Hermione Granger was Worried.

This was actually a rather normal state for her to be in. She was friends with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, two boys who, if not for the presence of Fred and George Weasley, would have vied for the top spots of Greatest Losers of Gryffindor Points. She obsessed frequently over grades, often fretting herself into a loss of temper and/or sanity. She was a Muggleborn witch living in the age of Voldemort.

A far more immediate cause for anxiety, however, was the fact that Harry was Missing.

Harry’d been missing since Charms, although Hermione wasn’t really to know that he was Missing missing and not moping missing. Despite all he’d said to her, the way he’d spat out that horrible word – Mudblood – with such noteworthy aplomb, and perhaps really because of all of that, she was beside herself by the end of Defense.

Lupin looked none too pleased either, she noted as she conferred with Ron.

Ron was still incredibly angry with Harry. “I reckon he’s off brooding somewhere,” Ron said, and although Ron was basically right, that did not, in this case, place Harry in any less danger than before, which Hermione was quick to point out to him.

“No matter what Harry’s said to us, he’s still our friend,” Hermione reminded him sharply. “Besides, Ron, you know Draco Malfoy told him to say all of those things; we’ve discussed this.”

Ron grumbled something inaudibly, but the words Harry and git were definitely in there someplace.

“Seriously, Ron. We have to spend some time after Defense looking for him, okay? What if he’s in the Hospital Wing? How would you feel then?”

“I’d feel a bit better, I reckon,” Ron said stubbornly. When Hermione sighed, looking drained, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Look, Hermione, I don’t think there’s any reason to worry... he’s probably avoiding Malfoy. After that scene last night, wouldn’t you? Let him be.”

But Hermione couldn’t let Harry be – so, after Defense, she checked the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey was cheerfully treating one of the Creevey brothers; Hermione didn’t check which. Then she checked the Astronomy Tower, which was out of the way and rather brood-worthy, but she had no luck there, either. She even went to check with Hagrid, although she was careful not to so much as mention that Harry was missing, so as not to worry him. She asked if he’d seen a lot of Harry this year, and Hagrid admitted Harry hadn’t been to see him yet.

By then it was time for supper, so Hermione wandered down to the Great Hall, half-expecting to see Harry’s riot of dark wavy hair close beside Draco’s straighter silver – but Draco was alone. Hermione accidentally caught his grey eyes and realized that he was scanning the Gryffindor table as she’d been scanning Slytherin.

He doesn’t know either? Hermione’s anxiety skipped up a notch. She conferred rapidly with Ron. Together, they decided that the time for worry had arrived, but they quickly worked out a handful of other places to check before they informed a teacher.

Hermione and Ron chased away a handful of the Unsorted House, and escaped the Hall. Together, they checked the library, every nook, including the three secret study lounges scattered in various spots behind paintings and under rugs throughout the library proper. They checked the Hospital Wing, again, just in case. And finally, they moved to check the Room of Requirement.

“What do you suppose we should be looking for?” Hermione wondered, one finger tapping meditatively on her lower lip. “What would Harry look for?”

Ron shook his head. “No telling. Although he once told me he was never more comfortable anywhere than in the Gryffindor dorms...”

“All right, you picture them, then,” Hermione said, knowing Ron was more familiar with the inside of his room than she was. “I’ll wait here.”

Ron pictured the dorms with varying degrees of concentration, but the door refused to appear, even on the third and fourth pass.

When it did on the sixth, it was with an odd feeling of magical reluctance – or that was how Ron would describe it if pressed. Frowning, he opened the door.

There was already someone inside, and, for a moment, Ron believed with all his heart that it was Harry. A figure was slumped in one of the chairs of the room that Ron, Harry, Seamus, and Dean shared, his elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands.

Then a flash of torchlight from the hall caught on hair pale enough that it could only be Draco Malfoy’s.

Hermione, standing beside Ron, took a step back – she recognized the stance of someone who Wished To Be Alone, and automatically respected it.

