Draco sat on an old, lumpy couch with a multi-colored quilt thrown over his lap as he looked at a clock with narrowed eyes. The clock was odd, something he'd never encountered before in any of the magical houses he visited with his parents. Then again, that pretty much clarified the reasons for his disdain over the clock hanging on an old wall.

This house—with its cabin-like interior, busy walls, pictures frames, lamps, pillows, pots, pans, cauldrons, books, clothes, flowers, hand-made drawings, little household trinkets—was unlike anything he'd encountered. This house was not a home of someone with an overflow of riches and chose to show that wealth off by displaying exquisite rugs, imported furniture, fine art, or fabulous antiques. No. This house, with a staircase that spiraled up to the upper levels, with brooms all stocked up together in a corner and with a little farm on the outside grounds was the home of the Weasleys. This was the Burrow.

Watching as two of the many individual hands of that particular clock moved from Work to Mortal Peril, Draco heard a sigh of relief coming from behind him.

"Thanks goodness," a plump redheaded woman with a tired expression murmured, her arms full with folded towels.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her, giving her his what-are-you look that people often said was an irritated look of confusion.

"They're traveling," Mrs. Weasley said, answering the question in what she assumed was Hermione Granger's eyes. "Whenever the twins travel—whenever anyone travels, really—they're in mortal peril. But they take care of themselves. They should be home soon."

Draco didn't say anything, he just scrutinized his vision on the woman. She was nothing like the pureblood women he knew of, nothing like all those wives of his father's friends. This woman was not poised, not elegant and masked. Everything from Mrs. Weasley spewed out heat, warm maternal instincts. She wore her emotions like she wore all those colorful, knitted sweaters.

Draco had been at the Burrow for five hours now, just him and Mrs. Weasley as the others were still pointed to Mortal Peril on her eccentric clock. He had seen her transition from warm, kind, and inviting as he arrived with his disguise of Hermione Granger; and as time progressed and they still remained on their own, Mrs. Weasley's face was worried, exhausted, angered—that was when Mister Weasley and Bill's hands pointed to Prison for an hour—and then back to worried.

Before the thought of how Mrs. Weasley had been exactly like Mrs. Granger—both fierce mothers that took their title very seriously—could make him begin to wonder about his own mother, there was a crack from the outside and Mrs. Weasley pulled out her wand as her facial expression went to alert.

Giving him a motion to sit still and quiet as she vanished the towels in her arms, Mrs. Weasley disappeared to the backdoor of her cluttered home. Pushing the colorful quilt away from his lap, Malfoy inched a little further out of his seat on that lumpy couch; Granger's wand out at the ready just in case.

"What form do my Boggarts take?" He heard Mrs. Weasley's voice become shrill, surely radiating out her tension as she greeted whatever intruder waited outside of her home.

Whatever the answer was to that question, Draco found that he couldn't hear it. It was like the walls of the Weasley home suddenly blocked him out, making a loud humming noise enter his borrowed-eardrums. He frowned—was the house keeping him out? Did the bloody old place know he was a potential threat?

Whatever the cause for his sudden deafness was left unexplained as Mrs. Weasley marched her way back in, her alert gone but her worry resurfacing as two figures entered the living room from behind her. It was the werewolf and his bride.

"Ah, Hermione," Lupin smiled sadly at Draco's direction. "When did you get here?"

"Her mission was over with a few hours ago," Mrs. Weasley informed the man as his wife swaggered her way charmingly to Hermione. "She's been waiting here since because apparently Ron nor Harry informed her they'd be at headquarters discussing things with Luna Lovegood and a few others."

As Tonks came around to embrace the shell of Granger, Draco internally tensed up with alarm as the pink-haired woman mumbled something like, "it's going to be all right, darling." There was something warm about her,too, something like affection he was hardly ever given.

"So they haven't found Mister Lovegood, then?" Lupin asked Mrs. Weasley, crossing his arms as he took a seat on an armchair.

"No," Mrs. Weasley's face was now cautious. "Arthur expects they might've...disposed of Xeno, but Luna believes he's imprisoned somewhere, keeping himself sane by recalling all the properties of Crumpled-Horned Snorkacks. The poor dear," she sighed now. "Harry offered her headquarters to stay at, along with a few other runaway school friends, since she didn't want to impose herself here since Harry and Hermione will already be staying. Neville, the sweetheart, is sticking by her."

