33. A Wave Unfurled

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, or anything about him.

Note: Many thanks to my beta, eilonwy, for making me make this chapter better. I cannot tell you how hard this one kicked my in the stomach. And also to Z, for pinch-hitting and giving me another set of eyes and wonderful comments to make this chapter what it is.

"Well the whole truth. It's like the story of a wave unfurled. But I held the evil of the world. So I stopped the tide. Froze it up from inside." --Dar Williams

ooo

Chapter 33 – A Wave Unfurled

The next week passed in a blur.

Hermione and Harry had been interviewed extensively, everything they discussed in the interviews printed in the Daily Prophet about their activities over the previous seven months in as much detail as there was space. She and Harry, along with Ron and Ginny, went from event to event, celebrating the end of the War, or kicking off this charity drive, or that rebuilding function. Draco stayed away from the limelight, but did give his one, exclusive interview, together with Harry, to Luna's father for the Quibbler.

Needless to say, Hermione was exhausted, and she hadn't seen nor heard from Draco since the party at Grimmauld Place. Reporters had gathered at the Ministry the day he was to be released, only to wait all day and be told around sundown that Draco had left the previous morning.

Hermione hated waiting. She knew he was busy, making arrangements for his mother and preparing himself for his sentence, but what bothered her most was the unknown. She couldn't be sure about any future with Draco, despite what her heart told her – that he truly cared about her – and that was what kept her awake at night.

Finally, on Saturday, she got an Owl. She and Harry had returned to the Burrow a few days after he'd been released from the hospital, and had been there ever since. Draco's beautiful grey owl soared gracefully into Ginny's room and Hermione nearly fell out of bed in her rush to get to her.

His letter said simply this:

"Granger. I'm ready, if you think you are. Don't bother with the cake; come now."

She didn't need telling twice, and threw on the first thing she put her hands on, told Ginny where she was going, and ran out of the house. Harry came running out after her and called for her to wait.

She did.

"Hermione," he said, panting.

"Harry," she said, tapping her foot. "He said come now, and you know he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Yes. But I just have to say this. Trust him. Believe him. And try to remember where he came from, where he was in life two years ago. He's come a long way, and he's trying to do the right thing."

She nodded. "Thank you. May I go?"

"Yes."

She disappeared with a sharp pop!

ooo

Hermione stood before the door to his house, heart pounding in her ears. She could just hear the sound of the waves crashing, and she closed her eyes and focused on the sound. Her heart slowed, her nerves eased, and she knocked.

A moment later, the door opened. Draco looked just like she remembered, and for some reason, it made her tear up.

He frowned, concerned. "Is everything all right?" he asked softly.

She nodded, and she wanted to hug him, but he seemed tense, his movements stiff, so different from the last time they were together, she decided against it. So she shifted her weight to her other foot and looked around. "Uhm, I'm here," she said.

"Come in." He opened the door and she walked through. The house was still exactly the same, too, and that made her happy and relieved. She stopped outside the sitting room.

"Are we going to sit?" she asked.

"No," he said. "We're going on a little trip."

"What? Where?"

"My island."

Her jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"

He blinked. "Yes. That's why I told you not to bring the cake." He picked up a bag he'd packed and slung it over his shoulder. "Don't worry, I brought some things for you."

"Things? What things?"

"Overnight things. Take my arm."

Overwhelmingly confused, Hermione did as she was told and slipped her arm through his. Without looking at her, he Disapparated them.

ooo

They landed on an island just like he'd always described. White, sandy beach, brilliant blue sky, and palm trees. She looked around in amazement, and smiled at him. "This is really yours?" she asked.

"Yes," he said distantly, a faint smile evident. "This way."

Her eyes followed his path, and she saw a house not far up the beach. She followed him. He still would not speak to her, and she wanted to scream. When they reached the front door, Draco stopped and looked at her.

He took a deep breath. "Are you ready?"

She huffed, feeling slightly frustrated, wanting the waiting to be over. "You realize I don't even know what this is about. How can I possibly be ready or not? How – "

Draco reached up and put his hand gently over her mouth to quiet her. "Shh, Hermione. I know. Just – wait, okay? You'll get all your answers today. I promise." She nodded, and he released her. He wanted to say more, he wanted to say everything, but he could barely breathe. She was still looking at him and he took the opportunity to cement her face, her aura, her being in his mind.

