No longer able to cope with Draco's earnest, extensive pleas, Lucius and Narcissa reluctantly give in and allow me to stay at the Manor – making it very clear that this is only a temporary arrangement. Draco might have stretched the truth somewhat, claiming that I had no other home to go to, but this manages to distract them from the real reason I'm here. Agonizing guilt and concern eats away at me, growing stronger every time I see Luna's dirty face, her sunken cheeks, but Draco isn't a bad distraction. Whenever he sneaks in here, hours past midnight, when he clambers under the silk sheets and nibbles at my neck, we manage to forget the world – if briefly.

"Isobel."

He shakes my shoulder, and I shift under my sheets, groaning. A light shines in my eyes, and I push it away. "I'm awake. What is it?"

"You need to come downstairs. My parents sent for you."

I rub my eyes. "What's this about?"

Draco stares at the ground. "They - they think they might have found Potter."

"What?"

"Yeah." Draco pauses. "They want us to say if it's him."

My stomach lurches. "He's here? He's been caught?"

"Granger and Weasley too," he says, meeting my eyes for the first time. "Snatchers. Belly, there's something wrong with Potter's face. They're not sure it's him."

"Well, is it?"

"If Granger and Weasley are here, who else would it be?"

I stare at him, trying to take this all in. "What if they find out it's him?"

He wipes the back of his hand across his brow. "They'll call the Dark Lord."

"Draco!"

Draco flinches at his aunt's voice. "We're coming," he calls, but I doubt his voice even reaches the stairs. He takes my hand. "Come on."

When we enter the drawing room, any hopes that the boy the Snatchers caught wasn't Harry fade. In the centre of the room, under the light of a huge chandelier, Harry's swollen cheeks and jaws are unidentifiable, but beyond the puffy eyelids is a familiar green gleam. It's him.

Beside and behind him, bound together with thick ropes, are Ron, Hermione, a goblin I don't recognize, and finally, Dean Thomas. He must have been caught by the Snatchers, a muggle-born on the run. I catch quick, startled expressions on my classmates' thinned, tired faces as they recognize me. I feel the same sense of guilt I had in the cellar with Luna and Olivander – I could easily be in their positions, but instead I am standing above them, almost entirely safe.

So occupied are the Malfoys and the Snatchers with their prisoners that no one looks up when Draco and I arrive. Eyes on Harry, Lucius speaks hastily; "Draco, what took you so long? We don't – never mind. Come here."

"No," says Bellatrix quickly, barely giving Draco the chance to hesitate. "The girl would know better." Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes gleam; the prospect of handing Harry Potter over to Voldemort visibly swelling in her mind. She grabs my arm and wrenches me forward. Hermione looks up at me wide-eyed, while Ron and Harry stare at the floor. My heart thuds. "Well, is it them?"

I stare into Hermione's bloodshot eyes and am suddenly overwhelmed with memories; chattering excitedly on our first ever night in Hogwarts, playing stupid games in the dorm, letting her cry on my shoulder when she fought with Ron in third year, getting ready together for the Yule ball, giggling over Krum's attempts to impress her, fighting over Draco... Draco. He is standing behind me, eyes on mine. For a moment I expect him to tell me no, to inconspicuously shake his head... But he won't. He knows that I will never, ever betray my friends, no matter how little they think of me now.

I turn to Bellatrix. "No."

Her expression falls. "What? But surely-"

Lucius steps forward. "This is the Granger girl." He is so flustered that he forgets to wrinkle his nose at the sound of her name. "I have seen her before, in Diagon Alley. And the youngest Weasley boy, I am sure of it."

I shake my head. "It's not them."

"She's lying!" Bellatrix bursts out. She looks more agitated then ever; her chest heaves and her wild hair seems to have dishevelled itself. "She was friends with them at school and now she's lying to us to protect them!"

"Don't you think-" I interrupt, and she glares at me. "Don't you think that Hermione, Ron and Harry would be in disguise? They are on the run-" I glance at them- "So surely they wouldn't be careless enough to maintain appearances that people recognize. This is a mix-up. You have the wrong people."