Lupin nodded solemnly, a sort of resignation in his eyes. "Arthur and Bill's mission to find out about the prisoners of Azkaban should provide information if they're successful in learning how many innocents are being confined. Maybe Mister Lovegood will find himself there..."

"Molly, mind if we make a bit of tea?" Tonks tore her arms away from Hermione. "Remus and I left hurriedly from my mother's and we're a bit parched."

As Mrs. Weasley agreed wholeheartedly, Draco couldn't help but to feel like the small exchange between his cousin and her werewolf husband was about something more than refreshments.

Confirming his suspicions, Lupin narrowed his grey eyes at the girl on the lumpy couch across from him. "I won't waste my time asking you about your mission, Hermione," he said straightforwardly, "especially since you're keeping the details to yourself. I just want to tell you that what you did took a lot of courage. One simply cannot walk away from family, Hermione. What you did for their safety, even if I'm sure it tore you apart, can only come from someone with a heart like yours."

On that couch, Hermione Granger said nothing; her lips remained in a tight line.

"Hopefully you can get them back soon. Meanwhile you have us, of course." He smiled. "After all, you know Tonks and I think of you like part of our family, along with the others,too."

A second of silence and Hermione Granger's lips pulled into a dim smile. "Thank you, Remus," she murmured.

Not letting the silence take up required time Malfoy desired and that the werewolf care not for, the latter edged closer to him from his armchair. "We've been keeping tabs on the Greengrass sisters," he whispered, perking his ears and using his heightened senses to make sure his wife was keeping their friend busy. "McGonagall's keeping watch over them at school, making sure neither comes close to the barrier protecting the school. As for Mister Greengrass...well, he's reluctant still, but I've got him monitored."

"What about Blaise?" Malfoy asked, not necessarily caring for the safety of a self-redeemed Death Eater and his daughters. (Sure, Daphne had been a sort of acquaintance at a point, and he didn't want her or Astoria involved in this, but he was certain that in Hogwarts they'd be as safe as there could be at the moment.)

Something crossed the werewolf's eyes, Draco could see it. It was like a flash of reluctance, pity, confusion, resignation, and then a gleam of hope. "Keeping watch on him is proving problematic, Hermione. He's too into the Dark Lord's circle." He trailed off for a moment, taking a deep sigh. "Nonetheless, Tonks knows this is important for you, and that you're positive Zabini needs protecting. She's morphing herself into different people to watch over him."

"Is she only doing it because Gran—I believe in Zabini's innocence?" Draco didn't mean to sound upset, offended, but it came out that way. He was aware that his forsaken cousin and her husband were doing this on the hush for Granger, but need it sound like a job? Like it was a bloody hassle to protect someone who needed it? "Does nobody else believe in redemption? Doesn't the precious Order realize that not many of...them choose this?"

Remus crossed his arms, eyeing the girl as her gaze lit up with frustration. "There is redemption, Hermione," his tone was low but calm. "Everyone makes mistakes. Those are the factors for second chances. But what matters, Hermione, is what the individual decides to do to prove his redemption. Claiming one's redeemed serves no purpose if he hides and shows no drive for action. The coward does not redeem, Hermione."

Without helping it, "Like Draco Malfoy?" left his borrowed-lips.

"—What about Malfoy?"

Cranking Granger's neck upwards, her brown eyes landed on two boys that would've ignited her pathetic heart into overdrive were her soul still in her own body. Fortunately for him, he was not Granger on the inside and the sudden presence of her loyal companions stirred nothing but distaste.

"Yeah, what about Malfoy?" the Weasel asked, entering his living room as his mother and Tonks re-entered; Mrs. Weasley woman looking a little more relieved as she hugged Ginny closer to her side.

"Honestly, Mum," the Weaslette huffed, trying to push herself away. "Headquarters is the safest place. I wasn't going to combust mid side-long apparition, was I?"

Ignoring the voices and comments that had merged out, Draco cleared his borrowed-throat in a very Granger-like fashion and tried to make her eyes glow in that warm way her pictures with her friends did so. 

"How's Luna?" he asked, remembering the snippet Mrs. Weasley had let out and using Granger's always-caring attitude.

