Yours in Mayhem |Dramione

24 seventh year: seventeenth letter

Dumbledore's Army is still recruiting!

Draco Malfoy clutched at the torn piece of paper- the very seams of the brewing rebellion in the inside of the castle. Said piece of paper was old, stained with someone's blood and has become wispy and fragile from the sweat of his own palm. He kept it in his pocket and clutched on it like he would to his wand. The wand that Harry Potter stole.

The piece of paper was hope.

The piece of paper was choice.

The piece of paper was freedom.

He never had any of those. But now Harry Potter has returned and his parents are with the Dark Lord completely wandless. So it should be pretty clear where his loyalties should lie. Here he is in Hogwarts just trying to survive while his parents are there, waiting on bated breath if the next hex the Dark Lord casts will be their way. The tables have turned and Dark Lord's most favored will now be the first to be thrown under the wagon.

The very thought made Draco's skin crawl. Harry Potter must live to overthrow the Dark Lord.

"I say we cripple him with a few rounds of Crucio. He never really got a taste of an Unforgivable, did he?"

Crabbe's breath stinks of garlic and cheese and Draco wondered how someone set out to kill another-- to end a life-- could just perfectly wolf down garlic bread and parmesan like it's going to be the best day of his life. Anyone of them could snuff it today. To manage to say that The Golden Trio managed to stay alive for the whole year, out of the Dark Lord's eyes, out of anyone's reach, is to say that they have talent. It is Harry Potter's choice to come back even though it could mean death to him and his people.

Where does he get all that fire? All that courage? Or are Gryffindors just downright crazy?

"You're being stupid as per usual, Crabbe," Draco squinted his eyes at his minion as if contemplating a deeper insult, "This is the exact kind of thinking that gets a backhanded slap from the Dark Lord. Do you think he'd want Saint Potter half dead? He wants the glory of slaying the Boy Who Lived! Just give him any old prick that has glasses now, will you? He wants Harry Potter to fight him and lose."

He was trying his hardest to stir them his way but the power dynamics in the group has been tipping as of lately.

"As you would know, Malfoy. You must know how it felt to be backhandedly slapped by the Dark Lord. As were your father and your mother- you- you skinny prat!"

Draco stepped up to him but was stopped by Goyle.

"They're here."

He saw Harry Potter, Ron Weasley-- and holding his hand-- Hermione Granger. Draco bit the inside of his cheek. It took a long time coming. Everybody could have predicted that since the first chapter. It's either Weasley or Potter. She was skinnier but more determined, definitely stronger than how she was on the manor floor. The images crossed his mind without consent, he physically winced. Goyle looked at him with concern but he showed no signs of losing resolve. "We enter after them. I know how to call out the room. We wait for now."

First went Potter then Weasley and then Hermione. She looked around and Draco had to duck back behind the pillar. His gaze lingered too much on her back. It was igniting a small warm feeling on his chest. Relief. He's relieved that she survived.

But for how much longer after? Death is not through with his countdown. He still has a list of names that he needs to take.

The door closed and Draco stepped out from their hiding place. "And now we get the Boy Who Lived."