He took another deep breath, then knocked on the door.

"I thought you owned this place."

"I do."

"Then why did you knock?"

"Because I don't live here."

"Who does?"

The door opened, and Hermione turned to see her mother standing there, perfectly alive, perfectly healthy. And very tan.

"Oh, Hermione," she said, and reached for her daughter.

Her first reaction was to pull back, and she bumped into Draco, who stood firm. She looked at him, and he was looking at Jane. Hermione looked back.

"Mum?" she said, tentatively, hesitantly. "Is – that you?"

Jane Granger nodded and tears fell from her eyes. Hermione ran into her arms and they embraced, crying and laughing. Draco merely stood, trying hard to be invisible. Then Steve approached his wife and daughter, and Hermione hugged him, crying even more. Jane hugged them both, and Draco felt completely out of place and awful for intruding. He remembered he was the cause of all the mess, however, and deserved to feel awkward and out of place.

Then Jane looked up at him, and she smiled. "Draco. Come inside, dear." She walked to him and had to almost force him into the house. Hermione was holding onto her father, looking at Draco with a look he'd never seen before.

"Are you ready, son?" Steve asked, and Hermione looked at her father, then at Draco, utterly baffled.

He nodded, but he couldn't speak just yet.

"I'll get you some water," said Jane, looking at Draco. He nodded, and she went into the kitchen.

Steve led Hermione to the sofa, and they sat down together. Jane brought Draco a glass of water and sat on Hermione's other side. They'd set up a chair for him, and he sat, unable to keep from feeling like he was in the spotlight.

"Just start from the beginning," said Jane.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked at Hermione. She was waiting, expectantly. He searched for something, anything, to give him hope, but found nothing. She looked almost blank.

"Hermione," he said, his voice ragged. "Say something."

"I think the beginning should do very nicely."

Somehow, that gave him what he needed to start.

…ooo…

Draco Malfoy was standing outside the last house in the whole world he wanted to be anywhere near. He knew who was inside, and even though he didn't care a lick about them, or their daughter, he still wanted to be anywhere but there. Near Muggles. He'd had very little association with them, and they were usually screaming in terror or pleading for their lives or the lives of others when he did. Pitiful. Only, despite how much he tried to ignore it, to discount it, to explain it away, he knew even pureblood wizards did the same when faced with the business end of a Death Eater's wand.

He'd been ordered here to kill two Muggles and a Muggleborn witch. To show the world that his Master meant to bring the War to a new front. It was a very significant night for his Master, and he'd entrusted the job to Draco. He shut his eyes tight and leaned his head against the doorframe, trying to calm his nerves. A dull throb in his chest reminded him that his tally would grow by three that night, that he'd add three new faces to his nightmares. It was almost laughable—a Death Eater who hated killing. But he couldn't laugh. There was no laughter left in him. He hadn't heard it since… could he even remember?

And then, as if to spite him, he heard laughter itself coming from inside this house. He hadn't Apparated directly into the house because he needed a few minutes to steel himself for this task. He'd been needing these moments increasingly over the past six months, and the moments themselves got longer each time. Because no matter how many times he'd killed, it still killed him. A little piece of him died, lost to the darkness that was his soul. He could never get those pieces back; he would never be whole again. He chuckled bitterly at what his life had become.

Faithful slave. To pure evil, who cared nothing for those who served him, even those loyal to him. Like him. Loyal. Wasn't that just another word for stupid, mindless dog? Wanting always to please, afraid of the slightest flinch of the master? Ready to beg, heel, sit, lay down, fetch – kill?

Draco sighed and muttered, "Alohomora." The front door opened. He heard the laughter more loudly now. Two people; he didn't hear his third victim. No matter; he would wait. He was fully dressed in his Death Eater garb, except that for some reason, he hadn't put on his mask. Was it because he wanted her to know that it was him? To show her once for all that he was better than she was?

He hadn't thought about Hermione Granger in years. He had heard about her, heard her name, heard occasional reports on her activity, but he'd never really considered her. When he'd received his mission to kill her two days before, that changed. He thought about her more than any of his previous victims. Her face, her voice haunted his thoughts. It was the first time he'd had nightmares about a victim beforehand. He wondered if she would fight him. Did he want her to fight back?

He shook off the thought and followed the sound of the happy, oblivious voices. They were in the dining room, sitting at the table. He entered, wand raised.