"She's Luna," Ginny sighed, her fiery attitude suddenly a little controlled. "It's been five months since her dad disappeared, but she's...being Luna about it. She's hanging on. I just hope Lavender's stay at headquarters doesn't affect her. Dean and Neville will—"

"Yeah, yeah. She's still as mad as ever and Lavender hates her, all the same teenage witch drama. Who cares," Ron hushed his sister, cutting her off as he looked at Remus and Hermione narrowly. "You were talking about Malfoy. What is it? Has the git done something else now?"

Malfoy glared at the moron. "No," he snapped willingly. "Lupin and I were just discussing if it was safe for me to owl Malfoy."

Thrown off at that, Ron almost staggered back to Harry's side. "What'd you mean, 'Mione? Why the hell would you want to owl that idiot for?"

Contracting one of Granger's fragile hands into a fist, Malfoy tried to take steady breaths before speaking. If he went a little too cruel for Granger's likes he was certainly done for. "We've got that assignment still pending. Professor Slughorn ordered it'd be done before we return. I need his part of the assignment."

"You need nothing from him," Ron told her, frowning. "I understand you're Hermione Granger, you live to get O's on your homework, but who can care about that right now? We're at bloody war! You just can't go owling that coward and expect him not to send a cursed object in return!"

There it was, wasn't it? In that poorly educated statement Weasley had said was the truth, in all his stinky breath. Draco was a coward and he'd continued to be seen as one, connected to things that were vulgar and dark.

He was that person who wanted redemption but would forever hide in the shadows to save himself, sacrificing all the rest while he pleaded innocent.

X

Diagon Alley was not the place he'd remember it to be. The alley was not the place with wizards, witches, and children walking along the pebbled road, taking up the entire area until they were practically touching shoulder to shoulder. There wasn't any of the excitement, the frustration, that ease, or that feeling of magic in the air when you walked along, peering into shops and window-shopping (not that he did any of that, but he remembered people who would plaster their noses against the windows of shops to linger on what they longed for).

Diagon Alley was not the place of buzzing memories of childhood and the bit of innocence he had anymore. It hadn't been that way for the past two years, really. The last time he'd stepped foot into it was at the beginning of his Sixth Year—and even then, it had lost its flare of magic. Diagon Alley had become a black hole, a vortex of nothing bright and shimmering. The only thing that stood out was Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, and he wasn't certain how that was.

"Wish George and Fred would've open the store today," Ginny grumbled from her side next to Hermione Granger, looking a little saddened as they past her brothers' store. "Then again, we all know Mum. She would've come and shut the store herself if the twins weren't tending to their duties."

"Ah, and the duties those are," Tonks said from behind the girls, her pink-hair now a normal and undetected brown. "A day filled with gardening, prepping for grooming, cleaning, and inventory."

"Proper punishment for what they pulled at dinner yesterday," Ginny added with a snort and an eye-roll. "As much as it was funny, Ron bitched like a little girl about being shrunk and tossed into the bushes after he ate George's chicken. It's clear who Mum's favorite is."

Trying to blend in with the people attempting to blend in as well, all of them trying to go undetected, Malfoy kept his borrowed-eyes on the floor of the alley as the two females in his company were scanning a few dress shops.

"You reckon he deserves it, right, Hermione? Ron was a proper git with you yesterday," the Weaslette continued, flapping her mouth like she assumed 'Hermione' wanted her to. "He'll feel bad about it once he pushes the Malfoy-of-it-all away and remembers about your mission. Harry's been trying to make him see reason, but you know how he is."

"Ron is very unforgiving but he seeks forgiveness over and over," Tonks said from behind the two girls, her eyes a sad black as she scanned those around her; keeping watch. "He has no patience for Draco Malfoy."

"Probably with good reason," Ginny added in. "He's been a foul git all of his life, and just because he came back this year and tries to stay hidden no one forgets what he did. He tried to kill Dumbledore—"

"He was threatened," Tonks interrupted. "Harry told us so after Dumbledore's funeral."

Ginny stopped momentarily, halting the girl beside her as she turned to look at the older woman. "You want to believe the best in him, don't you, Dora?"

Looking up from Granger's lashes, Draco stared carefully at his mother's niece.

"I want to believe he has some good in him, Ginny. I don't expect him to be a saint with parents like his, but I hope he still has some innocence. He...He's family, and I hate to think that when the moment comes I'd have to dispose of him if he tries to dispose of me." The woman settled herself in silence, her black eyes flashing a blue that reminded Malfoy so much of his mother's (a blue that matched Andromeda Black's in the old photograph his mother had once showed him when he was five).