Ron, however, had no such compunctions. “You!” he said, pointing with a certain drama. “What are you doing here?!”

Malfoy stiffened, straightened, and turned to glare at them. Hermione couldn’t help but note that he looked drained and exhausted. “What the deuce...?” he murmured, looking at them. Then he turned his attention to the room as a whole. “Well, now,” he added, startled. “When did that happen?”

“Have you seen Harry?” Hermione inquired politely. After all, that was what they’d come for, and she had no intention of allowing the boys to become sidetracked by an argument.

“No, he’s not here,” Draco said rather redundantly. “One would hope that even your brain could grasp the fact.”

“I asked you if you’d seen him, not if you were looking at him just now,” Hermione replied, forgetting immediately her plan not to antagonize the Slytherin.

“Not since Potions,” he said.

The reply was so straightforward that Hermione stared. “Er... okay, thanks,” Hermione said, tugging Ron away with little yanks of his robe.

“You haven’t seen him?” Draco continued.

Hermione shook her head. “Not – not since Potions...”

“Why?” Ron interjected. “Wanted him to do something even worse than before?”

“I wanted him to do something, yes. He’s not in the Hospital Wing, or the Astronomy Tower, or with you...” Draco was frowning and standing up, some of the tiredness falling from him. “I suppose it’s time to see a teacher.”

Hermione didn’t really enjoy hearing her thoughts echoed by the other boy, but she nodded. “Yes, well – we’re off to do just that.”

Draco shrugged. “Certainly, Granger. Feel free. But I’m going to inform a teacher as well.” He slipped past them and into the hallway.

“But – who are you going to inform?” Hermione called after him.

Draco half-turned, eyeing her as if debating whether to respond. “My Head of House.”

Ron snorted. “Some help he’ll be. He’ll probably throw a party, that one.”

“Who will you tell, Granger?”

Hermione bit her lower lip. “Professor Lupin. Harry’s most likely to be in trouble with some sort of Dark Arts thing...” Or already dead, the most cold and logical part of her announced, and she felt herself pale. Grabbing Ron’s sleeve again, she made off for Professor Lupin’s quarters, while Draco headed in the opposite direction.

Why’d he have to go and do that? It’s not like Granger and the Weasel are even really upset with him, Draco thought, staring after the pair for a moment before striding swiftly along the corridor in the opposite direction. Harry’s such a ponce, such a baby.Draco was one of the few students who knew the location of his Head of House’s private quarters; at one point two years ago, Snape had revealed its location, with a strict command not to abuse the privilege. He’d talked about darkness, and crises, and knowing of a refuge one could turn to. At the time, Draco had been certain Snape was talking about the Dark Lord as a refuge, but now he was beginning to think that the black-haired man was offering his rooms as a refuge in case Draco ever got in trouble with the Dark Lord, somehow, or at home. Over the years, his view of Snape had altered, subtly at first, but it scarcely mattered. Professor Severus Snape would always take his side and would always shield him from both the worst that the Light had to offer – and the worst of the Dark.

When he knocked on the door, Professor Snape answered, still in his school robes. The Professor’s features fell visibly when Draco grinned at him and sauntered in.

“What, sir, awaiting a lover at your age?” Draco teased, then immediately regretted it as Snape’s features hardened with anger.

“What do you want, Draco?” he bit off.

Draco paused, thrown by this odd miscalculation on his part. “Uhm, I thought you should know that Potter is missing.”

“Potter is missing?"

Draco nodded. “I mean, he’s probably off whinging to the wind somewhere high and remote, but I can’t find him.” He frowned. “Neither can Weasley and Granger, and that’s worrying.”

“When did you see him last?”

Draco sighed, wondering why everyone always wanted to know this. How did it help? “Potions, this morning. And before you ask, that is where they saw him last, too. He never came to Charms.”

Snape paled. “Have you alerted the Headmaster? Why did you wait so long?”

“No – I came to you, first. And I waited because it’s his tendency to go off on his own when things go wrong. I just wait for him to show again, and he does. His friends must be used to the same.”

