CH-36

When he finally opens his eyes, I sense nothing. He's closing himself off, hiding from me.

"Don't touch me," he says.

He drops my hand and backs away, and I hide my disappointment. He turns around and uses a spell to fix his shirt. He stands with his back to me for a while, and I wonder what he'll say. I want him to react to what just happened. He clearly felt something when I touched him.

Why do I care? I should leave him alone—he's Malfoy.

After a while, I decide that he won't speak. Maybe he isn't comfortable talking about it. I won't press him, not until he's willing to talk about it on his own. I might scare him away.

I remember the reason why I'm here. Alicia, Lee, and Blaise could be locked up somewhere, and I can't do anything about it. I need to know more about Death Eater prisons if we're going to have a chance of rescuing them. And that's if they're still alive. What if they're dead already?

"Malfoy, please. Help me."

Slowly, he turns around, but he still isn't looking at me. Have I hurt or offended him in any way? I don't understand why he would have this sort of reaction.

"What do you want me to do?" he asks.

"I don't know," I say. "I just… we need information on the Death Eater camps. Where do you keep prisoners?"

"The only person who knows all of the layouts himself is Voldemort," he says, shaking his head. "Everyone else only knows one or two. I haven't ever been to the camp in Bristol."

"Then…"

He sighs, and I expect him to tell me off for bothering him about this, but he surprises me by beginning to list details.

"They're usually underground, with the entrance guarded by a group of eight men. They're not the best fighters—that's why we need so many of them. There are always eight men, at every hour of the day, because they switch on and off duty in pairs of two, with usually twelve men in the rotation. But the location of the prison is different for each camp."

As he finishes, he looks up at my face and immediately turns away. I bite my lip. Did I ruin my chance for friendship with him or something? I don't understand his actions. I note that he's pacing back and forth, toward and away from me.

Then he's speaking again. "Once underground, they all look pretty much the same. The cells can only be opened by someone bearing the Dark Mark or Voldemort himself."

I frown. "It sounds nearly impossible to free anyone, then."

"Like I said, I can't really help you with it," he says, stopping his pacing.

"If you really can't, there's not much left to do about it, I guess. I'm just… really worried."

"I know."

He doesn't speak, and again I'm curious about what he's thinking. I hate being unable to understand anything, whether it's a book or a person, and Malfoy is frustrating me.

Then I remember the other thing I wanted to ask him about. "Malfoy, is there any way that I can use this—" I pull out the golden heart that he gave me "—to contact you?"

He frowns and begins to ask, "Why—"

"In case of an emergency."

He's silent for a moment, and I begin to wonder if he won't let me contact him.

"Sure," he says eventually. "First, close your fist around it."

I nod and wrap my fist around the small trinket.

"Close your eyes."

I narrow my eyes. The last time those three words came out of his mouth, we ended up snogging passionately. I feel my cheeks heating up as I close my eyes.

"Concentrate very hard on what you want to show up on my charm," he instructs me. "You have to make sure it'll fit all right, or I'll have a hard time reading it."

All I have to do is concentrate? Is it really that simple? I recall the initials that are still engraved on my heart and decide to do the same with his. DM. I release the charm and open my eyes, wondering if it worked. I see him looking at the back of his serpent charm. Then his eyes meet mine.

"What did you mean by it?" I ask him as I walk toward him. I hold up my heart charm, showing him my initials.

"Didn't mean anything," he says, shaking his head.

That's bullshit, it must have meant something.

"Just reminding you that it was there," he finishes.

"Really?" I say doubtfully.

"What else could it mean?"

I… don't know. But I'm beginning to have a lurking suspicion that Malfoy's struggling with himself about something that he can't really control.

I think back to the night when I was released from Hogwarts and wonder if this has anything to do with it. Maybe Voldemort has assigned Malfoy a mission that will eventually require me inside the Order, and that's why a Death Eater ensured my escape.

I push the possibility to the back of my mind—there's no proof of that, so I'll just be careful and make sure that I don't give up anything that could help the Death Eaters.

"Did you have anything to tell me when you scheduled our meeting?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says. "I was actually going to tell you something more about the traitor. Finnegan… he was murdered."

My eyes drop to the floor, but I suppose this wasn't unexpected. "It was that, or he'd been caught."

"I think your traitor sold him out to us, because Voldemort knew where to find him ahead of time."

"All right. At least we know what happened to him," I say. "Do you have any idea who killed him?"

Malfoy shakes his head and says, "You can go now."

I watch him, unwilling to leave just yet. I still don't know much about him, and I honestly don't know when I'll see him again. I really, really want to figure him out. What's he hiding behind those steel-grey eyes? Beneath those perfect, white-blond locks? Under that cool, calculated expression?

I'll see what happens if I ask him for a favor.

"Malfoy, we captured Thorfinn Rowle two days ago," I say.

He chuckles. "Serves him right. Bumbling idiot, he was."

"Well, bumbling idiot he may be, but he won't crack under questioning. Is there any way—"

"Legilimency," he says, answering me before I finish asking my question. "He's a god-awful Occlumens. Can't defend his mind to save his life."

"We erm… we don't have a good Legilimens," I say.

"Where'd Shacklebolt go?"

"He's out of the country."

"I see," he says. "I thought you'd be pretty good. I heard you had a bit of practice with Occlumency."

Here I go, asking for Malfoy's help.

"Can I…" I begin, but when I look up at his eyes, my voice fails me. What's wrong with me?

"What?" he says, frowning.

Am I really that scared that he'll say no? It's just a test!

"Can I practice on you?" I ask.

He looks surprised, and I'm relieved when he doesn't reject me right away. "What?" he repeats.

"It's just… I haven't ever practiced on anyone with any skill in Occlumency," I say. "Harry learned a little, but he's no good at it, and I—"

"Granger, don't worry," he says, shaking his head. "Potter's better than Rowle at Occlumency. You'll be able to get into his head just fine."

"But I just want—"

"You're not getting into my head, Granger," he says, shaking his head again.

I frown. Is he really as good as everyone says he is? I point my wand at him.

"Legilimens!"

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