Draco

            The days passed impossibly slowly, and I felt as though I was gradually going insane alone at the Manor with my family. Without Eve beside me all the time, it was hard not having anyone to talk to—especially since things were changing for the worse.

            Death Eaters were coming and going from the Manor daily now, and the Dark Lord had already visited twice in the past few weeks. Just in the quick minute I'd seen him, it had been clear that the Dark Lord wasn't doing so well; his pale skin had nearly resembled frayed parchment, and his snake-like eyes had sunken further into his head, giving him an even more haunted look. My mother had forced me to stay upstairs when he'd Apparated into the parlor, but I hadn't missed how the Dark Lord truly looked like he was withering away from the inside out.

            Whether this was a good thing or not, I couldn't be sure. He was now significantly less calm and controlled, and he would lash out at anyone who crossed his path or made even the tiniest mistake. At one of the meetings I'd been forced to attend, the Dark Lord had killed three House elves after learning that certain members of the Order hadn't been caught.

            I wrote to Eve as often as I could, but I didn't try to mention how badly things were going at home because I knew Hogwarts was probably just as bad. I didn't want her worrying about me even more than she already was. Christmas break was still much too far away, but the weather was gradually turning colder so it wasn't terrible. I just hoped that things would calm down a little at the Manor by then, because I definitely didn't want Eve to be here when it was like this—especially not with the Dark Lord acting so strangely.

            It was halfway through October when it was decided that Ollivander would be staying in the basement of the Manor. Yaxley and Dolohov had taken him from his shop nearly two weeks earlier, but the Dark Lord now wanted him to be kept at the Manor.

            I hadn't gone downstairs yet to see, but I had heard him screaming even from my bedroom two floors above.

            "But what does he need Ollivander for?" I'd asked Lucius the next day, my voice hushed in the kitchen because Bellatrix was just a few rooms over with my mother in the parlor. "I know he's questioning him, but why?"

            Lucius was standing in front of the stove boiling a pot of tea, but he still managed to look impossibly exhausted and worn out as he glanced over at me. "Draco," he replied tiredly, "it isn't any of your business."

            "Did you hear him last night?" I snapped, trying not to get too angry when Lucius turned away from me to get the mugs. "I just want to know what he's asking him for, that's all."

            He shook his head, finally admitting exasperatedly, "I don't know. It's something about Potter, but it doesn't matter."

            What could Ollivander possibly know about Potter? But I decided to keep quiet as Lucius poured tea into the mugs, because it was clear he didn't know much more than I did. After a moment, he busied himself with the teapot and told me, "Listen, Draco—the Dark Lord is coming back tonight. Bellatrix is leaving on other orders, so...he may require your assistance."

            "With what?" I asked blankly, but my stomach had already turned over with dread.

            Lucius gave me a guilty look, something that was exceedingly rare to come from him. He rested his hand on my shoulder, saying quietly, "Just do whatever he asks. Don't hesitate, do you understand?"

            After a second I nodded, because what else could I do? No one was brave enough to defy the Dark Lord—especially not me. Lucius nodded and avoided my gaze like he always did, reaching for the mugs and telling me that we needed to go back into the parlor to meet with Bellatrix.

            With a sick feeling in my gut, I followed him out of the kitchen.

~*~

Eve

            On a misty Thursday afternoon, Professor Sprout decided to assign Zabini and me to be partners for planting the Wormwood seeds. I couldn't keep my jaw from dropping at my bad luck when she called our names, but it was obvious she was just doing it so no one else in the class would have to work with either of us. Zabini and I were the only Slytherins in my Herbology class, and none of the other Houses seemed to have any interest in working with us. Ginny wasn't even looking my way as she moved to work with Luna.

            Keeping a calm expression yet silently cursing Sprout, I refused to look Zabini's way as I moved to his side of the greenhouse. I knew he was grinning as I reached under the table covered with pots of dirt for the seeds, and as he pulled on a pair of dragon-hide gloves, he said to me, "Look at this, we're working together again. It's like fate, don't you think?"

            "No," I replied flatly, tearing open the top of the bag and pulling out a handful of seeds. The greenhouse was full of talk and laughter from the other groups, but I couldn't have felt more bitter. I'd barely slept at all last night, and dealing with Zabini was the last thing I needed.

