearly means it."

"But -"

"Let him calm down at least...."

Draco didn't hear any more than that. His body sacked down against the nearest wall and he felt himself hit the ground. He was grateful that no one was actively following him. These people had more than enough to worry about right now than his mental breakdowns. He stared ahead at the other side of the hallway, just breathing in and out. He had once used these tactics to guide some of his patients through their panic attacks. Back, when he still felt useful.

When Draco punched the ground, causing his knuckles to rip open and bleed, a sudden explosion ripped him from his thoughts. The noise came from upstairs. As soon as he looked, a curtain opened its way to reveal a strange painting that began to fucking shriek. Draco had it with this house. When its eyes turned to him, he was faced with the twisted face of a woman. Her voice was still loud, but she spoke to him normally, with glee in her voice. "Ah, what a sight for sore eyes. Draco Lucius Malfoy. To see a real pureblood in these halls-"

Draco stared at the tapestry. That was no other than Walburga Black. He recognised her from a family portrait in Malfoy manor. The sound had been familiar. She used to scream at him, too, after the war. Another dead relative who thought killing people was fun. His eyes burned in his hatred. His heart filled with the desire to get rid of this old crone. Of the old traditions and rules of blood relations. It had never been his choice to whom he was related to. Why did they all think they could decide who he was or whom to serve or where he belonged in this world?! What he was, what he truly was, was the result of crossbreeding and incest. Draco felt disgusted with himself for thinking it. For it being the truth.

"You're dead. So shut the fuck up," Draco snarled at her, really not in the mood for this conversation.

Her eyes twitched into a scowl and she raised her voice once again. "That is no way to speak to your relatives! You come into MY HOUSE -"

Draco directed his wand at her painting, glad that his mother had taught him how these bitches worked. Back, when he had been so overwhelmed by their presence and insolence, Narzissa Malfoy had helped him get rid of his demons.

"Incensus familiares patronem," he casted loud and clear, venom in his voice. It was satisfying to watch how her portrait halted. With a grumble, Draco got to his feet and slit his finger open with his wand. Then, he smeared the blood over her eyes and whispered the spell a second time. With that, the portrait burned away, raining ash on the carpet beneath his feet. He left out a relived sigh as he put his wand away. It took him a moment to remember that he technically wasn't allowed to use magic. But he didn't give a damn right now. Let them take his wand. Let them lock him away. It was still better than the future that awaited him. It was a thousand times better than to listen to this old hag.

He blinked his anger away. It was only then that Draco realised this wasn't HIS portrait. He hissed in a breath and looked at his bleeding hand. There was definitely a reason why Black had kept her here in the hallway. Heck, that was the portrait of Black's MOTHER. Now he could definitely forget about staying here. He cowered back on the ground, hiding his face in his knees. He felt resigned, more than anything.

Gosh, he kept blowing things up.

"Malfoy?" It could only have been seconds when he looked up into Potter's stupid emerald eyes. Snape stood right behind him in his long black capes and a cold expression on his face. If it weren't for the worry in his eyes, Draco might have said he were indifferent to Draco's state.

"Draco, I hope this isn't another one of your breakdowns," said Snape coldly.

Draco glared at him. "It's not like I can control them."

Snape, strangely enough, bent down and checked his forehead. "You did not take any poison, did you?" His voice was oddly soft and Draco relaxed hearing it. He shook his head. He should tell them about the portrait. He should apologise.

"You're bleeding," Potter noticed and grabbed Draco's hand, ever observant the bastard.

Someone perked their head through the kitchen door, clearly annoyed by something, and it was Sirius Black who glared at them. "Merlin's beard, who of you idiots woke up my..." His eyes fell on the portrait, then Draco's bleeding hand.

Lupin's head perked up right beside him, trying to hold him back. "It told you to leave him be for a moment!" He must have grabbed Black by the arm to physically stop him from going after Draco.

Draco winced. "I'm sorry. I had a ... fit... And... well... I kind of destroyed the portrait. I really am sorry." He waved at the portrait with the hand that wasn't held captive by Potter's. He wanted to explain more when something changed in Black's eyes, rendering Draco's apology silent.

"Oh, we are so definitely keeping him."

"What?" Somehow, Draco didn't know if he had said this or Potter or perhaps even Severus Snape himself.

Sirius Black BEAMED. "You HAVE to tell me how you did that! I've been trying to get rid of her for MONTHS." Perhaps even longer, according to his gaze. Something heavy lifted from Draco's heart.

It turns out that eradicating Walburga from Black's wall was the best thing he could have done.

It had been all it took to get in good graces with his cousin. None of the Weasley's seemed too pleased to have him here, though Molly Weasley seemed to warm up to him, once she realised that he was undernourished, which gave her a reason to mother him to death.

Strange people, these motherly people were. Nothing mattered more to them than that you were fed. She became aware of Draco's state when Snape handed her the draughts that Draco always took in the evening and in the morning. And he gave them to her because, as Snape explained, he didn't trust Draco to not accidentally take them all at once. Draco's complaints from the beginning of the year seemed to have finally gotten through to him.

Understanding mixed into Molly Weasley's confused brown eyes. Someone needed to keep him from killing himself. And it seemed Molly Weasley had just become his chosen defender.

Thankfully, it had been a private discussion between the three of them. Draco still would have chosen someone else to supervise him. According to Snape, however, there WAS no one else. Everyone else at that table was either a minors, a werewolf or Sirius Black. Somehow, Draco didn't think that Severus was referring to Black's public reputation as a serial killer. Whatever this was, it was personal.

Snape didn't leave immediately after their private discussion in the hallway, he only watched long enough to see Molly put away the draughts and cast magic charms on a cabinet in the kitchen. Then, finally, Snape didn't say goodbye and vanished out the door without another word to either of them. Draco wondered if the public placement of his medicine kind of defeated the purpose of keeping his condition private. Another part wished he had said goodbye.

Anyway, that was that.

By the way, when Draco had said 'private discussion', he meant the door had been wide open and several people had been right there to witness this.

Harry remained quiet the entire time as he sat down at the kitchen table. As soon as Draco sat down in front of him, he gazed up at him.

Only he and Ronald Weasley remained in the kitchen with him, along with Sirius and Lupin, when Molly declared she had some other things to do. The other Weasleys had also seemed to find the discussions rather boring and left to do their respective private things.

It didn't take long for Sirius to start a discussion with Draco about how to control those stupid paintings. Which surprised Draco. Black was the only heir to the Black estate. Surely he knew how to get rid of those paintings? In the meantime, Remus Lupin was healing the wounds on Draco's hand with a single wave of his wand.

"Didn't your parents teach you how to remove the paintings?" It was an odd question to ask an adult when you were a teenager. It was okay to ask when you were the same age, or when you were an adorable child. Strange, that.

Black shook his head. "My parents didn't like me very much. They hated that I turned out a Gryffindor. Unlike you, I broke tradition. And I was perhaps a bit too fond of Muggle stuff for them to handle. Eventually, I did everything I could to make them hate me more. I wondered how long it would take until they kicked me out and burned me from the ancestry."

