Lumos

28| Silver Heirloom

"Malfoy," I said as I appeared beside him, stopping to take a breath. We'd set our location on the same hill we landed on a few weeks ago. It was our meeting place every morning.

"And you look so very tired, why?" Draco turned to me, playing with the silver ring on his finger. His back was straight, and his grey eyes looked incredibly anxious even though his features remained calm.

"I haven't gotten any sleep, that's why." I straightened up, checking myself to make sure all my body parts were in place. "I can barely sleep while Dudley's whining all night about how he lost his room."

"What?"

"Nevermind. Listen," I said, walking over to him, close enough to make sure he was listening, "Potter's being moved tonight. He won't have the trace on him, that way You-Know-Who won't be able to find him. But," I pointed my index finger at the blond boy, "it also means that if the Dark Lord finds him, he can finally touch Harry and can potentially kill him if he gets the chance."

"Why don't you just tell the Dark Lord?" Draco raised his eyebrows. He reached up, his fingers wrapping around mine and pulling it down.

"I can't. I mean . . . Don't say that I said that but . . . It's . . ."

"Complicated?" Malfoy offered with a sadistic smirk. "Oh, Steele," he shook his head, "darling, you won't even last a minute when he finds out you've been playing double agent."

"I'm not really doing that. But that's why I won't say anything unless I have to, or it's useful but harmless information." I mentally patted myself on the back for that, but then realization dawned over me. I looked up at Malfoy. "Can he read minds?"

"Not really," he said with a careless shrug. I let out a sigh of relief. "But . . ." the smirk was back and I braced myself, "Snape is an expert at occlumency. He can go through anyone's memories and retrieve whatever he pleases." Malfoy patted my shoulder in mock reassurance.

I shook his hand off. "That doesn't help."

"Might I remind you it was you who put yourself in this position?" His lip curled.

"Please don't. I don't need to be reminded."

He nodded, leaning close enough for me to feel his breath on my face. It was minty, not terrible. "Perfect. I won't have to waste my breath."

"Well, you're wasting it now," I said, leaning away, my face turning a dark shade of red.

"Well, I'm not, because it's certainly bothering you."

"Yeah it's pissing me off." I reached out to push him away as he got closer.

"Good, then it's working."

"Your face," I shot back, blushing even darker (if it were possible) at the feeble comeback.

"That's not . . . You can't," he said with a laugh, finally moving back to give me space. "That makes no sense."

"Your face makes no sense."

"Are you going to keep doing that?"

"Is your face going to keep doing that?"

"What? Looking dashing?" The smirk was at its fullest across his lips. Well, yes. In a way.

I scowled, crossing my arms over my chest. Suddenly, he frowned, as if he just realized something. "Steele, did you say he was leaving tonight?"

"Yes." I let my arms fall. "Why?"

He pursed his lips. "Why would he tell you this? As a test? How can you earn his trust back in a day? I can't give you that much credit."