Light seemed to waver and refocus when he entered the room. Though he said nothing, he knew that both occupants had been alerted to his presence but they didn't appear afraid, as his victims usually did.

The woman looked up at him, a brilliant smile still on her face. The smile slowly faded as she stared into Draco's eyes. For some reason, Draco couldn't take his eyes away from hers; it was as though he'd been paralyzed. The woman seemed to be trying to reach into his mind with her gaze. It unnerved him and something stuck in his throat. Finally she looked away, turning to her husband, and he gave her a slight nod. They both looked at him. "You must be Draco."

Draco stared at her, now gawking slightly. He started to speak but the man beat him to it.

"I think you're right," added her husband. "Hermione did say he had very pointy features."

"And nearly white hair," she commented.

Draco's breath caught in his throat and he scowled. What?

The woman caught his expression and smiled at him. "Hermione's told us so much about you," she said.

His mind went into overdrive, trying to come up with a reason the Mudblood would talk about him. Nothing he came up with seemed to make sense. And yet her parents were still calm, attempting to engage him in conversation, apparently unaware that he was about to snuff out their lives with two little words. He was caught so off-guard that all he could do was stare at them, letting his arm drop a few inches.

"We'll have to take your silence as confirmation. You look as though you haven't eaten in days. Would you like to sit and join us?" asked the woman kindly, indicating a seat between herself and Hermione's father.

Draco was not amused. "Don't you know who I am? What I am?" he sneered.

"Oh yes, we know," said the man. "You're the Malfoy boy. A Death Walker? Death Seer? What is it, dear? I can never keep up with what she tells us these days."

"Death Eater," supplied Draco, angry. "And you should know why I'm here, Muggle."

"To kill us, right?" said the woman plainly.

Draco blinked. "Yes," he said uncertainly, unnerved by her unflinching calm.

"Well, the least you can do is let us finish our meal, and since you're here, you might as well join us. We are at your mercy' we're not going anywhere. Surely there is no harm in delaying for half an hour. You look famished."

Draco was so astonished by their calmness that he collapsed into a chair at the table, though with no intention of actually eating.

"And why don't you make yourself more comfortable? We've got the heat on and that robe looks heavy. You must be burning up." The woman handed him a bowl of potatoes, which he absently took and set down without serving himself. She sighed and put a few spoonfuls on his plate. "Come on, now, take off that robe."

Draco was so shocked—so monumentally knocked off his mental legs—that he complied.

"I am Steve Granger, and this is my wife, Jane," said the man.

"Pleasure," said Draco automatically, in a daze. Always be polite, even to those beneath you. Usually the deed was over with by now, and he was scrounging around in the dark looking for loose change. Never before on a mission of death or destruction had he been told to sit, make himself comfortable, and join his victims for dinner.

Draco felt weary to his bones. He was always tired lately and worn out, and he hadn't even been sure he'd be able to go through with this assignment when he'd arrived. He felt, increasingly, that each time he killed he lost a part of himself he'd never be able to get back. Soon there would be nothing left.

"Carrots, dear. Take them. My arm's about to fall off." Once again, Draco absently took the bowl of carrots from Jane Granger and set it on the table. Again she served him a spoonful, and then, seeing that he wasn't going to cooperate, finished filling his entire plate.

"Now eat," she instructed.

"When is Hermione due?" asked Steve.

The mention of Hermione snapped Draco out of his fog. He whipped out his wand again and pointed it at Jane. "I repeat, do you know who I am?"

"We've been through this," Jane said. "You went to school with Hermione. We know all about you. Hermione and her friends warned us years ago that we might be targets for your side, simply because we were her parents. And that there was a possibility one of your lot would come calling eventually."

"I disabled all of her alert wards," Draco said, feeling a small inflation in his heart. At least he was good at what he did. "Tricky, yes—your daughter is very adept—but not impossible."

Neither Granger made any indication that this revelation concerned them.

"I see," said Steve finally, "Why don't you put your wand away and eat?"

"Aren't you afraid? I could have killed you twenty times by now!" he yelled, angry at their apparent lack of fear and proper respect for his position.