            "I haven't talked to you in a while," Zabini continued easily, poking holes into the dirt with his thumb. "You're avoiding me, Hawkings."

            I rolled my eyes and leaned forward to dump a few seeds into the dirt, refusing to even glance his way. Coldly, I told him, "Maybe I am."

            He was smirking again, but he was finally quiet for half a minute as we planted the seeds. Zabini snorted loudly as he reached for a second pot, laughing, "Did you see Longbottom after his detention? Carrow actually broke his nose."

            "It isn't funny," I snapped hotly, finally glaring over at him. "Just shut up, would you?"

            "Okay, okay," he shrugged, raising an eyebrow at me as I angrily threw more seeds down. "I forgot you had a thing for him."

            "I don't have a—" I broke off furiously before my voice could rise any higher, since Lavender Brown had already glanced over to see why I was nearly shouting. Exhaling in anger, I turned back towards the plant pot before I could let my temper get the better of me.

            Zabini was laughing as I practically whipped more seeds into the dirt, but he suddenly broke off and exclaimed, "Wait, what the hell is that?"

            I turned exasperatedly to see that he was pointing to my left hand, the sunlight reflecting off of the gold band on my ring finger. His eyes were wide and a shocked laugh was escaping him, but I turned back to the seeds and responded dryly, "It's a ring."

            "No shit, Hawkings, you're getting married? That's priceless, I—"

            "Can you shut up for two seconds and help?" I seethed, pointing to the dirt angrily. "It's none of your business, and I need you to make more holes for the seeds."

            Zabini was shaking his head and looking down at me in shock, completely ignoring me and forgetting about the assignment. "This is mad. Why would you want to get engaged to Malfoy? Your taste in men is shit, I can't even believe this."

            "What's that supposed to mean?" I spat angrily, my hands tightening into fists around the bag and causing some seeds to spill onto the greenhouse floor. Discussing the promise ring with Zabini was just about the last thing I could take right now. "I don't remember asking for your opinion. Do me a favor and fuck off."

            "I'm just saying," Zabini smirked, finally going back to the planting. "I hate to break it to you, but that's a terrible mistake. Why would you get hitched with Malfoy of all people?"

            I had sealed my mouth shut into a thin line because I was seconds away from losing it; who did he think he was, saying that to me? It was none of his damn business, and he didn't know anything about the two of us in the first place to be saying that. If I tried to look at him again, I didn't know what I would do.

            "Well, good luck, I guess is what I'm trying to say," Zabini grinned, shaking his head in disbelief. "Marrying a Death Eater, I can't get over it. You're looking at a short life, Hawkings, for the both of you. Not to mention children—"

            But my vision had gone white and the bag of seeds had been thrown to the floor, and time was slowing down as I launched myself at him. Zabini stumbled backwards almost in slow motion with my left hand gripping his collar, my other hand pulling back into a fist. His back hit the ground as my fist made contact with his nose, and by the time the bone had snapped, my arm was already pulled back for another hit.

            I forgot everything around me as I struck him for the second time, a loud pounding in my ears that drowned out any other noise. The skin on my knuckles split as they cracked across his jaw, and I was screaming something that even I couldn't understand; Zabini was fighting to push me off of him, his fingernails scratching into my cheek as he tried to shove me away. The adrenaline was hot in my veins and the anger was blinding me as I hit him a third time, blood from his broken nose spraying into the dirt beside us.

            I was reaching for my wand when someone pulled me off of Zabini from behind, my legs flailing as I tried to pull myself back. But Zabini was being helped to his feet by three Ravenclaws, and there were so many hands holding me back that I couldn't run at him again.

            "What the hell is going on?" The professor was shouting as she forced her way through the crowd of students to us, but Zabini was trying to throw the Ravenclaws off of him to he could get to me. He spat blood onto the ground at my feet, making the anger flare up hot even though I couldn't do anything to hit him again.

            "Fuck you," I spat furiously over Sprout's yelling. "Fuck you, Zabini—"

            "Enough!"

            Her shriek was loud enough to make me stop trying to jump him again, and I finally looked over to see that Neville was one of the people trying to hold me back—the fearful look he was giving me made me realize how badly I'd really lost control.