Professor Snape tossed some powder into the fire and stuck his head in, obviously having a quick conversation with Professor Dumbledore. When he emerged once more, he turned to Draco. “Mister Malfoy, what are the side effects of a properly performed Imperius Curse?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Hardly time for a lesson just now, is it?”

“Do not be obtuse,” Snape replied.

For a moment, they stood there, both glaring – Draco realizing he must look pale and wan and silvery-gold – and Snape looking the personification of night. They might have continued like that for quite some time, but for the fact that a knock on the door interrupted them.

Snape moved to open it, then blinked in surprise as Remus Lupin nodded to him and entered, followed by Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Draco saw Snape rub at his temples and frown.

“Good evening, Severus,” Lupin said pleasantly. “Eye... healing nicely, I see?”

Professor Snape offered up a glare that shifted to a wary tolerance a moment later. “Quite,” he replied. “Any news of Mister Potter?”

“I was hoping you might know of some of his haunts. Have knowledge that the rest of us aren’t privy to?”

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Lupin?” Snape sneered, stepping a bit closer, eyeing Lupin with distaste. “No, Mister Potter does not pour his heart out so very regularly – he is a singularly solitary person...”

“Who’s missing!” Granger squeaked.

Draco turned to glare at her, but really, he was grateful for the interruption; something in the dynamic between the two professors had shifted, but it was rapidly apparent to him that the two could continue in this vein for hours.

“Yes, thank you, Miss Granger,” Snape said acerbically, but Draco caught a hint of genuine gratitude in his Professor’s voice.

Briefly, they conferred on where they had already looked; Draco had checked some of the same places they had, but he had also thought to scan the Quidditch pitch and stands. Nobody they’d asked had even seen Harry, except some terrorized-looking first-year, who’d informed Draco that she’d seen Harry on the end of the second-floor corridor.

Hermione perked up. “Oh, no,” she said.

“What is it, Hermione?” Lupin inquired gently.

“The second floor,” she repeated.

“Spit it out, Miss Granger!”

“It’s okay,” said Ron, “she gets like this – but she’ll say what’s what if you’re patient.”

Draco watched as the girl regained hold of herself.

“He’s gone where we can’t follow. Oh, this is awful! Don’t you see, Ron? He’s gone down to the Chamber!”

“Oh, don’t be silly, you foolish girl,” Snape said. “No one can reach the Chamber of Secrets anymore. I know for a fact that the Headmaster changed the password.”

“What, to lemon drop?” Ron asked.

Snape and Lupin both flushed.

“He couldn’t quite get it to shift off of Parseltongue,” Lupin said, frowning, “or so McGonagall tells me.”

“So it’s lemon drop in Parseltongue,” Hermione confirmed. “You think Harry won’t figure that? There’s nothing else of interest on the second floor,” she continued, “unless he went to see the Headmaster, which I doubt - and Professor Lupin is already here. Harry might've gone up to the third floor to the statue of the witch, but the secret passage is caved-in.”

Draco perked up. “There’s a secret passage?”

“And so’s the Chamber of Secrets,” Ron reminded her. “Why should Harry go down there, when it’s blocked?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Ron,” Hermione said with feeling, “maybe because it’s dark and cold and lonesome and no one will find him there? After what that fool made him do, he won’t want to see us, will he?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I did it to prove a point – not as though I’d expect either one of you to understand.”

“So – what, he’s sitting down there feeling sorry for himself?” Ron shot back at Hermione, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll admit he’s been different, lately, but one would imagine he’d come back for supper.”

“But that’s just it, Ron, he can’t,” Hermione went on, gesticulating feelingly. “Remember how we got out? Fawkes! You can’t climb back up. Now that it’s closed in, there’s no way out!”

“You mean you can’t just speak the word in Parseltongue from the other side? Isn’t that rather a foolish way to go about building a secret passage?” Draco wondered.

“He’s stuck in there!” Ron said, as though the idea had just suddenly hit him.

