"Abandon your fear. Look forward. Move forward and never stop. You'll age if you pull back. You'll die if you hesitate." -Zangetsu

*

"So, are your parents aware of your...lifestyle?" Draco figures this is the easiest way to ask if they're still alive or relevant without sounding rude.

"Um, yes," Darcy says with a laugh. "I haven't talked to them since I went to Azkaban for the first time. Or should I say, they haven't talked to me. I tried going home, but they changed their locks."

"That's a shame," Draco says, and he means it. His parents don't hate him--they love him and only want to protect him--so he's not sure what it would be like to be hated by the ones who raised him.

Darcy shrugs, tapping a gear with her wand and frowning when it remains stationary. "Who needs 'em? I'm doing just fine."

"I suppose," Draco says quietly.

Darcy stops to look at him. "You don't think I'm able to get along without them?"

"I never said that." But Darcy is laughing, shaking her head. "Haha, very funny."

"Sorry; you seemed like you needed a laugh." Draco stops what he's doing at those words and just stares at her. No one's really cared enough to worry about what he needed, only what he needed to do. "What about your parents?"

Draco snaps out of it. "Oh, they're--well, you know. My father is in Azkaban. My mother is worried about me. But it could be worse." Draco thinks that if his father went to Azkaban under different circumstances, it would mean slander for the Malfoy name. But thanks to the current events taking place in the Wizarding World, Draco can't seem to care about his status anymore.

He just doesn't want to die.

"Is this for You-Know-Who?" she asks again.

Unfortunately, her facial expression doesn't give anything away as to whether or not she would bail if it was about him. He decides to lie about it just in case. "No, actually. It's for something else."

"Right. Something personal."

"Right."

Halloween comes in the blink of an eye, and the progress on the cabinet is next to none. Draco starts second guessing his decision about including Darcy. It's not that he doesn't need her help or anything, it's just that he's worried about getting too attached. A few days ago in Potions, the Amortentia smelt like cold wind, ashes, and more potently of Drooble's cinnamon-mint gum, which Darcy is almost always chewing.

Sure, he's starting to like her as a person. There's something about her that relieves him, makes him think that maybe he will get through this year in one piece. But he's not falling in love with her. It's only been a month. It's simply because she's one of--if not the only--people he talks to anymore.

"You're in Slytherin," Darcy says one evening.

"Yeah," Draco says as he hands her tools. "Can't you see the badge on my robes?"

Darcy ignores him. "I wonder where I'd be."

"Well, you've been to Azkaban twenty-some times--"

"Twenty-seven."

"So I'd say Slytherin."

"Well let's say I never got into the habit of being bad," Darcy proposes. "What then--"

The next sound sends Draco into a panic. The door opens, casting a beam of light into the dim room as voices emerge. Hurriedly, he pulls Darcy behind the Vanishing Cabinet and puts a finger to his lips, but she doesn't need to be told. He peeks around the edge. He can't see who it is from his spot, but he recognizes the voice. Longbottom.

"This is where our DA meetings were held," he tells someone. "They were usually at night before curfew."

The other person responds, but they're too quiet.

"It looks much different now. It used to be empty, grated space. Now it's all cluttered."

The other speaks again.

Longbottom sighs. "I guess we'll need to find a new place for it, then. C'mon, let's start searching."

"Who was that?" Darcy asks once they're gone.

"Longbottom," Draco spits. "Some nasty Gryffindor."

"What was he talking about?"

Draco hesitates. "I dunno."

"Stupid Gryffindor stuff?"

Draco smirks. "Probably." They emerge from behind the Vanishing Cabinet, Draco suddenly feeling cold.

They work in silence until Darcy asks, "Draco?"

Draco twitches visibly. He's not used to someone using his name so innocently. "Yeah?"

"Can we go to Hogsmeade sometime? I know the students take trips, right? On weekends?"

Draco nods. "They do. There's one coming up this weekend. I could sneak you out if you really want to."

"Being stuck in here kind of reminds me of--" She doesn't finish, but Draco doesn't need her to. "I'd just like to get out for a while." The softness in her voice is surprising because he hasn't heard anything but sarcasm and amusement from her since she agreed.

"I'll get you out," Draco promises. "We'll go to Hogsmeade, I promise."

"What about the rest of the castle? Do you think I'll ever get to see it?"

"That risk is on you," Draco says. "If you want to risk it, I'll give you a tour. Just make sure it's worth it to possibly get caught."