There was a bit of an accusation in that sentence, but Draco understood anyway. Not that he had ever been much of a rebel himself. "I can imagine. The first week of this term, I started taking Muggle lessons. My father sent me a howler. I burned it before I opened it. I already knew what he'd say." Draco fumbled with his new scar on his hand. The wound may be completely healed but it would take a few weeks until it would fade.

"You're taking Muggle studies?," Sirius whistled through his teeth. "Damn. I'd have done that, too, but I kind of wanted to share as many classes with my mates as possible."

Draco nodded rather thin lipped. He didn't like that Snape had left. He felt awfully alone. Alone with a convicted criminal, his former werewolf teacher and Potter of all people. And a whole family of people who wouldn't bat an eye if he died.

Sirius blinked again. "You're a lot different than what I expected."

Draco sighed. Was that meant to be a good thing? He didn't answer for a while, unsure how to respond.

That's when Potter coughed. "Speaking of things that don't turn out quite as expected. I would like to talk with you two about what Snape wanted from me earlier."

Draco turned to him and wondered since when he was included in all those secret missions that no one ever talked to him about in his past life. When had that happened? Where had been the turn? "Snape wants to teach me occlumency. Dumbledore wants me to learn it."

Sirius heaved a breath as did Lupin. Both of them seemed surprised. Draco naturally didn't. Potter turned to him with a quizzical expression. "He thinks that my dreams could end, if I learned it. But... they saved Mr. Weasley's life. So I don't know what -" He inhaled a deep breath. "I don't know if that's a good idea." Was the question directed at Draco?

"He wants to WHAT? Why didn't you say so sooner? You think I'll let that slimebag just invade your mind?" Suddenly, Sirius was wildly mad again.

Lupin, always the voice of reason stopped him. "If Dumbledore says it's a good idea-"

"What is occlumency?", asked Ronald.

Draco turned to him in surprise. Hadn't Potter already told him about Potters and his discussion about the matter?

Nervously, unsure if Potter had meant for it to remain a secret, he decided to explain. "It's like a mind shield. The Dark Lord is powerful enough to invade people's minds with legilimency. It makes him see everything they see, know what they know. It's... hella scary when it happens to you. Aunt Bellatrix got that trick down, too. Occlumency is a way to blockade that force from breaking into your head."

"And naturally, you can do it," Weasley rolled his eyes. To be fair, he hung out with Granger. he was bound to be annoyed when people around him knew things he didn't.

"I can," Draco nodded, earning surprised glances from everyone but Harry. "But the methods that were used to teach me... they left their mark. I'd be careful with who you chose to teach you." He gripped his left arm tight again, even though it was not the mark he was referring to.

Harry bit his lip. "You said it was very invasive. Legilimency."

That had heads turn in his direction.

Draco ignored them, feeling like he was suddenly having an intimate conversation with Potter. He nodded. "Extremely. You don't want just anyone in your head. With you, being taught by Snape- I don't know why Dumbledore would chose Snape. I mean, Snape would be an excellent teacher for me. But for you- I don't think he's a good choice." Draco chanced a look at Lupin, knowing that Potter had once favoured the man as a DADA teacher. Knowing, at the same time, that Lupin was the biggest worrywart in the room right now. "No matter how good at legilimency Severus is, no matter how much I trust him, the same does not count for Potter. Severus doesn't accept failure, and Potter doesn't care what people think of him. Severus may be patient but Potter is not. Severus will only tire him out and learn every of his most private thoughts in the process."

"But that makes Severus just like Voldemort, in his relation to Harry, doesn't it?," asked him Lupin as though Draco's opinion somehow mattered. Unexpectedly, they suddenly treated him like an adult. "They are equal in this field and of similar standing to Harry. If Harry can keep HIM out, then he can keep both of them out."

Draco shook his head. "My point is, at some point Potter will just let him. He may start off alright at first, motivated to prove himself, but if he gets invaded over and over and over again he'll just stop caring. It's normal. After getting the feeling for the invasion, you'll just accept it. With Snape it would be like you expect him to develop a resistance to poison by shoving a full dose in his face. This process is taxing and leaves you emotionally drained. He may not recover properly and be more vulnerable than he was before. With Potter, I think it would be better to do it gradually. If he has a few successes in between, he'll be far more likely to get the hang of it. And Severus is not the type to let you notice your successes."

"Is that how you were taught?" asked Sirius, thinking hard about it.

Draco's eyes hardened. A part of him wanted to laugh. "No." He looked away. "But if you want to teach him, know that it's nothing short of a violation and it's not something you recover from easily. Do you really want to risk it? Put him in that position?"

Potter then glared at him. Draco hadn't noticed but somehow, Potter had grown angry during his explanation. "I'm not weak! Why do you think YOU would do better under Snape than me?"

Draco returned the glare. "Because Severus' won't be satisfied until you've done it right. I am used to those method's. I'm the type who fights until they succeed. I'm not saying you're weak. Learning occlumency is painful for everyone. I'm telling you Severus' method's won't work on you, BECAUSE you're stronger than me. You wouldn't break under the expectations, or the violation, you'll just get used to the pain. I didn't."

Lupin and Black exchanged a look.

Potter looked at Draco, the glare dimming. For an odd moment, he flushed and turned away. "You offered to teach me. Does that offer still stand?"

The question took Draco by surprise. "It does. I may not be good at legilimency, but that doesn't matter for starters. I'm sure once you get the hang of it, it doesn't matter how strong your opponent is. What counts is how strong your will is. Still, you should choose someone you trust, Potter. It may sound better to train with someone who is your enemy, someone who is similar to Voldemort. But the truth is, you will be more inclined to let someone in that you trust. If you manage to shield yourself against someone like that, then you can shield yourself against anyone."

Lupin nodded in deep thought. "I'll talk with Dumbledore about it."

Black didn't seem so sure. "I mean... I understand the point and I'm much happier if it's not Snivelus who teaches you... but Malfoy? No offence, but do you trust him that much?"

Draco did not feel offended at all. He had the same concerns.

Harry considered carefully. "Better him than Snape, I think. I'm willing to try it. He's a risk to all of us anyway, now that he knows where the Order of the Phoenix is."

Draco blinked at him. He looked around, finding everyone nodding. And a pin dropped in his head. THIS was the headquarter of the Order of the Phoenix? He was at the heart of the rebellion? He felt his pulse picking up. He hadn't expected the other side to be this dark. At least... the furniture.

Weasley seemed still a bit conflicted. "Are you sure, Harry? I mean, I know he's changed. But he's still Draco Malfoy. Do you really want him in your head?" What Draco heard was: 'Doesn't it sound way too convenient that he knows how to help you?'

"Yes, I'm sure." This time, there was no room for arguments in Potter's voice.

There was more silence as Draco's eyes widened in surprise. He looked around. They all agreed? "Do none of you know how to use occlumency? Do you not KNOW anyone else?"

Potter's expression dimmed. "I mean, I suppose Dumbledore could teach me." Ah, right. Potter had mentioned that he was still mad at Dumbledore for avoiding him for so long. Draco wondered what was up with that. He could somehow understand, since the Dark Lord would have access to Dumbledore under these circumstances, but... Oh... That must be it.