“Excuse me!” Draco shouted, moving to stand directly in between Ron and Hermione. “Are you idiots even aware there’s anyone in the room but the two of you?!”

Ron blinked and stepped slightly away; Hermione did the same thing.

“Thank you, Mister Malfoy,” Snape said. “Excellent deductions, Miss Granger, but you do not need to reveal all in the manner of a dimestore-novel detective. Despite all evidence to the contrary, there are those who have the ability to keep up with your intellect. Mister Weasley, kindly refrain from ignoring those around you; it’s rude, no matter how involved you are with your girlfriend at the time. Lupin – suggestions?”

Draco watched as the werewolf started slightly, looking quite taken aback by the query.

“I suppose we should go up to the second floor and see if we cannot locate another entrance to this Chamber.”

Snape considered this, then nodded, and strode out the door without waiting to see if anyone else would follow.

The odd procession made their way up to the second floor, with a lot of mutters concerning ill-treatment from Draco, who was beginning to find the stairs tiresome after the fifth flight. The others didn’t say much of anything, even Professor Lupin, who was beginning to look a bit grey after the third.

Too close to the full moon, I suppose, Draco thought, eyeing the older man with ill-concealed revulsion. I doubt he’ll be much use by the time we reach the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets...

When they emerged onto the second floor, Draco started thinking about the Chamber, about how very much he’d wanted to be the Heir of Slytherin... but Potter had somehow stolen even that from him, everyone assuming it was him – Potter, who heard voices and talked to snakes and who, at twelve, already looked far more dangerous than Draco could hope to appear at sixteen.

“Here we are,” Hermione said, and without any more preamble, led the way into the girls’ toilets.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Draco said, his chin hitching up a notch, although the place smelled mineral, like water, rather than anything more objectionable. Hermione eyed him with a fastidious distaste, as though she found his squeamishness disappointing but not entirely unexpected, and moved to a particular water fixture. Ron stood beside her, and they nodded in tandem.

“That’s it all right,” Ron said. “Now what?”

Draco watched as Professor Lupin nodded at Snape and moved to stand beside the fixture. Starting with a simple Alohamora charm, he ran through a rather impressive gamut of unlocking and revealing incantations. When he’d exhausted his ingenuity, Snape stepped in with a few that the other Professor had omitted. When all was said and done, nothing had altered.

Except, perhaps, that Draco could swear the little snake was now grinning cheekily up at them.

For his part, Draco waited until they’d exhausted their ideas before stating the obvious. “You know, even if we do get in, we’ll only be stuck as well. Even assuming you did find Harry, we’d just be a bunch of jolly corpses...”

Hermione blinked at him and Snape looked taken aback. He could tell that they were both mentally cursing themselves, and that was somewhat satisfying.

“Couldn’t Snape or Lupin Apparate –” Ron began.

“Can’t Apparate at Hogwarts,” Hermione and Draco said in chorus, Hermione tired and Draco smug.

“Oi, that was scary,” Ron said. “Sorry I asked.”

“Oooh, more guests! I don’t remember when I’ve had this much fun!” Myrtle exclaimed, melting through the ceiling and moving to hover before the five wizards.

“Myrtle, have you seen Harry?!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Seen him? Oh yes, I’ve seen him,” she replied coyly. “But his parchment was incredibly mean, d’you know? I’m sure he charmed it just to insult me; it said all sorts of terrible things. But I suppose that’s what I’ve come to expect, really,” she added with a vague stab at being prosaic. “No one cares for moping, moaning Myrtle!”

“Too right we don’t,” Draco replied. “So – where’s Harry now?”

Myrtle blinked back tears. “I know you. You don’t care for anyone but yourself, you don’t!” she cried. “See if I help you!”

Hermione shot a warning look around at all of the wizards, especially at Draco, Ron, and, daringly, at Snape. “Oh, Myrtle, you know how boys are!” she exclaimed. “Come back on down and let’s have a chat, shall we? I know you like Harry, you’re only upset because of that stupid parchment.”

