Hermione was half-relieved, half-afraid to be on the train to school. On the one hand, the wizarding world was currently in a state of war and neither Diagon Alley, nor The Burrow, renowned home of famous blood-traitors, was safe from Death Eater attacks. On the other hand, Hogwarts was also in rapidly increasing danger of being targeted. She paid her normal 100% of attention during the Welcoming Feast, albeit not being able to recall Professor Dumbledore's exact words of warning, but couldn't help thinking back to what happened on the train.

She and Ron had attended the prefects' meeting dutifully as usual and been taken aback to see Draco woefully absent. The Head Girl asked after him and Parkinson's reply had been far from adequate.

"He's feeling a bit under the weather," she said, pouting. "I advised him to have a little nap. He promised to make it up to you – patrol on an extra evening or something."

"That is up to us to decide, thank you, Parkinson," the Head Boy answered authoritatively.

*

Ron had been quick to dismiss this, choosing instead to inform the volatile Harry of this new discovery.

"Guess what?" He announced. "Malfoy's not doing prefect duty. He's just sitting in his compartment with the other Slytherins, we saw him when we passed."

Harry looked far too interested by this detail.

"What did he do when he saw you?"

So Harry wanted more evidence that Draco was a Death Eater. Hermione couldn't bear to imagine Draco with that ugly mark branded on his left arm. She refused to believe it. She felt tears prick at her eyes.

"The usual." Ron was speaking again. He made a rude hand gesture. "Not like him, though, is it? Well – that is – but why isn't he out there bullying first-years?" 

He made the gesture again.

"Dunno," said Harry. Hermione inserted her own input.

"Maybe he preferred the Inquisitorial Squad. Maybe being a prefect seems a bit tame after that."

"I don't think so," Harry replied. "I think he's_"

Hermione had zoned out after that. Harry and Neville had gone off to Slughorn's compartment  after an invitation to lunch. Ron had begun playing chess against himself, as Hermione had lost against him too many times to want to do it again, and Luna had been reading The Quibbler with a look of intense concentration.

She had thought about Draco. He hadn't written a single letter to her over the course of the summer. Hermione had known it was going to be hard to keep up correspondence but, somehow, she had expected to receive at least a scrap of parchment bearing the Slytherin's fancy writing. And if he was ill... Maybe she would get someone to pass on a message; Padma Patil had always carried out her favours in exchange for juicy gossip.

*

"Padma!" Hermione hailed the Asian girl as they passed in the corridor. Padma had her nose to a book. "Do you have the time to pass on a message?"

"Hermione?" Padma looked up. "I suppose I have a lot more time than you." She smiled. "Sure."

"Padma, I need you to give this to Draco Malfoy." She handed the Ravenclaw a carefully-folded note. "It's about the prefect schedules – he didn't turn up to our meeting on the train. If you can find out why, I will be very thankful."

"Oh!" Padma gave her a troubled look which said – 'do I have to?'

"I thought maybe you could get it to Zabini and he could pass it on," Hermione suggested. She knew that Blaise was Draco's only true friend in Slytherin.

"Fine," grumbled Padma. "I hope there'll be a reward."

"There are some things that I know about a certain Slytherin," Hermione promised.

A glint appeared in the other girl's eye.

"Ooh. Sounds interesting. Sure, I'll take the note to Zabini."

"Thanks, Padma," Hermione said gratefully. "That's really useful."

Padma looked surprised, but gratified. "It's alright. The gossip is all the repayment I need."

Hermione laughed. "I know, Padma. I know."

*

Draco was lying miserably on his bed. He had managed to skive off the first two days of school and was now relieved to spend his entire weekend moping around. Blaise entered, a slip of paper in hand.

"For you," he said. He dropped it into Draco's outstretched hand and came to sit on the edge of his own bed, which was next to Draco's. "You can't do this forever," he began slowly. The other boy gave him a tired look. "Hide, I mean. It'll start to look suspicious, and that's the furthest from what you want, I know."

Draco stared at him strangely.

"What do you know?" He asked.

Blaise met his gaze determinedly. "I know a lot about what happened this summer, Draco. And I also know there's something on your left arm that you want to keep a secret from the rest of the world."

Draco's eyes dropped to the floor. He was so tired of this.

"Show me." 

He closed his eyes. 

"Show me. Draco."

Ashamedly, Draco pulled back his sleeve and turned his head away from the gruesome sight.

He heard Blaise take a deep breath and the feel of cold hands probing at his forearm.

"What is it like?" The boy asked gently, pulling the sleeve back again.

"Hell," Draco replied lowly. "It hurts, like a thousand knives piercing me. It's so hard to feel human with this. I don't know how to face everybody."

Blaise moved so that he was looking the blonde boy in the eye.

"Face them with me by your side. Remember back when we were little?"

A small smile graced Draco's face.

"We'll fight adversity like our fathers," Blaise spoke, his voice full of determination. "And our "godfathers," he added. "We'll brave the world and live to fight another day. And one day soon, it'll all be over."

The familiar glint was back in the Malfoy heir's eyes.

"And you'll be my friend, even with this?" 

He motioned towards his arm.

Blaise nodded. 

"Always."

*****

A.N. This is dedicated to Cassie20052 for her continued support so go and follow her! She likes to read, vote and comment on everything!

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