*

Blaise hasn't talked to Draco since he punched him in the nose and put that Silencing charm on him. Draco doesn't mind. The last thing he needs are people on his ass demanding where he's been or what he's been doing. He can't tell them. Telling Darcy was a risk; imagine telling someone else, someone less apt to keep it a secret.

Luckily, no one seems to have noticed his strange absences yet. He figured Pansy or Goyle would notice him being gone at weird times, like dinner, but he hasn't gotten even a bat of the eye from anyone. But it's only a matter of time.

Draco feels stressed, tonight especially. Just going inside of the Room of Requirement is becoming hard. And it's not because of Darcy, it's because every time he looks at the cabinet, he gets a sick feeling in his stomach. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, but he has to.

Darcy seems to notice his reluctance that night. "What's on your mind?"

Draco has never been asked that question. His answer is choppy. "I dunno. Just school, I guess."

"Do you have a lot of work?"

"Not necessarily," he says truthfully. "It's just a lot with this project, you know?"

"Sure," she says. "Especially when you have a deadline. But we're making good progress." She smiles at him, and he almost drops his wand. When was the last time someone smiled at him? "We'll definitely be done in time."

"That's good to hear." Draco feels some of the pent up frustration leave his body. Knowing they'll be done in time gives him great reassurance. That was one of his main concerns.

Suddenly, a thought pops into his head, one that he isn't sure he wants the answer to, but he asks it regardless because he needs to know. "What will become of us after we've finished?"

Darcy stops working for a moment, then continues. "I think that's up to you, Draco. I mean, obviously, I'll go back to Hogsmeade. Whether you want to keep in touch or not depends on you. I'm certainly not going to send you letters if you're not going to answer them."

"I would respond," Draco says because he would, for sure. "I think I'd like to stay in touch. You're someone who doesn't get on my nerves."

Darcy grins. "I'm guessing there aren't many people like that?"

Draco grins, too. "There's maybe three."

She laughs, and the sound changes the entire atmosphere of the room. It loosens the tenaciousness, it broadens the warmth.

Draco recalls reading an article about Darcy the year prior. "Did you really try to infiltrate Gringotts?"

Darcy's grin widens. "Yes. But not to steal gold--my parents never took the key to their vault away from me--but because I wanted a peek at something they had down in the mines."

Draco feels his curiosity grow. The article had been very vague, only saying that she'd been caught again and would get a sentence for however long. "And what was that?"

Darcy laughs again, and this time it's satisfying and full. "A dragon."

It clicks in Draco's head. His family's vault is guarded by a dragon, along with Bellatrix's. He should've known.

"In fact, I believe it's the dragon that guards your family's vault," Darcy says, practically reading his mind.

"Were you planning on stealing from me?" Draco teases.

She scoffs. "As if you have things I want. No, I just wanted to see if the tales were true. It sort of makes me sad to think about. The dragon, I think it's a Ukrainian Ironbelly, is trapped down there, chained to a wall with no light or heat besides what it can provide. Merlin knows how they managed to get it there in the first place. I just wanted to see it, and, if possible, set it free."

"Bit of an animal lover, are you?"

Darcy meets his gaze. "Only of things that are bigger than me."

"Why?"

"Because that means they can defend me," she says in an almost factual tone. "Can you imagine it? Me and an army of dragons and basilisks or something against some petty wizards? That'd be a show."

Indeed it would be, Draco thinks. Out loud, he says, "I'd love to see you duel."

Darcy takes that as an invitation. "Do you want to duel?" Her wand is suddenly in her hand and she's taking a defensive stance.

"I was joking," he claims. "Get back to work."

"Don't boss me around. You're lucky I'm here at all."

Draco starts to make a snarky remark but stops short because she's right. He brings the conversation back on track. "How far did you get into Gringotts before you got caught?"

"Well, I went to my vault first, and from there I was planning on using the Imperius curse to get the goblins to take me the rest of the way down--"

"Whoa, wait," Draco says. "You knew how to do the Imperius Curse when you were fifteen?"

"It's the handiest spell I have," she says. "I don't like to use it because I believe in free will for everyone, but sometimes my habits get the better of me. It didn't work, anyhow. I got the gold I needed from the vault and then before I could Imperius them, we were back near the lobby and I didn't think it'd be a good idea anymore."

"So how'd you get caught?"

"That's always the highlight of the story, isn't it? Well, I lingered until nightfall when there aren't as many goblins working and tried to sneak down there myself. I got maybe a flight or two down when someone caught me. I should've just hijacked a cart. Two months in Azkaban."

"That's a long time."

Darcy nods, her gaze become fixated on something far away. There's no trace of that smile anywhere. "You have no idea."