Sirius seemed to want to avoid the new argument and got to his feet. "How about I show you your room, Draco?"

That, again, threw Draco off guard. "My room?"

"Yes, you can have my brother's old room. He was a Death Eater, too. Died in the name of Voldemort. Full blooded Slytherin. You're gonna love it."

That was a low blow. Draco felt uncomfortable already. But he stood up anyway. "We can talk about the specifics later, Potter." Potter just watched him leave, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth like there was something else he wanted to say.

The room was on the top floor of the building. Dark wood greeted him, decorated with a small silver plate that read 'Regulus Arcturus Black'. That must have been Sirius' brother.

When Draco stepped in, he didn't know what to expect. But opposed to the rest of the house, the room looked like it was actually well maintained. And, as promised, it was the room of a Slytherin, as proven by the moving pictures on the wall, though the Quidditch team on one of the pictures was long outdated. They must have been from the time when Regulus still went to school. Everything else seemed oddly normal. There was a comfortable looking bed with a nightstand, a desk, a wardrobe and a probably cursed bookshelf.

Other than what Draco would have imagined, there was little in the room that reminded you of the Dark Arts, and more of a bookworm with slightly questionable tastes in literature. The Dark Arts began and ended with the books and those were mostly the same that Draco had at home. Even if there were a few others that seemed to focus an awful lot on soul magic, and of course Regulus didn't own the same therapy guide books that Draco owned in the future.

"Well, this is it. Have fun." Sirius told him and closed the door behind himself. Draco felt a bit put off by that, but shook himself out of it, as he went to investigate the room further. He dropped his luggage off beside the bed.

There really wasn't much to do here. He wasn't the type to put all his stuff in someone else's wardrobe. He could live out of his bag. It looked like no one had been in here in years. Suddenly, it occurred to Draco that perhaps, Sirius' sudden departure had less to do with taunting him and more with escaping the memories that this room provided.

Right.

Draco froze in his stand. As he had been told, Regulus Black had died during a job for the Dark Lord. Maybe it was fitting that he'd be here now.

Draco shook his head, then pulled one of the books from the shelves. Maybe he could investigate, then. Perhaps he could figure out what Regulus had died for. Maybe he could prepare himself for the upcoming war by studying the things that were so dark that even the manor couldn't stand to keep them. The Dark Lord was the darkest wizard to have lived since Grindelwald. Surely, the information he passed on to his loyal lackeys could be useful if put together by someone smart. Not that Draco expected to find anything useful here.

Black lived here. This was headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. They had surely already rummages through these shelves and brought Dumbledore all the information they could gather.

Draco's hand found a big old tome. It stood out to him because it didn't quite fit with the rest. He couldn't really say why that was. All these books looked old and worn and used. But this one... more so. It wasn't older than the other ones but it's pages were darker. More crumbled and bloated, as if the book had made an awful encounter with water once upon a time and never fully recovered from it. Curiously, he opened the book. The book was full of marked pages. And so, Draco leaned against the bookshelf and flipped through the pages and read the paragraphs that had been underlined and commented on.

And the more Draco flipped the pages, the more invested he got. It took him a couple marked pages to register that he had just stumbled on to something extraordinary. Gobsmacked by his discovery, Draco paused to look up at the ceiling and the room, to make sure he wasn't dreaming. No way had he just found what he had just found!

He read the page multiple times, while his mind made a detour through his past.

Harry Potter and his strange connection to the Dark Lord.... He had heard of his father what had happened at the Graveyard. Back then, Draco had not been very pleased to hear of the strange magic that brought the dead back to life. But after seeing pretty much the same magic be performed during Potter's final battle with the Dark lord, he had to admit he had been curious.

Potter and his friends had been out in the wild for a year without anyone knowing what they were up to. Draco had believed them to be hiding at first. But then, they had stolen something from Bellatrix' vaults in Gringotts. During the battle of Hogwarts, Draco had been stationed by the Dark Lord himself to keep Potter from stealing a diadem from the room of requirements. Not that he had known what he had been told to protect. They had only been searching for SOMETHING at the time. Multiple things apparently. Back then, Draco had assumed they would have searched for a weapon. But they had used none of the stolen objects in the war.

In fact, Draco remembered that the Diadem had been destroyed by the fiendfire. Potter had risked his neck for that thing. For the Diadem, for Draco and himself. And if Draco remembered that look correctly, Potter had seemed almost relieved to find the Diadem destroyed. Almost as if it had been the plan to dispose of it all along.

Draco hadn't wasted much time thinking about those oddities until now. He had merely noticed them and stored them away under the file of the dozen weird things happening around Potter that he would never understand.

So, when Draco opened the marked page that read "Horkrux", he felt his soul leave his body. The marks on that page were all over the place. Where before, the commentator had underlined a few sections and made a comment here and there, this page was covered in chicken scratch. As if Regulus Black had left it on purpose for someone, or him to find. Nearly every sentence had its own comment section. The marker had been put on so thick that it bled through onto the underlying pages and the water damage blurred half the words together. It was still readable though.

Draco sat down on the ground and covered his mouth. This page explained in utter detail on how to create a Horkrux. How to split your soul in half and store it in an object to keep yourself alive, even after you were killed. Draco was burning. He felt, as if all the questions of his past suddenly aligned in one giant puzzle, finally fitting together.

On the same page had been underlined how Horkruxes could be destroyed, and it were few things that could achieve such a thing. Someone had left a handwritten note: 'Make sure HE doesn't find out you know.' The marked lines spoke of Basilisk poison. Of the creator's will to destroy the object themselves. And, of course, the one thing that really hit the information home: Fiendfire.

Draco put the book down and flipped back to the front page. There, in the same tiny chicken scratch stood his initials. 'R.A.B.' Regulus Black had been trying to find and destroy Horkruxes.

The Dark Lord's Horkruxes. Because that was what the Dark Lord had been doing all this time, hadn't he? This is why the man could be revived, why he couldn't die, why he handed out random objects for his Death Eaters to protect with their life.

Draco didn't know much about Regulus Black, but his father had known him. Right now, to his shock and grief, Draco was sure, the story about Regulus dying during a mission for the Dark Lord was wrong. They had gotten it all wrong!

Harry Potter's speeches and explanations at the end of the war had been full of secrecy. Interviews with him had revealed next to nothing. Why? Draco's reality shifted. How could it be that easy? He couldn't have just randomly stumbled on the answers to all his questions.!

More puzzle pieces added up in his mind. And Draco decided to pay attention. What exactly had happened during the one year that Potter had been gone? What had happened that made the Dark Lord mad? What had been his priorities in the war? What decisions had he made that didn't seem to make any sense?

Voldemort had kept his pet snake close, at the very end, when she clearly hadn't been happy about it. He had tried to keep her calm by feeding her more at their time at the manor. The Death Eaters had even been ordered to keep the dangerous beast safe and entertained. That had been odd, but... Nagini had been killed by Neville Longbottom with the Sword of Gryffindor. Could it be that Nagini... But Nagini was a snake, a living creature. And the sword was just...

