Terminates all spell effects.

Lord brought up the matter of a new elite group at the next meeting, the surprised looks from the other Death-Eaters were almost too good to be true. Draco bit back a smirk and stood up, waving the seated Death-Eaters to join the rest.

"My lord," Yaxley protested, with a sneer in Draco's direction.

The Dark Lord didn't react.

"Don't piss on my fucking parade, Yaxley, move," Draco whisked his wand in Yaxley's direction and the man slid across the floor, coming to a sudden stop and tumbling down because of the abrupt momentum. Some of the Death-Eaters laughed.

"Right." Draco threw a glance over at the Dark Lord, who watched with a gleam in his serpentine eyes. "Any suggestions, my lord?"

"I quite trust your judgement."

"Thank you, my lord." Draco dipped his head in faux gratitude. He pointed at Bellatrix and tried to keep the flush of anger down. "Auntie dearest."

Draco tried not to think about hitting her with a killing curse there and then, although he was highly tempted to do so every time he laid eyes on Bellatrix fucking Lestrange. He loathed her, especially after seeing her torture Hermione in front of his very eyes.

With his skill at Occlumency, he'd kept his hatred for her well-hidden. And Bellatrix was clearly overjoyed that someone in her family shared her ardent (twisted) love and fervour for the Dark Lord. "It would be an honour, Draco."

Draco ignored her and pointed his wand in the direction of his friend. "Pansy Parkinson." He didn't miss the twinkle in his friend's eyes as she stepped forward. "Maisie Donalds. Graham Pritchard. Malcolm Braddock. Alecto Carrow. Guthrie Rhodes," he smirked when Theo shot daggers at him from across the room. "And Theodore Nott."

"Just nine?" This came from MacNair, who seemed annoyed that he wasn't picked. "To break into Azkaban? My lord - "

But before either the Dark Lord or Draco could intervene, Bellatrix stood in front of the group, brandishing her wand at MacNair with an unhinged glint in her eye. "You dare doubt our capabilities?" She hissed, sounding absolutely furious. "We would never be picked if my nephew didn't think us capable of breaking into Azkaban!"

Draco smirked. It seemed Bellatrix was useful after all.

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"What was that?"

Draco ignored Pansy, who had begun yelling the moment they were back in the apartment. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Firewhisky from the fridge.

"Draco! Do you know how hard it is to break into Azkaban with only nine members?"

"Keep your knickers on, woman, and let the man drink." Theo grinned and leaned against the counter. "Oi, Draco, throw me a bottle, will you?" He caught the bottle that Draco tossed at him and, after a quick chug, he set the bottle down. "You know, I really thought you'd forgotten about me, mate. You can't have fun in a fight without me."

"Yes, speaking of having fun in fights, why wasn't I picked?" Blaise asked.

Draco cast a surreptitious glance over at his bedroom before turning back to Blaise. "You're the tenth member."

"What?"

Draco set the bottle down and braced his arms on the counter. "There are two parts to this mission. The first - as everyone knows - is to break into Azkaban and free the Death-Eaters. It's simple; Bellatrix has been in Azkaban - which was why I picked her - and she'll let us view her memories of the place, which will help when we navigate our way through the prison. I'll be splitting the group into two. Nott, you and Parkinson will be in the other group with Bellatrix and two others. Keep an eye on them, make sure you deal with any trouble that gets in the way."

Theo's grin widened. "Looking forward to it."

"Stay clear of the Dementors. They should be on our side, but even if they can't recognise us, they will never know that the three of us are there," he gestured to himself, Pansy and Theo, before turning to Blaise. "I need the numbing potion in concentrated doses for that day. Three times the usual amount. Dementors pick their victims based on emotions. They wouldn't sense a fucking emotion out of any one of us when we go to Azkaban."

Blaise nodded and grabbed his wand to make a note on his palm. "Dolohov thought it was going to be difficult with nine members but it's a piece of cake with the numbing spell."

Draco shrugged. "It's going to be difficult for the other members but certainly not for us. Zabini, you're the backup. Use a Disillusionment charm to keep yourself hidden, don't forget to numb yourself and watch our backs. You're the only one able to cast a fully corporeal Patronus - Parkinson's Patronus is still weak - so if all else fails and we're surrounded by Dementors, you'll take care of it."

Blaise shot him a suspicious look. "That's it?"

"Of course not," Draco scoffed. "Now on to part two of the mission - which is kept between the four of us. We all know that there are traitors among the Death-Eaters and I formed this group specifically to sift them out. Parkinson," Draco turned to Pansy. "You're the best at Legilimency. You know what you have to do. Zabini will be there to collect their memories and insert artificial ones if necessary. Each traitor we find will be handed over to the Dark Lord himself."

Theo chuckled, a knowing glint in his eye. "I see what you're doing. Thinning out the Dark Lord's army on the pretext of wanting nothing but loyalty among the Death-Eaters. Pretty sly move you've got there."

Draco winked and lifted the bottle back to his lips. "What else did you expect from a Slytherin?"