Bellatrix hesitates, and for a moment, I think I've done it. But then, one of the Snatchers speaks up from a corner. "If you mean the Mudblood that's been travelling with Potter-" he holds up a newspaper. Hermione's face stares at me from the cover, a large black and white picture. "That's her, alright."

The room goes very still as everyone crowds around the picture of Hermione. Then Lucius turns, pointing a shaking pale finger at me. "You have proven your side, girl. If you ever lie to us again-"

"Father," says Draco quickly. "She hasn't seen them for nearly a year -"

"Wait!" Bellatrix screeches. "Lucius, you are forgetting." She steps towards Harry and brushes back his hair with the tip of her wand. His face is grossly swollen, but his scar is just about there; a tiny red mark among his puffy, bloated forehead. I pray Bellatrix doesn't recognize it. "Draco," she says softly. "Come here. Tell us... Is this the boy?"

Draco steps forward, hand clasped in mine. He stares into Harry's face. "I – I can't be sure."

Bellatrix bursts out with a furious noise. With a scared look at her sister, Narcissa steps closer to Draco. "You went to school with him for six years!" says Bellatrix desperately. "Try again, try harder!"

Draco shakes his head and I squeeze his hand. "I'm sorry, I don't know."

I stare at Hermione, trying to take in anything from her terrified expression, how can I help you, what can I do, if they figure out it's Harry, everything will be done for-

"Take the prisoners to the cellar!" yells Bellatrix, her voice slicing through my thoughts. "The Mudblood stays."

Before she can send one of the Snatchers, I step forward and grab the ropes between Harry and Ron. "Wait," says Lucius immediately. "Not you, girl. Bella, we can't send her."

"Send Draco with her, then," says Bellatrix dismissively, her eyes only on Hermione. From her sleeve, she produces a small, silver dagger. "You can help me think."

Ignoring the knot in my stomach as Bellatrix cuts Hermione from the other prisoners, I turn and walk from the room, pulling them with me. Harry's face is so swollen he can barely see, and Ron is thrashing in his restraints, but Draco shoves his back and soon we are descending the cellar stairs.

"Ron," I say quietly, as he twists against the ropes once more and calls for Hermione. "Stop yelling. That'll only encourage Bellatrix."

"Oh, I suppose you'd know," says Ron angrily, watching Draco unlock the heavy door. "These people are probably your best friends now, aren't they?"

Draco smacks the back of Ron's head. "Pull yourself together," he says gruffly. His eyes lock onto mine, and I know what he's thinking – those are almost the exact words I spoke to him just months ago. I'll bet you're best friends with the Carrows. But as if nothing's happened, he pushes the key into my hand. "You only have a few minutes," he says. "I don't know what you plan to do, but do it quickly."

And then he's gone.

"Hermione!" yells Ron. His voice echoes against the stone walls. "Hermione!"

"Ron, stop," I say quickly. "If you stay still, I can get your ropes off-"

"Oh, I'm supposed to trust you now?" says Ron, anger shaking in his voice. As he writhes against the ropes that bind him, Harry, Dean and the goblin, I glimpse streaks of tears on his cheeks. "Hermione-"

"Ron," snaps Harry. "If you're not quiet, we'll never find a way out of here-"

"Harry? Ron?" Luna emerges from the shadows, right where I found her on my first day here. "Oh no, I didn't want you to be caught. Oh, hello Dean."

Having gone still for a moment, Ron begins to thrash again. "There's a deluminator in my back pocket," he says.

I step forward. "If you sit still for one minute Ron, I can get the deluminator and cut your ropes free." Frustration builds in my stomach at their suspicious expressions. "I'm trying to help you. We used to be best friends, remember?"

Harry hesitates. "So why are you in Malfoy Manor?"

"She was helping me," says Luna, sending me a grateful smile. "She came all the way here just to help me. You should probably sit still, Ron," she adds. "You really can trust her."