Myrtle paused, looking dejected. “He charmed it to insult me,” she said petulantly.

“Oh, no, it’s a joke shop item,” Snape said suddenly. “Insults anyone who looks at it.”

Lupin started, and turned to stare, but Myrtle was looking slightly more cheered.

“Really? He said his father and his father’s friends had made it... that makes more sense, though, I suppose. Harry’s always been nice to me. One of the few who has, really.”

Draco recognized Myrtle’s lapsing back into her horrid mood and opened his mouth, but Hermione had apparently spotted it, too.

“Yes, he’s a perfectly lovely boy, isn’t he?” she said desperately. “Only, he’s trapped down there, and he really needs your help!”

“Trapped? Is he?” she inquired, looking interested. “Oh, bother.” A crafty gleam entered her eyes. “Perhaps I’ll have company, soon, shall I?”

“If you think for one minute Harry’d hang around with you, you’re bonkers!” Ron snapped, his face pink.

Draco wondered how the Granger girl would smooth this over, but she did – without so much as a hitch.

“He’s right, I’m afraid, Myrtle,” she said solemnly. “Harry wouldn’t appreciate it if you let him starve down there. I doubt he’d hang around you if he knew you were almost directly responsible for the fact that he died. Be reasonable, now,” she chided, sounding as though Myrtle had said something foolish rather than abhorrent.

“Oh, well, I suppose you’re right,” Myrtle conceded begrudgingly. “Let me go down and see if I can find him.” And she disappeared.

For several minutes they waited on tenterhooks. Draco gazed about and wondered how he’d ended up in this situation. It was going to be very difficult to explain any of this to his father in his weekly report... he could see it now, writing in his own, elegant script:

Spent most of the day searching for Harry Potter. Checked: library, bathrooms, Quidditch pitch, Medical Wing, War Room. Which hadn’t been a war room when he’d opened his eyes, but he wasn’t about to ask Weasley or Granger how that worked, or if he’d simply been hallucinating. He’d been feeling so tired lately that he didn’t rule that out out of hand. Then, met with Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger and discussed Potter’s absence; went to Professor Snape’s private rooms to discuss disappearance. Met with Remus Lupin (werewolf), Weasley and Granger and convened with Professor Snape in second-floor ladies’ room – waited twenty-five minutes.

No one said anything. The silence spiraled horribly.

Finally, Myrtle came floating up through the floor. “Found him!” she announced. “It’s terrible,” she tacked on with what seemed like glee.

Draco wanted to strangle her.

“He gave me messages,” she went on. “Now, let me see...” She turned to Professors Lupin and Snape. “He says that he’s in a room physically at the center of the labyrinth, but you cannot reach it from any angle, save directly above.”

“Labyrinth?” Ron echoed. “But – there was a cave, and all of that.”

“I don’t know about any cave,” Myrtle replied, lowering so that her feet rested on the ground and she could gaze at Ron without craning her neck. “I saw the map – it was like a cinnamon cake down there, the path all spiraling. But Harry showed the map to me– ” She flushed dark silver. “And after it insulted me some more, I saw that it’s like a maze, now. It changed.”

Draco frowned, catching Hermione and Ron exchanging a dismayed glance out of the corner of his eye.

“Anyway,” Myrtle continued blithely, “it’s odd down there. There are all these pretty books, and a nice chair and a fire at the centre. Nearly out, now, though. Then he’ll be alone in the dark.”

“That doesn’t sound like a prison,” Lupin commented.

“That’s just what Harry said,” Myrtle replied, “but it’s a prison nonetheless. Harry said...” She paused, seeming to strain to recall Harry’s words. “Harry said that it was obvious it wasn’t a prison... maybe an escape route.” She frowned. “He says he’s too stupid to figure how to escape, though.”

Snape snorted, looking disbelieving, but Lupin looked more worried. “We need a direct connection with him. It took Myrtle far too long to locate Harry and return.”

Draco felt Snape’s eyes on him, and shook his head minutely. Unfortunately, the know-it-all caught sight of the motion, noted it, as she did everything.

