Reliving the Past, Present, and Future

Chapter 37

He was nearly there, he just knew it.

Days even.

Draco studied the cabinet, weaving his wand through his fingers, before his eyes wandered to the empty basket green apples usually occupied.

It shouldn't bother him that Granger stopped supplying them. That she didn't frequent the Room of Requirement as often as she had prior to Teddy Lupin's arrival... and yet...

He begrudgingly missed their witty banter and discussions around magical theory or best practices in potions. He missed their covert exchanges of amusement when the Weasel embarrassed himself in class.

What a tosser - a seemingly possessive one at that. Granger told him about their argument and he laughed (for possibly the first time in months) when she reiterated her threat about defacing him like Edgecombe.

He'd also endlessly teased her for the dragon tamer being out of her league.

But now, Granger ignored him like she had the last six years unless he was throwing her childish insults.

Draco couldn't believe he actually missed their odd civility... that she had cared despite how much of a bastard he'd been - he is.

He rolled up his sleeve, staring at the dark mark. This was the reason. From overhearing the conversation with Teddy, Potter, and Granger, he knew she'd make the quick deduction.

Death Eaters don't associate themselves with mudbloods.

Fuck, even thinking the derogatory term made him uncomfortable now. He'd need to add that to the list of things to occlude.

There was no choice in taking the mark, despite Snape's subtle attempt at interfering with the Dark Lord's demands. He inwardly flinched at the immeasurable pain of confirming his allegiance, his Aunt stating it would be much worse if he showed any fear.

His own scream reverberated in his head for days.

When was the last time he had control over his life? Did he ever?

Draco angerily pushed his sleeve back down, digging a fist into his robes and feeling the cool touch of two bewitched galleons. Despite being given one by Teddy weeks ago, it has yet to burn.

He heaved a sigh, glancing again at the empty basket as he threw his bookbag over his shoulder. Perhaps he would sneak down to the kitchens for a snack.

After casting a charm to muffle his footsteps, he made his way down the familiar corridor, his wand ready in case he needed to cast a quick disillusionment spell.

He was nearly to the kitchens when he noticed familiar bushy hair rounding a corner. It was well past curfew...

Unfortunately, within the short amount of time it took to reach her, she vanished.

What was Granger up to?

Coincidentally, the galleon in his pocket began to grow warm.

***

Harry itched his scar for the twentieth time this evening, his stomach churning with excitement and nerves as the Order of the Phoenix discussed strategy and options.

Were they to set a trap? What kind of trap could they do that didn't write one's own death certificate?

Mrs. Weasley was rather disapproving of Harry's involvement during these meetings. Ron was of age and she had eventually given in to his attendance, but she refused to allow Ginny to join them in Dumbledore's office. It was rather pointless considering he told her everything afterwards.