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WHEN DRACO WOKE UP, THE FIRST THING HE NOTICED WAS THE STRONG SMELL OF COFFEE. It was overwhelming, or perhaps, it was just that it had been so long since he had been allowed to indulge in something as simple and enjoyable as coffee.
He sat up, leaning against the headboard of the bed while looking around. Everything about the room he was in seemed faded and dull. The blankets were a dwindling yellow, and the walls were the strangest shade of pale blue. There were no pictures anywhere, and there certainly weren't any decorations, yet the room seemed well put together.
"You shouldn't be up yet." Her voice cut through the storm of thoughts brewing in his mind, and Draco snapped his attention to the doorway to be met with a familiar face. "Coffee?" Jane asked. "I made it black because that's how I like it, but there's milk and sugar in the kitchen if you want."
Jane watched as Draco stared cautiously at the steaming mug she held out to him. Eventually, he accepted her offering but didn't take a sip, only staring at the swirling liquid. "Thank you," he said quietly. "This will be fine."
Jane nodded. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Draco didn't know how to answer. Her words almost brought a sarcastic laugh to his lips. It had been more than just 'a while.' It had been eternity since he had felt the safety of being in a house like this. For six years, he had been running. He had lost the least in the War it had seemed, and there were too many hellbent on changing that. Too much of his blood had been spilled already in the name of vengeance, in the name of good according to them.
But Draco simply nodded to her question. "I suppose it has," he said.
"The Prophet said you were missing, but obviously you're not since you're right here." Jane didn't know why she felt so awkward. It wasn't like he was a stranger, yet the look in his eyes sent a shiver down her back as if he was telling her not to pry anymore. But Jane had always been curious, and she couldn't help but look for explanations now that he was awake. "Where have you been? Why were you bleeding every which way last night? How'd you get into my house? I mean, what the hell is going on?"
Draco didn't answer right away, but eventually spoke with careful words. "You wouldn't believe me," he said. "You'd turn me away, kick me out when you hear me. You wouldn't believe me if I told you what I've been doing for the last six years."
Jane set her mug down on the small table beside the bed. "Try me."
Draco wasn't entirely sure what inclined him to tell her, but maybe it was the look of pure curiosity, persistence in her eyes. "Alright, then. There's a new threat out there, bigger than Death Eaters, more ambitious than Voldemort."
Silence as Jane processed his words before probing further. "What do you mean?"
"Dumbledore's Army is regrouping with Cormac McLaggen and Susan Bones as their leaders, and I've been the wonderful top prisoner of your deluded classmates for six years. This is my third time escaping, but it won't be long before they catch up."
"That doesn't – "
" – make sense? It does. Think about it. They're the new Snatchers. They're finding any Slytherins they can, and they're torturing us and anyone else that get in their way. What's so crazy about that? They're angry about what they've had to endure, and they're getting back at us. As if two wars and decades worth of fighting wasn't enough."
Draco's words hung in the air with a weight Jane hadn't expected. Heavy realization washed over her, and she was glad she had set her mug down before they had this conversation because Draco was right. It did make sense. Of course, there would be people bitter enough to be willing to start another era of prejudice and fighting. The War had hurt so many, and everyone was still hung up on House divisions instead of unity.
"Who else do they have?" Jane asked, suddenly worried for the 'us' he had mentioned. "A - And how badly are they hurt?"
Draco sucked in sharply. "Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Marcus Flint to name a few. Last week, they rounded up some younger ones. They looked a year or two out of Hogwarts at most." He let out a sigh before continuing. "The oldest experience the worst because we're the ones they went to school with. Load of absolute crap if you tell me."
Jane slid to the floor to a crouching position, her back leaning against the doorway. Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Marcus Flint. She remembered them all. Marcus was an asshole, no doubt there, but Theodore Nott had been kind to her when she was struggling in potions class one day, and she was sure it was Pansy Parkinson who had hexed the girls who ruined her robes.
"How are we going to get them out?" Jane asked, looking to Draco who had swung his legs over the side of the bed now. "I mean, where are they? We have to do something. How many of them are there guarding? Do you think we can take them – just the two of us?"
Draco paused. Words couldn't form from the sheer mix of confusion and shock he felt from what she had just said. He had just revealed to her a murderous plot, and almost immediately her inclination was to help others, to put herself in danger, for people that couldn't have been all that good to her in the past. Her humanity – he couldn't wrap his head around it, and it was strange to see such raw selflessness that wasn't coming from a cocky Gryffindor.
"You want to go on a rescue mission? Are you out of your mind?" Draco asked.
Jane shook her head. "If there's a possibility we could help them, don't you think we should? Let's go save them. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?"
If only Jane had known what a mistake it was to think that.
