Not Quite Dark Magic

Grey Area pt. II

Hours later, just a few moments before the sun would breach the horizon, Hermione and Malfoy sat on the cold, wooden floor, crowding over Zabini's cot. They had just finished cleaning the blood and dirt off of him, sent the rest of the group back to headquarters to get some rest and were now securing the wards around the room.

"He doesn't have the mark," she noted casually. She watched as Malfoy's shoulders stiffened. His face remained forcefully relaxed.

"I've put a lot of effort into making sure that's the case. Every time his name popped up I carried on about his immaturity and lack of ability."

"He's skilled," she said, fingering his wand in her pocket.

"Yes, but he's never gotten a real chance to show it off. The Dark Lord always took my word and has kept him in low ranks."

Hermione turned away, raising her wand to continue with the wards on the room. "Does he know you were protecting him?"

Draco barked out a laugh. "Did he open his mouth at you at all?"

Hermione nodded. "He has quite a limited vocabulary."

Draco's eyes lingered on Zabini's form, which now looked so young when he was tucked into the sheets. "He wasn't always so hateful, but after Theo and Pansy... well he was just angry. The people around him ran with it, filling his head with thoughts that weren't his and telling him what he needed to do to avenge them." He turned away, pushing off the ground to stand.

"He took his anger and morphed it into something ugly. Watching him become this... I think it's what kicked me out of my own reverie. I realized I hadn't a clue what I had been fighting for, and then once I was sure I didn't even believe in the cause, I was in too deep." His eyes met her, blazing with fury and passion. "But I could save Blaise. He hasn't killed anyone, or even been in any major battles."

Hermione tried not to let any surprise show on her face. His confession was as close to admittance that they'd ever gotten. She tried not to think about their bound magical cores, or what part it might play in Draco Malfoy becoming harder to hate. She wasn't sure how she felt about a world where Malfoy wasn't evil.

"Just because he hasn't sullied his hands doesn't mean he's saved. The way he was talking to me, the pure hatred in his eyes..." She pulled out his wand and studied it. Hawthorn. Twelve inches. Nothing out of the ordinary. How a wand so normal could function with someone so full of rage for things he didn't understand, Hermione couldn't fathom.

"Theo and Pansy never gave up on me." He shifted behind her, and Hermione turned to see him walking back towards Zabini's bed. "They spent two years discreetly watching me from the battlefields, seeing me climbing ranks and the power I got from it." He took a pair of handcuffs out of his robe pockets, the same ones he had used on Ginny the night of the full moon. "I've killed people. I've tortured people. For no reason except doing as I was told. I thought I was the smart one. I thought I was better than everyone in the Order because I was fighting for a better future for myself. You lot were just fighting because you could.

"I hated that. I hated seeing how much spirit and optimism you had when that had been crushed out of me at such a young age. I thought it made me smarter than you, more mature at least. But then while watching Blaise I realized I was exactly what I had made you out to be in my own head. I did as I was told, when I was told and I didn't think to question why."

Hermione watched as Draco took Zabini's wrist and hooked it in the handcuff, clipping the other side to the bed frame. He then took his wand out, pointing to the bottom of the cot and muttered a sticking charm.

"Careful, Malfoy. You almost sound as if you're siding with the light."

Malfoy kept his eyes glued on Zabini's limp wrist. "I've no side in this war," he murmured. "It's just me I'm looking out for."