"And, yes, I do want to believe the best in him," Tonks added, trying to mask a blank smile at the girls staring at her. "But that just comes with being a mother, you know. Once you become one you want to believe children are still innocent and worth saving."

"What if they're not?" Malfoy stared at his cousin through Granger's eyes, but his own indescribable emotion shone. "What if some aren't worth saving?"

Tonks stared at Hermione a little narrowly, inspecting the girl like she'd just said she wanted to drink Firewhiskey and party like there was no tomorrow. "Since when is something not worth saving to you, Hermione?"

"Some people aren't," he told her, his frustration seeping in. He cared not that Granger and the world sought her to be the fighter of everything and everyone. If she believed in the bloody Easter Bunny the muggles were fond of, then everyone else who worshipped her would too if she said so. This was reality—some people were not worth saving. No matter in what way you looked at it, in what way you tried to see the light, some souls were just too corrupted to be changed.

The fact was there was black and white with most people, and once you've spent too much time in the darkness there's no way out. All these people in the Order had to believe that, they had to see it. And Draco honestly believed they did. They would not greet someone with open arms who killed Mad-Eye Moody or their others if they claimed redemption. There weren't any second chances, not really.

"Anyway," Ginny Weasley cleared her throat, looking a little skeptical at Hermione just as Tonks was doing. "I think we better hurry along and actually find a dress. We've been in Diagon Alley for an hour now. Mum will eventually come looking for us and strike the three of us for scaring her and not finding bloody dresses for the wedding."

"Who gets married at a time like this?" Malfoy mumbled, frowning as he turned away from his cousin and the redhead as he remembered the stupid idea the oldest Weasley spawn had come up with. Apparently he'd snagged Fleur Delacour and the two were in dire need to become husband and wife. And since Granger failed to inform him so, not even preparing him with a...dress for the occasion in her emergency-packed trunk, he'd been dragged to a highly dangerous mission for one.

"Why not?" the Weaslette retorted, her footsteps already following after Malfoy's. "It's the perfect time I think. We're in the middle of war, after all. A bit of normalcy would do well."

Malfoy snorted, not caring about keeping his Granger-card on deck. He was tired of playing her, tired of being her. He needn't walk in her shoes anymore to see what life for her was. Sure, it was exhausting, but so was his. Sure, she had something worth fighting for, but he had something worth not fighting for. Sure, she was filled with touchy-touchy emotions that caused her to find protection for his friends, but he was the one who'd somehow pushed her into that direction.

Granger did not have it worse than he did.

"All right, girls, let's—" Just as he was in the process of rolling his eyes as his cousin's voice echoed, the windows of several shops burst; millions of shreds of glass flew. The crystal of the windows had been a wave of white, hitting him across the face and knocking him down as Granger's body hadn't been strong to handle the blow.

Gritting his teeth as Granger's fragile hands were flat against the floor, her palms being stabbed with the broken glass of the windows as he tried pulling himself up, he managed to get on her knees. A stinging pain shot into the Bookworm's body and found his soul, he saw flashes of several lights zoom past him.

"Get down, Hermione!" Tonks shouted at the fallen girl as she stood protectively in front of Ginny. "I've sent a patronus to Remus, they'll be here soon!"

An explosion of spells hit.

"Confringo—"

"Protego!" Tonks shouted, casting a bubble of protection to burst out in front of her and the girls.

"Come on now, Auror! Come and play!"

Malfoy peeked up from the mass of curls obscuring his vision; Diagon Alley was invaded by Death Eaters and others in dark cloaks. They were the children of the Dark Lord's supporters, he knew. It was the robes they were meant to wear before they were presented with their Death Eater masks.

"It's the Mudblood!" Yaxley tore off his mask from behind a throng of Death Eaters, coming from somewhere down the alley where the rest were causing havoc with the shops and the shoppers. People were screaming left and right, hexes flying everywhere and more windows exploding.

Gripping Granger's wand between her bleeding fingers, Draco shot up from the ground. "Run!" he hissed at Tonks and the Weaslette.

On the command that Hermione Granger had given them, they both took off; Tonks behind them to protect every step they took.

He hadn't meant for them to run with him, but Draco found he was not in the place or body to tell them to shove off, even if his instinct was to save himself by finding a hole to crawl into and hide.

"Expulso!"