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One of Hermione's favourite things to do was to look at the old yearbooks. When Draco wasn't around, she'd spend hours just staring at the photographs. It was a good distraction. Some faces were becoming clearer, like a camera gradually zooming into focus.

Luna Lovegood. That was one of the pictures that caught her eye and she spent ages staring at the girl in the yearbook. When she asked Pansy about Luna, Pansy simply smirked and shook her head.

"Batshit crazy," Hermione's eyes had widened but Pansy quickly sent her a reassuring smile, "but completely harmless."

So Hermione thought a lot about Luna. Especially on nights when the moonlight was streaming through, remembering what Draco had said about Luna Plena. There was also Neville Longbottom - a funny name. She remembered it because the name made her laugh at first. But the more she stared at the boy with chubby cheeks, the more familiar he felt.

"Fucking git," was Draco's more than generous analysis of Neville Longbottom, when Hermione had asked. "But brave - I'll give you that. He destroyed a bloody Horcrux."

"What's a Horcrux?"

Draco's eyes darkened and he shook his head. But she was pleasantly surprised when he sat next to her on the bed. She scooted close and leaned her head against his arm. He didn't seem to mind at all.

"A snake. He killed a snake," said Draco simply.

She quietly returned back to the 1997 Yearbook, her eyes riveting on two particular photographs she'd always stared long at. One was Ronald Weasley, and the other was Harry Potter.

"You didn't really like him much...did you?" She ventured at last, when she noticed the way Draco's eyes were narrowed at the picture of Harry Potter.

"No, he's my absolute favourite, I really enjoyed the way he shot a curse at me that sliced open my fucking chest," Draco deadpanned, lips twitching in amusement when Hermione let out a horrified gasp. "Although, you can't judge since you punched me in the face..."

"Only because you deserved it," shot back Hermione, and then her eyes widened. She paused. What she'd said and the way she had said it sounded awfully familiar but distant all the same. She looked at Draco and noticed that the expression on his face seemed torn between amusement, nostalgia and faint frustration.

But then the look faded and he shook his head, silver eyes twinkling in the dim lighting of their room. "Always so bloody stubborn, Granger."

She smiled up at him and laced their fingers together. "Hermione," she reminded, to which he let out a reluctant noise of agreement. Flipping through the pages, she finally found her favourite one and smiled at the sullen blond boy who posed for the camera.

Then she looked at the next picture. Draco followed the direction of her gaze and snorted. "Cocky wanker," he said, but Hermione detected a faint trace of affection in his voice. "Believe it or not, he's got the same hairstyle now as he used to have back then."

Hermione laughed. "Well then - tell him that he really needs a haircut."

"I'll be sure to pass your message on."

So later that night, Draco lifted the silencing charms on the door when he went out to get dinner. Hermione pressed her ears against the door, smiling when Draco began the conversation with, "hey, Nott, you need a fucking haircut."

Theo made a dismissive noise.

"Why're you so bloody concerned with my - fuck, Draco, were you thinking about me when you were inside the room wanking all afternoon?"

Hermione pressed the back of her hand to her lips to muffle her laughter. Scuffling sounds ensued, and she presumed that Draco had well and truly hit that thought out of Theo's head. Minutes later, he returned with a plate piled full with food and an annoyed expression on his face.

"Told you he was a cocky wanker," Draco muttered, his voice charged with faint aggravation but his features began to soften as she continued to laugh. Her laughter made him momentarily forget about the war and the bleak present and the blurry future. It reminded him of better days, of sunlight and warmth and everything pleasant and sweet in between.

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Hermione's eyes flew open when she heard a sudden bang. The chair beside her was empty. She bolted up, ignoring the faint pang in her abdomen. Relief filled her when she saw Draco standing next to the desk.

"Shit," he muttered, rubbing his knee with a twisted scowl on his face. He'd probably knocked against the table on the way out.

On the way out.

Her eyes widened when she saw the jacket pulled over his jumper and the hood pulled over his head. He paused when he met her gaze.

"W-where're you going?" Hermione whispered, feeling a shudder wrack itself through her body as she stared up at him with fearful eyes. His jaw was clenched, shoulders squared in an unusual determination and the expression on his face was utterly calm and lethal.

But the look faded as he stepped towards her. "The four of us have to be somewhere tonight," he said. "Dark Lord's orders."

Hermione couldn't stop the painful tightening in her chest. She wasn't just worried for Draco, but for Pansy and Blaise and Theo as well. She'd spent so long listening to them behind the closed door that she hardly wanted anything bad to happen to any of Draco's friends.

"Is it...is it safe?"

"We'll be fine," Draco said instead, before handing her a sleeping draught. "I'll be back before you wake up."

Nodding unsurely, Hermione sank back against the pillow. She watched him leave, shutting the door gently behind him. She heard faint voices in the living room and after awhile, complete silence. When she was certain that he was gone, she set down the sleeping draught on the dresser. She turned on her side and stared into the darkness, counting down the hours to his return.