Jane considered him for a moment, then reached for Steve's hand and joined it with her own. Her eyes were sparkling and full of…something Draco had never seen before. "It is normal to fear the unknown, and death is unknown. We were very afraid when we were first told of our potential danger, but as the months, then years passed, we came to realize there is no purpose in living in constant fear. Either one of us might be in a car accident on his way home from work. We have no guarantees in life." She turned to her husband and smiled. "We've had a good run, haven't we, Granger?" she said wistfully.

Steve gazed adoringly at his wife and said, "Yes, we have."

Draco blinked and slowly lowered his arm. They truly didn't appear to be afraid of him in the least. He stared at Mrs. Granger, trying his best to understand how that was possible. Fear was all he'd ever known. He'd grown up with it, dealt with it, faced it every time he was called before the Dark Lord. He couldn't imagine living without it.

Somehow the smell of warm food punctured his thoughts and his stomach growled. He'd nearly given up eating, taking in just enough to stay alive. It must have been the absurdity of the situation, combined with the fact that he hadn't sat at a table to eat a real meal in years, that overcame his misgivings about the Grangers. He looked at his plate, laden with carrots, potatoes and roast beef, and did his best to maintain the Malfoy dignity while at the same time shoveling food into his mouth.

"I wish we had more time," she said, "To see Hermione grow up, get married, have children… little witches and wizards running around in their nappies, shooting spells at us."

"Aye," he replied, thinking fondly of the picture she'd painted.

Draco was amazed. These were Muggles, and they actually sounded like they wanted Hermione to marry a wizard and have magical children. As though they were…accepting of the wizarding world. He shook his head. "Hey!" he snapped, drawing their attention. "I am in charge here! You should be terrified of me!"

"You've got a bit of carrot on your lip, dear," said Jane, and she reached over to him in a motherly manner and with her napkin blotted his lip to extract the carrot.

Draco flinched at her touch. "Don't touch me, filthy Muggle," he spat.

Jane only laughed. "Why are you so angry, Draco Malfoy?"

He stared at the woman, incredulous. How could she be so bloody calm? None of his previous experiences with murder were anything like this one. He usually went in, found his victims and then killed them as quickly as possible. He never tortured them—killing made him sick enough. But they'd always been afraid of him.

"I'm angry because you do not seem to understand that I am going to end your life tonight! No more Christmases, no more birthdays, no more Hermione, no more laughing or eating, no magical babies! Nothing! You will be as nothing!"

Steve frowned and looked at Draco hard. "Are you going to kill Hermione too?" he asked.

His tone reminded Draco of Dumbledore. It sounded as though Steve were asking a question he already knew the answer to and couldn't quite believe someone could be so horrible. Draco gulped. "Uhm – " he started.

"Please don't," said Mrs. Granger softly, intently. It cut through him in a way that all the usual begging and pleading and bargaining of his victims never had. "I know you're not exactly friends, but please spare her. She has too much life remaining to die right now."

"I do as I'm told. Your pleading will gain you nothing," he replied. He tried to sound unaffected by her request, but he knew his response had sounded timid and unsure. And she certainly had not begged. She had simply asked.

"Do you like doing what you're told, Mr. Malfoy?" asked Steve, piercing him again with his gaze.

Draco growled. "I do as I'm told. Whether I like it or not."

"We're still alive," Jane said quietly. "Why is that?"

Draco froze, his eyes locked with hers. He didn't think he could answer her question because he didn't really know why himself. He'd been steadily falling apart for nearly a year, the most recent four months especially quickly. What had happened to him tonight? Was it possible that for some reason he'd finally reached the point where he'd had enough? Where he couldn't kill again?

"You don't really want to kill us," said Jane without waiting for an answer from him.

He narrowed his eyes, feeling the familiar swell of panic in his gut at the thought of disobeying the Dark Lord. "What makes you say that?" he asked, slightly panicked.

"Because we're still alive," said Jane. "I saw in your eyes the instant I looked at you that you didn't want to kill us, not really, not in your soul."

"Just because I haven't killed you yet doesn't mean I won't do as I'm told," he said with as much venom as he could muster.

"I'm sorry," said Jane, taking another bite of potato.

"You? Sorry for what? For me? Ha!" said Draco bitterly. "That's rich. You should be so lucky as to feel anything for me."

"I do feel sorry for you," Jane continued. "Hermione has told us all about you. You were brought up to hate people like her for no other reason than because she happened to be born to people like us. Prejudice stems from fear of what you do not understand."

