Be Careful
98: How Much You Tell
By Anne B. Walsh
Fifteen minutes after the arrival of the Slytherins in the Room of Requirement, quiet had fallen. Everyone below fourth year, and a scattering of those above, was in a hammock and either asleep or pretending to be. The rest of the Room’s inhabitants sat by the fireplace, some holding bottles of butterbeer, some their wands, some nothing at all.
Story, recovered from her shock and leaning against the leg of Graham’s chair, was the first to break the silence. "They won’t let this go," she said.
Several people started, looking around as though the sound of a voice were completely unexpected. Neville turned his head from where he’d been staring into the fire. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"Us." Story waved a hand at herself and Graham, then back towards the section of the room which had sprouted hammocks for the younger Slytherins. "We’re not only pureblood, we were supposed to be on their side. Our families, some of them, are on their side. Others have had to pretend to be. You’re all known troublemakers. We’re not. They won’t let it pass."
"So what do you suggest we do?" Seamus said, shifting his weight.
Graham answered without looking up from Draco’s wand, which he was running through his fingers. "I doubt of there being anything we can do," he said quietly. "No owl could get there in time, and none of us can Apparate. Either our families will deny our actions and disown us, or they will fight back and brand themselves traitors. In which case, if they cannot escape in time, they will be killed."
"That’s the same risk we’ve all run," said Terry Boot, uncorking another butterbeer for himself and tossing the cork into the fire. "No worse for you than for the rest of us."
"No, it might be," Susan Bones objected. "Our families knew about us, because they raised us that way. But theirs—" She shot a questioning look at the two Slytherins.
"My parents will have some small warning," said Graham. "Astoria’s, likely not, though her sister’s continued allegiance may mitigate the severity of the punishment. The rest..." He shrugged. "Most of their families will be as shocked as were all of you."
"That’s if the families find out. How much do you think Snape and the Carrows will want to admit they lost a round dozen prize Slytherins?"
Graham snorted. "I would hardly describe us as ‘prize...’" He trailed off, seeing the stunned expressions on the other faces around the fireplace, and turned to follow their line of sight.
"Evening, all," continued the voice to which Graham had been responding, and into the firelight strolled Draco Malfoy, alive and to all appearances perfectly healthy. "Wand, please, Pritchard?"
Graham slowly held out the wand. Draco took it, ran it through his own fingers once, and pocketed it. "Thanks for looking after it," he said, sitting down on an ottoman which hadn’t been there a moment before. "Anyway, prize or not, you’re still Slytherins, the collective apples of their beady little eyes. Some of your parents might even claim that their precious angels could never change sides and the Carrows must’ve made off with you somehow, and don’t think Snape doesn’t know that. He won’t let a word of your disappearing get out for at least twenty-four hours." He smirked. "And by then, it’ll be too late."
Just before the silence got ridiculous, Neville shook off his stupor and asked the obvious question. "Too late for what?"
Draco’s smirk grew. "Potter’s on his way back here. He’s got every piece of his puzzle but one, and I know where to find that. I’ll even be nice and do it for him, seeing as we’re on the same side these days. In any case, he’ll be here tomorrow night, and we can finally get this over with."
"How do you know where Harry is?" Parvati demanded suspiciously.
"Same way I always have." Draco coughed into his hand once or twice and sat up straighter. "Good evening, Potterwatch listeners," he said in his brisk, cheerful Reflection voice. "Coming to you live from the Hogwarts Room of Requirement, this is Where Harry Potter Is!"
The expressions of the DA members around the fire ranged from astounded to gobsmacked, with a sideline into flabbergasted in the case of Seamus. Neville had to stare into the flames until his eyes watered to keep from laughing in his friends’ faces.
"Tonight, as for the past few weeks, Mr. Potter and his party are staying with former Hogwarts professor Remus Lupin, at the home of Mr. Lupin’s wife’s mother Andromeda Tonks," Draco continued, his enormous grin creeping into the tones of his voice. "Tomorrow, they plan to journey to Hogsmeade via house-elf, and from there find a way into Hogwarts castle. Will they find what they need there and bring an end to the war at last? Will they survive the epic battles which will surely ensue from their return? Tune in tomorrow to find out, on the final, the climactic episode of Potterwatch. This is Reflection, signing off."
Three seconds of total silence greeted the end of this little peroration. Then everyone tried to talk at once. Draco sat back and looked vaguely interested but uncommunicative. Neville wondered where the Slytherin had learned to do it. His own abilities in that area came from seventeen years of holidays spent with elderly relatives.
When the confused and somewhat profane babble had died down somewhat, Draco pointed at Seamus. "Heard you first, Finnegan. Go ahead."
"You’ve not been Reflection all this time," Seamus said, in the tone of someone hoping for a miracle.
"Sorry, but I have been. Ask Longbottom if you don’t believe me."
Everyone’s eyes swiveled around to Neville. He gave Draco one look which, he hoped, signified that Draco would pay for this at some unspecified but very nearby time in the future, then nodded. "I’ve known since the day Ginny left," he said.
"And you never told us?" Lavender nearly shrieked.
"Would you have believed me?"
Draco covered his mouth briefly with a hand.