As he was running behind the Ginny, Draco sensed bricks and part of Diagon Alley explode from somewhere behind him. He ran faster, knowing perfectly well that Yaxley, when determined and angered, was not someone to cross. Then he heard a shrill scream from the background. Turning Granger's head to look over her shoulder, Malfoy saw Tonks crumble beneath parts of a wall that'd been torn down.

Run, he shouted at himself. Don't stop for her, Draco! Keep running! Run! Save yourself! Who cares about her!

He stopped abruptly on Granger's feet, heaving dangerously through her cut lips. Would he prove her wrong? Would he run and leave her and the Weasley girl behind to save himself? To prove to her that some people won't worth saving? That even though he was in Granger's body it was still him in there and he wouldn't risk playing her role of the hero? Was he going to show the werewolf right, that cowards don't know of redemption?

Yaxley sneered at the Auror and known member of the Order of the Phoenix. "I'd been itching to give you a go, Blood Traitor," he spat at the witch that was groaning from the bricks on her. "How dare you bring a half-breed into our world?"

As the Death Eater raised his wand at Tonks, ready to kill her, Draco chose what he was going to do.

He ran. He ran fast and didn't look back.

"Avada Ked—"

"Expelliarmus!" The second it took for Yaxley to be distracted as his wand flew out of his hand, Draco waved Granger's wand at his fallen cousin and sent the part of the wall that'd trapped her against the ground away from her.

Taking one of Granger's bloody hands with one of her own, Draco was pulled with urgency as Tonks made them run. They were both cut and sliced by glass, both aching, but they ran together. Malfoy tightened his hand between his cousin's—someone did care for her. She had a mother, had a husband, and she'd just had a child, he knew that. It wasn't her moment to die, and Draco would be damned if he'd be the cause of it.

But as they ran together, Tonks nor who she thought was Hermione were aware of another Death Eater watching them; two of the most hated people on her list. With a loud cackle that echoed through Diagon Alley, sending shivers up the spines of whoever heard it, a stream of light made the two females separate. Both flew to opposite ends of the alley.

Hitting his borrowed-head on the way down to the clustered ground, Malfoy let out a hiss of pain as he felt Granger's exposed skin slice more from the glass everywhere.

"Well, well, well," through the blur that Granger's brown eyes were adapting, Malfoy didn't need the clear vision to tell who it was. The shrill voice, the mocking tone in it, the oozing pleasure of being evil was enough to know who was approaching him. "We meet again, Mudblood."

You're done for, Draco.

"Taking a stroll through Diagon Alley, are we?" Black eyes glowed with glee, coming so close to the brown pair of the fallen girl. "Poor baby, are you hurt?"

Draco said nothing, he just clenched the Grangers's teeth.

There was another loud cackle. "No need to be strong, Mudblood. We know how loud you scream when my sharp dagger digs into your dirty skin." Whipping out a dagger from the pocket of her deranged dress, Bellatrix Lestrange grinned at the girl. "You escaped me once, sweetheart. That's not going to happen again."

Draco turned Granger's face to the other side, shutting his borrowed-eyes as he chose not to look at his aunt's insane lust for blood.

"Don't you dare look away from me!" Malfoy gritted his teeth more, his aunt's dagger had sliced Granger's turned cheek. "You're not escaping me this time, you filthy little Mudblood!"

Ironic, isn't it? He told to himself, trying to push away the intense stinging as Bellatrix dug onto Granger's skin again; he could feel her blood spilling out. You're going to let Granger die, just like the first time.

Bellatrix pulled back from the girl, malice stretching on every line of her face. "There's no room for Mudblood scum in the world, especially not Potter's Mudblood." Taking out a wand that Draco knew she'd snatched from a witch she'd murdered with the use of her handy dagger after the Golden Trio had stolen hers in Malfoy Manor, she pointed it forward. "CRUCIO!"

He was screaming, screaming, screaming. Granger's body was tensed, rigid, going cold but he was the one who felt the fire. He felt her bones crushing together; her organs explode and release hot lava. His soul was the one that could feel the curse gripping, pulling, and cutting at it.

When Granger's vision was being invaded by black by the torture curse attempting to shut him down, he saw a white and brown owl flying directly to Bellatrix, its wings stretched out as it screeched like it was offended and ready for battle.

With a scream that was not coming from him, as a wave of air seemed to want to distinguish the fire within, Malfoy saw Tonks and Lupin rushing to him before he let Granger's body shut down.