"I understand that those with pure blood are of a higher social class in our world than those with dirty blood," Draco said calmly, almost too calmly. He didn't understand himself right now. He should have killed them already!

"Says you," replied Jane, looking at him skeptically. "And who are you to judge?"

"I'm a pureblood," he said with forced conviction. But even as he said the words, he felt empty. I'm a pureblood, he thought to himself.

"So? Why does that make you so special?"

"Generation upon generation of my family have been wizards," he said blandly. It was all rote, every bit of it, and he knew it. "Magic flows through my veins, and it always has. Mudbloods are freaks of nature, popping up like a horrible disease you can't cure."

"Someone in your ancestry had to be the first, Draco. Surely you can't suppose that every single member of your family tree was a pureblood."

"It doesn't matter. I am a pureblood. I deserve magic."

"Why? So you can use it to kill and injure others? Why do you deserve this magic if you intend to use it for such evil purposes? Those who do evil with any good thing do not surely deserve to have that good thing. Shouldn't one deserve something based on merit, not chance? What if you had been born into a Muggle family? Wouldn't you feel like you deserved magic too?"

Draco stared at the woman. And he didn't know what it was. Maybe she'd spiked the pumpkin juice – yes, the Grangers had served him pumpkin juice, a purely wizard drink – or put something in the roast.

Everything hovered around his mind—Jane's words, her calm questionings, the truth he'd always known and denied, that Mudbloods were as good as he. Their own daughter had single-handedly proved that from first year on. Then everything crashed down on him. He folded under the weight of finally accepting and admitting the truth. He knew she was right. He'd known it forever, since he was quite small. It had been so easy, living in the world in which he'd grown up, to ignore what had been staring him in the face. He'd found that his father's way had been easier, more expedient. But his soul, the voice in his head he couldn't quash no matter how hard he tried or how much he wanted to, knew it to be true: she and her kind were just as good as his kind.

Something inside of him finally broke. It had been torn, damaged to the point of failure, but this was the final pull, the final weight that snapped. Maybe it was that fragile shell encasing his heart, willing it to keep beating for some unknown reason. What was the point of his life? He was in despair. He'd been falling before, spiraling downward, crashing toward the bottom where there was only pain and loneliness. And in that moment, he hit. Hard.

When he'd not spoken for a moment, Jane looked at Steve, concerned. She reached over to put a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. He shrugged it away, but she held it firm, and he eventually relented. Then Draco put his head in his hands and wept, for the first time since leaving Hogwarts. Great wracking sobs that shook his whole body, and a gut-wrenching ache filled the hearts of Hermione's parents. Neither Granger rose to comfort him; they knew there was no comfort for the demons in his soul. Jane just kept her hand resting firmly on his shoulder, a gentle reminder that they were there, that he wasn't completely alone.

After some time, he slowly started to relax. Jane handed him tissue after tissue to wipe away the river that flowed from his eyes. Finally, when the heaving stopped, and the river was dried to a trickle, Draco looked up at Jane.

She was smiling at him, with a soft, kind smile. Draco saw no pity, no fear, no anger. Just kindness, and a strong desire to make the pain go away. "You don't have to do this, you know," she said softly.

"Do what?"

"Kill us."

Draco snorted. "It's either you or me," he said.

"What's troubling you, son?" said Steve, with a kindness that Draco had never heard before—and from a stranger— that Draco's heart broke again. And with that break, a tiny crack appeared in the walls that surrounded his heart and he felt himself slipping through.

"I hate myself," he said mechanically. "I hate everything about myself. I hate what I am, what I do, what I thought I wanted to do. I hate the goals I have for myself, and the master I serve unfailingly. I hate every single thing about my entire life, start to finish. There is nothing inside me but sickness and rottenness and death. And I wish every day I would just die, to end all this hatred."

Jane stood up and wrapped her arms around Draco in a tight hug. He barely noticed that he had rested his head on her shoulder. He only knew he felt a warmth he'd never felt in his life.

"It doesn't have to be like this," she said, pulling back. Through the smile, he saw tears in her eyes – she was crying for him! And not tears of pity, which he would have instantly despised, but tears of pain. She actually hurt for him.

"Of course it does. Until someone sends a flashy green spell in my direction, I'm here, doing this, every day of my wretched life." He put his head in his arms on the table. "I wish you would kill me."