Draco halted, his blood pulsing in his ears. He opened the page again. Basilisk venom could kill a Horkrux. The sword had been bathed in that stuff. The sword was goblin made and goblin made steel absorbed all the things that made it stronger.

If that was the case... then ... Draco's mind reeled as he was reminded why Potter had to kill the Basilisk in the first place. There had been talk about a Diary. Tom Riddle's diary. A manifestation of a young Voldemort. What if... but then... Dumbledore had held a speech at the end of the year had revealed Tom Vorlost Riddle as Voldemort's dead name. And Potter had destroyed that one with the teeth of a basilisk.

And the Diadem that Draco had been told to protect... Draco knew where the Diadem was! The thing that Potter had been searching for and that had gotten destroyed in the fiendfire!

Draco's heart was racing. He had just found it. He had found the answer.

Tears welled up in his eyes. He could stop this. He could stop it all from happening! Finally he knew what he needed to do! He could help after all!

And for the first time since he came here, he heard himself burst with laughter. Not one to compensate his self hatred. This one was pure relief. It was a freeing laughter. It shook his muscles like nothing else ever had. Not even Quidditch training. With his hope, he felt his stomach growl and that made him hiccup again. Draco stared at the ceiling and smiled.

He took a deep breath and wiped of the tears. Alright. He needed to calm down. No reason to hurry. He would figure this out. He couldn't let his excitement blind him. He may not know how many Horkruxes existed, but he now knew what Voldemort's weakness was. It was a start. And finally, Draco had a plan. He could help.

Draco carried these thoughts with him to dinner. Where he actually managed to shovel down a decent meal. Well... most of it. Under Molly Weasley's insistence, even the rest of his plate. Though it made him feel full enough to puke.

"You need to eat more, my boy. You're thinner than Harry."

"HEY!," Potter countered half heartedly.

"She's right," said Remus. "You look like you've been starving yourself."

Draco felt uncomfortable under all these glances. "It's... complicated."

"He's depressed," said Ronald through a mouth full of the cheesecake that Draco had refused to eat.

"Thank you, Weasley." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Oh come on, call me Ron already. There are too many Weasleys in this room for you to stay on last name basis, Draco."

Draco sighed.

"What do you mean depressed?"

Unfortunately, all the Weasley's loved to chit chat and couldn't shut up for the life of them.

"Not just depressed," said one of the twins meaningfully. "Downright suicidal," finished the other.

"He poisoned himself in potions," said the first again.

Molly reached for her own heart.

"Stop bringing that up. It was an accident."

"And not the first time it happened," countered Ron. "According to Harry."

"Thank you, Potter."

"Hey!" Potter glared at Ronald. "I told you it was a secret!"

Ronald shrugged.

"How can you drink poison on accident?," asked Ginny Weasley.

"By downing it in one go. Snape wrote the name of the poison on the vials too," Ron added to the confusion.

"Will you shut up?!" Harry sounded pissed. How kind of him.

Molly exhaled a deep breath. "Is that why Severus doesn't trust you with your medicine?"

Draco wondered if he actually needed to answer that question, or if another Weasley had a smart answer prepared for him.

"You're not exactly helping him by putting him on the spot like that." Finally, Harry seemed to have had enough. "Cut him some slack. We're lucky he's eating at all! This is twice than what he usually eats in a day!"

Draco side glanced him. Did Potter watch him so much that he would know that? Strangely enough, his observation was quite accurate. Potter masked that strange admission by shoving more cake in his own mouth.

Eventually, Draco got up. "Well, this is awkward. I'm going to bed."

Sirius stopped him, because of course they weren't done taunting him. Sirius especially seemed to revel in the opportunity to do so. "Speaking of, how is my brother's room? Found any interesting curses yet?" He seemed curious. But his attempt to figure out Draco's intentions wasn't at all subtle.

Draco blinked. "Something like that." He'd ask him another day if he had known about Regulus. If he had known that Regulus was trying to save them all and even died for it. Or had the sacrifice been lost, only written on paper that none of his family members had bothered to read? Draco found this sad but also comforting. Regulus and him weren't so different. And that made Draco hopeful.

"Oh, quick question. We will be going to St. Mungo's tomorrow. Will you be joining us?," asked Potter, because no one here understood a 'good night' for what it was.

Draco sighed. "I can't imagine Arthur Weasley would be very excited about my visit."

Potter grinned. "True, but I'd like to see you try and get a train ticket in the Muggle world."

Draco stared at him. Draco stared, because the idea had completely escaped his mind. In his own time, he had a drivers license, a car, and an oyster card. Which he used sometimes just to pass the time that he wasn't either stuck at work or at home. He liked trains. And the Subway. They calmed him down. "Right."

He didn't wait for another response, because honestly, he'd be stuck in this kitchen forever if he did. Instead he went into Regulus's room and decided to sleep. Or attempt to. In his bed, there lay a creature, hugging something close to it's heart. Draco knew a houseelf when he saw one. But like... in his BED? "Erm...," he said unintelligently.

The creature stared at him, clutching a small object in its fingers, before recognising him. "You!," it growled. "Traitor of the house of Black, burning my mistress' portrait! Think they can do everything in this house and now take Master Regulus's room."

"Get the fuck out!," Draco said, beyond irritated. He had NEVER met a houseelf this rude.

Grumblingly, the creature got off the bed and glared at him, before heading down the stairs and cursing under his breath. Draco stared at the bed and cast a cleaning spell on it. Nothing against houseelfs, but that one looked filthy as hell.

It wasn't their first visit to Mr. Weasley. Which was probably why the tension hadn't been all that bad when Draco had first dropped in. Potter informed him that Mr. Weasley was well on the road to recovery, in fact. Which explained why they had all been willing to laugh at his expense.

Draco got a few strange glances when he presented himself in modern Muggle clothes. Just normal black Jeans and a green shirt with a black vest on top. He never got how wizards had such trouble choosing Muggle clothes. Style wasn't an inherently wizard trait. Draco just picked out things he thought looked nice. Not things he thought Muggle's wouldn't notice. Wizards tended to think the weirder they looked, the more likely they were to pass. Which was just bullshit. Even muggles had a sense for finesse. Even if they didn't, Draco would never abandon his own.

"I don't think you'll pass for a muggle like that," commented Ronald Weasley, who was dressed in a self made Pullover as well as a pair of Jeans. Which was oddly sensible for a pureblood. Molly Weasley did a lot more shabby of a job, with her wide polkadot skirt with a dress on top.

"No, he does. Just like one who keeps up with the newest trends and brands," said Potter and Draco felt a bit proud when he saw a hint of annoyance there. Potter was scanning his full attire and seemed to find nothing wrong with it, to his clear chagrin. There was something else in his gaze though. In other words, Draco looked good for Muggle standards.

Potter himself wore simple Jeans and another Weasley Pullover. The curious glance didn't leave Potter's eyes though, even when they left the house with flooh powder and had Molly Weasley magic the soot off of them. Draco would have preferred literally any other form of transportation.