The next hour and a half were full of flying questions and answers, as Draco satisfied the curiosity of most of the DA and told the rest they’d have to wait. Padma Patil was the first to ask about Luna, and the look that came into Draco’s eyes settled any lingering doubts Neville’d had on the subject. If Draco Malfoy had anything to say about it, Luna Lovegood was going to be the happiest girl in the world.
It’s not what I expected for her, but that’s the cornerstone of Luna’s life, now, isn’t it?
"...did you get healed so fast?" Michael Corner was asking as Neville started to listen again. "You were three-quarters dead when we brought you in here, and not twenty minutes later you didn’t have a mark on you! I’ve heard of spontaneous self-healing, but that always has secondary effects like fever..."
"Care to feel?" Draco offered his wrist, then pressed it to his own forehead as Michael shrank back and the rest of the DA laughed. "Nope, not a trace of—that’s strange." The last two words seemed to be more to himself than to the group, as his fingertips stroked along the center of his forehead. "Very strange." He took his hand away. "You don’t see anything there, do you?"
Shaking heads and variants on "No" from the DA.
"Thought not." Draco heaved a theatrical sigh. "Way to nearly give me a heart attack, Mum."
"I thought your mother was dead," Neville said before he could stop himself.
Draco went very still. "That’s what we wanted people to think," he said after a moment. "It was the only way to make sure she wouldn’t be followed. No, Mum’s very much alive. She’s just far away, somewhere a lot safer than this. That’s where I went to get healed—she helped with it herself—and Luna and I are headed there for good after we’ve done our bit towards ending the war. So you’d better say your goodbyes when she comes with Potter tomorrow, because you won’t see her after that."
This sparked another round of questions, to which Neville only half-listened. His mind was busy chewing over what he had seen out in the hallway where the DA had dragged most of Slytherin House’s seventh years off the remnants of Draco Malfoy, putting it together with his certainty that some part of Draco’s careless speech about his mother had been a lie, and wondering how much of his conclusions to tell to whom.
I’ll try and get him alone at some point, he decided. Tell him what I saw and let him do the deciding.
His opportunity came sooner than expected, as Draco glanced at his watch and made a noise of surprise. "Great Merlin, it’s got late. I don’t know about you lot, but I’d prefer a full night’s sleep before I have to fight. Do you have a spare hammock around here somewhere?"
"There’s one for you back near mine and Graham’s," Story said, speaking for the first time since Draco had reappeared. Her voice was unaccountably hoarse, and a slight gleam showed in her eyes. "It has blankets and a pillow already."
"Excellent." Draco stood up briskly. "Good night, all, and if I didn’t say it already, thank you. There are stupid ways to die, and then there are really stupid ways to die..."
His spot-on impersonation of Gregory Goyle in one of his less enlightened moments sent everyone to their hammocks laughing. Story lingered a second, as though she wanted to say something to Draco in private, but turned and darted to her hammock before she could speak. Draco watched her go, then looked at Neville, raising a questioning eyebrow. Neville nodded and beckoned Draco nearer, setting a Privacy Spell around them when the Slytherin was close enough.
"Yes?" Draco said nonchalantly, lounging against the wall beside the fireplace.
Neville thought of a few ways to start, such as "I don’t know how to tell you this, but..." and discarded them all. "Your forehead was cut when we found you out there," he said finally. "Lightning-bolt shape, like Harry’s. Crabbe was dead on the floor beside you."
"Killing Curse?"
"It looked like. He didn’t have any marks on him, he was just dead. But you didn’t have a wand, and you weren’t in any shape to dodge."
"I see what you’re getting at." Draco turned away for a moment, murmuring a few words in what sounded like Latin, then faced Neville again, his face as calm as ever. "It’s a very, very long story," he said. "There’s no time for it tonight, but you’re already on the list of the people who’re slated to hear it. So you will know eventually. I just can’t tell you now."
"Fair enough. Does it have something to do with how you always knew where Harry was?"
"It does."
"And why you suddenly changed your mind about what side was the right one to be on?"
Draco laughed once, a sound with little real humor in it. "That was more a process of wanting to stay alive than anything else. But yes, it’s to do with that too."
Neville nodded. "Thank you," he said. "For everything you’ve done for us, this past year."
"Don’t mention it." Draco looked at the floor. "Really, I mean that. Don’t. When I think what an arse I was all those years, especially to you..."
"You’ve made up for it and then some. If there’s anything I can do for you—"
"You mean besides saving my life?"
"You saved mine. It’s only fair."
"I’ll take your word for it." Draco’s head came up suddenly. "But there is something—my God, I can’t believe I almost forgot—tomorrow morning, can you take everyone to breakfast? I mean, absolutely everyone else, clear out the Room except for me, but don’t make a fuss about it?"
"I can," Neville said slowly. "Do you mind if I ask why?"
"Because." Draco chuckled deep in his throat. "That thing Harry needs? It’s in another version of this Room."
And you thought I forgot about this story! No, my friends, this one is still very much alive. Encourage me and I might even finish it during NaNo! Today is a very special day. Anyone who knows what day it is gets a question of their choice answered by the author! Hint: it’s to do with my writing!