“What?” she demanded. “Draco, is there something you can do?”

Draco shook his head again. “Really Severus,” he drawled in his most insolent tone, “I told you no to begin with.”

“You did not, Mister Malfoy,” Snape replied. “Rather, you glared.”

“Same thing,” he said.

“What’s this?” Lupin inquired.

Snape examined the company they were in, as though determining whether he could speak freely – when he opened his mouth and continued, Draco nearly died of the shock. Trusting Weasley, Granger, and the werewolf? Hell, apparently, had frozen over.

“Imperius can create a bond that never quite dies, especially in people of similar background or circumstance,” Snape replied. “I believe Draco has that bond with Harry.”

Draco shuddered. “No, I don’t,” he snapped. “Thank Merlin and all the patron saints of House Malfoy.”

“You have the best chance of communicating with Mister Potter,” Snape countered. “Whether you have experienced any connection by accident is not the issue. The question remains as to whether you can contact him on purpose.”

“I won’t,” Draco said.

“Well, there’s a surprise.” Ron glared at him. “I’ve been wondering why you’re still hanging around. Toddle off and terrorize some first-years, why don’t you?”

“Ron,” Hermione stressed.

“Listen to the Mudblood, Weasel,” Draco spat. “She’s far more sensible than you’ll ever manage.”

“Now is not the time for petty rivalries,” Lupin interjected. “Please, Draco, if you would try...? I am certain that if we could contact Harry directly, we could solve this between us.”

Now the werewolf was pleading with him – and more importantly, he probably had a point. Fabulous. He turned to Professor Snape, who gave him an odd, curt nod of encouragement. Draco didn’t want to admit that he felt sick to his stomach at the very thought of attempting contact with Harry. But if he didn’t, they could spend the rest of the night sending Myrtle back and forth – if the ghost would even agree to shuttle between them.

If the ghost could even be useful enough to provide information that would lead to Harry’s escape at all.

Damn it, why was he here? Yes, he really wanted that final favor from Harry before the other boy’s servitude was up, but wasn’t it better, really, if he just...

Say it, he thought harshly. Say what you mean: died.

A picture swept, unbidden to his mind – Harry seated on the grass, knees tucked under his chin, looking up at him with that incredibly relaxed smile. The memory was little more than an image, a flash like a Muggle photograph, but he recalled his sudden uneasiness at the expression, the need to suppress that smile that had immediately arisen within him. He’d said that the smile only worked on Harry’s admirers and followers, but that wasn’t true.

It had worked on him.

He didn’t want to become closer to Harry. Whenever Harry was around, he trailed chaos behind him, and that chaos was beginning to encroach onto Draco’s rather carefully ordered life... Harry made things so very confusing.

One touch with Harry’s mind had completely reordered Draco’s. It had taken a week to admit, but he was admitting it now, even if only to himself. What would a second touch do?

“I can’t,” he said suddenly, becoming slowly aware that the talk had gone on without him, that he was interrupting. He didn’t care. The very thought of interacting with Harry in that way had him feeling ill.

“You will try,” Snape ordered in a voice that brooked no argument.

Draco considered this. He wanted Harry out of there. He wanted his last command to be answered. He wasn’t sure if one reason really led so directly to the other, not anymore, but that scarcely mattered, now. Eventually, they’d get Harry out, he was certain of this – the boy’s life wasn’t in any real danger – but if he were partially responsible for Harry’s escape... well, all sorts of possibilities could open up.

“I suppose I’ll give it a go,” he replied, enjoying Hermione and Ron’s expressions of horror. “Nothing to lose, eh?”

He sat abruptly down on the bathroom floor and cleared his mind of distractions. Hermione made a sound as if to ask something, but Snape shushed her. Then there was silence, and cool, and calm... Draco wondered if Professor Snape knew of his training, then decided that he did, that Lucius told his Head of House absolutely everything about him...

It was terrifying how rapidly he found Harry, his consciousness shifting to Harry’s like a magnet to lodestone.