"Nonsense," said Steve. "Chin up. Look at me."

Draco obeyed, no longer questioning why he was doing it. He decided he'd momentarily slipped from sanity. It had to be the blasted electricity. Baring his soul to Muggles. And Hermione Granger's parents at that.

"Have you nothing to live for?"

"No."

"Your parents?"

Draco shook his head.

"Friends?"

Draco scoffed.

"A girl?"

Another weary headshake.

"Honor?"

"What's that?" he asked bitterly.

"Do the right thing here, Draco."

"And that would be?"

"Don't kill tonight."

"You're just trying to save your skins," he said, though deep down he knew it wasn't true.

"We're trying to save yours," said Jane sincerely, looking into his dying, empty, steel-grey eyes.

Draco thought long and hard about his options. And they were bleak. But these people had lit a fire in him unlike anything he'd ever felt, just from their kindness and thoroughly honest concern for him. The man who'd been sent to kill them!

"Like I said," he started, "It's me or you. And despite how much I hate myself, I'm not ready to die. Something tells me I should keep holding out. For what, I may never know."

"Then it's us," said Steve. "I think that perhaps you've been waiting for this moment. To finally change. It's obviously been coming for a long time. You'd been holding out for now. So you would have the chance to make the decision not to kill."

Draco frowned and made an admission he never imagined he'd make, even in his moments of deepest despair. "I don't really want to kill you, I never did. I never have. You or anyone."

"Isn't there a way out of this?"

Draco thought hard again. He started to shake his head, ready to give it all up, when the answer struck him like a mallet on a gong. "There might be," he started slowly, "If you were willing to go along with it. I don't really see why you would be, but if you want to hear it, I'll tell you."

"Please do," said Steve.

"I could fake your deaths."

"Oh, well, that's a no-brainer," said Jane teasingly.

Draco felt his lips form an expression he didn't recall them ever forming, at least not in recent memory. He smiled, ever so slightly, at her jab.

"Can you do that?" asked Steve.

"Yes," Draco answered, his heart starting to pound in his chest at the thought, at the idea of betraying the Dark Lord. He could be killed simply for this conversation. "There is a potion that mimics death. It's untraceable by magic; very Dark stuff. A few drops of the counter-potion on the tongue would revive you."

"Is it safe?" Steve asked.

"I…I've never used it. But my father has a bottle of both the mimic and the counter-potions. I'm sure he wouldn't bother to purchase something that didn't work."

Steve and Jane looked at each other and then Jane said, "We need more information. How exactly would this go? And what about Hermione?"

Draco nodded, thinking. "I would administer the potion to the three of you. The Ministry would come and find you, declare you dead. I would provide the counter-potion at first opportunity and I'd… have to hide you away somewhere." He was thinking quickly now, ideas tumbling through his mind. "I have my own resources, I could easily take care of all your basic needs…"

Steve frowned. "Where would you hide us?"

"I'm not sure, somewhere…far away, somewhere you would have no chance of being seen by anyone, especially wizards. Even the smallest hint of your survival would send the Dark Lord after you."

"Where—"

"I don't know," Draco repeated, frustrated. "A…desert island, or the top of a mountain. Somewhere very secluded."

Jane nodded, a hint of a smile on her face. She took her husband's hand. "We would all be safe."

Something was nagging in the back of Draco's mind. "Would… she go along with this?" he asked.

Hermione's parents looked at each other again, this time not at all amused.

Draco continued. "I realize that you have to make this decision now, without her, but when she comes home, there are two scenarios I can picture. In the first, she'll listen to this plan. Then she'll either accept or reject it. If she chooses the latter, I'm as good as dead. The second scenario is that she may simply overpower me and have me arrested. If I missed a ward, of if she's alerted in any way to the presence of someone here besides you, she could take me by surprise. In this scenario, I end up in prison—not exactly an attractive option.

"So tell me. Do you think she could go along with this plan? She could choose instead to fight me, and were she to win, it would only delay what we're trying to avoid—your deaths." He didn't think he had it in him to even stun her now, much less kill her. In his mind, he gave her a sporting chance of defeating him. He couldn't risk it.

Steve rubbed his wife's hand and gave her an encouraging smile, and then turned to Draco. "I—honestly, I can't say."

Jane continued. "She'd be taken away from her friends. From Harry and Ron."

"She'd be angry with us," Steve said with conviction.