            Sprout was looking between the two of us as though she couldn't believe what had just happened, spluttering angrily, "What is the meaning of this? The both of you, outside with me. Now."

            I was breathing heavily with my head spinning as Neville and the others let go of me, the Ravenclaws doing the same with Zabini across from me. Everyone was whispering in hushed voices as Zabini started out after the professor, giving me one last glare of loathing. I stepped away from the other students and glanced at Neville, still fuming as I muttered, "Sorry."

            I didn't see his expression, but I was too furious to care. I stalked out of the greenhouse, the blood pounding in my ears as I stopped to stand nearly five feet away from Zabini outside. His nose was clearly broken and bleeding profusely with droplets staining through his expensive suit, but I didn't feel an ounce of satisfaction. I was mostly livid because he'd been able to get me to react like that, because it was probably something he'd been attempting to do for a while now—I just didn't think he had expected me to react that drastically.

            "Evelyn Hawkings," Sprout snapped in a clipped tone, "explain yourself."

            I fought to keep the anger of my voice as I told her, "He provoked me, professor. He's been provoking me all year."

            "She's lying," Zabini interrupted hotly, still clutching his nose in pain. "I haven't done shit. She's insane, she just jumped on me—"

            "Don't you dare," I seethed. "You've been awful to me ever since fifth year, you've done nothing but antagonize me from the beginning. Don't look at me like that, you deserved what you got—"

            "See, professor, she's terrible; she's been like this ever since she became a Death—"

            "God damn it, Zabini, shut your mouth—"

            "Quiet!" Professor Sprout shrieked, stepping in between us before I could launch myself at him for the second time. I was fuming as she looked between Zabini and me as though she didn't recognize either of us. "What has gotten into the both of you? Have you forgotten where you are? This is a class, not a boxing match."

            I couldn't bring myself to look at Zabini again, because the way Sprout was staring at me was making me feel impossibly guilty. I glared at the ground as she continued angrily, "I don't know which of you started this, but right now, I don't care. Do either of you realize what will happen if the Carrows find out?"

            My stomach dipped, and I was sure my expression betrayed how much that scared me. What would happen if the Carrows found out about this? Would they inform the Dark Lord, or would they congratulate me?

            "What do you mean, 'if'?" Zabini asked, his arrogant tone almost making me angry again.

          "I mean," the professor said coldly, "I'm not sure I want you two to get hurt even more than you already are."

            It was then that I realized the scratches on my jaw line were bleeding, and that blood from my bruised and split knuckles was trickling down onto my palm. I couldn't even feel the pain because of the adrenaline, but I knew it would hurt badly later—I felt a little better once I glanced over and saw how much worse Zabini's face looked.

            "This isn't a reward," Sprout told us, her tone still angry. "Don't think you can do this again and get away with it. Just this once, I'm not going to inform the Carrow professors about this; if it happens again, I won't be so forgiving. Understood?"

            "Yes," I told her quickly, while Zabini just nodded reluctantly. "I'm sorry."

            "Apologies don't help much, do they?" she said coolly, and I practically shrunk away from her as my gaze turned guiltily to the ground. "Mr. Zabini, go to the Hospital Wing before you keel over. If Madame Pomfrey wants to know what happened, tell her to come to me. Go, unless you were planning on leaving your nose like that."

            He muttered something that I didn't catch before starting away from the greenhouse, glaring heatedly at me one last time and walking a bit unsteadily up the hill to the castle. My hands were shaking as the anger slowly died down to nothing, my vision much clearer now that Zabini was gone. The professor's gaze was cold and calculating at she glared down at me, and I had to force myself to look back up at her.

            "I think it's best you go back to your common room," she told me evenly. "You and Zabini probably shouldn't go to Pomfrey at the same time, and your injuries aren't nearly as bad."

            "Okay," I said hastily. "I—I really am sorry."

            "I'm sure," Sprout replied coldly.

            I was about to turn away from the greenhouse when she added quietly, "You've changed a great deal, you know. You're certainly not the same person who first walked into my classroom two years ago."

            My head spun and my stomach sank, but the voice had died in my throat because there was nothing I could say to that. I turned on my heel and hurried away from her, nearly tripping through the grass as I practically ran back up to the castle. She was right, of course. I had changed.

            And I would never know if it was for better or for worse.