To get to St. Mungo's, they were using the Subway. Draco watched with amusement as Potter tried to teach him how to work an Oystercard. Draco could only roll his eyes but decided to feign interest. He hadn't seen Potter in good spirits often. Especially now that he had witnessed Mr. Weasley's almost death, saved his life, and thenn had been told that he needed to stop doing that... he could need some cheering up. Letting him have have a little fun at Draco's expense was only fair after everything Draco had caused him in the past.

Eventually, Potter stopped however. "You already know how these work, don't you?" He looked somewhat miffed.

"What? No?" Draco raised both eyebrows. "Why would I know how Muggle's use their trains?"

"You're lying," Potter pointed at his face. "Don't think I can't see it when you lie. You're far too obvious."

Ronald raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, Harry. He doesn't look like he's got a clue."

"No, he does," Potter insisted with a pout.

Draco opened his mouth but closed it again. How on earth could Potter tell? "Alright. You're right," he sighed and finally used the bank card that they had been given to transfer some money to his new Oystercard. He entered the code and put about 15 pounds on the card. He didn't know how far they would be travelling that day, but he did know that there was a limit on how much you could end up paying within a day. Of course there was inflation and such, but he guessed it couldn't be more than twelve pounds for a day. Besides, inflation mostly happened forward in time. He had travelled eleven years into the past. Then, he walked through the metal gates that could only be entered by letting the sensor accept his card. Without a hitch, he passed through. It wasn't that difficult once you knew how it worked.

"Harry, what the hell?," asked Ron who was still fighting with the bankcard. "How did you know he knew?"

"What do you mean? He couldn't be more obvious." Potter looked honestly confused at Weasley's outrage.

Draco had no fucking idea how Potter could tell, either. He only knew with certainty that Potter hadn't been reading his mind. He might as well have, though.

"More importantly, how DO you know how to use the Subway? You don't look the type to ever use Muggle transportation," said Potter.

Draco sighed. "I learned it in Muggle studies?"

Potter narrowed his eyes. "No... No I'm pretty sure you didn't."

"Boys, stop dilly dalling. We got to go!," Molly Weasley yelled over her shoulder and soon they were surrounded by too many Muggles to continue the conversation.

Draco could only hear Ronald whispering to Potter: "Seriously, Harry. I swear, it's like you're psychic." Draco could only agree. He didn't understand the hurry though. The trains left like every ten minutes or so.

...

Eventually, they landed in the alley where the entrance to St. Mungo's was hidden. It was disguised as a shopping window for very creepy looking puppets that claimed it was under restoration. They changed the location once per decade. In Draco's time, they had made the entrance through a shop for Goth clothes. Which is why Draco hadn't seen this one yet.

Suddenly, Draco was reminded of the fact that some of his former or even current patients may still be in this place. The ones sent to him had been in St. Mungo's for a couple of years before they deemed them impossible cases that could be used for the 'Malfoy experiment'. It was unlikely that he would run into them, as they should be on closed floors. He knew they wouldn't recognise him, even if they saw him. But Draco knew their stories. Had related to their pain, had helped them and sent some of them off back home. All his work... undone. Draco swallowed, feeling Potter's gaze heavy on his back.

He was glad that they didn't waste any time at the reception. Mr. Weasley's location had not been changed since their last visit. They just walked through the corridors that Draco already knew by heart and passed a couple healers who scoffed at the sight of him. They likely hadn't forgotten his visit from last summer and still thought him a liar.

Draco was glad when they finally stood in Mr. Weasley's room.

Meeting Mr. Weasley was another thing entirely, though. As his eyes rested on Malfoy, he seemed confused at first, then closed off emotionally. His posture, despite lying in bed was hostile, defensive. That was the moment Draco registered he really shouldn't have come. He should have remained outside in the hallway. The only reason he was here was because Potter insisted he make a fool of himself on the train. A plan which failed spectacularly. Why had he blindly followed the other's inside?

"Excuse me," Draco said, even though Mr. Weasley hadn't said a thing, and moved out the room pretty much as soon as they had entered. "My mistake," he muttered to himself.

He could vaguely hear Molly Weasley starting to whisper explain to Mr. Weasley why Draco was there. But Potter followed him outside. That alone put Draco even more on edge. "You know, you don't have to avoid everyone you meet, right?," said Potter, arms crossed and judgmental as he looked down on Draco.

Draco sighed. Just why couldn't Potter ever mind his own business? "I don't expect you to understand, Potter." He didn't look at him, but stopped in front of the door, leaning against the nearest wall, just outside the earshot of the members of the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're insecure because you changed sides and no one believes that you did because it doesn't make sense that you would. Especially as sudden as you have. And now you're scared, every time you talk with someone who still sees you as an enemy, because you don't think you deserve to be trusted."

Draco stared at him. Where the HECK did that come from?

"I'm right, aren't I?," Potter insisted.

Slowly, Draco nodded, though he couldn't fathom how Potter of all people could look through him like this. "Well, yeah, obviously," Draco finally replied when Potter remained quiet. What else was he supposed to say? 'Congratulations, Potter, you just dismantled my entire personality, I am now cured from all my problems.'

Potter clearly wanted answers but he considered carefully what he asked next. "Why DID you change sides? What happened?" Potter's emerald eyes bored into Draco's grey ones, disarming him right where he stood. "You're not the type to just break down over a simple argument with your father. You're the type who ignores everything people tell you, just to please him. To do what is expected of you. You're the type who takes blood relations over everything else. Not because you're a pureblood but because you care about your family. So, I don't understand why you would turn your back on them so suddenly."

Draco shook his head and covered his mouth in a moment of shock. Yeah... why was that? Even now, he valued his parents life. He loved them like he loved little else in the world. But love was a two way street. Yes, his mother had lied to the Dark Lord to keep him alive. Yes, his father had always done everything to ensure Draco had a good upbringing. But that was all they had done for him. And maybe, sometimes, love simply wasn't enough.

They were the ones who had sold him to the Dark Lord. They may have advised him against taking the Dark Mark, but they were still the ones who instilled his ideologies in his brain. The ideologies that made him believe that taking the Mark was an honour. That killing muggles was his duty to his family. They had raised Draco as a coward and murderer.

They had never told him how much pain it would bring. Never told him they would become slaves, would belong to someone else, would be used and disposed off at Voldemort's will. They hadn't told him that in order to keep at least his thoughts to himself, he would have to bear exposing them to a wicked maniac first. They didn't tell him how connected and dependent to the Dark Lord he would become, once he had accepted the Mark. Draco hadn't known that he would be a hostage to keep his parents under control. He hadn't been told he'd be responsible for hundreds of deaths. No one had told him it would burn. How much his mind and heart would reject the deformation on his body, even beyond the Dark Lord's death. They had failed to mention that this choice would twist his soul for the rest of his life.

"It's okay. In your own time, Malfoy."

That, Draco had expected even less. Draco hadn't answered the question. Instead, he was staring into the sterile air in the hallway. Draco forced himself to relax. It wasn't often that people gave him time to explain, time to think. Few ever backed off when he needed them to. And when they did, they usually backed off for good. Draco hadn't realised how much he had needed that.