"Spitting," agreed Jane with a nod. "Would she ever…forgive us? For taking her away from her life, from her friends, her mission?"

It clicked in his mind finally. That was it. He didn't think she'd ever go quietly.

"Would she stay put?" Draco asked firmly. "If I get you three out of here, put you somewhere safe, would she stay there?" Neither parent spoke. "I need you to be honest. I can't afford to take any chances, and neither can you. If I fail tonight, someone else will come after me, someone who won't hesitate to kill you."

Steve took a deep breath. "It's…always a possibility that she'll want to nip back from time to time…"

Jane sighed. "The truth is, we're not sure how she'd react. We don't think she would deliberately endanger us, but if she believed strongly enough that we were safe, I don't think she'd hesitate to try and return. For her friends.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "I cannot accept that. All it would take would be one sighting of her to completely ruin my plan. Ruin this…this thing we're doing now. And she'd likely be killed on the spot if a Death Eater saw her. Not to mention the fact that I would be killed as well. I'm not willing to risk my life for that."

"But you don't want to kill again, do you?" Jane asked.

"No, but like I said before, I do as I'm told, and I still consider staying alive more important than strengthening my moral fiber."

Jane looked at Steve, a worried expression on her face.

"Remember," continued Draco. "Once you two are safe, I can make sure you stay that way. There are spells that will effectively hide you. If, say, I put you on an island, you two would be stuck there, so to speak, unable to leave. On the other hand, she could simply Apparate and return to England. It's too dangerous—for me." He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. If she were captured, she'd be able to tell her captors that you are alive, but not where you are located. Her life would be forfeit, and you would remain safe. Your priority, I assume, is her safety."

"Yes," said Steve.

"So you must be able to tell me what she would do. You know her far better than I do. If there is even a slight chance she would return to England after her death has been faked, I cannot go through with it."

Steve and Jane spoke quietly between themselves for a few minutes. Draco didn't try to listen; he was fairly certain he knew what they would say.

Nodding to his wife, Steve sighed and turned to Draco. "We cannot say without a doubt that she would remain with us. But we don't want her to have to go through what she will believe is our death."

"There is no other way. Your options are, I kill you and her, or you two have your deaths faked and she lives, believing you to be dead."

Jane shut her eyes tight. "So…that's it, then, isn't it?" she asked, her brow furrowed in worry.

"It's your decision," Draco said.

"You were told to kill all of us. If you don't fake her death, how can you keep her alive and…and safe, too?" Steve asked.

Draco thought hard. Just when they had seemed to reach a conclusion, another option or complication arose. Quickly he ran through all the Dark Magic he knew of, all the spells, enchantments, potions; everything. Then—potions. He spoke slowly. "I…suppose I could still fake your deaths, but… if the Dark Lord believed she is more useful to us alive than dead, it might work…"

Steve squeezed Jane's hand. "Can you convince him?"

"I can try. But you two would have to go into hiding. She couldn't know – I can't risk her trying to contact you in some way. One word spoken and heard by the wrong person could be disastrous. It would be too risky. She's going to have to believe you're dead, in order to truly convince the Dark Lord, for all angles of this plan to work." He looked from Steve to Jane. "Can you accept that?"

"Yes," said Steve quietly. Jane nodded, tears in her eyes.

Draco was moved by their strength and their sacrifice. He didn't think either of his parents would answer the same way, much less both of them.

"This…isn't going to be easy. You must know that. I have no idea how long you'll have to be in hiding. At the rate the War is going now…it could be years."

"Do you hate him?" Steve asked. "Your master?"

"Yes…" Draco replied.

"And everything you do for him?"

"Yes…"

Steve and Jane were looking at him expectantly as though waiting for him to say something. Or to think something, or…

His eyes widened. "You think I should turn from him."

"Why not?" Jane asked. "You've already said that your life right now isn't what you want."

"Why not? Have you any idea what he's like? No, of course you don't. No one has ever successfully left his service. Everyone who has tried has been found and killed."

Steve smiled. "You don't necessarily have to leave his service. And even if you do, you need only stay alive longer than he does."

Draco felt the full force of what Steve was implying hit him in the gut like a sledgehammer. Not only had Steve suggested he turn from the Dark Lord, but that he bring him down as well. "Oh," he forced out. "Right."