Reluctantly, Ron shifts so that I can get the deluminator. I click it once and the room fills with light. Then I raise the ropes between their hands and begin to hack at them with the key.

Once free, Harry and Ron jump to their feet. "I can't Apparate you out," I say. "Magic doesn't work down here, and if I let you go, you can't attack the Death Eaters without wands-" A glint by Harry's feet catches my eye. "But that can get you out."

Harry follows my eyes. "It's a mirror," he mutters, bending down to stuff it back into his sock. "It's not going to help us now."

"But the eye," I say desperately. My mind flashes back to the last time I was in the Hog's Head, why was it so long ago – "I always thought it was just a broken mirror, but-" The eye bobs back into sight, aged and exceptionally blue. "Aberforth," I whisper, crouching beside it. "Help us."

"She's crazy," bursts in Ron furiously. He glares at me. "Hermione's being killed up there, and you have a key, and-" Ron is cut off by a horrible, high-pitched scream.  His face crumples. "Hermione!"

I unlock the door, knowing I've been here far too long. Surely Aberforth will help them, he has to-

"Isobel." I whirl around. Draco is at the top of the stairwell, wand clutched in his hand. "They need the goblin. And you need to come, now."

Once Draco has taken the goblin upstairs, I shoot Harry and Ron a final glance. "He'll help you," I say. "Just wait."

Before they can protest; before they can ask who 'he' is, I swing the door shut. At the same moment that the hefty wood clicks back into place, I can just about make out a sharp crack coming from inside the cellar. And despite myself; despite my hammering pulse; I supress a smile. It worked.

My pride fades the moment I step foot back into the drawing room. Hermione lies in the centre, tears leaking down her temples. She looks at me, standing in the entrance, but doesn't appear to see me. A lump rises in my throat, and I clench my fists beneath my sleeves and will myself to stay where I am. Bellatrix spins, taking in Griphook, who is now inspecting what is clearly supposed to be the sword of Gryffindor.

"Well?" breathes Bellatrix. "Is it real?"

If this is the real sword of Gryffindor, what is hanging in Snape's office? Is that why, on the day that Ginny, Neville, Luna and I tried to steal it, it felt... off? Like something was wrong?

"No," says the goblin, but his hands twist behind his back, where Bellatrix cannot see them. He's lying. "This is not the true sword."

"Good," she says calmly. The goblin winces as she shoves him aside. And without waiting for permission, for approval from anyone else in the room, she rips back the sleeve on her left arm. "And now," she says triumphantly, pressing a single finger to her Dark Mark, "we call the Dark Lord."

"No," I breathe, and suddenly I'm stumbling forward, because it cannot go like this; Harry cannot be caught so easily – and Draco is grabbing me and pulling me back, and Bellatrix is nudging Hermione's now unconscious body and telling Greyback to take her, if he wants-

"NO!"

Before anyone can turn, can process what is happening, Harry and Ron have burst into the drawing room, firing spells at anyone and everyone. One of them knocks me as they run into the room and I fall, my wand clattering to the ground and rolling out of reach. I scramble after it, spells flying above my head and bodies hitting the wooden floors in front of me, but before I know it, strong arms are grabbing me-

Draco stumbles out of the drawing room, pushing me ahead of him. I hear a deafening crash, shrieks of horror, but he's forcing me around the corner-

"You have to go," he says urgently. "He's coming – the Dark Lord–"

"I can't-" I tug away from him, trying to see back into the drawing room, which has gone eerily quiet. "I have to help them."

Draco puts a finger against my lips, trying to listen. And then, breaking the silence, is a loud, hard crack – the unmistakable sound of Apparition. "They're gone," Draco says quietly, dropping his hand. I can barely read his expression. "Potter escaped. Please go now, Belly."

I gulp. "You can't be here either, if it's not safe-"

"Go home," Draco urges. His hair has fallen into his icy grey eyes again, but I can still see their pain. "I'll see you again. Tomorrow, even."

I clasp my hand in his. "Okay," I whisper. "You'll see me again. I love you."

His lips twist into a tight smile. "I love you too."