Draco closed his eyes for a moment. He leaned against the wall. He did his breathing exercise and hoped he didn't look like a complete fool. Just a few minutes of relaxing and breathing and surely he would be able to face him again. Then, once he was ready, Draco exhaled.

"Of course I care about my family," he finally said. He said it slowly. "But I can't save them. I can't protect them from this. And I cannot go down with them." In his head, he added the word 'again', but Potter didn't know enough to hear them. Or did he? Draco could no longer be sure.

He couldn't tell Potter the full truth. Lucius Malfoy was still considered an influential voice in this society. He hadn't even been arrested yet for what had happened last year. People hadn't even heard of it yet.

Even if Draco decided to go back to his parents, he knew he'd be nothing but a liability. His father would lose his wand. His mother would risk her life to protect Draco. But they would only do it because he would be caught with them. And what could Draco do? The most noteworthy thing he had ever done was to let Potter take his own wand. That and pretend he didn't recognise him when Bellatrix had been so desperate to use Draco to get back into Voldemort's good graces. THAT was what Draco had been pardoned for. He couldn't go back there to be useless again. He simply couldn't just look away and let it all unfold again. He had just found a way to play a meaningful part in this war. In his own way. So that when the war was over, he could look his father in the eyes and finally forgive him. So he could look his mother in the eye and hug her one more time. So he could look in the mirror and know he had done everything in his power for the right people to win. So that he could finally accept Potter's pardon. He found himself desperate enough to even die for that wish. And that realisation made him pause.

Up until now, hadn't he always been fighting just to survive?

Potter put a hand on his shoulder. Their eyes met and Draco wiped off a stray tear from his cheek. "You're doing your best, Draco. I know it's hard for you. Padfoot is going through the same thing, I think. Everyone thinks he's a murderer. And he had to fight against his family's beliefs all his life."

Draco blinked. "Who's Padfoot?"

Potter blinked. "Oh... erm," he suddenly leaned in to whisper. "It's Sirius. It's his ... pet name?. Pseudonym. You'll see." Potter couldn't fight a small smile.

"Uhu." Draco thought about it with a frown. "But I'm not like him. He's fought his family from the very beginning. He knew at eleven that he didn't belong with them. And he hated them. I'm more like..." He paused. He almost said 'Regulus', but he couldn't just sprout that kind of thing out of nowhere. "I mean... I love my parents. Defying them and everything they taught me..." He closed his eyes again. "It just seems impossible." Because it had still shaped who he was. It felt like cutting off his own limbs and he did it anyway.

Potter tilted his head for a moment, then he did the unthinkable. In the middle of the St. Mungo's hospital, Potter pulled Draco into a hug for the very first time. Draco didn't immediately hug back, his posture straightening in surprise. He was too stunned to know what to do with his arms that had reached out in an instinct. Almost as if to push Potter away. Draco fought that instinct and instead placed his hands gently around Potter's middle. Hesitantly, as if afraid Potter would push him away, Draco leaned in. His arm's fit around Potter easily and the warmth was something he hadn't accounted for, even though the hallway was heated enough. It was calming and shocking at the same time. Draco hadn't known those emotions could go along together.

When Potter pulled away, he sent Draco an awkward smile. "It's not impossible. You're already doing it." He clapped him on the shoulder again. Then he turned away to walk back into Mr. Weasley's room again. He was leaving Draco outside to collect his thoughts. It had been just two sentences, but they were full of validation for what Draco had been trying to do, trying to accomplish.

Just like that, he could breathe a little easier. Could feel his heart beat steadying in his chest. Brick by brick, step by step, Draco pulled himself back together. Then he followed Potter into Mr. Weasley's room.

He felt a little braver than before, when he faced Mr. Weasley. Even though the man didn't seem too happy to see him, he looked a lot less hostile than before. With every inch of what little courage Draco had gathered, he stretched out his hand. "Hello, Mr. Weasley. We've met. Albeit under different circumstances. I am Draco Malfoy, Lucius' Malfoy's son. As you know." Awkward wasn't beginning to cut it. "I wish you to get well soon." His hand was shaking despite himself.

Mr. Weasley hesitated but then grabbed Draco's hand and shook it. "Draco Malfoy. It's nice of you to visit me. Molly said you're staying with us over Christmas." It was not a question but it was wary enough to sound like one. Yet not hostile enough to suggest he'd want to get rid of Draco.

Draco let out a relieved breath. "Yeah. I couldn't imagine sitting under the Christmas tree opening presents with the Dark Lord," Draco joked nervously.

Mr. Weasley cracked a smile so sudden, Draco almost stepped back. He caught himself in the last moment. Instead, he pulled away his hand. It was only now that the severity of Mr. Weasley's wounds really registered in his mind. The man was nearly covered in bandages. Draco had seen more than enough of Nagini's victims to recognise her mark. His own smile dropped completely and he felt all blood leaving his face.

"I wouldn't even know what to get him for Christmas," said the man, still keeping on the accepting smile.

It seemed to cheer Mr. Weasley up, so Draco decided that was his cue to be encouraged. Draco playfully raised a brow. "No? A little bit of unicorns, muggles, houseelfs, I don't think he'd be very picky, as long as they're dead." Admittedly, Draco's humour was very cynical when it came to the Dark Lord.

"A sweater won't do?," asked Arthur Weasley back.

Draco shook his head. "I mean, you could try. I think he'd be thrilled to receive one of your famous Weasley sweaters. You can stitch a giant V on the front."

Weasley's smile didn't leave. "You're very different from your father," he said, causing Draco to still. "That's a compliment," he added as an afterthought.

Draco felt insulted, but also relieved. He exchanged a look with Potter who was sending him thumbs up. In the meantime he could see a lot more distressed expressions directed his way, but that didn't count when the Chosen one himself approved, right? "Well, not THAT different. But I try."

Mr. Weasley nodded. "I don't suppose that means you know how to heal these wounds? Lucius Malfoy is an expert when it comes to curses and how to revoke them."

Draco's smile fell. "I'm afraid the healers of St. Mungo's know more about this kind of venom than my father ever could. Nagini usually makes sure to kill. Her venom is none that can be easily mimicked nor treated. It is one of a kind. I wish I could help, but I can't."

The look he received then made Draco realise that he had just fucked up. Weasley's earlier warmth turned back into hostility.

"How do you know what attacked Mr. Weasley?" That was Potter's alarmed voice. "I haven't told you anything about that!"

Draco grabbed his left arm on instinct in his discomfort, shrinking under their gazes. "I don't need to know the specifics. I can tell by the wounds," he hurried to explain and only made things worse. "She likes to attack vital points last to have her prey suffer longer." Draco pointed at the bandages on the elbows and chin where an attack by a snake her size wouldn't do much except for hurt him. The one on his neck was a lot more dangerous and terrifying to see. "She follows a certain pattern." Draco said the last part weakly, remembering where he had seen that pattern last.

"You've seen the snake?," Mr. Weasley asked further. His eyes were wide. "You know her name?"