The thought alone made Draco feel sick. He knew the Dark Lord wasn't invincible—that he could, in theory, be defeated. It had never entered his mind that he might play a role in his Master's downfall. Some very small part of him had secretly longed for the day when the Dark Lord would fall. Every time his father looked worried, every time his aunt had a particularly dark look in her eyes, his stomach jumped in the hope that it was over. Even though he knew the consequences for himself.

It would be more difficult than anything Draco had ever done before to bring down the Dark Lord—nearly impossible, even—but it would be worth it. What did he have to lose? He nodded to Steve, finally accepting and cementing in his mind that he would work to betray his master.

"I have one request of you," said Steve, adopting a very serious, almost intimidating tone.

"Oh?" Draco asked, raising an eye.

"You seem to be a lost spirit, Draco. You have no true roots to keep you grounded. You need that; we all need something to give us purpose.

"What are you getting at?" Draco asked, wary of what was coming.

"To give you purpose. Once we're gone, Hermione will be left alone. She will need someone to look after her without us around."

"She won't be alone," he returned. "She's got Potter and Weasley. They'll look after her."

"Not as she needs. She will need someone from the other side protecting her. From your master. Her friends can only do so much."

Draco frowned; what were they getting at? "What do you suggest?"

"That will be your purpose. To see to it that she remains safe. Protect her from the evils she wouldn't anticipate. From what your side might decide to do. Tomorrow, when you wake up, you will know that you did not follow like a lost puppy dog, that you made a decision for yourself, and that it was a good decision. That it was the right thing to do."

Something long abandoned inside him burst to the surface and Draco felt ready to latch on to their hope for him. He'd long ago given up on life, holding no hope for himself. He was frightened at how much he was ready to reach for it, like it was a small light in a dark, empty expanse. He could barely see its shimmer, but he knew it was there, and if he could just catch it, it would grow until it filled the expanse and he saw not gloom and despair, but something else, something wonderful. Life, they called it.

"You want me to protect her?" he asked, incredulous. "She'll curse me into oblivion if she sees me anywhere near her!"

"Then she can't see you. We're not asking you to befriend her, or guard her with her knowledge. In fact, I think it would be best if no one knew," Jane said. "Considering how dangerous this is for you, especially. You may not understand now, but hopefully you will some day. There is great power in caring for someone else, Draco. It may save your life."

"And she need never know," added Steve, "unless such a time arises that you wish to tell her."

"Fat chance," said Draco. "She would still curse me into oblivion."

Steve chuckled. "She is feisty, that girl. And fierce, too." He looked at his wife. "How I'm going to miss her," he said.

"Me too."

"So, I'm to watch over Hermione. Keep her safe, from all sides, from a distance."

"Yes. That is our request of you."

He took a deep breath, and turned himself over completely to their hope. "Okay. I will."

A clock somewhere in the house struck eight.

"Oh dear," said Jane, "We're expecting Hermione home soon!"

"How soon?" Draco asked, slightly panicking.

"Within the half hour," she said.

He stood and took up his robe in one fluid movement. "I will return as soon as possible with the potion. You'll hear a pop when I leave and when I return."

"Yes, yes," said Jane, pushing him toward the door, which was silly, since he wasn't leaving through the door. "We're familiar with Apparation."

In the hallway, Draco stopped and looked at Steve and Jane Granger. He would still be able to turn back, after leaving their house without killing them, after stealing that potion from his father's stores, after coming back and having them drink it. But once he left Hermione alive, there was no going back. Somewhere inside, the heart that had shattered this very night began its slow healing process. He was supposed to protect her. He couldn't kill her. He would not go back. Draco gave a curt nod before Disapparating.

ooo

A/N: Dear wonderful readers: This story is nearing the end. There will not be a sequel, but I have enjoyed these characters so much that I'm not quite ready to let them go. That's where I need YOUR help.

I would like to write a series of "deleted scenes" from We Learned the Sea. So. What do you want to see? What scenes did I skip over that you wished I'd written? Do you have any questions about what happened at all, during any part of this story or about what happened before it? For example: "I want to see how Draco cast the Binding Spell on Hermione."

I plan to take all of your ideas/questions/etc and choose 5-7 that I will write about. I'm really excited about this idea. They will be posted in a separate file, as my dear Z recommended, but more on that next chapter.

I truly cannot wait to see what you come up with! And thanks for reading:)