Draco felt put in the spotlight once again. An excuse, he needed an excuse... He could hardly explain to them that he had seen her during the war... Draco swallowed. "The Dark Lord had her in the first war. My father told me stories about her. He warned me not to underestimate her. She's sentient and intelligent and a danger to everyone she encounters. And perhaps the only creature that the Dark Lord really cares about." It was probably better to shut up sooner than later, lest he wanted to be interrogated. "Which is why that is all I know."

Luckily enough, his explanation seemed to satisfy Weasley enough to let Draco sneak away from the spotlight and into the shadows of the room. His information seemed to start another discussion among the adults. Draco concentrated more on his breathing, hoping not to be asked any further questions. He ran a hand through his sweaty white hair and leaned against another bed in the room that was occupied by a sleeping patient.

How they could sleep during this ruckus was beyond Draco but wasn't intending on focusing on them. Potter once again patted him on the shoulder. There was something in his eyes, and Draco knew without a doubt that Potter had seen through his lie. However, he seemed to trust that his lie was based on a traumatic event and not some kind of treachery. He left it alone. For now.

...

Their ride back was rather quiet after that. Apparently, they had already known what creature had attacked Mr. Weasley but they couldn't tell the healers either way, because Mr. Weasley was not supposed to have been in whatever place he had been when he had been attacked.

Draco hadn't asked. He instinctively knew it had to do with his role as member of the Order of The Phoenix and he, a mere child, wasn't meant to hear any of it. Draco didn't WANT to know any of it, but fact was, he remembered all too well what the Order was trying to defend in that place. Even if his knowledge on the prophecy remained a bit vague.

Draco looked out the train window and wondered what he should do now. Apparently, the Order was already defending the place. Could HE, Draco Malfoy, help them somehow without making himself even more suspicious than he already was? Was his information even worth a dime if they already knew where to place their members?

No doubt these people would tell Potter all about it. Probably forgetting, or perhaps not understanding that Potter was Voldemort's personal surveillance camera right now. The connection between them was scary and dangerous. Draco was pretty sure that showing his face here, at the heart of the Order, would be used by Voldemort against his parents. The information Draco had on the Horkruxes, he couldn't share with Potter. Not while HE was watching. It was bad enough that the Dark Lord already saw his breakdowns. Draco needed to use this connection to their advantage somehow. But how could he do that when he couldn't even lie to Potter? The Dark Lord may not be able to read him, but if Potter kept pointing out his lies...

Suddenly his idea to train Potter in occlumency sounded like a very stupid risk. Draco would have to be extremely careful from here on out. Should the Dark Lord ever figure out his Horkruxes were in danger, Draco would be putting the entire future in danger!

It also meant, the sooner Potter learned to close off his mind, the better.

...

Draco didn't talk much through dinner. He barely ate, too deep in thought. He would like to share with someone what he knew. But as it was, he was stuck. They would all ask too many questions, and with every person he shared his information with, the more risky his mission would become. Besides, the less people knew of the grand plan, the less danger they would be in. Surely that's why Dumbledore kept it all a secret, too.

In fact, the only person that Draco felt somewhat close to right now, was the idea in his head of Regulus Arcturus Black. So, after dinner, Draco went to look at the tapestry in the living room. It was interesting to see it. See his own face on the goddamn thing, while Sirius and Andromeda as well as one of their uncles had been blasted off. He glanced at the picture next to Sirius. Looked at Sirius' little brother. He was, if Draco would say so, average looking. He didn't have the same pretty flare about him that Sirius prided himself with. There was neither innocence nor arrogance in his eyes. He looked lost and deceived. But perhaps that was only Draco's projecting himself onto him.

"My parents loved him." Draco didn't move as Sirius walked in behind him. "He was average in school. But he had the right friends. Chose the right house. Chose the right person to follow. He was the pride of the family," Sirius said with a bitter edge to his tone. "Just like you."

"How did he die?," asked Draco because the comparison no longer stung.

"Hell if I know. No one told us. He was just... gone one day. Went with the Death Eaters and died in the name of Voldemort. I don't think I need to explain more."

Yes, that explained everything. "Did you hate him?"

Sirius blew out some air, as if he hadn't quite expected to walk into such an emotional room. Draco couldn't fathom why he had walked in in the first place. "He was my brother. I wasn't exactly thrilled that he followed my parent's example, or a bunch of deranged lunatics. But I cared about him. He was a pain in the ass but I loved him."

Draco looked down. "Do you think he could have changed?"

For a moment, there was no answer. Draco could feel him staring at him. "Maybe," Sirius said thoughtfully. "He wasn't completely stupid. Maybe if I had been a better brother, less of a rebellious..." Sirius sounded increasingly uncomfortable. "Why do you care about my brother?"

Draco moved a hand over Regulus' picture, feeling the texture of the tapestry. "I just... have a feeling that he wanted to."

"That's nice of you to say. But he was lost. Not everyone sees sense, Malfoy. You've seen his room. Seen what books he was interested in. I can't even read them because he put a spell on his bookshelf, like I did with the muggle posters in my room. You may have noticed, but no one can take out any of the books. You've met Kreacher. That houseelf was besotted with my brother because he turned out exactly as mother wanted. Anything that creature likes is beyond saving. Regulus... He would never have changed."

Draco nodded and let his hand down. "I can read his books."

"Then maybe he magicked them to only be read by Slytherins. I don't know. All I know is they are books on dark magic. I'd have thrown them out if I knew how to touch them."

Draco looked away. That surprised him a bit. From what he had gathered, he would have expected that Sirius had thrown the books in a lake or something and that Kreacher had pulled them out and put them back in the shelf. That's what he did with almost anything that Black tried to throw out. Just like he did with that weird locket he had tried to hide in this room a couple days back.

"Don't think too much about it. I gave you his room because you're both Slytherins. And because I thought it would be funny to see how you react if you got it. Don't worry. You couldn't be less alike."

Draco nodded, but knew it wasn't true.

"Molly told me to remind you to take your sleeping draught. She's put it on your nightstand." Those were the last words he said, before he left the room. Draco didn't feel like those words were particularly meant to cheer him up. But they gave him a hint on who to talk to next. Draco let out a relieved breath. he had shared just enough to gain the information he needed.

Draco walked the stairs back up to Regulus' room and picked out the book on Horkruxe's he had found. He waited until deep into the night when he knew everyone was sleeping and then snuck downstairs into the kitchen. If anyone asked... he had forgotten to take his medicine.

Draco had been right in his assumption to find him here. "You're Kreacher, aren't you?"

The houseelf turned to him with clear hostility in his eyes. "The young Malfoy. It is an honour to serve." He bowed until his long oily nose touched the ground and muttered insults and curses under his breath that were far too loud to be overheard. The thing was, Draco was still in blood relation to Sirius Black. So he knew the houseelf had to obey him. Technically speaking, that is.

"Please, sit. I need to talk to you."

"If that is what the young master wants. Blood traitor." Kreacher was incredibly ugly, even for a houseelf, Draco decided and deemed his assessment fair since the houseelf had insulted him first. Grudgingly, the creature sat on a chair and muttered more insults and curses to the table.

Draco put the book on the table before him. "I wanted to ask you something about your former master Regulus."

The hostile eyes turned to slits. "Master Regulus was a good master. He treated his mother well and he was always so kind to Kreacher. Kreacher will not talk bad about Master Regulus."

Draco nodded in understanding. Draco's memories trailed to Dobby, his family's former houseelf. Draco had used to complain to him about Harry Potter during summer break. Perhaps a bit more than he should have. A year later and that very same houseelf had turned his back on the Malfoy family and managed to get himself freed. And then chose to serve no other than Potter himself. Draco had heard later that Dobby had taken a knife for Potter after their grand escape from the manor. That houseelf had been more of a hero than Draco would ever dream to be. "I'm not asking you to," he said softly. Of course the houseelf would take better to a former master who had treated him well. Sirius seemed to hate the creature as he hated everything associated with this house. Draco however, knew that everything that breathed had a heart somewhere. Even Voldemort. They were to destroy Voldemort by piecing his heart back together, after all. "I have found this book in Regulus' room." He shoved the book more in Kreacher's direction to permit him to take a look at it.

He felt a bit distracted when Kreacher began blaming Draco for taking Regulus' precious bed and his personal things, but ignored him after all.

"One of these books describes how to destroy a certain kind of object. It was underlined, as if he wanted someone to find them. You cared for him. Do you know what it is he had wanted destroyed?"

The houseelf's eyes narrowed. He couldn't lie to Draco, but he could refuse to answer. Of course, the maniac still talked to himself. "Would never betray master regulus! They will not take it from Kreacher!"

Draco kept his composure. "I want to do it. If there is anything he wanted destroyed, I will make sure it's done. Did he have a lead? Did he know where to find one of these objects?"

The houseelf's perked up so suddenly, it had Draco startle. The houseelf knew something, for sure. "Master Regulus made Kreacher promise not to tell anyone. Master Regulus made Kreacher promise to destroy it, but Kreacher didn't know how. And Kreacher was not allowed to read in Master Regulus' books. Master Sirius wants to throw it out but Kreacher will not let that happen! Kreacher will protect it and destroy it, as master Regulus wished!"

Draco blinked, as hope bubbled up inside him. He had been right. "Does it have to do with the Dark Lord?"

The creature WINCED and Draco knew he just hit the jackpot. Chances were, the Horkrux was here.

Holy.

Shit.

Kreacher blinked, a tear in his big, soapy eyes and he looked angry. "It is all Kreacher has left of Master Regulus. It belongs to Kreacher."

Draco shook his head quickly, raising his arms to promise he wouldn't move. "I'm not asking to take it from you. I believe that if Regulus wanted it to be destroyed, then I can help you with it. I need to know what kind of object it is. Where you got it and how. And what it has to do with the Dark Lord. Once it is destroyed, you can have it back. It's what Regulus wanted, isn't it?"

The creature nodded, small amounts of trust growing in his giant eyes. He was shaking, as he got up. Draco had noticed it before but not really paid attention to it. Kreacher seemed to own some kind of cabinet in the kitchen, where he was hiding several objects as Draco could see from here. there was some kind of nest under the sink, where the creature lived on old magazines and thrown out towels. When he came back, he put a metal Locket on the table. He sat down, looking uncomfortable and suspicious.

Draco had to control himself not to reach out and take the object into his hands. He was curious to take a look at the Locket and inspect it further. The locket he had seen Kreacher carry around and try to hide in Regulus room... Draco couldn't believe it. He was shaking from the disbelief. The locket was a beautiful thing. A bright green stone gleamed in the hearth fire. There were Silver markings on the thing. At the same time, it screamed cursed to Draco. He had seen enough cursed objects in his childhood to be able to tell the difference. That's why he had never been tempted to steal the diary that his father had possessed.

Draco folded his hands on the table without taking the object. Showing, rather than telling Kreacher that he had no intention of taking away his things from him. This was a moment where Draco needed to display trustworthiness. Kreacher was the one in control over what would happen to this object, not Draco. Kreacher noticed Draco's hesitance and perhaps that was the reason why he began to tell him the story of the locket.

He was talking about an arrangement with the Dark Lord. An arrangement that Regulus had agreed to and that left Kreacher alone with the Dark Lord. He explained how the Dark Lord had forced Kreacher to follow him into a cave, where he had made him drink something that made him more and more thirsty and see terrible things. The Dark Lord had put the locket inside a stone bowl and left Kreacher there to die. The houseelf had then tried to drink the water from the lake around the place. Where bodies, inferi as Draco instantly knew, took Kreacher and tried to drown him.

But Master Regulus had told him to come back to the house of Black. And so Kreacher had returned home.

Draco doubted that it was that easy to escape from a place that Voldemort himself had guarded with magic. But he also knew that houseelf magic was different than wizard magic. Once Kreacher had fullfilled his orders and returned home, he had told Regulus all he had seen and done and the both of them searched for the island again.

And that was the moment when Draco felt a chill run down his spine just thinking about it.

Instead of Kreacher, Regulus had drunken the poisonous water from the stone bowl. He had exchanged the real Locket with a fake and ordered Kreacher to destroy this one. The one lying on the table directly before Draco's eyes.

When Kreacher finally finished, Draco sat back, while Kreacher began to loudly cry. He could hear someone shout from the hallway that Kreacher should shut up. Draco's eye twitched and he went to shut the door closed.

When he turned around, he sat back down before Kreacher and reached out a hand. Instead of taking the locket, he took Kreacher's grimy hand. "He was a great master," said Draco, his own eyes teary. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Now, Kreacher became a sobbing mess. Draco couldn't help but symphasise. He had told Ronald how he himself was more of a houseelf than he'd like to believe and it was still true. Though, Draco's tears didn't come from sympathy alone. It came from the realisation that he had been right. It came from the knowledge that he had figured out the key to defeat the Dark Lord. It came from the certainty that one of the Horkruxes was right in front of him. It came from learning that Regulus was exactly like Draco. A man who had tried to atone for his sins by dying for what he thought was right. And from learning that this entire war could have been ended sooner if people had asked the right people.

"You've done well, Kreacher. May I?" Draco reached for the Locket, waited until Kreacher nodded his permission at him, and then took out his wand. He figured this was something that Potter would have done. But it was also a precaution. He made a replica of the Locket and handed it to Kreacher. "Can you take that one until I found a way to destroy it? I'll make sure you can get the pieces of the original."

Kreacher looked at him with wide soupy eyes. He made a noise that might translate to a houseelf happy sound, but it resembled more that of a dying cat.

"Thank you, thank you!," cried the houseelf and Draco smiled at him with something that felt similar to the near happiness he used to feel around patients. Helping other people in this way... it made him feel like his pain would eventually be of use to someone. That his suffering hadn't been for naught. At the same time it felt him feel horrible for being needed. Enslaving houseelfs was just another sin Draco carried on his conscience.

He pocketed the locket and took a deep breath. Finally, he said goodnight to Kreacher and went to sleep in Regulus' room. Where he slept as awfully as he had all week. Despite the sleeping draught, the locket weighted heavy in his pocket.